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Brackenridge, H. H. (Hugh Henry), 1748-1816 [1793], Modern chivalry: containing the adventures of Captain John Farrago, and Teague O'Regan, his servant. Part I. Volumes 1-3 (John M'Culloch, Philadelphia) [word count] [eaf800].
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CHAP. I.

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JOHN FARRAGO, was a man of about
fifty-three years of age, of good natural
&longs;en&longs;e, and con&longs;iderable reading; but in
&longs;ome things whim&longs;ical, owing perhaps to
his greater knowledge of books than of the
world; but, in &longs;ome degree, al&longs;o, to his
having never married, being what they call
an old batchelor, a characteri&longs;tic of which
is, u&longs;ually, &longs;ingularity and whim. He had
the advantage of having had in early life,
an academic education; but having never
applied him&longs;elf to any of the learned professions,
he had lived the greater part of his
life on a &longs;mall farm, which he cultivated
with &longs;ervants or hired hands, as he could
conveniently &longs;upply him&longs;elf with either.
The &longs;ervant that he had at this time, was
an Iri&longs;hman, who&longs;e name was Teague
Oregan. I &longs;hall &longs;ay nothing of the character
of this man, becau&longs;e the very name imports
what he was.

A &longs;trange idea came into the head of
Captain Farrago about this time; for, by

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the bye, I had forgot to mention that having
being cho&longs;en captain of a company of
militia in the neighbourhood, he had gone
by the name of Captain ever &longs;ince; for the
rule is, once a captain, and always a captain;
but, as I was ob&longs;erving, the idea
had come into his head, to &longs;addle an old
hor&longs;e that he had, and ride about the world
a little, with his man Teague at his heels,
to &longs;ee how things were going on here and
there, and to ob&longs;erve human nature. For
it is a mi&longs;take to &longs;uppo&longs;e, that a man cannot
learn man by reading him in a corner,
as well as on the wide&longs;t &longs;pace of transaction.
At any rate, it may yield amusement.

It was about a &longs;core of miles from his
own hou&longs;e, that he fell in with what we call
Races. The jockeys &longs;eeing him advance,
with Teague by his &longs;ide, whom they took
for his groom, conceived him to be &longs;ome
per&longs;on who had brought his hor&longs;e to enter
for the pur&longs;e. Coming up and acco&longs;ting
him, &longs;aid they, You &longs;eem to be for the
races, Sir; and have a hor&longs;e to enter. Not
at all, &longs;aid the captain; this is but a common
palfrey, and by no means remarkable
for &longs;peed or bottom; he is a common
plough hor&longs;e which I have u&longs;ed on my farm

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for &longs;everal years, and can &longs;carce go beyond
a trot; much le&longs;s match him&longs;elf with your
blooded hor&longs;es that are going to take the
field on this occa&longs;ion.

The jockeys were of opinion, from the
&longs;peech, that the hor&longs;e was what they call a
bite, and that under the appearance of leanness
and &longs;tiffne&longs;s, there was concealed
&longs;ome hidden quality of &longs;wiftne&longs;s uncommon.
For they had heard of in&longs;tances,
where the mo&longs;t knowing had been taken
in by mean looking hor&longs;es; &longs;o that having
laid two, or more, to one, they were nevertheless
bit by the bet; and the mean
looking nags, proved to be hor&longs;es of a more
than common &longs;peed and bottom. So that
there is no tru&longs;ting appearances. Such
was the rea&longs;oning of the jockeys. For they
could have no idea, that a man could come
there in &longs;o &longs;ingular a manner, with a
groom at his foot, unle&longs;s he had &longs;ome
great object of making money by the adventure.
Under this idea, they began to
interrogate him with re&longs;pect to the blood
and pedigree of his hor&longs;e: whether he
was of the dove, or the bay mare that
took the pur&longs;e; and was imported by
&longs;uch a one at &longs;uch a time? whether his
&longs;ire was Tamerlane or Bajazet?

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The Captain was irritated at the questions,
and could not avoid an&longs;wering.—
Gentlemen, &longs;aid he, it is a &longs;trange thing
that you &longs;hould &longs;uppo&longs;e that it is of any
con&longs;equence what may be the pedigree of a
hor&longs;e. For even in men it is of no avail.
Do we not find that &longs;ages have had blockheads
for their &longs;ons; and that blockheads
have had &longs;ages? It is remarkable, that as
e&longs;tates have &longs;eldom la&longs;ted three generations,
&longs;o under&longs;tanding and ability have
&longs;eldom been tran&longs;mitted to the &longs;econd.
There never was a greater man, take him
as an orator and philo&longs;opher, than Cicero:
and never was there a per&longs;on who had
greater opportunities than his &longs;on Marcus;
and yet he proved of no account or reputation.
This is an old in&longs;tance, but
there are a thou&longs;and others. Che&longs;terfield
and his &longs;on are mentioned. It is true,
Philip and Alexander may be &longs;aid to be
exceptions: Philip of the &longs;tronge&longs;t possible
mind; capable of almo&longs;t every thing
we can conceive; the deepe&longs;t policy and
the mo&longs;t determined valour; his &longs;on Alexander
not deficient in the fir&longs;t, and before
him in the la&longs;t; if it is po&longs;&longs;ible to be before
a man than whom you can &longs;uppo&longs;e
nothing greater. It is po&longs;&longs;ible, in modern

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times, that Tippo Saib may be equal to
his father Hyder Ali. Some talk of the
two Pitts. I have no idea that the &longs;on is, in
any re&longs;pect, equal to old Sir William. The
one is a laboured artificial mini&longs;ter: the
other &longs;poke with the thunder, and acted
with the lightning of the gods. I will
venture to &longs;ay, that when the pre&longs;ent John
Adam&longs;es, and Lees, and Jeffer&longs;ons, and Jays,
and Henrys, and other great men, who figure
upon the &longs;tage at this time, have gone
to &longs;leep with their fathers, it is an hundred
to one if there is any of their de&longs;cendents
who can fill their places. Was I to lay a bet
for a great man, I would &longs;ooner pick up
the brat of a tinker, than go into the great
hou&longs;es to chu&longs;e a piece of &longs;tuff for a man
of genius. Even with re&longs;pect to per&longs;onal
appearance, which is more in the power
of natural production, we do not &longs;ee that
beauty always produces beauty; but on
the contrary, the homlie&longs;t per&longs;ons have
oftentimes the be&longs;t favoured offspring; &longs;o
that there is no rule or rea&longs;on in the&longs;e
things. With re&longs;pect to this hor&longs;e, therefore,
it can be of no moment whether he is
blooded or &longs;tuded, or what he is. He is a
good old hor&longs;e, u&longs;ed to the plough, and carries
my weight very well; and I have never

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yet made enquiry with re&longs;pect to his ancestors,
or affronted him &longs;o much as to
ca&longs;t up to him the defect of parentage.
I bought him &longs;ome years ago from Niel
Thomas, who had him from a colt. As
far as I can under&longs;tand, he was of a brown
mare that John M`Neis had; but of what
hor&longs;e I know no more than the hor&longs;e himself.
His gaits are good enough, as to
riding a &longs;hort journey of &longs;even or eight
miles, or the like; but he is rather a pacer
than a troter; and though his bottom may
be good enough in carrying a bag to the
mill, or going in the plough, or the &longs;led,
or the harrow, &c. yet his wind is not &longs;o
good, nor his &longs;peed, as to be fit for the
heats.

The jockeys thought the man a fool, and
gave them&longs;elves no more trouble about
him.

The hor&longs;es were now entered, and about
to &longs;tart for the pur&longs;e. There was Black
and all Black, and Snip, John Duncan's
Barbary Slim, and &longs;everal others. The
riders had been weighed, and when mounted,
the word was given. It is needle&longs;s to
de&longs;cribe a race; every body knows the
circum&longs;tances of it. It is &longs;ufficient to &longs;ay,
that from the bets that were laid, there
was much anxiety, and &longs;ome pa&longs;&longs;ion in

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the minds of tho&longs;e concerned: So, that as
two of the hor&longs;es, Black and all Black,
and Slim, came out near together; there
was di&longs;pute and confu&longs;ion. It came to
kicking and cuffing in &longs;ome places. The
Captain was a good deal hurt with &longs;uch indecency
among&longs;t gentlemen, and advancing,
addre&longs;&longs;ed them in the following manner:
Gentleman, this is an unequal and
unfair proceeding. It is unbecoming modern
manners, or even the ancient. For at
the Olympic games of Greece, where were
celebrated hor&longs;e and chariot races, there
was no &longs;uch hurry &longs;curry as this; and in
times of chivalry it&longs;elf, where men ate,
drank, and &longs;lept on hor&longs;e-back, though
there was a great deal of pell-meling, yet no
&longs;uch di&longs;orderly work as this. If men had
a difference, they couched their lances,
and ran full tilt at one another; but no
&longs;uch indecent expre&longs;&longs;ions, as villain, scoundrel,
liar, ever came out of their mouths.
There was the mo&longs;t perfect courte&longs;y in
tho&longs;e days of heroi&longs;m and honour; and
this your hor&longs;e-racing, which is a germ of
the amu&longs;ement of tho&longs;e times, ought to be
conducted on the &longs;ame principles of decorum,
and good breeding.

As he was &longs;peaking, he was jo&longs;tled by

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&longs;ome one in the croud, and thrown from
his hor&longs;e; and had it not been for Teague,
who was at hand, and helped him on again,
he would have &longs;uffered damage. As
it was, he received a contu&longs;ion in his head,
of which he complained much; and having
left the race-ground, and coming to a
&longs;mall cottage, he &longs;topped a little, to alight
and dre&longs;s the wound. An old woman who
was there, thought they ought to take a little
of his water, and &longs;ee how it was with
him; but the Captain having no faith in
telling di&longs;orders by the urine, thought
proper to &longs;end for a &longs;urgeon who was hard
by, to examine the brui&longs;e, and apply bandages.
The &longs;urgeon attended, and examining
the part, pronounced it a contu&longs;ion
of the cerebrum. But as there appeared
but little laceration, and no fracture, simple
or compound, the pia mater could not
be injured; nor even could there be more
than a &longs;light impre&longs;&longs;ion on the dura mater.
So that trepaning did not at all appear necessary.
A mo&longs;t fortunate circum&longs;tance;
for a wound in the head, is of all places
the mo&longs;t dangerous; becau&longs;e there can be
no amputation to &longs;ave life. There being but
one head to a man, and that being the residence
of the five &longs;en&longs;es, it is impo&longs;&longs;ible

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to live without it. Neverthele&longs;s, as the
pre&longs;ent ca&longs;e was highly dangerous, as it
might lead to a &longs;ub&longs;ultus tendinum, or
lock-jaw, it was nece&longs;&longs;ary to apply cataplasms,
in order to reduce inflammation,
and bring about a &longs;anative di&longs;po&longs;ition of
the parts. Perhaps it might not be ami&longs;s,
to take an anodyne as a refrigerant. Many
patients had been lo&longs;t by the ignorance
of empirics pre&longs;cribing bracers; whereas,
in the fir&longs;t &longs;tage of a contu&longs;ion, relaxing
and antifebrile medicines are proper. A
little phlebotomy was no doubt nece&longs;&longs;ary,
to prevent the bur&longs;ting of the blood ve&longs;&longs;els.

The Captain hearing &longs;o many hard
words, and bad accounts of this ca&longs;e, was
much alarmed. Neverthele&longs;s he did not
think it could be ab&longs;olutely &longs;o dangerous.
For it &longs;eemed to him that he was not &longs;ick
at heart, or under any mortal pain. The
&longs;urgeon ob&longs;erved, that in this ca&longs;e he could
not him&longs;elf be a judge. For the very part
was affected by which he was to judge, viz.
the head; that it was no uncommon thing
for men in the extreme&longs;t ca&longs;es to imagine
them&longs;elves out of danger; whereas in reality,
they were in the greate&longs;t po&longs;&longs;ible:
that notwith&longs;tanding the &longs;ymptoms were
mild, yet from the contu&longs;ion, a

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mortification might en&longs;ue. Hypocrates, who might
be &longs;tiled an elementary phy&longs;ician, and has
a treati&longs;e on this very &longs;ubject, is of opinion,
that the mo&longs;t dangerous &longs;ymptom,
is a topical in&longs;en&longs;ibility; but among the
moderns, Sydenham con&longs;iders it in another
point of view, and thinks that where
there is no pain, there is as great rea&longs;on
to &longs;uppo&longs;e that there is no hurt, as that
there is a mortal one. Be this as it may,
anti&longs;eptic medicines might be very proper.

The Captain hearing &longs;o much jargon,
and con&longs;cious to him&longs;elf that he was by
no means in &longs;o bad a &longs;tate as this &longs;on of
E&longs;calapius would repre&longs;ent, broke out into
&longs;ome pa&longs;&longs;ion. It is, &longs;aid he, the craft of
your profe&longs;&longs;ion to make the ca&longs;e wor&longs;e than
it is, in order to increa&longs;e the perqui&longs;ites.
But if there is any faith in you, make the
&longs;ame demand, and let me know your real
judgment. The &longs;urgeon was irritated with
his di&longs;tru&longs;t, and took it into his head to
fix &longs;ome apprehen&longs;ion in the mind of his
patient, if po&longs;&longs;ible, that his ca&longs;e was not
without danger. Looking &longs;tedfa&longs;tly at
him for &longs;ome time, and feeling his pul&longs;e,
there is, &longs;aid he, an evident delirium approaching.
This argues an affection of
the brain, but it will be nece&longs;&longs;ary, after

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&longs;ome &longs;oporiferous draughts, to put the
patient to &longs;leep. Said the Captain, If you
will give me about a pint of whi&longs;key and
water, I will try to go to &longs;leep my&longs;elf. Adeleterious
mixture, in this ca&longs;e, &longs;aid the
&longs;urgeon, cannot be proper; e&longs;pecially a
di&longs;tillation of that quality. The Captain
would hear no more; but reque&longs;ting the
man of the cabin, to let him have the
&longs;pirits propo&longs;ed, drank a pint or two of
grog, and having bound up his head with
a handkerchief, went to bed.

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CHAP. II. Containing &longs; ome general Reflections.

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THE fir&longs;t reflection that ari&longs;es, is, the
good &longs;en&longs;e of the Captain; who was
unwilling to impo&longs;e his hor&longs;e for a racer;
not being qualified for the cour&longs;e. Because,
as an old lean bea&longs;t, attempting a
trot he was re&longs;pectable enough; but going
out of his nature, and affecting &longs;peed,
he would have been contemptible. The
great &longs;ecret of pre&longs;erving re&longs;pect, is the
cultivating and &longs;hewing to the be&longs;t advantage
the powers that we po&longs;&longs;e&longs;s, and the not
going beyond them. Every thing in its element
is good, and in their proper &longs;phere all
natures and capacities are excellent. This
thought might be turned into a thou&longs;and
different &longs;hapes, and cloathed with various
expre&longs;&longs;ions; but after all, it comes to the
old proverb at la&longs;t, Ne &longs;utor ultra crepidam,
Let the cobler &longs;tick to his la&longs;t; a &longs;entiment
we are about more to illu&longs;trate in the
&longs;equel of this work.

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The &longs;econd reflection that ari&longs;es, is, the
&longs;implicity of the Captain; who was &longs;o unacquainted
with the world, as to imagine that
jockeys and men of the turf could be composed
by rea&longs;on and good &longs;en&longs;e; whereas
there are no people who are by education
of a le&longs;s philo&longs;ophic turn of mind. The
company of hor&longs;es is by no means favourable
to good ta&longs;te and genius. The rubbing
and currying them, but little enlarges the
faculties, or improves the mind; and even
riding, by which a man is carried &longs;wiftly
through the air, though it contributes to
health, yet &longs;tores the mind with few or no
ideas; and as men naturally con&longs;imilate
with their company, &longs;o it is ob&longs;ervable
that your jockeys are a cla&longs;s of people not
greatly removed from the &longs;agacity of a
good hor&longs;e. Hence mo&longs;t probably the
fable of the centaur, among the ancients;
by which they held out the moral of the
jockey and the hor&longs;e being one bea&longs;t.

A third reflection is, that which he
expre&longs;t; viz. the profe&longs;&longs;ional art of the surgeon
to make the mo&longs;t of the ca&longs;e, and the
technical terms u&longs;ed by him. I have to
declare, that it is with no attempt at wit,
that the terms are &longs;et down, or the art of
the &longs;urgeon hinted at; becau&longs;e it is &longs;o

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common place a thing to ridicule the peculiarities
of a profe&longs;&longs;ion, that it &longs;avours of
mean parts to indulge it. For a man of
real genius will never walk in the beaten
track, becau&longs;e his object is what is new
and uncommon. This &longs;urgeon does not
appear to have been a man of very great
ability; but the Captain was certainly
wrong in declining his pre&longs;criptions; for
the maxim is, Unicuique in arte, &longs;ua perito,
credendum e&longs;t;
every one is to be tru&longs;ted
in his profe&longs;&longs;ion.

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CHAP. III.

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THE Captain ri&longs;ing early next morning,
and &longs;etting out on his way, had
now arrived at a place where a number of
people were convened, for the purpo&longs;e of
electing per&longs;ons to repre&longs;ent them in the
legi&longs;lature of the &longs;tate. There was a weaver
who was a candidate for this appointment,
and &longs;eemed to have a good deal of
intere&longs;t among the people. But another,
who was a man of education, was his competitor.
Relying on &longs;ome talent of speaking
which he thought he po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed, he addressed
the multitude.

Said he, Fellow citizens, I pretend not
to any great abilities; but am con&longs;cious
to my&longs;elf that I have the be&longs;t good will to
&longs;erve you. But it is very a&longs;toni&longs;hing to
me, that this weaver &longs;hould conceive himself
qualified for the tru&longs;t. For though my
acquirements are not great, yet his are &longs;till
le&longs;s. The mechanical bu&longs;ine&longs;s which he
pur&longs;ues, mu&longs;t nece&longs;&longs;arily take up &longs;o much
of his time, that he cannot apply him&longs;elf

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to political &longs;tudies. I &longs;hould therefore
think it would be more an&longs;werable to your
dignity, and conducive to your intere&longs;t,
to be repre&longs;ented by a man at lea&longs;t of
&longs;ome letters, than by an illiterate handicraftsman
like this. It will be more honourable
for him&longs;elf, to remain at his
loom and knot threads, than to come forward
in a legi&longs;lative capacity: becau&longs;e, in
the one ca&longs;e, he is in the &longs;phere where
God and nature has placed him; in the
other, he is like a fi&longs;h out of water, and
mu&longs;t &longs;truggle for breath in a new element.

Is it po&longs;&longs;ible he can under&longs;tand the affairs
of government, who&longs;e mind has been
concentered to the &longs;mall object of weaving
webs; to the price by the yard, the gri&longs;t
of the thread, and &longs;uch like matters as
concern a manufacturer of cloths? The
feet of him who weaves, are more occupied
than the head, or at lea&longs;t as much;
and therefore the whole man mu&longs;t be, at
lea&longs;t, but in half accu&longs;tomed to exerci&longs;e
his mental powers. For the&longs;e rea&longs;ons, all
other things &longs;et a&longs;ide, the chance is in my
favour, with re&longs;pect to information. However,
you will decide, and give your suffrages
to him or to me, as you &longs;hall judge
expedient.

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The Captain hearing the&longs;e ob&longs;ervations,
and looking at the weaver, could not help
advancing, and undertaking to &longs;ubjoin
&longs;omething in &longs;upport of what had been ju&longs;t
&longs;aid. Said he, I have no prejudice again&longs;t
a weaver more than another man. Nor do
I know any harm in the trade; &longs;ave that
from the &longs;edentary life in a damp place,
there is u&longs;ually a palene&longs;s of the countenance:
but this is a phy&longs;ical, not a moral
evil. Such u&longs;ually occupy &longs;ubterranean
apartments; not for the purpo&longs;e, like
Demo&longs;thenes, of &longs;having their heads, and
writing over eight times the hi&longs;tory of
Thucydides, and perfecting a &longs;tile of oratory;
but rather to keep the thread moi&longs;t;
or becau&longs;e this is con&longs;idered but as an inglorious
&longs;ort of trade, and is frequently
thru&longs;t away into cellars, and damp outhouses,
which are not occupied for a better
u&longs;e.

But to ri&longs;e from the cellar to the &longs;enate
hou&longs;e, would be an unnatural hoi&longs;t. To
come from counting threads, and adjusting
them to the &longs;plits of a reed, to regulate
the finances of a government, would
be prepo&longs;terous; there being no congruity
in the ca&longs;e. There is no analogy between
knotting threads and framing laws.

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It would be a rever&longs;ion of the order of
things. Not that a manufacturer of linen
or woolen, or other &longs;tuff, is an inferior
character, but a different one, from that
which ought to be employed in affairs of
&longs;tate. It is unnece&longs;&longs;ary to enlarge on this
&longs;ubject; for you mu&longs;t all be convinced of
the truth and propriety of what I &longs;ay. But
if you will give me leave to take the manufacturer
a&longs;ide a little, I think I can explain
to him my ideas on the &longs;ubject; and
very probably prevail with him to withdraw
his preten&longs;ions. The people &longs;eeming
to acquie&longs;ce, and beckoning to the weaver,
they drew a&longs;ide, and the Captain addressed
him in the following words:

Mr. Traddle, &longs;aid he, for that was the
name of the manufacturer, I have not the
&longs;malle&longs;t idea of wounding your &longs;en&longs;ibility;
but it would &longs;eem to me, it would be more
your intere&longs;t to pur&longs;ue your occupation,
than to launch out into that of which you
have no knowledge. When you go to
the &longs;enate hou&longs;e, the application to you
will not be to warp a web; but to make
laws for the commonwealth. Now, suppose
that the making the&longs;e laws, requires
a knowledge of commerce, or of the interests
of agriculture, or tho&longs;e principles

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[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

upon which the different manufactures depend,
what &longs;ervice could you render. It
is po&longs;&longs;ible you might think ju&longs;tly enough;
but could you &longs;peak? You are not in the
habit of public &longs;peaking. You are not
furni&longs;hed with tho&longs;e common place ideas,
with which even very ignorant men can
pa&longs;s for knowing &longs;omething. There is
nothing makes a man &longs;o ridiculous as to
attempt what is above his &longs;phere. You
are no tumbler for in&longs;tance; yet &longs;hould
you give out that you could vault upon a
man's back; or turn head over heels, like
the wheel of a cart; the &longs;tiffne&longs;s of your
joints would encumber you; and you
would fall upon your back&longs;ide to the
ground. Such a &longs;qua&longs;h as that would do
you damage. The getting up to ride on
the &longs;tate is an un&longs;afe thing to tho&longs;e who
are not accu&longs;tomed to &longs;uch hor&longs;eman&longs;hip.
It is a di&longs;agreeable thing for a man to be
laughed at, and there is no way of keeping
ones &longs;elf from it but by avoiding all affectation.

While they were thus di&longs;cour&longs;ing, a
bu&longs;tle had taken place among the croud.
Teague hearing &longs;o much about elections,
and &longs;erving the government, took it into
his head, that he could be a legi&longs;lator

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[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

himself. The thing was not di&longs;plea&longs;ing to the
people, who &longs;eemed to favour his pretensions;
owing, in &longs;ome degree, to there
being &longs;everal of his countrymen among
the croud; but more e&longs;pecially to the fluctuation
of the popular mind, and a disposition
to what is new and ignoble. For
though the weaver was not the mo&longs;t elevated
object of choice, yet he was &longs;till preferable
to this tatter-demalion, who was but
a menial &longs;ervant, and had &longs;o much of what
is called the brogue on his tongue, as to
fall far &longs;hort of an elegant &longs;peaker.

The Captain coming up, and finding
what was on the carpet, was greatly chagrined
at not having been able to give the
multitude a better idea of the importance
of a legi&longs;lative tru&longs;t; alarmed al&longs;o, from
an apprehen&longs;ion of the lo&longs;s of his &longs;ervant.
Under the&longs;e impre&longs;&longs;ions he re&longs;umed his
addre&longs;s to the multitude. Said he, This is
making the matter &longs;till wor&longs;e, gentlemen:
this &longs;ervant of mine is but a bog-trotter;
who can &longs;carcely &longs;peak the dialect in which
your laws ought to be written; but certainly
has never read a &longs;ingle treati&longs;e on
any political &longs;ubject; for the truth is, he
cannot read at all. The young people of
the lower cla&longs;s, in Ireland, have &longs;eldom

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[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

the advantage of a good education; especially
the de&longs;cendants of the ancient Iri&longs;h,
who have mo&longs;t of them a great a&longs;&longs;urance
of countenance, but little information, or
literature. This young man, who&longs;e family
name is Oregan, has been my servant
for &longs;everal years. And, except a
too great fondne&longs;s for women, which now
and then brings him into &longs;crapes, he has
demeaned him&longs;elf in a manner tolerable
enough. But he is totally ignorant of the
great principles of legi&longs;lation; and more
e&longs;pecially, the particular intere&longs;ts of the
government. A free government is a noble
po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion to a people: and this freedom
con&longs;i&longs;ts in an equal right to make
laws, and to have the benefit of the laws
when made. Though doubtle&longs;s, in &longs;uch
a government, the lowe&longs;t citizen may become
chief magi&longs;trate; yet it is &longs;ufficient
to po&longs;&longs;e&longs;s the right; not ab&longs;olutely necessary
to exerci&longs;e it. Or even if you &longs;hould
think proper, now and then, to &longs;hew your
privilege, and exert, in a &longs;ignal manner,
the democratic prerogative, yet is it not
de&longs;cending too low to filch away from me
a hireling, which I cannot well &longs;pare, to
&longs;erve your purpo&longs;es? You are &longs;urely carrying
the matter too far, in thinking to

-- 032 --

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

make a &longs;enator of this ho&longs;tler; to take him
away from an employment to which he
has been bred, and put him to another, to
which he has &longs;erved no apprentice&longs;hip: to
&longs;et tho&longs;e hands which have been lately
employed in currying my hor&longs;e, to the
draughting-bills, and preparing bu&longs;ine&longs;s
for the hou&longs;e.

The people were tenacious of their
choice, and in&longs;i&longs;ted on giving Teague
their &longs;uffrages; and by the frown upon
their brows, &longs;eemed to indicate re&longs;entment
at what had been &longs;aid; as indirectly charging
them with want of judgment; or calling
in que&longs;tion their privilege to do what
they thought proper. It is a very &longs;trange
thing, &longs;aid one of them, who was a speaker
for the re&longs;t, that after having conquered
Burgoyne and Cornwallis, and got a
government of our own, we cannot put
in it whom we plea&longs;e. This young man
may be your &longs;ervant, or another man's
&longs;ervant; but if we chu&longs;e to make him a
delegate, what is that to you. He may
not be yet &longs;killed in the matter, but there
is a good day a-coming. We will impower
him; and it is better to tru&longs;t a
plain man like him, than one of your

-- 033 --

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

high flyers, that will make laws to &longs;uit
their own purpo&longs;es.

Said the Captain, I had much rather you
would &longs;end the weaver, though I thought
that improper, than to invade my hou&longs;ehold,
and thus detract from me the very per&longs;on
that I have about me to bru&longs;h my boots,
and clean my &longs;purs. The prolocutor of
the people gave him to under&longs;tand that
his &longs;urmi&longs;es were u&longs;ele&longs;s, for the people
had determined on the choice, and Teague
they would have for a repre&longs;entative.

Finding it an&longs;wered no end to expostulate
with the multitude, he reque&longs;ted to
&longs;peak a word with Teague by him&longs;elf.
Stepping a&longs;ide, he &longs;aid to him, compo&longs;ing
his voice, and addre&longs;&longs;ing him in a &longs;oft manner;
Teague, you are quite wrong in this
matter they have put into your head. Do
you know what it is to be a member of a
deliberative body? What qualifications are
nece&longs;&longs;ary? Do you under&longs;tand any thing
of geography? If a que&longs;tion &longs;hould be, to
make a law to dig a canal in &longs;ome part of
the &longs;tate, can you de&longs;cribe the bearing of
the mountains, and the cour&longs;e of the rivers?
Or if commerce is to be pu&longs;hed to &longs;ome new
quarter, by the force of regulations, are you
competent to decide in &longs;uch a ca&longs;e? There

-- 034 --

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

will be que&longs;tions of law, and a&longs;tronomy
on the carpet. How you mu&longs;t gape and
&longs;tare like a fool, when you come to be
a&longs;ked your opinion on the&longs;e &longs;ubjects? Are
you acquainted with the ab&longs;tract principles
of finance; with the funding public securities;
the ways and means of rai&longs;ing the
revenue; providing for the di&longs;charge of
the public debts, and all other things
which re&longs;pect the economy of the government?
Even if you had knowledge, have
you a facility of &longs;peaking. I would &longs;uppo&longs;e
you would have too much pride to go to
the hou&longs;e ju&longs;t to &longs;ay, Ay, or No. This is
not the fault of your nature, but of your
education; having been accu&longs;tomed to dig
turf in your early years, rather than instructing
your&longs;elf in the cla&longs;&longs;ics, or common
&longs;chool books.

When a man becomes a member of a public
body, he is like a racoon, or other bea&longs;t
that climbs up the fork of a tree; the boys
pu&longs;hing at him with pitch-forks, or throwing
&longs;tones, or &longs;hooting at him with an arrow,
the dogs barking in the mean time.
One will find fault with your not &longs;peaking;
another with your &longs;peaking, if you &longs;peak
at all. They will have you in the news papers,
and ridicule you as a perfect bea&longs;t.

-- 035 --

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

There is what they call the caricatura;
that is, repre&longs;enting you with a dog's head,
or a cat's claw. As you have a red head,
they will very probably make a fox of you,
or a &longs;orrel hor&longs;e, or a brindled cow, or
the like. It is the devil in hell to be exposed
to the &longs;quibs and crackers of the gazette
wits and publications. You know
no more about the&longs;e matters than a goo&longs;e;
and yet you would undertake ra&longs;hly, without
advice, to enter on the office; nay,
contrary to advice. For I would not for
a thou&longs;and guineas, though I have not the
half of it to &longs;pare, that the breed of the
Oregans &longs;hould come to this; bringing on
them a wor&longs;e &longs;tain than &longs;tealing &longs;heep; to
which they are addicted. You have nothing
but your character, Teague, in a
new country to depend upon. Let it never
be &longs;aid, that you quitted an hone&longs;t livelihood,
the taking care of my hor&longs;e, to follow
the new fangled whims of the times,
and to be a &longs;tate&longs;man.

Teague was moved chiefly with the la&longs;t
part of the addre&longs;s, and con&longs;ented to give
up the object.

The Captain, glad of this, took him
back to the people, and announced his

-- 036 --

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

di&longs;po&longs;ition to decline the honour which
they had intended him.

Teague acknowledged that he had changed
his mind, and was willing to remain
in a private &longs;tation.

The people did not &longs;eem well plea&longs;ed
with the Captain; but as nothing more
could be &longs;aid about the matter, they turned
their attention to the weaver, and gave
him their &longs;uffrages.

-- 037 --

CHAP. IV.

[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]

CAPTAIN FARRAGO leaving this
place, proceeded on his way; and at
the di&longs;tance of a mile or two, met a man
with a bridle in his hand; who had lo&longs;t
a hor&longs;e, and had been at a conjurer's to
make enquiry, and recover his property.

It &longs;truck the mind of the Captain to go
to this conjuring per&longs;on, and make a demand
of him, what was the cau&longs;e that the
multitude were &longs;o di&longs;po&longs;ed to elevate the
low to the highe&longs;t &longs;tation. He had rode
but about a mile, when the habitation of
the conjurer, by the direction and description
of the man who had lo&longs;t the hor&longs;e had
given, began to be in view. Coming up
to the door, and enquiring if that was not
where conjurer Kolt lived, they were answered
Yes. Accordingly alighting, and
entering the domicile, all tho&longs;e things took
place which u&longs;ually happen, or are described
in ca&longs;es of this nature, viz. there
was the conjurer's a&longs;&longs;i&longs;tant, who gave the
Captain to under&longs;tand that ma&longs;ter had

-- 038 --

[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]

withdrawn a little, but would be in shortly.

In the mean time, the a&longs;&longs;i&longs;tant endeavoured
to draw from him &longs;ome account of
the occa&longs;ion of his journey; which the
other readily communicated; and the conjurer,
who was li&longs;tening through a crack
in the partition, overheard. Finding it
was not a hor&longs;e or a cow, or a piece of
linen that was lo&longs;t, but an ab&longs;tract que&longs;tion
of political philo&longs;ophy which was to be put,
he came from his lurking place, and entered,
as if not knowing that any per&longs;on
had been waiting for him.

After mutual &longs;alutations, the Captain
gave him to under&longs;tand the object which
he had in view by calling on him.

Said the conjurer, This lies not at all in
my way. If it had been a dozen of &longs;poons,
or a &longs;tolen watch, that you had to look
for, I could very readily, by the a&longs;&longs;i&longs;tance
of my art, have a&longs;&longs;i&longs;ted you in the recovery;
but as to this matter of men's imaginations
and attachments in political affairs,
I have no more under&longs;tanding than
another man.

It is very &longs;trange, &longs;aid the Captain, that
you who can tell by what means a thing is
&longs;tolen, and the place where it is depo&longs;ited,

-- 039 --

[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]

though at a thou&longs;and miles di&longs;tance, &longs;hould
know &longs;o little of what is going on in the
brea&longs;t of man, as not to be able to develope
his &longs;ecret thoughts, and the motives
of his actions.

It is not of our bu&longs;ine&longs;s, &longs;aid the other;
but &longs;hould we undertake it, I do not &longs;ee
that it would be very difficult to explain
all that puzzles you at pre&longs;ent. There is
no need of a conjurer to tell why it is that
the common people are more di&longs;po&longs;ed to
tru&longs;t one of their own cla&longs;s, than tho&longs;e
who may affect to be &longs;uperior. Be&longs;ides,
there is a certain pride in man, which leads
him to elevate the low, and pull down the
high. There is a kind of creating power
exerted in making a &longs;enator of an unqualified
per&longs;on; which when the author has
done, he exults over the work, and, like
the Creator him&longs;elf when he made the
world, &longs;ees that “it is very good.” Moreover,
there is in every government a patrician
cla&longs;s, again&longs;t whom the &longs;pirit of the
multitude naturally militates: And hence
a perpetual war; the ari&longs;tocrats endeavouring
to detrude the people, and the
people contending to obtrude them&longs;elves.
And it is right it &longs;hould be &longs;o; for by this

-- 040 --

[figure description] Page 040.[end figure description]

fermentation, the &longs;pirit of democracy is
kept alive.

The Captain, thanking him for his information,
a&longs;ked him what was to pay;
at the &longs;ame time pulling out half a crown
from a green &longs;ilk pur&longs;e which he had in
his breeches pocket. The conjurer gave
him to under&longs;tand, that as the &longs;olution of
the&longs;e difficulties was not within his province,
he took nothing for it. The Captain
expre&longs;&longs;ing his &longs;en&longs;e of his di&longs;intere&longs;ted
&longs;ervice, bade him adieu.

-- 041 --

CHAP. V. Containing Reflections.

[figure description] Page 041.[end figure description]

A Democracy is beyond all que&longs;tion the
free&longs;t government: becau&longs;e under
this, every man is equally protected by
the laws, and has equally a voice in making
them. But I do not &longs;ay an equal voice;
becau&longs;e &longs;ome men have &longs;tronger lungs than
others, and can expre&longs;s more forcibly
their opinions of public affairs. Others,
though they may not &longs;peak very loud, yet
have a faculty of &longs;aying more in a &longs;hort
time; and even in the ca&longs;e of others, who
&longs;peak little or none at all, yet what they
do &longs;ay containing good &longs;en&longs;e, comes with
greater weight; &longs;o that all things considered,
every citizen, has not, in this &longs;en&longs;e of
the word, an equal voice. But the right
being equal, what great harm if it is unequally
exerci&longs;ed? is it nece&longs;&longs;ary that every
man &longs;hould become a &longs;tate&longs;man? No more
than that every man &longs;hould become a poet
or a painter. The &longs;ciences, are open to all;

-- 042 --

[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]

but let him only who has ta&longs;te and genius
pur&longs;ue them. If any man covets the office
of a bi&longs;hop, &longs;ays St. Paul, he covets a
good work. But again, he adds this caution,
Ordain not a novice, le&longs;t being lifted
up with pride, he falls into the condemnation
of the devil. It is indeed making
a devil of a man to lift him up to a &longs;tate
to which he is not &longs;uited. A ditcher is a
re&longs;pectable character, with his over-alls on,
and a &longs;pade in his hand; but put the &longs;ame
man to tho&longs;e offices which require the
head, whereas he has been accu&longs;tomed to
impre&longs;s with his foot, and there appears a
contra&longs;t between the man and the occupation.

There are individuals in &longs;ociety, who
prefer honour to wealth; or cultivate political
&longs;tudies as a branch of literary pursuits;
and offer them&longs;elves to &longs;erve public
bodies, in order to have an opportunity of
di&longs;covering their knowledge, and exerci&longs;ing
their judgment. It mu&longs;t be chagrining to
the&longs;e, and hurtful to the public, to &longs;ee
tho&longs;e who have no talent this way, and ought
to have no ta&longs;te, prepo&longs;terou&longs;ly obtrude
them&longs;elves upon the government. It is the
&longs;ame as if a brick-layer &longs;hould u&longs;urp the office
of a taylor, and come with his &longs;quare

-- 043 --

[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]

and perpendicular, to take the mea&longs;ure of
a pair of breeches.

It is proper that tho&longs;e who cultivate oratory,
&longs;hould go to the hou&longs;e of orators. But
for an Ay and No man to be ambitious of
that place, is to &longs;acrifice his credit to his
vanity.

I would not mean to in&longs;inuate that legislators
are to be &longs;elected from the more
wealthy of the citizens, yet a man's circumstances
ought to be &longs;uch as afford him
lei&longs;ure for &longs;tudy and reflection. There is
often wealth without ta&longs;te or talent. I have
no idea, that becau&longs;e a man lives in a great
hou&longs;e, and has a clu&longs;ter of bricks or &longs;tones
about his back&longs;ide, that he is therefore fit
for a legi&longs;lator. There is &longs;o much pride
and arrogance with tho&longs;e who con&longs;ider
them&longs;elves the fir&longs;t in a government, that
it de&longs;erves to be checked by the populace,
and the evil mo&longs;t u&longs;ually commences on
this &longs;ide. Men a&longs;&longs;ociate with their own
per&longs;ons, the adventitious circum&longs;tances of
birth and fortune: So that a fellow blowing
with fat and repletion, conceives him&longs;elf
&longs;uperior to the poor lean man, that lodges
in an inferior man&longs;ion. But as in all ca&longs;es,
&longs;o in this, there is a medium. Genius and
virtue are independent of rank and

-- 044 --

[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]

fortune; and it is neither the opulent, nor the
indigent, but the man of ability and integrity
that ought to be called forth to &longs;erve
his country: and while, on the one hand,
the ari&longs;tocratic part of the government,
arrogates a right to repre&longs;ent; on the other
hand, the democratic contends the point;
and from this conjunction and oppo&longs;ition
of forces, there is produced a compound
re&longs;olution, which carries the object in an
intermediate direction. When we &longs;ee
therefore, a Teague Oregan lifted up, the
philo&longs;opher will reflect, that it is to balance
&longs;ome pur&longs;e-proud fellow, equally as ignorant,
that comes down from the &longs;phere of
the ari&longs;tocratic intere&longs;t.

But every man ought to con&longs;ider for
him&longs;elf, whether it is his u&longs;e to be this
draw-back, on either &longs;ide. For as when
good liquor is to be di&longs;tilled, you throw
in &longs;ome material u&longs;ele&longs;s in it&longs;elf to correct
the efferve&longs;cence of the &longs;pirit; &longs;o it may be
his part to act as a &longs;edative. For though
we commend the effect, yet &longs;till the material
retains but its original value.

But as the nature of things is &longs;uch, let
no man, who means well to the commonwealth,
and offers to &longs;erve it, be hurt in
his mind when &longs;ome one of meaner talents

-- 045 --

[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]

is preferred. The people are a &longs;overeign,
and greatly de&longs;potic; but, in the main,
ju&longs;t.

I have a great mind, in order to elevate
the compo&longs;ition, to make quotations
from the Greek and Roman hi&longs;tory. And
I am con&longs;cious to my&longs;elf, that I have read
over the writers on the government of Italy
and Greece, in ancient, as well as
modern times. But I have drawn a great
deal more from reflection on the nature
of things, than from all the writings I
have ever read. Nay, the hi&longs;tory of the
election, which I have ju&longs;t given, will afford
a better le&longs;&longs;on to the American mind,
than all that is to be found in other examples.
We have &longs;een here, a weaver a
favoured candidate, and in the next instance,
a bog-trotter &longs;uper&longs;eding him. Now
it may be &longs;aid, that this is fiction; but fiction,
or no fiction, the nature of the thing
will make it a reality. But I return to the
adventures of the Captain, whom I have
upon my hands; and who, as far as I can
yet di&longs;cover, is a good hone&longs;t man; and
means what is benevolent and u&longs;eful;
though his ideas may not comport with
the ordinary manner of thinking, in every
particular.

-- 046 --

BOOK II.

[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]

THERE was, in a certain great city,
a &longs;ociety who called them&longs;elves Philosophers.
They had publi&longs;hed books,
they called Tran&longs;actions. The&longs;e contained
di&longs;&longs;ertations on the nature and cau&longs;es
of things; from the &longs;tars of the heaven to
the fire-flies of the earth; and from the
&longs;ea-crab to the woodland buffaloe. Such
di&longs;qui&longs;itions, are doubtle&longs;s u&longs;eful and entertaining
to an inqui&longs;itive mind.

There is no que&longs;tion, but there were in
this body &longs;ome very great men; who&longs;e
inve&longs;tigations of the arcana of nature, deserve
attention. But &longs;o it was, there had
been introduced, by &longs;ome means, many
individuals, who were no philo&longs;ophers at

-- 047 --

[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]

all. This is no unu&longs;ual thing with institutions
of this nature; though, by the
bye, it is a very great fault. For it lessens
the incentives of honour, to have the
acce&longs;s made &longs;o ea&longs;y, that every one may
obtain admi&longs;&longs;ion. It has been a reproach
to &longs;ome colleges, that a diploma could be
purcha&longs;ed for half a crown. This &longs;ociety
were &longs;till more moderate; for the bare
&longs;cratching the back&longs;ide of a member has
been known to procure a fellow&longs;hip. At
lea&longs;t, there have been tho&longs;e admitted who
appeared capable of nothing el&longs;e.

Neverthele&longs;s, it was nece&longs;&longs;ary, even in
the&longs;e ca&longs;es, for the candidates to procure
&longs;ome token of a philo&longs;ophical turn of mind;
&longs;uch as the &longs;kin of a dead cat, or &longs;ome
odd kind of a mou&longs;e-trap, or the like; or
have &longs;ome phra&longs;es in their mouths, about
minerals and petrifactions; &longs;o as ju&longs;t to
&longs;upport &longs;ome idea of natural knowledge,
and pa&longs;s mu&longs;ter. There was one who had
got in by finding, accidentally, the tail
of a rabbit, which had been taken off in
a boy's trap. Another by means of a
&longs;quirrel's &longs;calp, which he had taken care
to &longs;tretch and dry on a bit of o&longs;ier, bended
in the form of a hoop. The beard of
an old fox, taken off and dried in the &longs;un,

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[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]

was the means of introducing one whom
I knew very well: Or rather, as I have
already hinted, it was beforehand intended
he &longs;hould be introduced; and the&longs;e
exuviæ, or &longs;poils of the animal kingdom,
were but the tokens and apologies for admission.

It happened, as the Captain was riding
this day, and Teague trotting after him, he
&longs;aw a large owl, that had been &longs;hot by &longs;ome
body, and was placed in the crotch of a tree,
about the height of a man's head from the
ground, for tho&longs;e that pa&longs;&longs;ed by to look
at. The Captain being &longs;truck with it, as
&longs;omewhat larger than &longs;uch birds u&longs;ually
are, de&longs;ired Teague to reach it to him;
and tying it to the hinder part of his saddle,
rode along.

Pa&longs;&longs;ing by the hou&longs;e of one who belonged
to the &longs;ociety, the bird was noticed at
the &longs;addle-&longs;kirts, and the philo&longs;opher coming
out, made enquiry of the genus and
nature of the fowl. Said the Captain, I
know nothing more about it, than that it
is nearly as long as a turkey buzzard. It
is doubtle&longs;s, &longs;aid the other, the great Canada
owl, that comes from the Lakes; and
if your honour will give me leave, I will
take it and &longs;ubmit it to the &longs;ociety, and

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[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]

have your&longs;elf made a member. As to the
fir&longs;t, the Captain con&longs;ented; but as to the
la&longs;t, the being a member, he cho&longs;e rather
to decline it; conceiving him&longs;elf unqualified
for a place in &longs;uch a body. The other
a&longs;&longs;ured him that he was under a very great
mi&longs;take; for there were per&longs;ons there who
&longs;carcely knew a B from a bull's foot. That
may be, &longs;aid the Captain; but if others
chu&longs;e to degrade them&longs;elves, by &longs;uffering
their names to be u&longs;ed in &longs;o prepo&longs;terous
a way as that, it was no rea&longs;on he &longs;hould.

The other gave him to under&longs;tand, that
the &longs;ociety would certainly wi&longs;h to expre&longs;s
their &longs;en&longs;e of his merit, and &longs;hew themselves
not inattentive to a virtuo&longs;o; that
as he declined the honour him&longs;elf, he probably
might not be aver&longs;e to let his servant
take a &longs;eat among them.

Said the Captain, He is but a &longs;imple
Iri&longs;hman, and of a low education; his
language being that &longs;poken by the aborigines
of his country. And if he &longs;peaks
a little Engli&longs;h, it is with the brogue on
his tongue; which would be unbecoming
in a member of your body. It would &longs;eem
to me, that a philo&longs;opher ought to know
how to write, or at lea&longs;t to read. But
Teague can neither write nor read. He

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[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]

can &longs;ing a &longs;ong, or whi&longs;tle an Iri&longs;h tune;
but is totally illiterate in all things el&longs;e.
I que&longs;tion much if he could tell you how
many new moons there are in the year;
or any the mo&longs;t common thing that you
could a&longs;k him. He is a long-legged fellow,
it is true; and might be of &longs;ervice in
clambering over rocks, or going to the
&longs;hores of rivers, to gather curio&longs;ities. But
could you not get per&longs;ons to do this, without
making them members? I have more
re&longs;pect for &longs;cience, than to &longs;uffer this bog-trotter
to be &longs;o advanced at its expence.

In the&longs;e American &longs;tates, there is a wide
field for philo&longs;ophic &longs;earch; and the&longs;e researches
may be of great u&longs;e in agriculture,
mechanics, and a&longs;tronomy. There
is but little immediate profit attending
the&longs;e pur&longs;uits; but if there can be inducements
of honour, the&longs;e may &longs;upply the
place. What more alluring to a young
man, than the pro&longs;pect of being, one day,
received into a &longs;ociety of men truly learned;
the admi&longs;&longs;ion being a te&longs;t and a proof
of di&longs;tingui&longs;hed knowledge. But the fountain
of honour, thus contaminated by a
&longs;ediment foreign from its nature, who
would wi&longs;h to drink of it?

Said the philo&longs;opher, At the fir&longs;t

-- 051 --

[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]

institution of the &longs;ociety by Dr. Franklin and
others, it was put upon a narrow ba&longs;is,
and only men of &longs;cience were con&longs;idered
proper to compo&longs;e it; and this might be a
nece&longs;&longs;ary policy at that time, when the institution
was in its infancy, and could not
bear much draw-back of ignorance. But
it has not been judged &longs;o nece&longs;&longs;ary of late
years. The matter &longs;tands now on a broad
and catholic bottom; and, like the go&longs;pel
it&longs;elf, it is our orders to go out into the
high-ways and hedges, and compel them
to come in. There are hundreds, who&longs;e
names you may &longs;ee on our li&longs;t, who are
not more in&longs;tructed than this lad of yours.

They mu&longs;t be a &longs;ad &longs;et indeed then, &longs;aid
the Captain. Sad or no &longs;ad, &longs;aid the other,
it is the ca&longs;e; and if you will let Teague
go, I will engage him a member&longs;hip.

I take it very ill of you, Mr. Philosopher,
&longs;aid the Captain, to put this non&longs;en&longs;e
in his head. If you knew what trouble I
have lately had with a parcel of people
that were for &longs;ending him to Congre&longs;s, you
would be unwilling to draw him from me
for the purpo&longs;e of making him a philosopher.
It is not an ea&longs;y matter to get hirelings
now-a-days; and when you do get
one, it is a mere chance, whether he is

-- 052 --

[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]

faithful, and will &longs;uit your purpo&longs;e. It
would be a very great lo&longs;s to me, to have
him taken off at this time, when I have
equipped my&longs;elf for a journey.

Teague was a good deal incen&longs;ed at this
refu&longs;al of his ma&longs;ter, and in&longs;i&longs;ted that he
would be a philo&longs;opher. You are an ignoramus,
&longs;aid the Captain. It is not the
being among philo&longs;ophers will make you
one.

Teague in&longs;i&longs;ted that he had a right to
make the be&longs;t of his fortune: and as there
was a door open to his advancement, he
did not &longs;ee why he might not make u&longs;e
of it.

The Captain finding that it an&longs;wered no
end to di&longs;pute the matter with him, by
words of &longs;en&longs;e and rea&longs;on, took a contrary
way to manage him.

Teague, &longs;aid he, I have a regard for
you, and would wi&longs;h to &longs;ee you do well.
But before you take this &longs;tep, I would
wi&longs;h to &longs;peak a word or two in private. If
you will go, I may perhaps &longs;ugge&longs;t &longs;ome
things that may be of &longs;ervice to you, for
your future conduct in that body.

Teague con&longs;enting, they &longs;tepped a&longs;ide;
and the Captain addre&longs;&longs;ed him in the following
manner:

-- 053 --

[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]

Teague, &longs;aid he, do you know what you
are about? It is a fine thing, at fir&longs;t &longs;ight,
to be a philo&longs;opher, and get into this body.
And indeed, if you are a real philosopher,
it might be &longs;ome honour, and al&longs;o
&longs;afe, to take that leap. But do you think
it is to make a philo&longs;opher of you that
they want you? Far from it. It is their
great &longs;tudy to find curio&longs;ities; and because
this man &longs;aw you coming after
me, with a red head, trotting like an Esquimaux
Indian, it has &longs;truck his mind
to pick you up, and pa&longs;s you for one.
Nay, it is po&longs;&longs;ible, they may intend wor&longs;e;
and when they have examined you awhile,
take the &longs;kin off you, and pa&longs;s you for an
over-grown otter, or a mu&longs;k-rat; or &longs;ome
outlandi&longs;h animal, for which they will,
them&longs;elves, invent a name. If you were
at the mu&longs;eum of one of the&longs;e &longs;ocieties, to
ob&longs;erve the quantity of &longs;kins and &longs;keletons
they have, you might be well a&longs;&longs;ured they
did not come by them hone&longs;tly. I know &longs;o
much of the&longs;e people, that I am well persuaded
they would think no more of
throwing you into a kettle of boiling water,
than they would a tarapin; and having
&longs;craped you out to a &longs;hell, pre&longs;ent you
as the relics of an animal they had procured,
at an immen&longs;e price, from &longs;ome

-- 054 --

[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]

Guinea merchant. Or if they &longs;hould not
at once turn you to this u&longs;e, how, in the
mean time, will they di&longs;po&longs;e of you?
They will have you away through the
bogs and mar&longs;hes, catching flies and miresnipes;
or &longs;end you to the woods for a polecat;
or oblige you to de&longs;cend into drawwells
for fog, and phlogi&longs;tic air, and the
Lord knows what. You mu&longs;t go into
wolves dens, and catch bears by the tail;
run over mountains like an opo&longs;&longs;um, and
dig the earth like a ground hog. You
will have to climb upon trees, and get
your&longs;elf bit by flying &longs;quirrels. There will
be no end to the mu&longs;ketoes you will have
to di&longs;&longs;ect. What is all this to diving into
mill-dams and rivers, to get craw-fi&longs;h. Or
if you go to the ocean, there are alligators
to devour you like a cat-fi&longs;h. Who
knows but it may come your turn, in a
windy night, to go aloft to the heavens,
to rub down the &longs;tars, and give the goats
and rams, that are there, fodder. The
keeping the &longs;tars clean, is a laborious
work; a great deal wor&longs;e than &longs;couring
andirons, or bra&longs;s kettles. There is a
bull there would think no more of to&longs;&longs;ing
you on his horns than he would a puppy
dog. If the crab &longs;hould get you in his

-- 055 --

[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]

claws he would &longs;queeze you like a lob&longs;ter.
But what is all that to your having no
place to &longs;tand on? How would you like
to be up at the moon, and to fall down
when you had mi&longs;&longs;ed your hold, like a
boy from the top-ma&longs;t of a &longs;hip, and have
your brains beat out upon the top of &longs;ome
great mountain; where the devil might
take your &longs;keleton and give it to the turkey-buzzards?

Or if they &longs;hould, in the mean time,
excu&longs;e from &longs;uch out of door &longs;ervices, they
will rack and torture you with hard questions.
You mu&longs;t tell them how long the
rays of light are coming from the &longs;un;
how many drops of rain fall in a thunder
gu&longs;t; what makes the gra&longs;shopper chirp
when the &longs;un is hot; how mu&longs;cle &longs;hells
get up to the top of the mountains; how
the Indians got over to America. You
will have to prove ab&longs;olutely that the negroes
were once white; and that their
flat no&longs;es came by &longs;ome cau&longs;e in the compass
of human means to produce. The&longs;e
are puzzling que&longs;tions; and yet you mu&longs;t
&longs;olve them all. Take my advice, and &longs;tay
where you are. Many men have ruined
them&longs;elves by their ambition, and made
bad wor&longs;e. There is another kind of

-- 056 --

[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]

philo&longs;ophy, which lies more within your
&longs;phere; that is moral philo&longs;ophy. Every
ho&longs;tler or hireling can &longs;tudy this, and
you have the mo&longs;t excellent opportunity
of acquiring this knowledge in our traverses
through the country; or communications
at the different taverns or villages,
where we may happen to &longs;ojourn.

Teague had long ago given up all
thoughts of philo&longs;ophy, and would not
for the world have any more to do with
it; and therefore, without bidding the
philo&longs;opher adieu, they pur&longs;ued their route
as u&longs;ual.

-- 057 --

[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]

THE in&longs;titution of the American Philosophical
Society, does great honour
to the founders; and what has been published
by that body, comes not behind what
has appeared from &longs;ocieties of the &longs;ame
nature el&longs;ewhere. But of late years, it
has cea&longs;ed to be pre&longs;umptive evidence,
at lea&longs;t what the lawyers call violent presumption,
of philo&longs;ophical attainments, to
be a member; owing to the &longs;purious brood
of illiterate per&longs;ons that have been admitted
indi&longs;criminately with the informed; this
again, owing to a political di&longs;pute in the
government where this &longs;ociety exi&longs;ts. For
when there are parties in a commonwealth,
they naturally &longs;ubdivide them&longs;elves, and
are found even in the retreats of the mu&longs;es.
It has become the que&longs;tion with this society,
not whether a man is a philo&longs;opher or
not, but what part he had taken in &longs;ome
que&longs;tion on the carpet. The body

-- 058 --

[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]

conceived it&longs;elf to pay a compliment to the per&longs;on
admitted, as if it could be any honour to
a man to be announced what he is not. The
contrary is the ca&longs;e here. For as honour
is the acknowledgement which the world
makes of a man's re&longs;pectability, there can
be no honour here; for it has become a
mere matter of moon-&longs;hine to be a member.
To be or not be, that is the que&longs;tion;
but &longs;o trifling, that it is &longs;carcely ever made.
The way to remedy this, would be to have
an over hauling of the hou&longs;e, and derange
at lea&longs;t three parts in four. As in the ca&longs;e
of Tarquin, and the three remaining books
of the Sybiles, you would receive as much
for the fourth part of that body, &longs;hould
you &longs;et them up at market, as for the
whole at pre&longs;ent.

I have often reflected with my&longs;elf, what
an honour it mu&longs;t be, to be one of the society
of the French academy; forty, of
twenty-four millions of people, are there
&longs;elected in con&longs;equence of literary characters
already e&longs;tabli&longs;hed.

I recollect the time when I had high ideas
of philo&longs;ophical member&longs;hip in America.
But it does not appear to me now to
be the highe&longs;t thing that a man could wi&longs;h,
&longs;ince even a common Teague Oregan,

-- 059 --

[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]

trotting on the high way, has been &longs;olicited
to take a &longs;eat. It may be &longs;aid, that this is
an exaggeration of the facts; and can be
con&longs;idered only as burle&longs;que. I profe&longs;s it
is not intended as &longs;uch, but as a fair picture
of what has taken place. Should it
be con&longs;idered in the light of burle&longs;que, it
mu&longs;t be a very lame one; becau&longs;e where
there is no exce&longs;s there can be no caricatura.
But omitting all apologies and explanations,
let the matter re&longs;t where it is.

-- 060 --

BOOK III.

[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]

IT was &longs;omewhat late when the Captain
arrived at an inn this evening. There
was there before him, a young clergyman,
who had been preaching that day in
a neighbouring congregation; but had not
as u&longs;ual, gone home with an elder; but
had come thus far on his way towards another
place, where he was to preach the
next day.

The Captain entering into conver&longs;ation
with the clergyman, &longs;at up pretty late.
The &longs;ubject was what might be expected;
viz. the affairs of religion and the church.
The clergyman was a good young man;
but inclining to fanatici&longs;m, and being righteous
over much: The Captain on the

-- 061 --

[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]

other hand, &longs;omewhat &longs;ceptical in his notions
of religion: Hence, a con&longs;iderable
oppo&longs;ition of &longs;entiment between the two.
But at length, drowzine&longs;s &longs;eizing both,
candles were called for, and they went to
bed.

It was about an hour or two after, when
an uproar was heard in a &longs;mall chamber to
the left of the &longs;tair-ca&longs;e which led to the
floor on which they &longs;lept. It was Teague,
who had got to bed to the girl of the
hou&longs;e. For as they would neither let him
go to Congre&longs;s, nor be a philo&longs;opher, he
mu&longs;t be doing &longs;omething. The girl not
being apprized, or not chu&longs;ing his embraces,
made a great outcry and lamentation.
The clergyman, who &longs;lept in an adjoining
chamber, and hearing this, out of
the zeal of his benevolence and humanity,
leaped out of bed in his &longs;hirt, and ran in
to &longs;ee what was the cau&longs;e of the disturbance.
The Captain al&longs;o jumping up, followed
&longs;oon after, and was &longs;carcely in the
chamber before the landlord coming up
with a candle, found them all together.

The maid gave this account of the matter,
viz. That between &longs;leeping and waking
&longs;he felt a man's hand lifting up the
bed-clothes; upon which &longs;he &longs;houted out

-- 062 --

[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]

murder. But whether it was any body
there pre&longs;ent, or &longs;ome one el&longs;e, &longs;he could
not tell.

Teague, who&longs;e natural parts were not
bad, and pre&longs;ence of mind con&longs;iderable,
in&longs;tantly took the re&longs;olution to throw the
matter on the clergyman. By &longs;haint Patrick,
&longs;aid he, I was a&longs;lape in my own bed
as &longs;ound as the &longs;hates that were about me,
when I heard the &longs;ound of this young
crature's voice crying out like a &longs;hape in
a pa&longs;ture; and when after I had heard,
a&longs;lape as I was, and come here, I found
this pra&longs;te, who was &longs;o wholy, and praching
all night, upon the top of the bed,
with his arms round this young crature's
neck; and if I had not given him a twitch
by the no&longs;e, and bid him ly over, dear
honey, he would have ravi&longs;hed her virginity,
and murdered her, &longs;ave her &longs;oul,
and the paple of the hou&longs;e not the wi&longs;er
for it.

The clergyman &longs;tared with his mouth
open; for the palpable nature of the falshood,
had &longs;hocked him beyond the power
of &longs;peech.

But the landlady, who in the mean time
was come up, and had heard what Teague
had &longs;aid, was enraged, could &longs;upply &longs;peech

-- 063 --

[figure description] Page 063.[end figure description]

for them both. Hey, &longs;aid &longs;he, this comes
of your preaching and praying, Mr. Minister.
I have lodged many a gentleman; but
have never had &longs;uch doings here before. It
is a pretty &longs;tory that a mini&longs;ter of the gospel
&longs;hould be the fir&longs;t to bring a &longs;candal
upon the hou&longs;e.

The Captain interrupted her, and told
her there was no harm done. The maid
was not actually ravi&longs;hed; and if there
was no noi&longs;e made about it, all matters
might be &longs;et right.

The clergyman had by this time recovered
him&longs;elf &longs;o much as to have the u&longs;e of
his tongue; and began by prote&longs;ting his innocence,
and that it was no more him that
made the attack upon the maid, than the
angel Gabriel.

The Captain, interrupting him, and
wi&longs;hing to &longs;ave his feelings, began by excusing
or extenuating the offence. It is
no great affair, &longs;aid he, after all that is
&longs;aid or done. The love of women is a
natural &longs;in, and the holie&longs;t men in all ages
have been propen&longs;e to this indulgence.
There was Abraham that got to bed to his
maid Hagar, and had a ba&longs;tard by her,
whom he named I&longs;hmael. Jo&longs;hua, who
took Jericho by the &longs;ound of ram's horns,

-- 064 --

[figure description] Page 064.[end figure description]

&longs;aved a likely &longs;lut of the name of Rahab,
under a pretence that &longs;he had been civil to
the &longs;pies he had &longs;ent out, but in reality because
he him&longs;elf took a fancy for her. I
need &longs;ay nothing about David, who wrote
the P&longs;alms, and &longs;et them to mu&longs;ic; and
yet in his old days had a girl to &longs;leep with
him. Human nature is human nature &longs;till;
and it is not all the preaching and praying
on earth can extingui&longs;h it.

The clergyman averred his innocence,
and that it was that red-headed gentleman
him&longs;elf, meaning Teague, who was in the
room fir&longs;t, and had been guilty of the outrage.
Teague was beginning to make the
&longs;ign of the cro&longs;s, and to put him&longs;elf into
an attitude of &longs;wearing, when the Captain
thinking it of no con&longs;equence who was the
per&longs;on, put an end to the matter, by ordering
Teague to bed, and him&longs;elf bidding
the company good night.

The clergyman finding no better could
be made of it, took the advice of the landlord,
and retired al&longs;o. The landlady seemed
di&longs;po&longs;ed to hu&longs;h the matter up, and the
maid went to &longs;leep as u&longs;ual.

-- 065 --

[figure description] Page 065.[end figure description]

IT is not the nature of the female tongue
to be &longs;ilent. The landlady could not
avoid informing her go&longs;&longs;ips, and even &longs;ome
of her gue&longs;ts, of what had happened the
preceding evening in her hou&longs;e. The report,
&longs;o unfavourable to the clergyman,
had therefore got out; and coming to the
ears of the con&longs;i&longs;tory, was the occa&longs;ion of
calling him before them, to an&longs;wer to the
accu&longs;ation. The clergyman much alarmed,
though con&longs;cious of innocence, bethought
him&longs;elf of applying to the Captain,
to extort from his waiting man a
confe&longs;&longs;ion of the truth, and relieve his
character. Accordingly having &longs;et out on
a bay hor&longs;e that he had, he found the
Captain, and addre&longs;&longs;ed him in the following
manner:

Captain, &longs;aid he, the affair of that night
at the tavern, is like to be of &longs;erious consequence
to me. For though I am innocent
as the child unborn, yet the presumption
is again&longs;t me, and I am likely to fall

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under church cen&longs;ure. It may be &longs;port
to you, but it is a matter of moment to
me. Now, as &longs;ure as God is in heaven,
I am innocent; and it mu&longs;t have been the
devil, or that red headed Iri&longs;hman of
yours, that made the di&longs;turbance.

The Captain gave him the comfort of
a&longs;&longs;uring him that he might make him&longs;elf
ea&longs;y; for be the matter as it might, he
would take care that Teague &longs;hould assume
it, and bear the blame. The clergyman
politely thanked him; declaring,
at the &longs;ame time, that he would not forget
him in his prayers, Sunday or Saturday,
while he had an hour to live. The
Captain, not &longs;o much from any mercenary
motive of benefit, by his &longs;piritual
&longs;olicitations, as from a real love of humanity
and ju&longs;tice, had determined to do him
e&longs;&longs;ential &longs;ervice in this affair. Accordingly,
when the clergyman had retired, calling
Teague before him, he began in this
manner: Teague, &longs;aid he, from what I
know of your di&longs;po&longs;ition, I have no more
doubt than I have of my exi&longs;tence, that
it was your&longs;elf who made that uproar with
the girl at the tavern where we lodged;
though I could not but give you credit
for your pre&longs;ence of mind in throwing it

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upon the clergyman. But whether the
matter lies with you or him, is of no
con&longs;equence. You can take it upon you,
and lay up trea&longs;ure in heaven. It will be
doing a good work; and the&longs;e people, you
may be a&longs;&longs;ured, have a con&longs;iderable influence
in the other world. This clergyman
can &longs;peak a good word for you when you
come there, and let you into half the benefit
of all the prayers he has &longs;aid on earth.
It will be no harm to you, for your character
in this re&longs;pect is as bad as it can well
be.

Teague &longs;aid he did not care much; but
thought the prie&longs;t ought to pay a little
&longs;mart money; for it was a thankle&longs;s matter
to do the&longs;e things for nothing. Said
the Captain, the&longs;e people are not the mo&longs;t
plenty of money; but I will advance half
a crown towards the accommodation.
Teague was &longs;atisfied, and ready to acknowledge
whatever was demanded of him.

Accordingly having come before the
pre&longs;bytery on the day appointed for the
trial. Teague made confe&longs;&longs;ion of the truth;
viz. That being in the kitchen with the
girl, and ob&longs;erving her to be a good looking
hu&longs;&longs;y —

But &longs;uppo&longs;e we give the &longs;peech in his

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own dialect. Ma&longs;ter pra&longs;tes, &longs;aid he, I
per&longs;ave you are all pra&longs;tes of the go&longs;ple,
and can prach as a&longs;ily as I can take a chaw
of tobacco. Now the trut of de &longs;tory is
dis; I was &longs;laping in my bed, and I tought
vid my&longs;elf it was a &longs;hame amon&longs;t chri&longs;tian
paple that a young crature &longs;hould &longs;lape by
her&longs;elf, and have no one to take care of
her. So I tought vid my&longs;elf, to go and
&longs;lape vid her. But as &longs;he was a&longs;lape, &longs;he
made exclamation, and dis pra&longs;te that is
here before you, came in to &longs;ave her &longs;houl
from the devil; and as the captain my master,
might take offence, and the devil, I
am &longs;hartain that it was no better per&longs;on,
put it into my head, to lay it on the pra&longs;te
This is the trut ma&longs;ter pra&longs;tes, as I hope
for &longs;halvation in the kingdom of purgatory,
&longs;hentlemen.

On this confe&longs;&longs;ion, the clergyman was
ab&longs;olved, to the great joy of the presbytery,
who con&longs;idered it as a particular providence
that the truth was brought to light.

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IT mu&longs;t appear from the incident at the
public hou&longs;e, with what caution presumptive
te&longs;timony is to be admitted. Our
criminal law admits it, but lays it down
as a rule, that it be admitted with caution.
There is what is called violent presumption;
that is, where &longs;uch circum&longs;tances
exi&longs;t, as u&longs;ually attend the fact. Presumptive
proof of this nature is held &longs;ufficient
to convict. I doubt much, whether reason
or experience approve the doctrine.
Rea&longs;on tells us, that there may be all the
circum&longs;tances that u&longs;ually attend the fact,
and yet without the fact it&longs;elf. Experience
evinces that it has been the ca&longs;e; for
we have heard of per&longs;ons convicted of a
capital offence; and yet with their la&longs;t
breath a&longs;&longs;erting innocence. Nay, in the
ca&longs;e of &longs;ome who have been convicted of
homicide, the per&longs;ons who have been

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supposed to have been murdered, have afterwards
been found alive.

But on ab&longs;tract principles, a conclu&longs;ion
of certainty cannot be drawn from presumptive
proof. Becau&longs;e in ca&longs;es of the
mo&longs;t violent pre&longs;umption, there is &longs;till a
po&longs;&longs;ibility of innocence; and where there
is a po&longs;&longs;ibility, there mu&longs;t be a doubt; and
will you hang man, woman, or child, where
there is a doubt.

In all ca&longs;es there ought to be complete
proof; becau&longs;e the convicted per&longs;on is to
be completely puni&longs;hed; and the jury, previous
to this, mu&longs;t make complete oath of
the guilt.

It is the ground of the doctrine of presumptive
proof, that where you cannot
help &longs;u&longs;pecting, you ought to be po&longs;itive;
whereas the ju&longs;t conclu&longs;ion would be, that
where you cannot help &longs;u&longs;pecting, there
you ought to &longs;u&longs;pect &longs;till, but no more.

It would be a curious que&longs;tion in arithmetic
how many uncertainties make a certainty?
In mathematics, the three angles
of a triangle, are equal to a right angle.
But the&longs;e are all angles, that are put
together; that is, they are things of the
&longs;ame kind, but the greate&longs;t angle, and the
longe&longs;t &longs;ide will never make a triangle,

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[figure description] Page 071.[end figure description]

because there is no inclu&longs;ion of &longs;pace. There
mu&longs;t be a number of things of the &longs;ame
kind to make an aggregate whole; &longs;o that
ten thou&longs;and po&longs;&longs;ibilities, probabilities, and
violent pre&longs;umptions, can never con&longs;titute
a certainty.

Pre&longs;umptive proof is of the nature of
the &longs;emi plena probatio of the Roman law;
going but half-way towards proof, it can
never amount to proof at all. For, as the
&longs;aying is, a mi&longs;s is as good as a mile. I
would, therefore, recommend to all jurors,
to take care that unle&longs;s the witne&longs;&longs;es &longs;wear
po&longs;itively to the fact, they do not find a
verdict, guilty; becau&longs;e, as the current
cannot ri&longs;e higher than the &longs;ource, &longs;o the
verdict of the juror ought not to be more
ab&longs;olute than the oath of the witne&longs;s. In
all ca&longs;es, therefore, &longs;hort of po&longs;itive testimony,
acquit.

The&longs;e hints may al&longs;o be of &longs;ervice to
young attornies, and weak judges; &longs;o that
hone&longs;t people may not lo&longs;e their lives, or
be rendered infamous, without full proof
of the offence. It is hard enough to suffer
when there is full proof; but to be in
the power of a juror's or a judge's imagination,
comparing and con&longs;truing circumstances,
and weighing po&longs;&longs;ibilities,

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[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]

contingencies, and what might have been, or
what might not have been, as the humour,
caprice, wheel, or whim of the brain may
&longs;ugge&longs;t, is incon&longs;i&longs;tent with that fair trial
which, in a free government, ought to be
enjoyed. Was I a judge or juror, no
one would I condemn without po&longs;itive testimony
of the fact. For it would not be
in my power to re&longs;tore that fame or life
which I took away from the innocent.
And if a guilty per&longs;on &longs;hould e&longs;cape, it
was none of my look out; but the business
of Providence to furni&longs;h proof, if it
was intended that man &longs;hould puni&longs;h; and if
proof is not furni&longs;hed, let Providence take
the matter on him&longs;elf, and puni&longs;h the culprit
either in this life or in a future &longs;tate.
Invi&longs;ible things belong to the Omni&longs;cient;
and it would &longs;eem great arrogance in man
to take upon him to decide in ca&longs;es of uncertainty.
I hope, therefore, yet to &longs;ee the
doctrine of pre&longs;umptive proof, in criminal
ca&longs;es, wholly, in courts of ju&longs;tice, discountenanced.
I can declare, that in the
cour&longs;e of my experience at the bar, I have
bad one hung, and &longs;everal others within
an ace of it, who were innocent; and
this on the doctrine of pre&longs;umption and
probability. The one that was hung was

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[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]

a tory ca&longs;e, where the popular clamour
was again&longs;t the man; and light presumption
became violent, under &longs;uch a charge.

I &longs;hall &longs;ay no more on this &longs;ubject;
becau&longs;e it &longs;eems to me that I have been affecting
to &longs;peak &longs;en&longs;e, whereas my business
is to &longs;peak non&longs;en&longs;e; this being the
only way to keep out of the reach of criticism;
becau&longs;e critics can &longs;ay no more
than you your&longs;elf allow; &longs;o that a charge
of non&longs;en&longs;e cannot hurt. It is thus that
per&longs;ons who have a long no&longs;e, or disproportion
of &longs;ome other feature, take the
laugh upon them&longs;elves fir&longs;t, and &longs;o e&longs;cape
ridicule. The truth is, I will not give myself
the trouble to write &longs;en&longs;e long. For
I would as &longs;oon plea&longs;e fools as wi&longs;e men;
becau&longs;e the fools are the mo&longs;t numerous,
and every prudent man will go with the
majority. I &longs;hall return to the adventures
of the Captain.

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THE Pre&longs;bytery &longs;at a day or two at
this place, on church affairs, and the
Captain delaying with them, lodged at the
&longs;ame hou&longs;e. Teague, in the mean time,
having an opportunity of ingratiating himself
with the clergymen, by rubing down
their hor&longs;es, and other menial &longs;ervices.
For it is the national character of the aboriginal
Iri&longs;h, to give fair words; and
Teague was not deficient in this addre&longs;s.
What with ma&longs;ter Pra&longs;ting, and giving a
great deal of what is called Blarney, he
in&longs;inuated him&longs;elf into their good graces;
and by affecting, now and then, to be &longs;een
at prayers by him&longs;elf, and to have a sorrowful
countenance, he induced them to
believe that he was in the fir&longs;t &longs;tage of conviction,
and likely to become a pious man.
Having made this progre&longs;s in their good
opinion, he ventured to &longs;ugge&longs;t what was
the ultimate object of his ambition; viz.
the being a candidate for holy orders. The
Pre&longs;bytery, to whom the matter was

-- 075 --

[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]

represented by the individuals more particularly
acquainted with him, thought favourably
of the propo&longs;ition. For though his
common attainments might not be great,
yet if the grace of God had wrought upon
him, he might become a valuable man.

The Captain having got a hint of this,
took the fir&longs;t opportunity of addre&longs;&longs;ing the
Pre&longs;bytery. Gentlemen, &longs;aid he, you are
deceived in this ragamuffin. For, notwithstanding
all the preten&longs;ions he may lately
have to religion, you may be well a&longs;&longs;ured
that it is all hypocri&longs;y, and that he has no
more religion than my hor&longs;e.

The Pre&longs;bytery &longs;u&longs;pecting the Captain
to be a carnal man, and regardle&longs;s of the
mini&longs;try, gave little heed to what he &longs;aid,
and &longs;eemed di&longs;po&longs;ed to take Teague upon
trials.

The Captain finding the ca&longs;e to &longs;tand
thus, and that in &longs;pite of all he could do,
he was likely to lo&longs;e his &longs;ervant, took his
u&longs;ual method of addre&longs;&longs;ing the hopes and
fears of Teague him&longs;elf.

Taking him a&longs;ide, he began, with all
po&longs;&longs;ible art, to impre&longs;s &longs;uch fears and apprehensions,
as the nature of the ca&longs;e suggested.
Teague, &longs;aid he, do you know
what you are about? You have got into

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[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]

your vagaries once more. You want to
preach, do you? Are you appri&longs;ed of the
difficulty of this work? The fir&longs;t thing you
will have to do, is to take a text; and
when that is done, you have to &longs;plit it into
parts. There are what are called heads;
and the&longs;e you mu&longs;t divide into fir&longs;tlys,
and &longs;econdlys, and thirdlys, and fourthlys,
and &longs;o on, till you come to twentiethlys,
perhaps. Are you furni&longs;hed with a concordance?
or do you know what a concordance
is? Can you find a text to &longs;uit
your purpo&longs;e when you want it? Can you
explain the &longs;criptures; the meaning of
Daniel's ram and the he-goat, or the &longs;even
trumpets in the Revelations? You are
mi&longs;taken if you think your Iri&longs;h will pa&longs;s
for Hebrew.

You think it a great honour to preach
now-a days. It was an honour once; but
the thing is now become &longs;o common, that
it is of little con&longs;equence to preach or not.

But do you know how it will behove
you to conduct your&longs;elf, if you take this office
upon you. You will have to compo&longs;e
the mu&longs;cles of your face to greater seriousness
than your di&longs;po&longs;ition can afford. You
mu&longs;t quit whoring. How will you like
that, Teague. It would look very ill after

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[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

&longs;ermon to be catched in bed with a girl at
a tavern.

But do you know why the&longs;e men are &longs;o
anxious to have you of their me&longs;s? The
truth of the matter is, they carry on a war
with the devil, and they wi&longs;h to recruit you
for the &longs;ervice. Do they give you any
bounty-money. Take my word, there
will be but little of this going. Take my
advice then, and let them &longs;ettle their own
quarrels. It is a &longs;illy thing to be drawn into
a party, when there is but little to be
got by it: Nay, wor&longs;e than little: For it
will be all on the other &longs;ide. Think you
the devil will forget the mi&longs;chief you do
him in this world, and not re&longs;ent it when
he comes acro&longs;s you in a future &longs;tate?
When you are preaching and praying, do
you think he will not hear all that you
throw out again&longs;t him. You may rely
upon it, there will be enough to give him
information; and as a &longs;tory never lo&longs;es in
the telling, it is ten to one they will make
the matter wor&longs;e than it was. Take my
advice, therefore, and make no enemies
while you can help it. Steer through life
as &longs;moothly as po&longs;&longs;ible. Keep a good
tongue in your mouth, and let tho&longs;e who
chu&longs;e to di&longs;pute with Belzebub, di&longs;pute. I

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[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

never knew any good come of broils and
quarrels, e&longs;pecially with low characters.
And, to &longs;ay the truth of it, this Satan,
as they call him, is very little of the gentleman.
Even where he is well di&longs;po&longs;ed,
he will do but little good to one; but a
mo&longs;t dangerous creature where he takes a
di&longs;like. When you go to hell, as, one
day, you mu&longs;t, you can expect but little
quarter, after abu&longs;ing him in this world.
He will make you &longs;queel like a pig; take
you by the throat, and kick you like a
cat. His very &longs;cullions will pi&longs;s upon you,
and give you no better life than a dog among
their feet; while the&longs;e very clergymen,
that put you forward to blackguard
for them, will &longs;tand by laughing in their
&longs;leeves that you could be &longs;uch a fool.

The repre&longs;entation had the de&longs;ired effect
upon Teague, and he thought no
more of the matter.

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THE overtures made by Teague, to be
admitted to the mini&longs;try, and the simplicity
of the eccle&longs;ia&longs;tics in li&longs;tening to his
preten&longs;ions, made a great noi&longs;e through
the neighbourhood; in as much as the
young man laboured under a want of education,
and was not qualified by theological
reading. But I do not &longs;ee, why it &longs;hould
be thought blamable; provided the matter
was not too much hurried and ha&longs;tily
brought forward. For give him a little
time, and he might have been in&longs;tructed to
preach as well as &longs;ome that I my&longs;elf have
heard. E&longs;pecially if at fir&longs;t &longs;etting out,
he had confined him&longs;elf to hi&longs;torical passages
of &longs;cripture; &longs;uch as the hi&longs;tory of
Samp&longs;on, and Gideon, and Barak, and the
like: Only he mu&longs;t have taken care that
in pronouncing Barak, with the brogue
upon his tongue, he did not make it Burke;
for that is a patronimic name of his

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[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]

country, and he might inadvertently have fallen
into this pronunciation.

I acknowledge, that in the regular
churches, &longs;uch as that of the Presbyterians,
there is &longs;till kept up &longs;ome opinion of
the nece&longs;&longs;ity of literature. But do we not
&longs;ee that with other denominations; &longs;uch
as the Quakers, the Methodi&longs;ts, and Anabaptists,
it is totally di&longs;regarded and thrown
out? Becau&longs;e when human gifts or acquirements
are ab&longs;ent, that which is supernatural
more evidently appears.

Do not Quakers, and Methodi&longs;ts, and
Bapti&longs;ts, preach very well? At any rate,
they do a great deal of good, and that is the
fir&longs;t object of preaching. Whether &longs;uch
&longs;ermoni&longs;ts, avail them&longs;elves mo&longs;t of &longs;en&longs;e or
&longs;ound, I will not &longs;ay; but &longs;o it is they do
good; and that without the aid of any human
learning whatever.

It is very true, that formerly in the infancy
of the church, a knowledge of languages
and &longs;ciences, might be requi&longs;ite.
But the ca&longs;e is quite altered now. The
Scripture has been well explained, and
frequently preached over; every text and
context examined, and pa&longs;&longs;ages illu&longs;trated.
The Hebrew roots, &longs;o to &longs;peak, have been
all dug up; and there is &longs;carcely a new

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[figure description] Page 081.[end figure description]

etymology to be made. Are there any new
doctrines to di&longs;cover? I &longs;hould think it impossible.
At any rate, I &longs;hould conceive
it unnece&longs;&longs;ary. There are enough in all
con&longs;cience: The inventing more, would
be like bringing timber to a wood, or
coals to Newca&longs;tle.

This being the ca&longs;e, I feel my&longs;elf disposed
to agree with tho&longs;e who reject human
learning in religious matters altogether.
More e&longs;pecially as &longs;cience is really
not the fa&longs;hion at the pre&longs;ent time. For
as has been before &longs;een, even in the very
province of &longs;cience it&longs;elf, it is di&longs;pen&longs;ed
with; that of natural philo&longs;ophy, for instance.
In &longs;tate affairs, ignorance does
very well, and why not in church? I am
for having all things of a piece; ignorant
&longs;tate&longs;men, ignorant philo&longs;ophers, and ignorant
eccle&longs;ia&longs;tics. On this principle,
Teague might have done very well as a
preacher. But the &longs;elfi&longs;hne&longs;s of the Captain
prevailed, and ob&longs;tructed his advancement.

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BOOK IV.

[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]

I AM very happy in the compo&longs;ition of
this work; for though but of a trifling
nature as to &longs;entiment; yet, in what I do
write, no one can attribute to me the lea&longs;t
tincture of &longs;atire, or ridicule of individuals
or public bodies. This is what I very much
di&longs;like in others, and would be far from
indulging in my&longs;elf. I acknowledge, indeed,
that in my earlier years, and in the
cour&longs;e of my academical &longs;tudies, I had
contracted &longs;ome ta&longs;te, and even habit, this
way; owing to my reading the dialogues
of Lucian, in the original Greek. Had I
read them in a tran&longs;lation, they might have

-- 083 --

[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]

made le&longs;s impre&longs;&longs;ion. But by means of a
difficult language, &longs;tudying them &longs;lowly,
the turn of thought became more deeply
impre&longs;&longs;ed upon my mind. Moreover, afterwards,
when I came to have &longs;ome acquaintance
with the modern wits, &longs;uch as
Cervantes, Le Sage, and e&longs;pecially Swift,
I found my&longs;elf &longs;till more inclined to an ironical,
ludicrous way of thinking and writing.
But finding the bad effects of this,
in many re&longs;pects, leading me into broils
with individuals, and rendering me obnoxious
to public bodies, I &longs;aw the indiscretion,
and bad policy of &longs;uch indulgence;
and have for &longs;everal years pa&longs;t, carefully
avoided every thing of this kind. It is indeed
acting but a poor part in life, to make
a bu&longs;ine&longs;s of laughing at the follies of others.
It is injurious to one's &longs;elf; for there
is a great deal more to be gained by soothing
and prai&longs;ing what men do, than by
finding fault with them. It may be &longs;aid
of &longs;atire, what was &longs;aid of anger by &longs;ome
philo&longs;opher, It never pays the &longs;ervice it requires.
It is your &longs;cratching, rump-tickling
people, that get into place and power.
I never knew any good come of wit and
humour yet. They are talents which keep
the owner poor. For this rea&longs;on, I have

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[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]

taken care to repre&longs;s all propen&longs;ity to this
vice; and I believe I can &longs;ay it with truth,
that &longs;ince I have come to the years of a
man's under&longs;tanding, I have carefully avoided
every thing of this nature. Had it
not been for this prudence, I &longs;hould not
have been in a fair way, as I now am, to
be a member of Congre&longs;s, or a judge on
the bench, or governor of a commonwealth,
or &longs;ecretary of &longs;tate, or any thing
that I may have in view. Had I remained
an admirer of Rabelais, or Sterne, or other
biting, jeering writers, that I at fir&longs;t
met with, I might at this day have been considered
as a wit only, without the lea&longs;t advancement
in &longs;tate affairs. But I would
&longs;ooner &longs;ee your Juniu&longs;es, and your Peter
Pindars, libelling kings and mini&longs;ters, at
hell, than &longs;acrifice my intere&longs;t to my passion,
or my vanity, by &longs;trokes of wit, which
is but another name for ill-nature.

In this treati&longs;e, which is &longs;imply a relation
of the adventures of an individual,
I have nothing to do with &longs;trictures upon
particular per&longs;ons, or the affairs of men
in general, and &longs;o have no temptation to the
folly I have ju&longs;t mentioned. The reader,
if any body ever reads it, will find

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nothing here but philanthropic and benevolent
ideas.

Indeed, as it has been known that I
was engaged in writing &longs;omething, persons
who either took, or pretended to take,
&longs;ome intere&longs;t in my affairs, have urged
me very much to depart a little from my usual
way, and make u&longs;e of a little irony, by
way of &longs;ea&longs;oning to the compo&longs;ition; for,
in this ca&longs;e, it would be received better,
and procure more readers; mankind being
naturally delighted with ridicule. But
the truth was, I could &longs;ee nothing to be
ironical about; owing, perhaps, to my
not being in the habit of looking for the
ridiculous, and &longs;o having lo&longs;t the talent
of di&longs;covering it. But my re&longs;olution that
I had taken would have fully pre&longs;erved me
from &longs;uch a lap&longs;e, however numerous the
objects of ridicule might be, that pre&longs;ented
them&longs;elves. This will &longs;erve as an apology
to tho&longs;e who have &longs;olicited me on this
head, and relieve me from &longs;uch solicitations
for the future.

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DETAINING &longs;ome time in a village,
there was a great deal &longs;aid about
a certain Mi&longs;s Fog, who was the
belle of the place. Her father had made
a fortune by the purchu&longs;e of public securities
A garri&longs;on having been at this
place, and troops quartered here, he had
been employed as an i&longs;&longs;uing commi&longs;&longs;ary!
When the commi&longs;&longs;ioners &longs;at to adju&longs;t unliquidated
claims, he had a good deal in
his power, by vouching for the accounts
of the butcher, and baker, and wood-cutter,
and water-drawer, and waggoner, and
all others of all occupations what&longs;oever,
who&longs;e claims were purcha&longs;ed by him&longs;elf,
in the mean time, and when the certificates
i&longs;&longs;ued in their names, they were to
his u&longs;e. The butcher and baker, no doubt,
long before had been paid out of the fle&longs;h
killed, or bread baked; becau&longs;e it is a
good maxim, and a &longs;criptural expre&longs;&longs;ion,
“Muzzle not the ox that treadeth out
the corn.” But the public has a broad

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back, and a little vouching, by a per&longs;on
intere&longs;ted, is not greatly felt. The&longs;e
certificates, though at fir&longs;t of little value,
and i&longs;&longs;ued by the commi&longs;&longs;ioners with
the liberality of tho&longs;e who give what is of
little worth, yet by the funding acts of the
government, having become, in value, equal
to gold and &longs;ilver, the commi&longs;&longs;ary
had a great e&longs;tate thrown upon him; &longs;o
that, from low beginnings, he had become
a man of fortune and con&longs;equence. His
family, and e&longs;pecially the elde&longs;t daughter,
&longs;hared the advantage; for &longs;he had become
the object of almo&longs;t all wooers. The Captain,
though an old bachelor, as we have
&longs;aid, had not wholly lo&longs;t the idea of matrimony.
Happening to be in a circle, one
evening, where Mi&longs;s Fog was, he took
a liking to her, in all re&longs;pects &longs;ave one,
which was, that &longs;he &longs;eemed, on her part,
to have taken a liking to a certain Mr.
Jacko, who was there pre&longs;ent; and to
who&longs;e attention &longs;he di&longs;covered a facility
of acquie&longs;cence. The Captain behaved,
for the pre&longs;ent, as if he did not ob&longs;erve
the preference; but the following day,
waiting on the young lady at her father's
hou&longs;e, he drew her into conver&longs;ation, and

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began to rea&longs;on with her, in the following
manner:

Mi&longs;s Fog, &longs;aid he, you are a young lady
of great beauty, great &longs;en&longs;e, and fortune
&longs;till greater than either.—This was a &longs;ad
blunder in a man of gallantry, but the
lady not being of the greate&longs;t &longs;en&longs;ibility
of nerve, did not perceive it.—On my
part, &longs;aid he, I am a man of years, but a
man of &longs;ome reflection; and it would be
much more advi&longs;eable in you to tru&longs;t my
experience, and the mellowne&longs;s of my
di&longs;po&longs;ition in a &longs;tate of matrimony, than
the vanity and petulence of this young fop
Jacko, for whom you &longs;hew a partiality.
The colour coming into the young lady's
face at this expre&longs;&longs;ion, &longs;he withdrew, and
left him by him&longs;elf. The Captain &longs;truck
with the rudene&longs;s, withdrew al&longs;o, and,
calling Teague from the kitchen, mounted
his hor&longs;e and &longs;et off.

The next morning &longs;hortly after he had
got out of bed, and had ju&longs;t come down
&longs;tairs at his lodging, and was buttoning the
knees of his breeches, a light airy looking
young man, with much bowing and civility,
entered the hall of the public hou&longs;e,
and enquiring if this was not Captain Farrago
to whom he had the honour to

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address him&longs;elf, delivered him a paper. On
the peru&longs;al, it was found to be a challenge
from Mr. Jacko.

The fact was, that Mi&longs;s Fog, in order the
more to recommend her&longs;elf to her &longs;uitor,
had informed him of the language of the
Captain. The young man, though he had
no great &longs;tomach for the matter, yet according
to the cu&longs;tom of the&longs;e times, could do
no le&longs;s than challenge. The bearer was
was what is called his &longs;econd.

The Captain having read the paper, and
pau&longs;ing a while, &longs;aid, Mr. Second, for that
I take to be your &longs;tile and character, is it
con&longs;i&longs;tent with rea&longs;on or common &longs;en&longs;e,
to be the aider or abettor of another man's
folly; perhaps the prompter: for it is no
uncommon thing with per&longs;ons to inflame
the pa&longs;&longs;ions of their frends, rather than
allay them. This young woman, for I
&longs;hall not call her lady, from vanity, or
ill-nature, or both, has become a tale-bearer
to her lover, who, I will venture
to &longs;ay, thanks her but little for it; as &longs;he
has thereby rendered it nece&longs;&longs;ary for him
to take this &longs;tep. You, in the mean time,
are not blamele&longs;s, as it became you to have
declined the office, and thereby furni&longs;hed
an excu&longs;e to your friend for not

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[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]

complying with the cu&longs;tom. For it would have
been a &longs;ufficient apology with the lady to
have &longs;aid, although he was di&longs;po&longs;ed to
fight, yet he could get no one to be his armour-bearer
or a&longs;&longs;i&longs;tant. It could have
been put upon the footing, that all had
&longs;uch regard for his life, that no one would
countenance him in ri&longs;king it. You would
have &longs;aved him by this means, all that uneasiness
which he feels at pre&longs;ent, lea&longs;t I
&longs;hould accept his challenge. I am not &longs;o
unacquainted with human nature, as not
to know how di&longs;agreeable it mu&longs;t be to
think of having a pi&longs;tol ball lodged in the
groin or the left brea&longs;t, or, to make the
be&longs;t of it, the pan of the knee broke, or
the no&longs;e cut off, or &longs;ome wound le&longs;s than
mortal given; di&longs;agreeable, e&longs;pecially to
to a man in the bloom of life, and on the
point of marriage with a woman to who&longs;e
per&longs;on or fortune he has no exception. I
would venture to &longs;ay, therefore, there will
be no great difficulty in appea&longs;ing this Orlando
Furio&longs;o, that has &longs;ent me the challenge.
Did you know the &longs;tate of his
mind, you would find him at prayers this
moment, that I would ea&longs;e his fears, and
make &longs;ome apology. A very &longs;light one
would &longs;uffice. I dare &longs;ay, his

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[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]

resentment again&longs;t Mi&longs;s Fog is not &longs;light, and
that he would renounce her per&longs;on and
fortune both, to get quit of the duel. But
the opinion of the world is again&longs;t him,
and he mu&longs;t fight. Do you think he has
any great gratitude to you for your services
on this occa&longs;ion. He had much rather
you had, in the freedom of friend&longs;hip,
given him a kick on the back&longs;ide, when
he made application to you; and told him,
that it did not become him to quarrel about
a woman, who had, probably, consulted
but her own vanity, in giving him
the information. In that ca&longs;e, he would
have been more plea&longs;ed with you a month
hence, than he is at pre&longs;ent. I do not
know that he has an over&longs;tock of &longs;en&longs;e;
neverthele&longs;s, he cannot be ju&longs;t &longs;uch a fool,
as not to con&longs;ider, that you, your&longs;elf,
may have preten&longs;ions to this belle, and
be di&longs;po&longs;ed to have him out of the way
before you. He mu&longs;t be a fool, indeed,
if he does not reflect, that you had much
rather &longs;ee us fight than not; from the very
&longs;ame principle that we take delight in seeing
a cock-match, or a hor&longs;e-race. The
&longs;pectacle is new, and produces a bri&longs;k current
of thought through the mind; which

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[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]

is a con&longs;tituent of plea&longs;ure, the ab&longs;ence
of all movement giving none at all.

What do you &longs;uppo&longs;e I mu&longs;t think of
you, Mr. Second; I, who have read books,
and thought a little on the &longs;ubject; have
made up my mind in the&longs;e matters, and
account the &longs;quires that bring challenges
from knights, as people of but very &longs;mall
de&longs;ert. Thinking men have condemned
the duel, and laws have prohibited it;
but the&longs;e mi&longs;creants &longs;till keep it up, by
being the conductors of the fluid. My
indignation, therefore, falls on &longs;uch, and
I have long ago fixed on the mode of
treating them. It is this: a &longs;tout athletic
man calls upon me, with a challenge in his
hand, I knock him down, if I can, without
&longs;aying a word. If the natural arm be not
&longs;ufficient for this purpu&longs;e, I avail my&longs;elf
of any &longs;tone, wooden, or iron in&longs;trument
that I ca&longs;t my eye upon, not ju&longs;t to take
away his life, if I can help it; but to hit
the line as exactly as po&longs;&longs;ible, between actual
homicide, and a very bad wound. For
in this ca&longs;e, I &longs;hould conceive, a battery
could be ju&longs;tifiable, or at lea&longs;t excu&longs;eable,
and the fine not very great; the bearing
a challenge being a breach of the peace,
in the fir&longs;t in&longs;tance. This would be my

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[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]

conduct with a &longs;tout athletic man, whom
I might think it dangerous to encounter
with fair warning, and on equal terms.
But in the pre&longs;ent ca&longs;e, where—(Here
the &longs;econd began to &longs;hew &longs;igns of fear,
rai&longs;ing him&longs;elf, and inclining backwards,
opening his eyes wider, and ca&longs;ting a look
towards the door)—where, continued the
Captain, I have to do with a per&longs;on of
your &longs;lender make, I do not adopt that
&longs;urpri&longs;e, or u&longs;e an artificial weapon; but
with the&longs;e fi&longs;ts, which have been u&longs;ed in
early life to agricultural employments, I
&longs;hall very deliberately impre&longs;s a blow. The
&longs;econd ri&longs;ing to his feet, began to recede
a little. Be under no apprehen&longs;ions, &longs;aid
the Captain; I &longs;hall u&longs;e no unfair method
of biting, gouging, or wounding the private
parts. Nay, as you appear to be a
young man of a delicate con&longs;titution, I
&longs;hall only choak a little. You will give
me leave to take you by the throat in as
ea&longs;y a manner as po&longs;&longs;ible.

In the mean time, the &longs;econd had been
withdrawing towards the door, and the
Captain with out&longs;tretched arms, in a sideway
direction, proceeding to intercept him.
In an in&longs;tant, he was &longs;eized by the neck,
and the exclamation of murder which he

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[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]

made at the fir&longs;t gra&longs;p, began to die away
in hoar&longs;e guttural murmurs of one nearly
&longs;trangled, and labouring for breath. The
Captain meaning that he &longs;hould be more
alarmed than hurt, di&longs;mi&longs;&longs;ed him with a salutation
of his foot on the back&longs;ide, as a
claude o&longs;tium, as he went out. You may
be, &longs;aid he, a gentleman in the opinion of
the world; but you are a low per&longs;on in
mine; and &longs;o &longs;hall it be done to every one
who &longs;hall come upon &longs;uch an errand.

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[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]

HAVING thus di&longs;mi&longs;&longs;ed the secondary
man, he called in his &longs;ervant
Teague, and acco&longs;ted him as follows:
Teague, &longs;aid he, you have heretofore discovered
an ambition to be employed in
&longs;ome way that would advance your reputation.
There is now a ca&longs;e fallen out, to
which you are fully competent. It is not
a matter that requires the head to contrive,
but the hand to execute. The greate&longs;t
fool is as fit for it as a wi&longs;e man. It is indeed
your greate&longs;t blockheads that chiefly
undertake it. The knowledge of law, physic,
or divinity is out of the que&longs;tion. Literature,
and political under&longs;tanding is
u&longs;ele&longs;s. Nothing more is nece&longs;&longs;ary than a
little re&longs;olution of the heart. Yet it is an
undertaking which is of much e&longs;timation
with the rabble, and has a great many on
its &longs;ide to approve and prai&longs;e it. The females
of the world, e&longs;pecially admire the
act, and call it valour. I know you wi&longs;h
to &longs;tand well with the ladies. Here is an

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[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]

opportunity of advancing your credit. I
have had what is called a challenge &longs;ent me
this morning. It is from a certain Jacko,
who is a &longs;uitor to a Mi&longs;s Fog, and has taken
offence at an expre&longs;&longs;ion of mine, respecting
him to this female. I wi&longs;h you to
accept the challenge, and fight him for me.

At this propo&longs;ition, Teague looked wild,
and made apology that he was not much
u&longs;ed to boxing. Boxing, &longs;aid the Captain;
you are to fight what is called a duel.
You are to encounter him with pi&longs;tol, and
put a bullet through him if you can. It
is true, he will have the chance of putting
one through you; but in that con&longs;i&longs;ts the
honour; for where there is no danger,
there is no glory. You will provide yourself
a &longs;econd. There is an ho&longs;tler here at
the public hou&longs;e, that is a brave fellow,
and will an&longs;wer the purpo&longs;e. Being furnished
with a &longs;econd, you will provide
your&longs;elf with a pair of pi&longs;tols, powder and
ball of cour&longs;e. In the mean time, your
adver&longs;ary notified of your intentions, will
do the like. Thus apparalelled, you will
advance to the place agreed upon. The
ground will be mea&longs;ured out; ten, &longs;even,
or five &longs;teps; back to back, and coming
round to your place, fire. Or taking your

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[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]

ground, &longs;tand &longs;till and fire; or it may be,
advance and fire as you meet, at what distance
you think proper. The rules in this
re&longs;pect are not fixed, but as the parties can
agree or the &longs;econds point out. When you
come to fire, be &longs;ure you keep a &longs;teady
hand, and take good aim. Remember
that the pi&longs;tol barrel being &longs;hort, the powder
is apt to throw the bullet up. Your
&longs;ight therefore, ought to be about the
wai&longs;t-band of his breeches, &longs;o that you
have the whole length of his body, and his
head into the bargain, to come and go upon.
It is true, he in the mean time, will
take the &longs;ame advantages of you. He may
hit you about the groin, or the belly. I
have known &longs;ome &longs;hot in the thigh, or the
leg, or the private parts. The throat al&longs;o,
and the head are in them&longs;elves vulnerable.
It is no uncommon thing to have an arm
broke, or a &longs;plinter &longs;truck off the no&longs;e, or
an eye &longs;hot out; but as in that ca&longs;e, the
ball mo&longs;tly pa&longs;&longs;es through the brain, and
the man being dead at any rate, the lo&longs;s
of &longs;ight is not greatly felt.

As the Captain &longs;poke, Teague &longs;eemed
to feel in him&longs;elf, every wound which was
de&longs;cribed, the ball hitting him, now in
one part, and now in another. At the la&longs;t

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[figure description] Page 098.[end figure description]

words, it &longs;eemed to pa&longs;s through his head,
and he was half dead, in imagination.
Making a &longs;hift to expre&longs;s him&longs;elf, he gave
the Captain to under&longs;tand, that he could
by no means undertake the office. What!
&longs;aid the Captain; you whom nothing would
&longs;erve, &longs;ome time ago, but to be a legislator,
or philo&longs;opher, or preacher, in order
to gain fame, will now detract a bu&longs;ine&longs;s
for which you are qualified. This requires
no knowledge of finances, no reading of
natural hi&longs;tory, or any &longs;tudy of the fathers.
You have nothing more to do than to keep
a &longs;teady hand and a good eye.

In the early practice of this exerci&longs;e; I
mean the combat of the duel, it was customary
to exact an oath of the combatants,
before they entered the li&longs;ts, that
they had no enchantments, or power of
witchcraft, about them. Whether you
&longs;hould think it nece&longs;&longs;ary to put him to his
voir dire, on this point, I &longs;hall not &longs;ay;
but I am per&longs;uaded, that on your part,
you have too much honour, to make u&longs;e of
&longs;pells, or undue means, to take away his
life, or &longs;ave your own. You will leave all
to the chance of fair &longs;hooting. One thing
you will ob&longs;erve, and which is allowable
in this battle, you will take care not

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[figure description] Page 099.[end figure description]

to pre&longs;ent your&longs;elf to him with a full
brea&longs;t, but angularly, and your head turned
round over the left &longs;houlder, like a weather
cock. For thus a &longs;maller &longs;urface being
pre&longs;ented to an adver&longs;ary, he will be
le&longs;s likely to hit you. You mu&longs;t throw
your legs into lines parallel, and keep them
one directly behind the other. Thus you
will &longs;tand like a &longs;ail hauled clo&longs;e to the
wind. Keep a good countenance, a &longs;harp
eye, and a &longs;our look; and if you feel any
thing like a cholic or a palpitation of the
heart, make no noi&longs;e about it. If the ball
&longs;hould take you in the gills, or the gizzard,
fall down as decently as you can,
and die like a man of honour.

It was of no u&longs;e to urge the matter; the
Iri&longs;hman was but the more oppo&longs;ed to the
propo&longs;ition, and utterly refu&longs;ed to be after
fighting in any &longs;uch manner. The Captain
finding this to be the ca&longs;e, di&longs;mi&longs;&longs;ed
him to clean his boots and &longs;purs, and rub
down his hor&longs;e in the &longs;table.

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[figure description] Page 100.[end figure description]

ON reflection, it &longs;eemed advi&longs;eable to
the Captain to write an an&longs;wer to the
card which Colonel, or Major Jacko, or
whatever his title may have been, had &longs;ent
him this morning. It was as follows:

Sir,

I have two objections to this duel
matter. The one is, le&longs;t I &longs;hould hurt
you; and the other is, le&longs;t you &longs;hould
hurt me. I do not &longs;ee any good it would
do me to put a bullet through any part
of your body. I could make no u&longs;e of
you when dead, for any culinary purpo&longs;e,
as I would a rabbit or a turkey. I am
no cannibal to feed on the fle&longs;h of men.
Why then &longs;hoot down a human creature,
of which I could make no u&longs;e. A buffalo
would be better meat. For though your
fle&longs;h might be delicate and tender; yet it
wants that firmne&longs;s and con&longs;i&longs;tency which
takes and retains &longs;alt. At any rate it would
not be fit for long &longs;ea voyages. You might
make a good barbecue, it is true, being of
the nature of a racoon or an opo&longs;&longs;um;

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[figure description] Page 101.[end figure description]

but people are not in the habit of barbecuing
any thing human now. As to your
hide, it is not worth the taking off, being
little better than that of a year old colt.

It would &longs;eem to me a &longs;trange thing to
&longs;hoot at a man that would &longs;tand &longs;till to be
&longs;hot at; in as much as I have been heretofore
u&longs;ed to &longs;hoot at things flying, or
running, or jumping. Were you on a
tree now like a &longs;quirrel, endeavouring to
hide your&longs;elf in the branches, or like a
racoon, that after much eyeing and &longs;pying
I ob&longs;erve at length in the crotch of a tall
oak, with boughs and leaves intervening,
&longs;o that I could ju&longs;t get a &longs;ight of his hinder
parts, I &longs;hould think it plea&longs;urable enough
to take a &longs;hot at you. But as it is, there
is no &longs;kill or judgment requi&longs;ite either to
di&longs;cover or take you down.

As to my&longs;elf, I do not much like to &longs;tand
in the way of any thing that is harmful. I
am under apprehen&longs;ions you might hit me.
That being the ca&longs;e, I think it mo&longs;t adviseable
to &longs;tay at a di&longs;tance. If you want
to try your pi&longs;tols, take &longs;ome object, a tree
or a barn door about my dimen&longs;ions. If
you hit that, &longs;end me word, and I &longs;hall acknowledge
that if I had been in the &longs;ame
place, you might al&longs;o have hit me.

J. Farrago.

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CAPTAIN Farrago was a good man,
but unacquainted with the world.
His ideas were drawn chiefly from what
may be called the old &longs;chool; the Greek
and Roman notions of things. The combat
of the duel was to them unknown.
Though it &longs;eems &longs;trange, that a people who
were famous for almo&longs;t all arts and sciences,
&longs;hould have remained ignorant of its
u&longs;e. I do not conceive how, as a people,
they could exi&longs;t without it. But &longs;o it was,
they actually were without the knowledge
of it. For we do not find any trace of this
cu&longs;tom in the poets or hi&longs;torians of all
antiquity.

I do not know at what period, preci&longs;ely,
the cu&longs;tom was introduced; or to whom
it was owing; but omitting this disquisition,
we content our&longs;elves with ob&longs;erving,
that it has produced as great improvement
in manners, as the di&longs;covery of the

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load-stone, and mariner's compa&longs;s, has at navigation.
Not that I mean to de&longs;cant, at full
length, on the valuable effects of it; but
&longs;imply to ob&longs;erve, that it is a greater aid
to government than the alliance of church
and &longs;tate it&longs;elf. If Dr. Warburton had
had lei&longs;ure, I could wi&longs;h he had written a
treati&longs;e upon it. Some affect to ridicule
it, as carrying to a greater length &longs;mall
differences, than the aggravation may justify.
As for in&longs;tance, a man is angry enough
with you to give you a &longs;lap in the
face; but the cu&longs;tom &longs;ays, he mu&longs;t &longs;hoot
you through the head. I think the &longs;maller
the aggravation, the nicer the &longs;en&longs;e of honour.
The heavie&longs;t mind will re&longs;ent a
gro&longs;s affront; but to kill a man where
there is no affront at all, &longs;hews a great
&longs;en&longs;ibility. It is immaterial whether there
is or is not an injury, provided the world
thinks there is; for it is the opinion of
mankind we are to con&longs;ult. It is a duty
which we owe them to provide for their
amu&longs;ement. Non na&longs;&longs;cimur nobis ip&longs;is; we
are not born for our&longs;elves, but for others.
Decorum pro patria mori; it is a becoming
thing to die for one's country; and &longs;hall
it not al&longs;o be accounted honourable to
throw one's life away for the

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entertainment of a few particular neighbours and
acquaintances. It is true, the tears that
will be &longs;hed upon your grave, will not
make the gra&longs;s grow; but you will have
the con&longs;olation, when you leave the world,
to have fallen in the bed of honour.

It is certainly a very noble in&longs;titution,
that of the duel; and it has been carried
to very great perfection, in &longs;ome re&longs;pects.
Neverthele&longs;s, I would &longs;ubmit it to the public,
whether &longs;till further improvement
might not be made in the laws and regutions
of it. For in&longs;tance, could it not be
reduced nearer to an equality of chances,
by proportioning the caliber, or bore
or the pi&longs;tol; the length of the barrel,
al&longs;o, to the &longs;ize of the duelli&longs;t who holds
it; or by fixing the ratio of di&longs;tance in
proportion to the bulk of combatants.
To explain my&longs;elf: When I am to fight
a man of a &longs;mall &longs;ize, I ought to have a
longer pi&longs;tol than my adver&longs;ary, becau&longs;e
my mark is &longs;maller; or I ought to be permitted
to come nearer to him. For it is
altogether unfair that men of unequal bulk
&longs;hould fire at equal di&longs;tances, and with
equal calibers. The &longs;maller &longs;ize multiplied
by the larger &longs;pace, or larger pi&longs;tol,
would equal the larger &longs;ize multiplied by

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the &longs;maller &longs;pace or &longs;maller pi&longs;tol. If this
amendment of the duel laws &longs;hould be approved
by men of honour, let it be added
to the code.

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BOOK V.

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NOT long after this, being at a certain
place, the Captain was acco&longs;ted
by a &longs;tranger in the following manner:
Captain Farrago, &longs;aid he, I have heard
of a young man in your &longs;ervice who talks
Iri&longs;h. Now, Sir, my bu&longs;ine&longs;s is that of
an Indian treaty-maker; and am on my
way with a party of kings, and half kings
to the commi&longs;&longs;ioners, to hold a treaty.
My king of the Kickapoos, who was a
Welch black&longs;mith, took &longs;ick by the way,
and is dead. I have heard of this lad of
yours, and could wi&longs;h to have him a while
to &longs;upply his place. The treaty will not
la&longs;t longer than a couple of weeks; and
as the government will probably allow
three or four thou&longs;and dollars for the

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treaty, it will be in our power to make it worth
your while, to &longs;pare him for that time.
Your king of the Kickapoos, &longs;aid the Captain;
what does that mean? Said the stranger,
it is ju&longs;t this: You have heard of the
Indian nations to the we&longs;tward, that occasionally
make war upon the frontier settlements.
It has been a policy of government,
to treat with the&longs;e, and di&longs;tribute
goods. Commi&longs;&longs;ioners are appointed for
that purpo&longs;e. Now you are not to &longs;uppo&longs;e
that it is always an ea&longs;y matter to catch a
real chief, and bring him from the woods;
or if at &longs;ome expence one was brought,
the goods would go to his u&longs;e; whereas,
it is much more profitable to hire substitutes
and make chiefs of our own: And
as &longs;ome unknown gibberi&longs;h is nece&longs;&longs;ary,
to pa&longs;s for an Indian language, we generally
make u&longs;e of Welch, or Low Dutch,
or Iri&longs;h; or pick up an ingenious fellow
here and there, who can imitate a language
by &longs;ounds of his own, in his mouth,
and throat. But we prefer one who can
&longs;peak a real tongue, and give more for
him. We cannot afford you a great deal
at this time for the u&longs;e of your man; because
it is not a general treaty where
20,000, or 30,000, dollars are appropriated

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for the purpo&longs;e of holding it; but an occasional,
or what we call a running treaty,
by way of brightening the chain, and holding
fa&longs;t friend&longs;hip. The commi&longs;&longs;ioners
will doubtle&longs;s be glad to &longs;ee us, and procure
from government an allowance for
the treaty. For the more treaties, the
more u&longs;e for commi&longs;&longs;ioners. The bu&longs;ine&longs;s
mu&longs;t be kept up, and treaties made if there
are none of them&longs;elves. My Piank&longs;ha,
and Choctaw chiefs, are very good fellows;
the one of them a Scotch pedlar that talks
the Er&longs;e; the other has been &longs;ome time
in Canada, and has a little broken Indian,
God knows what language; but has been
of great &longs;ervice in a&longs;&longs;i&longs;ting to teach the re&longs;t
&longs;ome Indian cu&longs;tom and manners. I have
had the whole of them for a fortnight pa&longs;t
under my tuition, teaching them war
&longs;ongs and dances, and to make re&longs;pon&longs;es
at the treaty. If your man is tractable, I
can make him a Kickapoo in about nine
days. A breech-clout and leggins, that I
took off the black&longs;mith that died, I have
ready to put on him. He mu&longs;t have part
of his head &longs;haved, and painted, with feathers
on his crown; but the paint will rub
off, and the hair grow in a &longs;hort time, &longs;o
that he can go about with you again.

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It is a very &longs;trange affair, &longs;aid the Captain.
Is it po&longs;&longs;ible that &longs;uch deception
can be practi&longs;ed in a new country. It astonishes
me, that the government does
not detect &longs;uch impo&longs;ition. The government,
&longs;aid the Indian treaty-man, is at
a great di&longs;tance. It knows no more of
Indians than a cow does of Greek. The
legi&longs;lature, hears of wars and rumours
of wars, and &longs;upports the executive in
forming treaties. How is it po&longs;&longs;ible for
men who live remote from the &longs;cene of
action, to have adequate ideas of the nature
of Indians, or the tran&longs;actions that
are carried on in their behalf. Do you
think the one half of tho&longs;e &longs;avages that
come to treat, are real repre&longs;entatives of
the nation. Many of them are not &longs;avages
at all; but weavers, and pedlars, as I
have told you, picked up to make kings
and chiefs. I &longs;peak of tho&longs;e particularly
that come trading down to inland towns,
or the metropolis. I would not communicate
the&longs;e my&longs;teries of our trade, were it
not that I confide in your good &longs;en&longs;e,
and have occa&longs;ion for your &longs;ervant.

It is a my&longs;tery of iniquity, &longs;aid the
Captain. Do you &longs;uppo&longs;e that I would
countenance &longs;uch a fraud upon the

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public? I do not know, &longs;aid the other; it is
a very common thing for men to &longs;peculate,
now a-days. If you will not, another will.
An 100 dollars might as well be in your
pocket as another man's. I will give you that
for the u&longs;e of your &longs;ervant, for a week or
two, and &longs;ay no more about it. It is an
idea new to me entirely, &longs;aid the Captain,
that Indian princes, whom I have &longs;een
e&longs;corted down as &longs;uch, were no more
than trumpery, di&longs;gui&longs;ed, as you mention;
that &longs;uch &longs;hould be introduced to
polite a&longs;&longs;emblies, and have the honour to
&longs;alute the fair ladies with a ki&longs;s, the greatest
beauties thinking them&longs;elves honoured
by having the &longs;alutation of a &longs;overeign?
It is &longs;o, &longs;aid the other; I had a red headed
bricklayer once, whom I pa&longs;&longs;ed for a
Chippawaw; and who has dined with
clubs, and &longs;at next the Pre&longs;ident. He
was blind of an eye, and was called blind
Sam by the traders. I had given it out
that he was a great warrior, and had lo&longs;t
his eye by an arrow, in a conte&longs;t with a
rival nation. The&longs;e things are now reduced
to a &longs;y&longs;tem; and it is &longs;o well known
to tho&longs;e who are engaged in the traffic,
that we think nothing of it.

How the devil, &longs;aid the Captain, do

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you get &longs;peeches made, and interpret them
&longs;o as to pa&longs;s for truth. That is an ea&longs;y
matter, &longs;aid the other; Indian &longs;peeches are
nearly all alike. You have only to talk
of burying hatchets under large trees,
kindling fires, brightening chains; with a
demand, at the latter end, of blankets for
the back&longs;ide, and rum to get drunk with.

I much doubt, &longs;aid the Captain, whether
treaties that are carried on in earne&longs;t,
are of any great u&longs;e. Of none at all, &longs;aid
the other; e&longs;pecially as the practice of
giving goods prevails; becau&longs;e this is an
inducement to a fre&longs;h war. This being the
ca&longs;e, it can be no harm to make a farce
of the whole matter; or rather a profit
of it; by &longs;uch means as I propo&longs;e to
you, and have pur&longs;ued my&longs;elf.

After all, &longs;aid the Captain, I cannot
but con&longs;ider it as a kind of contraband
and illicit traffic; and I mu&longs;t be excu&longs;ed
from having any hand in it. I &longs;hall not
betray your &longs;ecret, but I &longs;hall not favour
it. It would ill become me, who&longs;e object
in riding about in this manner, is to give
ju&longs;t ideas on &longs;ubjects, to take part in &longs;uch
ill-gotten gain.

The Indian-treaty man finding it in vain
to &longs;ay more, withdrew.

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THE Captain apprehending that he
might not yet drop his de&longs;igns upon
the Iri&longs;hman, but be tampering with him
out of doors, &longs;hould he come acro&longs;s him,
&longs;ent for Teague. For he well knew, that
&longs;hould the Indian treaty man get the fir&longs;t
word of him, the idea of making him a
king, would turn his head, and it would be
impo&longs;&longs;ible to prevent his going with him.

Teague coming in, &longs;aid the Captain to
him; Teague, I have di&longs;covered in you,
for &longs;ome time pa&longs;t, a great &longs;pirit of ambition,
which is, doubtle&longs;s, commendable
in a young per&longs;on; and I have checked it
only in ca&longs;es where there was real danger,
or apparent mi&longs;chief. There is now an
opportunity of advancing your&longs;elf, not &longs;o
much in the way of honour as profit. But
profit brings honour, and is, indeed, the
mo&longs;t &longs;ub&longs;tantial &longs;upport of it. There has
been a man here with me, that carries on
a trade with the Indians, and tells me that
red-headed &longs;calps are in great demand with

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[figure description] Page 113.[end figure description]

them. If you could &longs;pare yours, he would
give a good price for it. I do not well
know what u&longs;e they make of this article,
but &longs;o it is the traders find their account in
it. Probably they dre&longs;s it with the hairy
fide out, and make tobacco pouches for
the chiefs, when they meet in council. It
faves dyeing, and be&longs;ides, the natural red
hair of a man, may, in their e&longs;timation,
be &longs;uperior to any colour they can give by
art. The taking off the &longs;calp will not give
much pain, it is &longs;o dextrou&longs;ly done by them
with a crooked knife they have for that
purpo&longs;e. The mode of taking off the &longs;calp
is this; you lie down upon your back;
a warrior puts his feet upon your shoulders,
collects your hair in his left hand,
and drawing a circle with the knife in his
right, makes the inci&longs;ion, and, with a sudden
pull, &longs;eparates it from the head, giving,
in the mean time, what is called the
&longs;calp yell. The thing is done in &longs;uch an
in&longs;tant, that the pain is &longs;carcely felt. He
offered me an 100 dollars, if I would have
it taken off for his u&longs;e, giving me directions,
in the mean time, how to &longs;tretch it
and dry it on a hoop. I told him, No;
it was a perqui&longs;ite of your own, and you
might di&longs;po&longs;e of it as you thought proper.

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[figure description] Page 114.[end figure description]

If you cho&longs;e to di&longs;po&longs;e of it, I had no objections;
but the bargain &longs;hould be of
your own making, and the price &longs;uch as
&longs;hould plea&longs;e your&longs;elf. I have &longs;ent for you,
to give you a hint of this chapman, that
you may have a knowledge of his wi&longs;h to
po&longs;&longs;e&longs;s the property, and a&longs;k accordingly.
It is probable you may bring him up to a
half Johannes more, by holding out a little.
But I do not think it would be adviseable
to lo&longs;e the bargain. An hundred
dollars for a little hairy fle&longs;h, is a great
deal. You will trot a long time before
you make that with me. He will be with
you probably to propo&longs;e the purcha&longs;e. You
will know when you &longs;ee him. He is a tall
looking man, with leggins on, and has several
Indians with him going to a treaty.
He talked to me &longs;omething of making you
a king of the Kickapoos, after the &longs;calp is
off; but I would not count on that &longs;o
much; becau&longs;e words are but wind, and
promi&longs;es are ea&longs;ily broken. I would advise
you to make &longs;ure of the money in
the fir&longs;t place, and take chance for the
re&longs;t.

I have &longs;een among the prints of Hogarth,
&longs;ome &longs;uch expre&longs;&longs;ion of countenance as
that of Teague at this in&longs;tant; who, as

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&longs;oon as he could &longs;peak, but with a double
brogue on his tongue, began to intimate
his di&longs;inclination to the traffic. The hair
of his &longs;calp it&longs;elf, in the mean time had
ri&longs;en in oppo&longs;ition to it. Dear ma&longs;ter, vid
you trow me into ridicule, and the ble&longs;&longs;ed
&longs;halvation of my life, and all dat I have in
the vorld, to be trown like a dog to de
&longs;avages, and have my fle&longs;h tarn of my head
to give to de&longs;e vild ba&longs;tes to make a napsack
to carry their parates and tings in, for
an 100 dollars or the like. It &longs;hall never
be &longs;aid that the hair of the Oregans made
macke&longs;eens for a vild Indian to trat upon.
I would &longs;ooner trow my own head hair and
all in de fire, dan give it to de&longs;e paple to
&longs;moke wid, out of deir long pipes.

If this be your determination, &longs;aid the
Captain, it will behove you to keep yourself
&longs;omewhat clo&longs;e; and while we remain
at this public hou&longs;e, avoid any conversation
with the chapman or his agents, &longs;hould
they come to tamper with you. For it is
not improbable, while they are keeping
you in talk, propo&longs;ing to make you a
Kickapoo chief, and the like, they may
&longs;natch the &longs;calp of your head, and you
not be the wi&longs;er for it.

Teague thought the caution good, and

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re&longs;olving to abide by it, retired to the kitchen.
The maid at this time, happening
to want a log of wood, reque&longs;ted Teague
to cut it for her. Taking the ax accordingly,
and going out, he was bu&longs;y chopping,
with his head down; while, in the
mean time, the Indian treaty-man had returned
with one in Indian dre&longs;s, who was
the chief of the Killinoos, or at lea&longs;t pa&longs;&longs;ed
for &longs;uch; and whom he brought as having
&longs;ome recruiting talents, and might
prevail with Teague to elope, and join the
company. I pre&longs;ume, &longs;aid the Indian
treaty-man, you are the waiter of the
Captain who lodges here at pre&longs;ent. Teague
hearing a man &longs;peak, and lifting up his
head, &longs;aw the leggins on the one, and the
Indian dre&longs;s on the other; and with a
kind of involuntary effort, threw the ax
directly from him at the Killinoo. It
mi&longs;&longs;ed him but about an inch, and fell behind.
Teague, in the mean time, rai&longs;ing
a &longs;hout of de&longs;peration, was fixed on the &longs;pot,
and his locomotive faculties &longs;u&longs;pended; &longs;o
that he could neither retreat nor advance,
but &longs;tood &longs;till, like one enchained or enchanted
for a moment; the king of the
Killinoos, in the mean time, drawing his
tomahawk, and preparing for battle.

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The Captain, who was reading at a
front window, hearing the &longs;hout, looked
about, and &longs;aw what going on at the woodpile.
Stop villain, &longs;aid he, to the king of
the Killinoos; you are not to take that
&longs;calp yet, however much you may value
it. He will not take an 100 dollars for
it, nor 500, though you make him king of
the Kickapoos, or any thing el&longs;e. It is no
trifling matter to have the ears &longs;lit in tatters,
and the no&longs;e run through with a bodkin,
and a goo&longs;e quill &longs;tuck a cro&longs;s; &longs;o
that you may go about your bu&longs;ine&longs;s; you
will get no king of the Kickapoos here.
Under cover of this addre&longs;s of the Captain,
Teague had retired to the kitchen, and
en&longs;conced him&longs;elf behind the rampart of
the maid. The Indian treaty-man, and
the Killinoo chief, finding the mea&longs;ure
hopele&longs;s, withdrew, and turned their attention,
it is to be &longs;uppo&longs;ed, to &longs;ome other
quarter, to find a king of the Kickapoos.

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THE Captain was certainly to be commended
in declining to countenance
the impo&longs;ition of making Teague a Kickapoo
chief. Had he been di&longs;po&longs;ed to adventure
in a contraband trade of this
kind, he might have undertaken it as a
principal, and not as furni&longs;hing an assistant
only. He could have pa&longs;&longs;ed Teague
for a chief, and him&longs;elf for an interpreter.
He might pretend to have conducted this
prince from a very di&longs;tant nation, and that
he had been &longs;everal moons in travelling,
and wanted, the Lord knows how much,
goods for his people, that otherwi&longs;e would
come to war. By this means, the Captain
would have taken the whole emolument
of the treaty, and not have been put
off with a &longs;mall &longs;hare of the profit which
another made by it.

I &longs;hould like to have &longs;een Teague in
an Indian dre&longs;s, come to treat with the

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commi&longs;&longs;ioners. It would be nece&longs;&longs;ary for
him only to talk Iri&longs;h, which he might pa&longs;s
for the Shawanee, or other language. The
Captain could have interpreted in the usual
words on the&longs;e occa&longs;ions.

The policy of treating with the Indians
is very good; becau&longs;e it takes off a great
deal of loo&longs;e merchandize, that might otherwise
lie upon our hands, and cuts
away &longs;uperfluities from the finances of
the government; at the &longs;ame time, as every
fre&longs;h treaty lays the foundation of a
new war, it will &longs;erve to check the too rapid
growth of the &longs;ettlements. The extremities
of a government, like the arm or
ancle of an individual, are the parts at
which blood is to be let.

Struck with the good effects of treating
with the &longs;avages, and that our wi&longs;e men
who conduct affairs, pur&longs;ue the policy, I
have been led to wonder, that the agricultural
&longs;ocieties, have not propo&longs;ed treaties
with the wolves and bears, that they
might not clande&longs;tinely invade our &longs;heep
and pig folds. This might be done by
&longs;ending me&longs;&longs;ages to the &longs;everal ur&longs;ine and
vulpine nations, and calling them to a council
fire, to which four or five hundred waggon
load of beef &longs;hould be &longs;ent, and

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[figure description] Page 120.[end figure description]

distributed. If it &longs;hould be &longs;aid, that this would
re&longs;train them no longer from their prey
than while they continued to be &longs;atiated,
the &longs;ame might be &longs;aid of the Potawatamies,
or other Indian nations; and yet
we &longs;ee that tho&longs;e at the head of our affairs
think it prudent to negotiate with them.

A bear and wolf treaty might &longs;eem an
odd thing at fir&longs;t; but we &longs;hould &longs;oon come
to be accu&longs;tomed to it. I &longs;hould be &longs;orry
abu&longs;es &longs;hould prevail, by treaty-making
men pa&longs;&longs;ing rough water-dogs for bears,
or ma&longs;tiffs for wolves, upon our &longs;ecretaries
at war, or &longs;ubordinate commi&longs;&longs;ioners;
which might be done as in the ca&longs;e of the
&longs;avages, where it is pretended that &longs;ome
tribe that had not been at the general treaty,
now &longs;ends a chief to repre&longs;ent them
and to get goods.

If our traders go among&longs;t the wolves in
con&longs;equence of a treaty, I could wi&longs;h they
could check them&longs;elves in the introduction
of &longs;pirituous liquors. A drunk wolf, or
bear, would be a dangerous animal. It
may be thought, that a bear or wolf chief
would not get drunk, as it would be setting
a bad example to their people; but I
have &longs;een Indian kings lying on the earth
drunk, and expo&longs;ing their nakedne&longs;s, like

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Noah to Shem, Ham, and Japheth; and
if Indians that are a &longs;ort of human creature,
act thus, what might we not expect
from a poor brute wolf or bear.

If treaties with the wolves and bears
&longs;hould be found to &longs;ucceed, it might not be
ami&longs;s to in&longs;titute them al&longs;o with the foxes.
This is a &longs;agacious animal, and particularly
de&longs;tructive to ducks and other fowls.
It would be a great matter to &longs;ettle a treaty
with them, which might be done at the expence
of nine or ten thou&longs;and dollars laid
out in goods.

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BOOK VI.

[figure description] Page 122.[end figure description]

MEANING to remain &longs;ome time
in a certain town to which he came,
the Captain had his hor&longs;e put out to pasture,
and took private lodgings. The fir&longs;t
day at dinner, he was &longs;truck with the appearance
of a young man who &longs;at at table,
but could not be &longs;aid to dine with them;
for except a little water, and a bit of bread,
he ate or drank nothing; and though sometimes
addre&longs;&longs;ed, he made no an&longs;wer.
There was a &longs;ettled melancholy in his countenance,
and he often &longs;ighed deeply. He
had been in this hou&longs;e &longs;ix weeks, and had
behaved uniformly in the &longs;ame manner.
In the evening he would walk by him&longs;elf
till midnight. Whence he came, or what

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was his object, no one knew. He had
be&longs;poke a back room, and wi&longs;hed to have
one where there was but little light; al&longs;o,
that a little water, and a bit of bread might
be &longs;ent when he &longs;hould require it. The
landlady not chu&longs;ing to have a per&longs;on in
the hou&longs;e who was unwilling to be &longs;een,
declined the circum&longs;tance of &longs;ending in
provi&longs;ions to his room; but thought it
proper he &longs;hould come to table. He did
&longs;o; but entered into no conver&longs;ation, tho'
much pains was taken to engage him. He
had paid his boarding regularly, and did
not &longs;eem to be in want of money. This
was the account given by the family, when
the youug man retired from dinner.

The Captain's curio&longs;ity was much excited;
for being a philanthropic man, he
found him&longs;elf intere&longs;ted in the hi&longs;tory of
this per&longs;on. Taking an opportunity that very
evening, when the young man was walking
in the back porch, he joined him, and
with the bluntne&longs;s of a plain man, in&longs;i&longs;ted
to conver&longs;e with him. Sir, &longs;aid he, it is
from no motive of vain curio&longs;ity, that I
thus &longs;olicit. It is from a di&longs;po&longs;ition to
know and alleviate your griefs. For it is
evident to me that &longs;omething hangs heavy
on your mind. I am a man, as you

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[figure description] Page 124.[end figure description]

&longs;ee, advanced in life, and have had &longs;ome
experience. It is po&longs;&longs;ible it might be in
my power to &longs;ay or do &longs;omething that
might &longs;erve you; at lea&longs;t, it is my disposition
to &longs;oothe your melancholy. If it
&longs;hould be an unfortunate murder, the
guilt of which lies upon your mind, you
will find no accu&longs;er in me; I &longs;hall preserve
a &longs;ecret obtained in this manner. Probably
it might have been a duel, and with
&longs;uch alleviating circum&longs;tances, that though
the law would take hold of it, humanity
will excu&longs;e.

The young man finding the charge of
murder, or &longs;u&longs;picion of it, ready to be
fixed upon him, &longs;poke. Said he, I am no
murderer, but a murdered man my&longs;elf. I
am in love with a young woman of the
mo&longs;t cele&longs;tial beauty, but of a cruel heart.

The beauty may be more in your brain
than in her face, &longs;aid the Captain; for,
as the poet &longs;ays, `There are three, the
`children of imagination, the madman,
`the lover, and the poet. The madman
`&longs;ees more devils than va&longs;t hell can hold;
`the lover, all as frantic, &longs;ees Helen's beau
`ty in a brow of Egypt.' I am not unacquainted
with the nature of this pa&longs;&longs;ion;
and have &longs;een a gyp&longs;ey my&longs;elf, in my time,

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[figure description] Page 125.[end figure description]

that have had dominion over me. Perhaps
I may have been carried to as much extravagance
as other people; and therefore
am a proper per&longs;on to advi&longs;e again&longs;t it. A
principal &longs;ource of my extravagance, was
an opinion that the jade who had hold of
my affections at the time, would pity me
when &longs;he heard of the pain which her
beauty gave me; that &longs;he would be afraid
I would hang my&longs;elf for her &longs;ake; that &longs;he
would come to &longs;oothe and care&longs;s me, in
order to prevent it. Far from it. My uneasiness
was the proof of her power to
wound; and the more di&longs;tre&longs;s I felt, the
greater credit to her beauty. She would
not have lo&longs;t a &longs;igh which &longs;he cau&longs;ed me
for any con&longs;ideration. My lamentations
were as agreeable to her, as the groans of
the damned are to the devil. And &longs;o it
mu&longs;t be with every woman; becau&longs;e &longs;elf
love induces it. Hanging is the la&longs;t thing
they would be at. If they could get the
lover brought to this, they are then at the
height of fame. It falls but to the lot of
one here and there to have a man drown
him&longs;elf for her; and when it does happen,
it makes &longs;uch a noi&longs;e that all covet it.

I would venture to &longs;ay, that this female
whom you fa&longs;t and pray about &longs;o much,

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[figure description] Page 126.[end figure description]

would be very unwilling to breathe the &longs;oul
into you, were it once out. In&longs;tead of
fa&longs;ting, &longs;he is eating; and while you &longs;igh
in the night, &longs;he &longs;nores.

You have an opinion, perhaps, that
you may bend her by your per&longs;everance.
That is a mi&longs;take. A man that once comes
to this &longs;tate of &longs;ighing, and dying, has
but little chance; becau&longs;e he has surrendered
him&longs;elf; and there is nothing more
to be won. Were there any po&longs;&longs;ibility of
&longs;ucceeding, it would be by fir&longs;t conquering
your&longs;elf; di&longs;mi&longs;&longs;ing all idea of her partiality
for you; for it is owing to this secret
vanity, and &longs;elf-flattery, that you &longs;till
pur&longs;ue. Ab&longs;olute de&longs;pair is the fir&longs;t &longs;tep
towards the cure of love. It is either drowning
or curing, with you at pre&longs;ent. As
you have not drowned your&longs;elf, you are
in a fair way to be cured.

I know very well how you mi&longs;&longs;ed the
matter with this hu&longs;&longs;y. You appear to be
a young man of great &longs;en&longs;ibility of feeling;
and I pre&longs;ume made your addre&longs;&longs;es with
great refinement of thought and manners.
You talked to her of flames and darts, and
flowers and ro&longs;es; read poetry in the mean
time, and thought a great deal of Phillis,
and Amaryllis; and entertained her with

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[figure description] Page 127.[end figure description]

names and incidents in romances, and &longs;ung
and recited &longs;oft love &longs;ongs about Amanda,
and Phebe, and Colin; whereas your
way was to have talked carele&longs;s non&longs;en&longs;e,
and &longs;ung &longs;uch &longs;ongs as Pady Kelly, and
Tri&longs;tram Shandy-O; and told her &longs;tories
of girls that had run off with pedlars, or
gone a campaigning with the &longs;oldiers.
The&longs;e ideas are light and frolic&longs;ome, and
co-natural to &longs;pringing love. Hence it is
that men of but loo&longs;e and irregular education,
&longs;ucceed better with the fair, than
&longs;cholars that are learned in the cla&longs;&longs;ics.

But to bring the matter to a point, the
true way is to get another mi&longs;tre&longs;s; and profit
by your experience with the fir&longs;t. No
more of &longs;ighing and dying in the ca&longs;e;
but &longs;inging, and laughing, and jumping
like a young fox. Hint a little with respect
to certain matters that are between
the &longs;exes; but let it be done in &longs;o delicate
a manner, that, though &longs;he under&longs;tands
you, &longs;he is not obliged to do it. What
I mean, is to make her think you would
rather debauch her than marry her. Bring
her to this &longs;u&longs;picion, and I warrant you.
Her whole &longs;tudy will be to entrap you into
matrimony. For it is natural for the
human mind, when it ob&longs;erves a great

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[figure description] Page 128.[end figure description]

&longs;ecurity and confidence in another, to
imagine there mu&longs;t be &longs;ome ground for
it. It will argue a con&longs;ciou&longs;ne&longs;s, on your
part, of having as good or better in your
power. It will impre&longs;s her with the &longs;ame
idea; and imagination governs the world.

When the mind is bent upon any object,
it is relieved by the conver&longs;ation of
tho&longs;e who under&longs;tand it; and, as it were,
di&longs;&longs;olve with them in the &longs;ame ideas.
The young man was plea&longs;ed with the conversation
of the Captain, and &longs;eemed
cheared; agreed to join the family, and
be a little &longs;ociable. By degrees he became
&longs;o; and what by the conver&longs;ation of the
Captain, &longs;ometimes explaining and sometimes
ridiculing the pa&longs;&longs;ion of love; and
the young ladies of the family, in the
mean time, rallying him on his weakne&longs;s,
he came a little to his &longs;en&longs;es, (for love is
a phrenzy), and began to behave like a
common man. For it having come out
now, that love was the cau&longs;e of his distress
and &longs;ingularity of conduct, &longs;ome
pitied him, and others rallied it with good
humour and philanthropy. It had, however,
become the general topic in the family,
and was carried down to the kitchen
among the &longs;ervants.

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[figure description] Page 129.[end figure description]

Teague hearing of it took it into his
head that he mu&longs;t be in love too; and
counterfeiting a demure look, and absence
of mind, and walking by him&longs;elf,
and living on &longs;pare diet, as he had heard
the young man that was in love did, he
wi&longs;hed to have it under&longs;tood that his
mind was under the dominion of the &longs;ame
pa&longs;&longs;ion. This being ob&longs;erved, was represented
to the Captain; who being at a lo&longs;s
to know what was the matter, called
Teague, and began to interrogate him.
The bog-trotter, with &longs;ome &longs;eeming reluctance,
acknowledged that it was love.
Said the Captain, You in love, you great
bear; with whom are you in love? That
dear cratur, &longs;aid the Iri&longs;hman, that has
the black hair, and the fair face, and her
name is Mrs. Sally, in the hou&longs;e there.
She is a fair as the wool or the &longs;now, and
gives me the cholic, and the heart-burn,
every time I look at her fair eyes; God
&longs;ave her &longs;oul from damnation, but I love
her as I do the very food that I ate, or
the cloathes that I ware upon my back.

It appeared to be Mi&longs;s Sally, a very
pretty girl, the elde&longs;t daughter of the landlady;
who, by the bye, I mean the ladlady,
was a widow, and had two daughters

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[figure description] Page 130.[end figure description]

and a niece with her; the hand&longs;ome&longs;t of
whom was this Mi&longs;s Sally, with whom
Teague had become enamoured. For simple
and ignorant nature will fa&longs;ten on
beauty, as well as the mo&longs;t in&longs;tructed
in the principles of ta&longs;te.

The Captain having been a good deal
troubled, heretofore, with the preten&longs;ions
of this valet, in wi&longs;hing to be a member
of the legi&longs;lature, a philo&longs;opher, a preacher,
and now a lover, thought he had now
a good opportunity of repre&longs;&longs;ing his presumption
for the future. There was a
young man, a brother in the family, who
had been &longs;ome time in the &longs;ervice, as a
lieutenant, and had leave of ab&longs;ence at
this time, on a vi&longs;it to his mother and
&longs;i&longs;ters. The Captain well knew, that being
in the pride and heat of youth, he
would con&longs;ider Teague's advances to his
&longs;i&longs;ter as an in&longs;ult on the family, and chastise
him accordingly. With this view,
counterfeiting every po&longs;&longs;ible di&longs;po&longs;ition to
&longs;erve the bog-trotter, the Captain recommended
to him to make a confident of
the brother, and endeavour to gain his interest
with the &longs;i&longs;ter.

Accordingly, one morning when the
officer was in his chamber, Teague made

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[figure description] Page 131.[end figure description]

his approach; and compo&longs;ing his woe begone
countenance as well as he could, and
explaining the cau&longs;e of it, &longs;olicited his interest
with the lady.

There was a whip in a corner of the
room, with which the lieutenant had been
riding; &longs;eizing this ha&longs;tily, he made an
attack upon the per&longs;on of the lover, in a
manner far beyond what was decent or
moderate. The valet retreating with considerable
outcries, made complaint to the
Captain; who gave him to under&longs;tand,
that as this outrage was committed by his
intended brother in-law, it mu&longs;t be considered
in the nature of a family quarrel,
and he could not interfere.

The advances of Teague became the
&longs;ubject of conver&longs;ation in the family, and
of much mirth and laughter. The young
man who had been in the &longs;tate of melancholy
before de&longs;cribed, and had been
cheered a little, was now in a great degree
cured by the imitation of the valet.
For ridicule is a better cure for love than
pa&longs;&longs;ion. It is better to make the patient
laugh than think.

Having now a di&longs;po&longs;ition to pur&longs;ue his
travels, the Captain &longs;ent for his hor&longs;e,
and &longs;et out.

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[figure description] Page 132.[end figure description]

THE ob&longs;ervations which we make when
the narration of the fact is ended, are
&longs;omething like the &longs;entiments delivered by
the chorus in the ancient plays; a kind of
moral on what was &longs;aid; or like the moral
as it is called to a fable. In this view therefore;
we &longs;hall endeavour to &longs;ay &longs;omething.

The young man that we have &longs;een &longs;o
deeply in love, was of a hand&longs;ome personal
appearance, and of an eye and physiognomy
that indicated &longs;en&longs;ibility and understanding;
and yet it is probable the female
of whom he was &longs;o much enamoured, may
have been both homely, and de&longs;titute of
good mental qualities. Whence could a
repul&longs;e in this ca&longs;e happen. From a thousand
cau&longs;es. We will &longs;pecify &longs;ome of
them. The very circum&longs;tance of his being
beyond her fir&longs;t hopes, may have put him
beyond her la&longs;t wi&longs;hes. A female wooed
by a man her &longs;uperior, may be led to think

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[figure description] Page 133.[end figure description]

&longs;he has &longs;till a chance for better; and that
there mu&longs;t be diamonds in her hair, or
&longs;ome hidden advantages on her part, of
which &longs;he was her&longs;elf ignorant; otherwi&longs;e
&longs;uch advances would not be made to her;
or &longs;he may apprehend &longs;ome defect on the
part of the lover, of which he is con&longs;cious;
otherwi&longs;e, he would not &longs;toop beneath his
natural expectations.

It is po&longs;&longs;ible the Amanda may not have
been of the &longs;ame cla&longs;s and quality with
him&longs;elf. This would of it&longs;elf account for
the repul&longs;e. Should the eagle come from
the firmament, and make his advances to
the phea&longs;ant, he would find him&longs;elf unsuccessful;
for the brown bird would prefer
a lover of her own &longs;pecies: or, &longs;hould
the rein deer, which is a mo&longs;t beautiful
creature, woo a frog, the croaking animal
would recede into the mar&longs;h, and solace
it&longs;elf with a paramour of its own
chu&longs;ing. When, therefore, unexperienced
young per&longs;ons place their affections
on an object, and do not find a &longs;uitable
return, they ought to &longs;ave their pride, and
make the inference, that they had descended
from their element, and fa&longs;tened on an
animal unworthy of their notice.

The&longs;e ob&longs;ervations, in addition to tho&longs;e

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[figure description] Page 134.[end figure description]

made by the Captain to the young man,
may be of u&longs;e to unfortunate lovers; and
if &longs;o, it will be a recompence for the trouble
we have given our&longs;elves in making
them.

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BOOK VII.

[figure description] Page 135.[end figure description]

IT was about an hour before &longs;un&longs;et, that
the Captain fell in company with one
who had the Cincinnati eagle at his brea&longs;t,
and riding on together, put up at the inn.

The landlady and the &longs;ervants, having
never &longs;een the badge before, were a good
deal &longs;truck with the effigy of the eagle, and
the ribband at which it was pendant. Interrogating
Teague, who had come in
company, and whom they took to be a
common &longs;ervant to both, or at lea&longs;t acquainted
with the affairs of either, what
was the meaning of that bird, or what bird
it was, that the gentleman had at his brea&longs;t?
Teague knew as little about it as they did;
but unwilling to be thought ignorant, took

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[figure description] Page 136.[end figure description]

upon him to inform them. It is, &longs;aid he,
a goo&longs;e; and the maining is, that the
&longs;hentleman would ate a goo&longs;e, if your anours
would get one roa&longs;ted this avening,
for his anour to ate with the Captain, who
is my ma&longs;ter; for we have ate nothing all
day long, and a roa&longs;ted goo&longs;e with a shoulder
of mutton, a pace of poark, and bafe
and cabbage, and the like, would be a
very good &longs;lake for a fa&longs;ting &longs;tomach. So,
God &longs;ave your &longs;oul, dear honey, and make
ha&longs;te, and get a goo&longs;e knocked down and
put to the fire, to keep their anours from
&longs;tarving, and to go to bed in a good humour,
when they have drank a cup of ale
or a mug of cyder after the goo&longs;e; and,
ble&longs;s your &longs;oul, dear honey, let it be a
good large fat goo&longs;e, that there may be a
rib or a wing left, that a poor &longs;ervant may
have &longs;ometing to ate, at the &longs;ame time.
The &longs;hentleman was very right to hold out
a token, like the &longs;ign of a tavern-keeper,
with a goo&longs;e, or a pigeon, or a turkey,
that paple may know what he wants, and
not be after the trouble of a&longs;king whether
he would chu&longs;e roa&longs;t bafe and parates, or
pork and par&longs;nips, may it pla&longs;e your anour.

The landlady was a good deal di&longs;tre&longs;&longs;ed,

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having no goo&longs;e about the hou&longs;e. But
&longs;ending out to her neighbours, &longs;he made
&longs;hift to collect a couple of ducks, which
Teague acknowledged would be a very
good &longs;ub&longs;titute. Supper being ordered,
the&longs;e were &longs;erved up, with an apology
from the landlady, that &longs;he had not been
able to procure a goo&longs;e; which &longs;he hoped
the gentleman with the ribbon would excuse,
as &longs;he was informed that a roa&longs;ted
goo&longs;e was &longs;o much to his ta&longs;te. A roa&longs;ted
goo&longs;e to my ta&longs;te! &longs;aid the officer; what
rea&longs;on have you to think that a roa&longs;ted
goo&longs;e is &longs;o much my choice? Surely madam
you cannot mean wit, or to in&longs;inuate
that I my&longs;elf am a goo&longs;e? for one animal
preys not upon another; the maxim is,
dog will not eat dog. I cannot therefore
be a goo&longs;e if I eat one.

Here the landlady explained her meaning,
giving the information &longs;he had received
from the &longs;ervant. The Captain was
greatly irritated, and would have called
him in and cha&longs;ti&longs;ed him in&longs;tantly, had not
the officer interfered; declaring that though
it was an eagle, not a goo&longs;e that he wore
at his brea&longs;t, yet he was not di&longs;&longs;atisfied
at the mi&longs;take, in as much as it had brought

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[figure description] Page 138.[end figure description]

a couple of good ducks to the table, a fowl
of which he was particularly fond.

This incident, in it&longs;elf laughable, led
the officer to relate the trouble he had had
with a clergyman who had made a wor&longs;e
mi&longs;take than this, taking the eagle for a
graven image, contrary to the injunction
of the decalogue, which prohibits the making
any &longs;uch repre&longs;entation for the purpose
of wor&longs;hip, as he alledged this to be.
In an&longs;wer to the clergyman, he had alledged
the improbability that he who had been
in the &longs;ervice &longs;o many years, at a di&longs;tance
from church, or church wor&longs;hip, except
when a dei&longs;tical chaplain came the way,
&longs;hould think &longs;o much of religion, as to
have any wor&longs;hip at all; much le&longs;s to have
become &longs;uper&longs;titious, and to wear an image
at his bo&longs;om. The truth was, that
he wor&longs;hipped any god, true or fal&longs;e, very
little; at lea&longs;t, &longs;aid few or no prayers, on
&longs;uch occa&longs;ions; and was very far from being
an idolater, and paying adoration to
a gold or &longs;ilver image; that this was nothing
more than a hieroglyphic, being the
effigies of a bald eagle, which is a native
of America, and de&longs;ignates the cau&longs;e for
which her &longs;oldiery had fought; in the
&longs;ame manner as the eagle was the &longs;tandard

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[figure description] Page 139.[end figure description]

of the Roman legion; or the lion and the
unicorn are the arms of England, or the
thi&longs;tle that of Scotland; that the emblem
of the American bald eagle had, on the&longs;e
principles, been cho&longs;en by the Cincinnati
for their badge; of which &longs;ociety he was
a member, and wore this device, not venerating
it as the image of any bird or
bea&longs;t what&longs;oever.

The clergyman admitted, that, in strictness,
this &longs;ymbol might not be a graven
image, as the term would intend engraving
on wood or metal, with the point of
an in&longs;trument; and under this mental reservation,
the wearer might &longs;ave him&longs;elf
in &longs;aying that it was not a graven image:
but it was at lea&longs;t a molten one, which
comes within the meaning of the prohibition;
being the repre&longs;entation of a fowl,
and doubtle&longs;s for the purpo&longs;e of idolatry.
For what el&longs;e could be the u&longs;e or meaning
of it. It was not a common broach, u&longs;ed
as a ligament to the &longs;hirt or coat; and it
was unworthy of a man to &longs;uppo&longs;e it could
be worn merely for ornament; boys and
petit maitres delighting in the&longs;e things,
but no one el&longs;e. It could not be any &longs;ort
of time-piece, worn for the purpo&longs;e of ascertaining
di&longs;tance. In fact, it was the

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[figure description] Page 140.[end figure description]

portrait of a bird, the &longs;ignal of &longs;ome heathen
deity; as the cock was &longs;acred to Escalapius,
the owl to Minerva, the peacock
to Juno, and the dove to Venus. The eagle
was &longs;acred to Jupiter; and it was mo&longs;t
probable, that it was in honour of this
fal&longs;e god, that the image was worn.

It an&longs;wered no end to rea&longs;on with the
eccle&longs;ia&longs;tic; for he grew but the more enraged,
and in&longs;i&longs;ted that it was an idol;
&longs;hewing from &longs;ome texts of &longs;cripture, that
in the la&longs;t times idolaters were to &longs;pring
up; and that this &longs;ociety, which the Cincinnati
in&longs;tituted, might be the Gog and
Magog &longs;poken of in the Apocalyp&longs;e.

Said the Captain, It was natural enough
for the clergyman to make this deduction;
as in maintaining the cau&longs;e of truth again&longs;t
Pagans, he is led to dwell much on the
&longs;ubject of idolatry. But for my part, the
principal objection that lies with me against
your in&longs;titution, is that which lies
again&longs;t all partial in&longs;titutions what&longs;oever;
they cut men from the common ma&longs;s, and
alienate their affections from the whole,
concentring their attachments to a particular
point and intere&longs;t. A circum&longs;tance
of this kind is unfavourable to general
philanthropy, giving a temporary and

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artificial credit to tho&longs;e who are of the body,
among&longs;t them&longs;elves; &longs;o that while &longs;ome
lend character, others borrow; and the
individuals do not &longs;tand on the natural basis
of their own merit. On this principle,
I do not much approve of clubs and societies,
unle&longs;s in the ca&longs;e of &longs;ome humane
or charitable in&longs;titution; or for the purpose
of carrying on &longs;ome beneficial work
or improvement. I do not know that in
your conveening annually together, you
have any object in view of this nature. I
have not heard of any bridges you have
built, or any canals dug, or locks made for
the purpo&longs;e of facilitating navigation. I
do not &longs;ee of what u&longs;e your in&longs;titution is;
unle&longs;s it be, that your pronouncing an oration
now and then, may be favourable to eloquence.
But of this I much doubt, as
&longs;uch ab&longs;tract di&longs;cour&longs;es u&longs;ually degenerate
into common place. The great object of
an orator is, to per&longs;uade the judgment, or
affect the pa&longs;&longs;ions. In this ca&longs;e, the judgment
is already per&longs;uaded, the affections
already gained. Having therefore, no object,
what exertion can the mind make?
Be the cau&longs;e what it may, certain it is that
&longs;uch compo&longs;itions are &longs;eldom or ever found
to be models of eloquence; more

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especially where the &longs;ubject is of an exten&longs;ive
nature, as the revolution of America, and
the &longs;truggles of its heroes. For here &longs;o
wide a canva&longs;s is &longs;pread, that it is difficult
to fill it up; and to take a particular part
would &longs;eem to be a dereliction of the re&longs;t;
for which dereliction no &longs;pecial rea&longs;on
could be given. You could not embrace
all the characters who have figured or
have fallen, or catch at particular names
of the illu&longs;trious. Con&longs;ining your&longs;elf,
therefore, to general ob&longs;ervations, you
make no particular impre&longs;&longs;ion, and your
orations become frigid to the hearers.

I have felt the truth of all this, &longs;aid the
Cincinnati gentleman, and the difficulty of
compo&longs;ing an oration to &longs;atisfy my own
wi&longs;hes. For being appointed by the society
to pronounce one at our next meeting,
to which I am now on my way, I
have been trying my hand at it, and find
it as you &longs;ay, very difficult; but have attributed
this, not to the nature of the
compo&longs;ition; but to the inferiority of my
powers. Not &longs;o, &longs;aid the Captain; for in
the hands of the greate&longs;t ma&longs;ters, this kind
of compo&longs;ition labours. We do not find
that even the oration of I&longs;ocrates, on the
Lacedemonian war, which he was ten

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years in compo&longs;ing, has obtained &longs;uch celebrity
among the ancients, as &longs;uch great
labour would be&longs;peak. I have read the
panegyric of Trajan, by Pliny; and find
it but a cold compo&longs;ition. Plato's oration
in honour of tho&longs;e who had fallen in the
battles of Marathon and Platea, is the be&longs;t
of this kind that antiquity can produce,
and doubtle&longs;s has great excellence of simplicity
of painting. The touches are delicate
and fine, and I do not know but we may
place it among the mo&longs;t beautiful productions.
It amu&longs;es with magic wildne&longs;s of
fancy, at the &longs;ame time, re&longs;trained and
guided by an exqui&longs;ite judgment. But it
is rather a poem than an harangue. For
though the compo&longs;ition is in pro&longs;e, yet it
breathes the &longs;oul of a bard, and is inchanting
by the flow of the words, and the elevation
of the images. In modern times,
the be&longs;t thing we have of this nature, is
the panegyric of Cromwell, &longs;uppo&longs;ed to be
written by the great Milton, but not delivered.
The ingenuity di&longs;covered in the
mode of prai&longs;ing him, de&longs;erves every possible
commendation. But the greater part
of addre&longs;&longs;es that I have &longs;een to great men
now-a-days, or orations on public

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occasions, are turgid, or jejune, or little worth
our notice.

After this, &longs;aid the Cincinnati gentleman,
I &longs;hall he&longs;itate to &longs;how you the e&longs;&longs;ay
I have made towards a compo&longs;ition of this
nature, as you appear to be &longs;o good a judge
in this re&longs;pect, and to know the deficiencies
that may appear in any effort of this kind.

Nay, rather, &longs;aid the Captain, you ought
to be the more confident in &longs;o doing; for
knowing the difficulty of the work, I &longs;hall
be the more ready to excu&longs;e what comes
&longs;hort of perfection.

I &longs;hall then take the liberty, &longs;aid the
Cincinnati gentleman, to read you a few
paragraphs. I &longs;hall be happy to hear it,
&longs;aid the Captain. The Cincinnati gentleman
read as follows:

Compatriots—I wi&longs;h to &longs;ay tho&longs;e
things that never have been &longs;aid, and that
never will be &longs;aid again. Becau&longs;e, in this
ca&longs;e, there will be the characteri&longs;tics of
novelty and &longs;ingularity; the two great
con&longs;tituents of plea&longs;ure, in all intellectual
entertainments. But what can I &longs;ay new?
Has not the whole world re&longs;ounded with
the ju&longs;tne&longs;s of the cau&longs;e in which we have
been engaged; with the greatne&longs;s of the
attempt to with&longs;tand the power of Britain?

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And have not we, our&longs;elves, felt, &longs;een,
and known the great variety and change
of good or bad fortune? What will it contribute
to our immediate enjoyment to go
over &longs;uch &longs;cenes, unle&longs;s the particular achievements
of each officer can be enumerated,
which decency forbids, and which
indeed, cannot be done in the limits of
one harangue. Leaving, therefore, ourselves,
and the&longs;e &longs;cenes, wholly out of
the que&longs;tion, let us &longs;peak a little of tho&longs;e
whom we left behind. But why need we
&longs;peak; for all time will &longs;peak of them.
The bards that &longs;hall live, will draw hence
their choice&longs;t allu&longs;ions. Con&longs;ider them,
indeed, as more happy than you, becau&longs;e
they a&longs;cended from among the group of
their companions, who were at that time
in&longs;tant witne&longs;&longs;es of their achievments. The
warriors who fall in battle, are the mo&longs;t
glorious &longs;ubjects of panegyric. Hector and
Achilles, form the mo&longs;t &longs;plendid part of the
&longs;ong of Homer, and in a great degree, because
their bodies were interred in the presence
of the two armies. Oh what a noble
object! an army mourning a brave officer,
and tears drawn even from the foe, &longs;truck
with the &longs;ublime of his per&longs;onal prowe&longs;s,
and excellent knowledge of the military art.

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Much unlike, and far above tho&longs;e who languish
with &longs;ickne&longs;s on a bed in calm life,
where relations &longs;tanding round, wi&longs;h the
departure of the &longs;hade, and gape for the
po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion which he leaves behind. But
the fame of a &longs;oldier none but him&longs;elf can
enjoy, there can be no heir or devi&longs;ee of
his property. It is his own, and it mounts
with him. His blood only remains to
ble&longs;s the earth, from which flowers and
ro&longs;es &longs;pring, and clothe the woods and
groves with enchantment and delight. For
here the &longs;ong of poe&longs;y is awakened, and at
morn, and noon, and at &longs;till eve, they are
heard who rehear&longs;e where the brave fell,
and where they &longs;leep. Sublime &longs;pirits!
whether you inhabit the Pagan ely&longs;ium
or the Chri&longs;tian heaven, you are happy;
and li&longs;ten to tho&longs;e immortal lyres which
are &longs;trung to the deeds of heroes.

So much for the exordium of the oration;
it was all he had yet written. The
evening pa&longs;&longs;ed away in hilarity; and the
conver&longs;ation turned again on the Cincinnati
order; but particularly what may be called
the arms of the in&longs;titution, viz. Britannia
repre&longs;ented as a fine woman, with
her bo&longs;om bare, affrighted; and Cincinnatus,
an accoutred knight, attacking her

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thus unarmed, as St. George did the dragon;
the eagle, the bird of Jove, in the
mean time gra&longs;ping the lightning in his
claws, an image that would &longs;eem unnatural:
Whereas the eagle might be represented
in the clouds near Jove, where the
lightning might be left to work its forked
cour&longs;e, without the handing of the eagle;
and in the other figure, Cincinnatus might
rai&longs;e his lance again&longs;t the lion that &longs;upports
the crown, not again&longs;t the godde&longs;s of the
i&longs;land.

From the&longs;e &longs;trictures which the Captain,
without pretending to be a connoi&longs;&longs;eur,
made, the tran&longs;ition was ea&longs;y to a criticism
on the motto of the badge; viz.
Omnia reliquit, &longs;ervare, rempublicam. The
infinitive is here u&longs;ed in&longs;tead of the gerund,
with the prepo&longs;ition, ad &longs;ervandam;
as if it was intended to expre&longs;s his motion,
or change of place, and not the object.
But in fact, the motto does not at all express
that in which the merit of Cincinnatus
did con&longs;i&longs;t. It was not in his leaving
every thing to accept the commi&longs;&longs;ion of
the Roman &longs;enate; but in re&longs;igning his
commi&longs;&longs;ion, and, the work done, going to
his plough again. His prai&longs;e would have
been expre&longs;&longs;ed better by the phra&longs;e of,

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[figure description] Page 148.[end figure description]

Victor ad aratrum redit. In fact, it cannot
apply well to our army; mo&longs;t of our
officers not having much to leave when
they accepted their commi&longs;&longs;ions; but discovered
a Cincinnati-like di&longs;po&longs;ition, in returning
after war to the employments of
civil life. It is true, there would have
been le&longs;s tin&longs;el, and more bullion, in the
patrioti&longs;m of retiring without a badge, as
Cincinnatus did: But it is a thing that can
do little harm, and it is plea&longs;ing to indulge
a whim.

It may doubtle&longs;s be &longs;aid, that there were
officers that left the plough, and fought,
and returned to it, as well as tho&longs;e who
are within the limitations of the institution,
and entitled to a badge; that, troops
who had &longs;erved a &longs;hort enli&longs;tment, and
militia per&longs;ons, at lea&longs;t tho&longs;e who fought
a little, were not wholly de&longs;titute of &longs;ome
claim to the badge of merit. Even tho&longs;e
who lo&longs;t property might be &longs;aid to &longs;uffer,
and advance preten&longs;ions to the reward of
honour. Not that all of them &longs;hould claim
gold medals, or even &longs;ilver; but &longs;ome
bra&longs;s, &longs;ome copper, pewter, a bit of tin,
or pot metal, ju&longs;t as the &longs;pecific value of
their &longs;ervices might entitle them. Perhaps
while &longs;ome wore it at the brea&longs;t,

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[figure description] Page 149.[end figure description]

others might be enjoined to war it at the
breeches pocket, and thus, as well by the
point from which appendant, as by the bob
it&longs;elf, de&longs;ignate the proportion of their
honour.

After this, &longs;ome things were &longs;aid on the
&longs;ubject of introducing honourary members;
again&longs;t which the Captain declared
him&longs;elf: That every thing ought to be
pre&longs;erved &longs;ui generis; as nature makes no
honourary animals; but all are of the species,
or take not the name: a bear is a
real bear, a &longs;heep is a &longs;heep; and there is
no commixture of name, where there is
a difference of nature. But it did not appear
to be of any great con&longs;equence, one
way or the other. For the order would
never come to any great head, as there
was no oppo&longs;ition given. For this is necessary
to keep alive attachment to what is
arbitrary, and founded, not in utility, but
caprice. For as the fire dies without air,
&longs;o whim without contradiction.

The officer was a man of liberality and
good &longs;en&longs;e, and acknowledged the truth
of this. But the evening being now far
&longs;pent, candles were called for, and they
went to bed.

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POSTSCRIPT.

[figure description] Page 150.[end figure description]

THE preceding pages were written several
years ago; during which time
the Captain has continued his travels: and
having been favoured with his journal,
I have occa&longs;ionally made extracts, and put
them in the form of a continued hi&longs;tory.
Whether I &longs;hall publi&longs;h any more, will
depend on the reception of this.

I had fir&longs;t begun this work in ver&longs;e,
and have a volume by me, about two parts
in three as large as Butler's Hudibra&longs;s;
from which compo&longs;ition, I have extracted
this; thinking it might be more acceptable
in pro&longs;e. When I vi&longs;it this city next, I may
produce that in ver&longs;e, and let the people
take their choice.

It is a happine&longs;s to a man to be able
to amu&longs;e him&longs;elf with writing. For
it is not every one that can play upon
the violin, or the flute; and the

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fingers mu&longs;t be employed &longs;ome way. I
may be blamed in not chu&longs;ing &longs;ome subject
worthier of my &longs;tudies, and requiring
a profound re&longs;earch. It might profit the
world more; but it would amu&longs;e my&longs;elf
le&longs;s. Omnis labor improbus; all toil is
grievous. However, I have not been
wholly inattentive to &longs;everer &longs;tudies. I
have &longs;everal law tracts by me; for which
I mean, in due time, to &longs;olicit a subscription.
Nonum prematur in annum, in every
work of moment, ought to be ob&longs;erved.

There are &longs;ome light things which I
may in the mean time throw out; a comparison
of Thucydides with Livy; thoughts
on the Egyptian hieroglyphics; on the
Carthaginian commerce; a compari&longs;on
of the French and Engli&longs;h eloquence; a
&longs;upplement to Buffon, containing a description
of &longs;everal genera of animals, not
taken notice of by him; hints for the improvement
of the micro&longs;cope; on the u&longs;e
of the Ma&longs;oretic points; on the recent
origin of the earth; on the criminal code
of the Siame&longs;e, &c.

If the world will excu&longs;e the&longs;e, I will give
them my word for it, they &longs;hall be troubled
little more; for except the examining
my law tracts, I &longs;hall drop my pen,

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finding it, as I advance in life, more advi&longs;eable
to apply my&longs;elf to making money. What
things have been written, and are now
lying by me, may occa&longs;ionally &longs;ee the
light.

It is a good deal owing to my &longs;olitary
re&longs;idence in the we&longs;tern country, at a distance
from books and literary conversation,
that I have been led to write at all.
It was nece&longs;&longs;ary to fill up the inter&longs;tices
of bu&longs;ine&longs;s. If I &longs;hould remain in that
country, the &longs;ame circum&longs;tances may lead
me to write &longs;till. If I &longs;hould remove to
this city, or the &longs;eat of the federal government,
I &longs;hall avoid the tedium by other
means.

I wi&longs;h the pre&longs;ent book, to &longs;ell for at
lea&longs;t as much as will defray the expence
of printing; for I have no inclination to
lo&longs;e by it. If I had a little time to &longs;tay
in town, I could give it &longs;ome celebrity by
extracts, and remarks upon it; publi&longs;hing
for and again&longs;t. For it is of no con&longs;equence
how a book is made famous, provided that
it is famous.

The truth is, as I have &longs;aid, I value this
book for little but the &longs;tile. This I have
formed on the model of Xenophen, and
Swift's Tale of a Tub, and Gulliver's

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[figure description] Page 153.[end figure description]

Travels. It is &longs;imple, natural, various, and
forcible. I hope to &longs;ee it made a &longs;chool
book; a kind of cla&longs;&longs;ic of the Engli&longs;h
language.

In looking over it, I find in the whole
work, but one word I would alter; it
is near the beginning; where I &longs;ay figure
on the &longs;tage, in&longs;tead of appear, or
make a figure on the &longs;tage. I have carefully
avoided the word unfounded in&longs;tead of
groundle&longs;s, a word in vogue, among members
of Congre&longs;s e&longs;pecially. The word
commit, is good, but being lately introduced,
and too much hackneyed, I have
not u&longs;ed it.

Language being the ve&longs;tment of thought,
it comes within the rules of other dre&longs;s;
&longs;o that as &longs;lovenline&longs;s, on the one hand,
or foppery, on the other, is to be avoided
in our attire; &longs;o al&longs;o in our &longs;peech, and
writing. Simplicity in the one and the
other, is the greate&longs;t beauty.

We do not know at what time the Greek
language began to be written as it was by
He&longs;iod or Homer. But we find it to have
continued with little or no change, from
that time to the late&longs;t writers among the
Byzantine hi&longs;torians, a period of more
than 3000 years. The Roman language

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[figure description] Page 154.[end figure description]

is con&longs;idered as improving from the time
of Ennius to the Augu&longs;tine age. The language
of the orators, poets, and hi&longs;torians
of that time is the &longs;tandard. It was not
&longs;o much in the u&longs;e of particular words, as
an affectation in the thought, that Seneca
is cen&longs;ured as corrupting the language
of the Romans. But Tacitus, after
him, writes in a pure &longs;tile; and I have
found but one conceit in expre&longs;&longs;ion, in his
whole hi&longs;tory: meaning to give the geography
of a country of a certain tribe of
the Germans; they are, &longs;ays he, separated
from the Sequani by mount Jura, from
the — by the lake —, from the —
by the river —, and from the Atabani
by mutual fear. I do not find &longs;o much
fault with the &longs;tile of Pliny, as the heaviness
of his thoughts and expre&longs;&longs;ions. However,
the Latin &longs;tile of writing retained its
propriety and other excellencies tolerably
well, till the monks got po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion of it,
and brought it down to a jargon that is
now exploded; and we recur to the pure
originals of Horace, Virgil, Cicero, and
Sallu&longs;t.

The French language is corrupting fa&longs;t;
and not in the u&longs;e of words, but in the
affectation of &longs;urpri&longs;e, in the &longs;tructure of

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[figure description] Page 155.[end figure description]

the &longs;entence, or the turn of the expression.
Mirabeau was free from this; but
not the Abbe Raynal. To give an example:
meaning to &longs;ay, which he might have
done in a &longs;imple manner, that about this
time the Engli&longs;h ca&longs;t their eyes upon Goa,
as a place where, &c. &longs;tating the advantages
of &longs;uch a port; he begins by telling
you, that the Engli&longs;h had occa&longs;ion for &longs;uch
a port, which, &c. enumerating the advantages;
and after this, with &longs;urprize
comes upon you, and tells you, they wanted
Goa. Enfin, &longs;ays he; that is, in fine
they wanted Goa.

The Engli&longs;h language is undoubtedly
written better in America than in England,
e&longs;pecially &longs;ince the time of that literary
dunce, Samuel John&longs;on, who was totally
de&longs;titute of ta&longs;te for the vrai naturalle, or
&longs;implicity of nature.

The language of the Scots writers is
cha&longs;te, but the &longs;tructure of the &longs;entence
of the academic Dr. Robert&longs;on, especially
offends in this particular; his uniformity
of period &longs;triking the ear with
the &longs;ame pul&longs;e, as the couplets of our
rhyme in Dryden and Pope. Hume is
before him in this re&longs;pect, writing as naturally
as a man &longs;peaks; his &longs;tile ri&longs;ing

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[figure description] Page 156.[end figure description]

and falling with the &longs;ubject, as the movements
of the mind them&longs;elves.

I am quite out of patience with this postscript.
I have written it, the Printer informing
me that he had a few pages of the la&longs;t
&longs;heet to fill, which mu&longs;t be left blank unle&longs;s
I had &longs;omething more; but as I am in a
hurry about &longs;ome &longs;mall matters, and have no
di&longs;po&longs;ition to write, I believe I &longs;hall conclude,
and let him leave the remainder
blank, or put in a paragraph of his own,
if he chu&longs;es it.

It ju&longs;t &longs;trikes me to add, that I am this
moment come from being admitted a Counsellor
in the &longs;upreme court of the United
States; having written the preceding part
of this po&longs;t&longs;cript ju&longs;t before the court &longs;at.

In con&longs;equence of my admi&longs;&longs;ion in this
honourable court, I feel my&longs;elf in&longs;pired
with a con&longs;ciou&longs;ne&longs;s of new dignity, and
am determined to relinqui&longs;h the indulgence
of all the&longs;e light amu&longs;ements, and
apply my&longs;elf for the future to fathom the
profound depths of the legal oceans and
rivers.

Vale,
Valete,
Camenæ.

-- --

Section

[figure description] Page 001.[end figure description]

MODERN CHIVALRY.

VOL. II.

-- --

[figure description] Blank Page.[end figure description]

-- --

Section

[figure description] Page 003.[end figure description]

Modern Chivalry:
CONTAINING THE
ADVENTURES
OF
Captain John Farrago,
AND
TEAGUE O'REGAN,
HIS SERVANT.

VOLUME II.

By H. H. BRACKENRIDGE.

Quicquid agunt homines, nostri, farrago libelli.

Juvenal.

PHILADELPHIA:

Printed and &longs;old by John M`Culloch, No. 1,
North Third-&longs;treet.

M.DCC.XII.

[Entered according to Act of Congre&longs;s.]

-- --

[figure description] Blank Page.[end figure description]

-- --

BOOK I.

[figure description] Page 005.[end figure description]

RISING early next morning, the Captain
proceeded, with his man Teague,
on his journey, and having breakfa&longs;ted at
an inn, where nothing material happened,
we &longs;hall pa&longs;s it over, and come as far
down in the day as eleven o'clock; tho',
by the bye, it might have been more correct
to have &longs;aid up in the day, becau&longs;e the
&longs;un ri&longs;es until twelve o'clock, and then
de&longs;cends: But waving this nicety, we &longs;hall
go on to relate what actually took place.
A man was &longs;een before them, driving,
lei&longs;urely, a hor&longs;e with two kegs upon his
back. The Captain took him for what is
called a pack-hor&longs;e man, that was carrying
&longs;alt or &longs;ugar to &longs;ome place of market.

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A man of a philo&longs;ophic turn of mind never
he&longs;itates to enter into conver&longs;ation
with any character; becau&longs;e human nature
is the field whence he gathers thoughts
and expre&longs;&longs;ions. The Captain therefore
acco&longs;ting this man, &longs;aid, Is it &longs;alt or molasses
you have in your kegs, countryman?
You are going home from &longs;ome &longs;tore, I
&longs;uppo&longs;e, where you have purcha&longs;ed; or
going to &longs;et up a &longs;mall &longs;tore of your own,
and vend goods. No, &longs;aid the man,
with a Scotch-Iri&longs;h pronunciation, there is
an election this day a little way before us,
and I am &longs;etting up for the legi&longs;lature, and
have the&longs;e two kegs of whi&longs;ky to give a
dram to the voters. The Captain was
thrown into a reverie of thought, and
began to reflect with him&longs;elf on the nature
of a republican government, where
canva&longs;&longs;ing by &longs;uch means as this, can work
&longs;o great an evil as to elevate the mo&longs;t unqualified
per&longs;ons to the highe&longs;t deliberative
a&longs;&longs;emblies. But, in the mean time,
rou&longs;ed a little from his thought, he had
pre&longs;ence of mind to recollect the danger
in which he was about to be involved afresh
with his man Teague; whom, now
looking round, he &longs;aw to be about forty
yards behind him. It would have been

-- 007 --

[figure description] Page 007.[end figure description]

advi&longs;eable to have diverted from the road,
and taken a circuitous rout, to avoid the
election ground. But as the devil, or
&longs;ome wor&longs;e being, would have it, it was
a lane in which they were, with a fence
on each &longs;ide; &longs;o that he could not divert
without leaping like a fox hunter, or one
of your light-hor&longs;e men, to which the sober
nag on which he rode was not competent.
Be&longs;ides, if Teague did not leap after
him he would be left expo&longs;ed in the
lane to the populace, who might &longs;olicit
him to be their repre&longs;entative. To turn
directly back would appear indecorous,
and unle&longs;s he could drive Teague on before
him, which was not cu&longs;tomary, and
to which he might not, all at once &longs;ubmit,
his &longs;tation would of cour&longs;e be the rear,
where he might be picked up as a straggler,
and &longs;ent to &longs;ome public body.

In this quandary of thought, looking up,
he &longs;aw the breakers ju&longs;t a-head; that is,
the people met for the purpo&longs;e of electing,
and that it was now impo&longs;&longs;ible to avoid
them. Depending, therefore, on his
own addre&longs;s, to make the be&longs;t of circumstances,
he &longs;uffered him&longs;elf to be carried
along towards them, keeping, in the mean

-- 008 --

[figure description] Page 008.[end figure description]

time, an eye upon Teague, who was the
cau&longs;e of his concern.

Meeting accidentally with a Scotch gentleman
on the ground, whom he knew, he
communicated to him the delicacy of his
&longs;ituation, and the apprehen&longs;ions he had on
the part of Teague. Said the Scotch gentleman,
Ye need na gie your &longs;el any trouble
on that head, man; for I &longs;al warrant
the man wi the twa kegs will carry the
elaction: there is na re&longs;i&longs;ting guid liquor;
it has an unco effec on the judgment in
the choice of a repre&longs;entative. The man
that has a di&longs;tillery or twa in our country,
canna want &longs;uffrages. He has his votaries
about him like ane o' the Heathen gods,
and becau&longs;e the fluid exhilerates the brain,
they think he maun be a deity that makes
it; and they fa' down, e&longs;pecially when
they have drank ower muckle, and worship
him, ju&longs;t as at the &longs;hrine of Apollo
or Bacchus, among the ancients.

The candidate that oppo&longs;ed the man of
the two kegs, was a per&longs;on of gravity and
years, and &longs;aid to be of good &longs;en&longs;e and experience
in facts. The judgment of the
people was in his favour, but their appetite
leaned again&longs;t him.

There is a &longs;tory of one Manlius, a

-- 009 --

[figure description] Page 009.[end figure description]

Roman, who had &longs;aved the capitol from the
Gauls, by putting his brea&longs;t to the rampart,
and throwing them down as they ascended.
When this man afterwards, elated
with the honours paid him, forgot the
duties of a citizen, wi&longs;hing to &longs;ubvert the
republic, by u&longs;urping the power of a tyrant,
the people, jealous of liberty, were
incen&longs;ed; and being convicted of the crime,
he was dragged to puni&longs;hment. It was not
the way, at that time, to hang, as you
would a dog; or behead, as you would
a wild bea&longs;t: but to throw from a high
rock, which they called the Tarpeian. The
capitol was ju&longs;t in view, and while they
were dragging him along to the place, he
would &longs;tretch his hand to this; as much
as to &longs;ay, There, O Romans, I &longs;aved you:
The populace at this would &longs;top a while,
irre&longs;olute whether to de&longs;i&longs;t or drag him
on. While they recollected his offence,
they marched a &longs;tep; but when they ca&longs;t
their eye on the capitol, they &longs;tood &longs;till;
and not until &longs;ome principal men directed
the rout out of the view of the capitol,
could he be brought to ju&longs;tice.

So it was with the multitude convened
on this occa&longs;ion, between the man with
the two kegs and the grave looking per&longs;on.

-- 010 --

[figure description] Page 010.[end figure description]

When they looked on the one, they felt
an inclination to promote him. But when
again on the other hand, they &longs;aw two
kegs which they knew to be repleni&longs;hed
with a very chearing liquor, they &longs;eemed
to be inclined in favour of the other.

But appetite prevailed, and they gave
their votes in favour of the man with the
two kegs.

Teague in the mean time thinking he
had another chance of being a great man,
had been bu&longs;y, but to no purpo&longs;e; for the
people gave their votes to the man of the
two kegs. The Captain thought him&longs;elf
fortunate to be thus relieved, and proceeded
on his journey.

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[figure description] Page 011.[end figure description]

THE perplexity of the Captain, in the
late tran&longs;action on account of his man
&longs;ervant, may &longs;erve to put tho&longs;e in mind
who travel with a waiter, not to go much
about at the election &longs;ea&longs;ons, but avoid
them as you would the equinoxes. It
might not be ami&longs;s, if, for this rea&longs;on the
times of electing members for the &longs;everal
bodies were put down in the almanac, that
a man might be &longs;afe in his excur&longs;ions, and
not have an under&longs;trapper picked up when
he could not well &longs;pare him.

I mean this as no burle&longs;que on the present
generation; for mankind in all ages
have had the &longs;ame propen&longs;ity to magnify
what was &longs;mall, and elevate the low. We
do not find that the Egyptians, though there
were lions in the kingdom of Lybia, not far
di&longs;tant, ever made a god of one of them.
They rather cho&longs;e the cow kind, the &longs;tork,
and the crocodile, or the mu&longs;k-rat, or

-- 012 --

[figure description] Page 012.[end figure description]

miresnipe, or other inferior animal to deify.
The Romans, and the Greeks al&longs;o, often
wor&longs;hipped &longs;mall matters. Indeed we do
not find among&longs;t any nation, that the elephant,
or rhinoceros, or elk, or unicorn,
have been made tutelar divinities. As,


Cannons &longs;hoot the higher pitches,
The lower you put down their breeches.
The &longs;maller the objects we take up, and
make them great, the act is the greater;
for it requires an equal art in the formation
of the gla&longs;s to magnify, as to dimini&longs;h,
and if the object is not of it&longs;elf &longs;mall, there
is no magnifying. Caligula is celebrated
through all hi&longs;tory for making his hor&longs;e a
&longs;enator. It would have been nothing to
have made a Roman knight one; but to
endow a mere quadruped with the qualities
of a legi&longs;lator, be&longs;peaks great &longs;trength
of parts and judgment.

-- 013 --

[figure description] Page 013.[end figure description]

IT was about three o'clock in the afternoon
that the Captain came to an inn,
where unhor&longs;eing and un&longs;addling, Teague
took the &longs;teed, and the ma&longs;ter went to
&longs;leep on a &longs;opha in the pa&longs;&longs;age. Unle&longs;s it
is in a very deep &longs;leep, the mind is in &longs;ome
degree awake, and has what are called
dreams. The&longs;e are frequently compo&longs;ed
of a recollection of late events. Sometimes
the mind recovers incidents long
&longs;ince pa&longs;t, and makes comments, but
mo&longs;t u&longs;ually, out of mere indolence takes
up with what is next at hand. It happened
&longs;o on this occa&longs;ion; for the Captain
thought him&longs;elf &longs;till engaged with the
Scotchman on the &longs;ubject of the late election.
It &longs;eemed to him that he &longs;aid, Mr.
M`Donald, for that was the name of the
Scotch gentleman, you do not &longs;eem to
have a high opinion of our republican form
of government, when the mo&longs;t indifferent
can obtain the people's &longs;uffrages.

The Scotchman &longs;eemed to an&longs;wer in his

-- 014 --

[figure description] Page 014.[end figure description]

own dialect, &longs;aying, Ye are much mi&longs;taken
man, if ye draw that conclu&longs;ion. I think
there is a wor&longs;e chance for merit to come
forth where appointments are in the hand
of one than when with many; for it is
much ea&longs;ier to &longs;cratch the rump of one,
than tickle the hurdies o' a thou&longs;and. Ye
&longs;ee our executives dinna do much better
in their appointments to judicial and ministerial
offices, than the rabble folk themselves
to the legi&longs;lative. It all comes to
the &longs;ame thing in every government; the
wind blaws, and the feathers and the fern
get uppermo&longs;t.

At this in&longs;tant he was awakened by a
bu&longs;tle out of doors. The fact was; a disagreement
had taken place between Teague
and the ho&longs;tler at the inn, about their &longs;kill
re&longs;pectively in rubbing down and currying
hor&longs;es. Teague had made u&longs;e of a &longs;ingle
grab of hay, which he held with both
hands, and impre&longs;&longs;ed the hor&longs;e, rubbing
him from &longs;ide to &longs;ide, and up and down
with all his might. The other with a wi&longs;p
in each hand, rubbed; the right hand
pa&longs;&longs;ing to the left, while the left hand passed
to the right, in a tran&longs;ver&longs;e or diagonal
direction. The ho&longs;tler valued him&longs;elf on
having been groom, as he pretended, to

-- 015 --

[figure description] Page 015.[end figure description]

&longs;ome nobleman in England, and therefore
mo&longs;t be &longs;uppo&longs;ed to under&longs;tand the true
art of currying. Teague maintained his
opinion, and way of working with a good
deal of ob&longs;tinacy, until at la&longs;t it came to
blows. The fir&longs;t &longs;troke was given by
Teague, who hit the ho&longs;tler on the left
haunch with his foot, when he was stooping
down to &longs;hew Teague how to rub the
fetlock. The ho&longs;tler recovering, and seizing
Teague by the brea&longs;t, pu&longs;hed him
back with a retrograde motion, until he
was brought up by a cheek of the &longs;table
door. Re&longs;ting again&longs;t this, Teague made
a &longs;ally, and impelled his antagoni&longs;t &longs;everal
yards back, who finding at length behind
him the &longs;upport of a &longs;tanding trough where
the waggoners u&longs;ed to feed, recovered his
po&longs;ition, and elanced Teague &longs;ome distance
from the place of projection. But
Teague &longs;till keeping hold of the collar of
his adver&longs;ary, had brought him along with
him, and both were now on the ground
&longs;truggling for victory. But Teague turning
on his belly, and drawing up his knees,
was making an effort to rai&longs;e him&longs;elf to his
feet. The other in the mean time, partly
by the &longs;ame means, and partly by retaining
hold of the Iri&longs;hman, was in the

-- 016 --

[figure description] Page 016.[end figure description]

attitude of ri&longs;ing with him. They were now
both up, locked fa&longs;t in the gra&longs;p of each
other, their heads inclining in conjunction,
but their feet apart, like mu&longs;kets &longs;tacked
after a review, or like the arch of a bridge.
The head of each &longs;upported by the abutment
of the feet. Few blows were given,
and therefore not much damage done. But
the per&longs;ons pre&longs;ent calling out fair play,
and making a bu&longs;tle in the porch of the
inn, had awakened the Captain, and bro't
him to the door, who &longs;eeing what was going
on, took upon him to command the
peace; and the people &longs;uppo&longs;ing him to
be a magi&longs;trate, a&longs;&longs;i&longs;ted to part the combatants;
when the Captain ordering both of
them before him, made enquiry into the
cau&longs;e of the di&longs;pute. Teague gave his account
of the matter; adding, if he had
had a &longs;hillelah, he would have been after
making him know that the paple in dis
country, could curry a hor&longs;e, or a cow,
or a &longs;hape, as well as any Engli&longs;hman
in de world, though he have been ha&longs;tler
to a great lord, or de king him&longs;elf, at his
own &longs;table where he has his har&longs;e.

Teague, &longs;aid the Captain, this may be
true; but it was unbecoming a philosopher
to attempt to e&longs;tabli&longs;h this by blows.

-- 017 --

[figure description] Page 017.[end figure description]

Force proves nothing but the quantum of
the force. Rea&longs;on is the only argument
that belongs to man. You have been the
aggre&longs;&longs;or, and therefore in the power of
the law. But as to you, Mr. Ho&longs;tler, you
have given con&longs;iderable provocation. I
have had this lad with me &longs;everal years,
and I &longs;ay that he curries and rubs down a
hor&longs;e very well. It is no uncommon thing
for men of your country, to undervalue
other nations, or tho&longs;e retained by them.
You naturally a&longs;&longs;ociate your own attainments
with the bulk and populou&longs;ne&longs;s of
your cities: But can the looking at a large
building, or a tall &longs;pire, add an inch to
your &longs;tature? Becau&longs;e Fox is eloquent, is
every one that hears him &longs;o too? Is not
human ingenuity, the &longs;ame here as on the
other &longs;ide of the water? Our generals have
fought as well, in the late war, as any
Clinton, or Cornwallis that you have. Our
politicians have wrote, and our patriots
have &longs;poke as well as your Burkes, or your
Sheridans, or any other; and yet when
you come here, there is no bearing the
airs of &longs;uperiority you take upon yourselves.
I wonder if the wa&longs;ps, that are in
your garrets in London, con&longs;ider themselves
better than the wa&longs;ps that are in

-- 028 --

[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]

the&longs;e woods? I &longs;hould &longs;uppo&longs;e they mu&longs;t;
&longs;uch is the contemptible vanity of an island,
which, taking in its whole extent,
would be little more than a urinal to one
of our Patagonians in South America.
This the Captain &longs;aid to mortify the ho&longs;tler;
though, by the bye, there is a good deal
of truth in the ob&longs;ervation, that the people
of an old country undervalue the new;
and when they think of them&longs;elves, conjoin
the adventitious circum&longs;tances of all that
exi&longs;ts where they have lived. I have found
a prejudice of this nature even with the
wi&longs;e&longs;t men. What wonder, therefore, that
a poor illiterate ho&longs;tler &longs;hould be &longs;ubject
to it? But if he did undervalue an American
born, yet he ought to have considered
that Teague, though not born in Britain,
was born near it, and therefore
might con&longs;iderably approach the &longs;ame &longs;kill
in any handy-craft work.

In natural hi&longs;tory, we do not value animals
on account of the place from whence
they are taken, but on account of what
they are them&longs;elves; and in things that are
made by hands, not by the manufacturer,
but the quality. We prefer the trout of
the rivulet, to the mullet of the river;
and we judge of the pudding not by the

-- 019 --

[figure description] Page 019.[end figure description]

maker, but the eating. There is a proverb
that e&longs;tabli&longs;hes this; for proverbs are
the deductions of experience, and to which
we a&longs;&longs;ent as &longs;oon as expre&longs;&longs;ed; containing
in them an obvious truth, which the simplest
under&longs;tand.

-- 020 --

[figure description] Page 020.[end figure description]

IT is not for the &longs;ake of any moral,
that I have related this &longs;cuffle that took
place between the Iri&longs;hman and the hostler;
but for the &longs;ake of &longs;hewing in what
manner incidents are to be related; that
is, with great &longs;implicity of &longs;tile, and minuteness
of de&longs;cription. That part of Livy
which contains the combat of the Horatii,
and Curatii, is frequently given to the students
at a college to tran&longs;late, that by this
means they may be taught to imitate the
like delicacy in the choice of words, and
particularity of the recital. The above
may an&longs;wer the &longs;ame purpo&longs;e. It is true
there is not the like incidents in this combat,
as in that de&longs;cribed by Livy; nevertheless,
the &longs;ame art is therein di&longs;covered, as
the &longs;ound critic will ob&longs;erve. I know it will
be thought by any one who reads it, that
he could u&longs;e the very &longs;ame words, and
give the &longs;ame liveline&longs;s of picture, were

-- 021 --

[figure description] Page 021.[end figure description]

he to attempt it. Should he try it, he
will find him&longs;elf di&longs;appointed.——Sudet
multum, fru&longs;traque laboret, au&longs;us idem.

It may be thought, that though &longs;tile is
my object, yet I might now and then bring
along a thought to entertain the reader,
and introduce &longs;ome &longs;ubject of moment,
rather than the fi&longs;ty-cuffs of two raggamuffins.
I would ju&longs;t a&longs;k this que&longs;tion;
Is not the talent of the arti&longs;t &longs;hewn as much
in painting a fly, as a waggon-wheel. If
this were intended as a book of morals,
or phy&longs;iology, and not as a mere belles
lettres compo&longs;ition, there might be something
&longs;aid;—as the ca&longs;e is, critics mu&longs;t be
&longs;ilent.

-- 022 --

BOOK II.

[figure description] Page 022.[end figure description]

I SHALL pa&longs;s over the circum&longs;tances
of the Captain's dining, and Teague,
reconciled with the ho&longs;tler, taking his me&longs;s
in the kitchen; and go on to what befel
afterwards, when having &longs;addled the hor&longs;e,
they &longs;et out on their further perigrination.
Towards evening, when the &longs;hadows of
the trees began to be very long, the Captain
bidding Teague trot along &longs;ide, addressed
him in the following words:—
Teague, &longs;aid he, it is true I am none of
your knight-errants, who u&longs;ed to ride about
the world relieving fair dam&longs;els, and killing
giants, and lying out in woods, and
fore&longs;ts, without a hou&longs;e, or even tentcloth
over their heads, to protect them
from the night air. Neverthele&longs;s, as in &longs;ome

-- 023 --

[figure description] Page 023.[end figure description]

re&longs;pects my equipment, and &longs;allying forth
re&longs;embles a knight-errant, and you a
&longs;quire, would it be ami&longs;s, ju&longs;t for a frolick,
to ly out a night or two, that it might
be &longs;aid that we have done the like. There
is no great danger of wolves or bears, for
while there are &longs;heep, or pigs to be got
at, they will &longs;hun human fle&longs;h. It will
make a good chapter in our journal, to
de&longs;cribe you lying at the foot of an oak
tree, and me with my head upon my saddle,
under another; the hor&longs;e, in the mean
time, feeding at a &longs;mall di&longs;tance. Teague
thought it would be an ea&longs;ier matter to
write down the chapter in the journal, than
ly under the trees to beget it. It is true,
&longs;aid the Captain, navigators and travellers,
make many a fiction; and tho&longs;e who
have been in battle have killed many, that
were killed by others, or have not been
killed at all. But it would ill become a
limb of chivalry to deviate from the truth.
It will be but about twelve hours &longs;ervice
lying on our backs and looking up to the
&longs;tars, hearing the howling of wolves, and
ob&longs;erving the great bear in the heavens,
the means by which the Chaldeans, the
fir&longs;t a&longs;tronomers, laid the foundation of
the &longs;cience. Fait, and I tink, &longs;aid Teague,

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[figure description] Page 024.[end figure description]

it would be better to be in a good hou&longs;e,
with a &longs;houlder of mutton to ate before we
go to &longs;lape, than to have our own shoulders
tarn by the bears, or bru&longs;ed by lying
under great oaks. Of what u&longs;e is this astranomy?
did any of the&longs;e a&longs;tranamers
ever &longs;hoot down a bear in the firmament,
to get a joint of mate for a &longs;ick per&longs;on;
and what good comes of lying in de woods,
to be ate up by the &longs;nakes; but &longs;evers, and
agues, and &longs;ore troats, to get a long cough,
and die in a ditch like a dead hor&longs;e, and
be nothing thought of, but be trown into
ridicule like a black-head that has no &longs;en&longs;e.
It is better to go to a hou&longs;e and get a bed
to &longs;lape in, and warm &longs;hates about us, than
be lying in the dew like a frag, crocking
the next day like one of da&longs;e, and get no
good by it.

The Captain had made the propo&longs;ition
merely to divert him&longs;elf with Teague, and
&longs;o did not in&longs;i&longs;t upon it.

Riding one or two miles, the &longs;un was
&longs;etting, and a hou&longs;e appeared in view a little
off the road. A lane led up to it with
a meadow on one &longs;ide, and a pa&longs;ture field
on the other. On this la&longs;t, there were cattle
of cows, and &longs;heep grazing. The hou&longs;e
in front, was a frame building, re&longs;pectable

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[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]

in appearance, from the height, and dimensions,
but ancient. There was a considerable
extent of clear ground around
it, and an orchard hard by, with at lea&longs;t
five hundred apple-trees.

Having lodged chiefly at inns &longs;ince his
fir&longs;t &longs;etting out, the Captain had the curiosity
to diver&longs;ify his travels, by lodging
at a private hou&longs;e this evening. Accordingly
riding up to the door, and calling
out Halloa, which is the note of interrogation
which is u&longs;ed when a man wi&longs;hes the
ma&longs;ter or mi&longs;tre&longs;s of a family, or &longs;ome one
of the &longs;ervants, to come forth, to know
what he wants.

It happened that the mi&longs;tre&longs;s her&longs;elf
came to the door, and &longs;eeing a good looking
man, in a green old age, &longs;itting on
hor&longs;e-back, with his &longs;ervant ready to take
care of his &longs;teed &longs;hould he think proper
to di&longs;mount, &longs;he made a low curt&longs;ey, as
much as to &longs;ay, Sir, I &longs;hould be happy to
know, in what manner I can &longs;erve you.

Madam, &longs;aid the Captain, to tell you
the truth, the night is drawing on, and I
have been reflecting with my&longs;elf, whether
to lodge in the woods, or take a hou&longs;e.
All things con&longs;idered, I have thought it
mo&longs;t advi&longs;eable to take a hou&longs;e, and the

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[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]

only que&longs;tion that now remains is, whether
I can get one.

The lady &longs;miling with much complacency,
and inclining her head forward, and
her middle back, replied, I &longs;hould be happy,
Sir, if this &longs;mall man&longs;ion could afford
you an accomodation worthy of your &longs;uite.
Madam, &longs;aid the Captain, I &longs;hall be happy
if the gue&longs;t can be worthy of the accommodation.

Alight, Sir, &longs;aid the lady, we &longs;hall be
happy to receive you. Having alighted,
he was introduced to a very decent apartment,
where the lady &longs;eating her&longs;elf in a
large cu&longs;hioned chair, and pulling out her
box, took a pinch of &longs;nuff, and laid the
box upon the cu&longs;hion. She was a good
looking woman, being about fifty-&longs;even
years of age, with gray hairs, but a green
fillet on her left eye-brow, as it &longs;eems the
eye on that &longs;ide was &longs;ubject to a defluction
of rheum, which made it expedient tocover
it. It could not be &longs;aid that her
teeth were bad, becau&longs;e &longs;he had none. If
&longs;he wanted the ro&longs;e on her cheek, &longs;he had
it on her no&longs;e, &longs;o that it all came to the
&longs;ame thing. Nothing could be &longs;aid again&longs;t
her chin, but it u&longs;ed her mouth ill in getting
above it. She was not very tall, but

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[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]

what &longs;he wanted in height, &longs;he made up in
breadth; &longs;o that multiplying one dimen&longs;ion
by the other, &longs;he might be con&longs;idered as a
very &longs;izeable woman. After conver&longs;ing a
little while, the lady withdrew, to give directions
in the kitchen what to provide
for &longs;upper.

The Captain in the mean time taking
up a pipe, which he &longs;aw on the mantlepiece,
amu&longs;ed him&longs;elf with a whiff.

The old lady in the mean time was in
the kitchen, and the fir&longs;t thing &longs;he observed
was Teague, reclining in an angle of
the chimney fa&longs;t a&longs;leep. Con&longs;idering him
inattentive to his ma&longs;ter's hor&longs;e which had
been &longs;ent to the &longs;table, &longs;he de&longs;ired a servant
to give him a jog, and wake him.
Teague, awaking, &longs;aw the old lady, and
be&longs;poke her. Dear madam, what a great
happine&longs;s it is for poor &longs;harvants to have
gentle folks about them? God ble&longs;s your
anours lady&longs;hip; you are ju&longs;t for all the world
like my cou&longs;in Shala Shagney, the honsomest
woman in all Ireland, and was married
to Shan Cro&longs;&longs;an, who had a great estate,
and a flock of &longs;hape into the bargain.
She u&longs;ed to &longs;ay to me when I was a&longs;lape,
Teague are you awake; and when I was
awake, Teague are you a&longs;lape, dear honey.

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[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]

There is &longs;omething in an Iri&longs;hman which
has an admirable effect upon the fair; whether
it is owing to that love creating lustiness
of per&longs;on, and fre&longs;hne&longs;s of complexion
which they u&longs;ually po&longs;&longs;e&longs;s; or the delicacy
and quantum of the flattery of which they
are not niggardly; nor need they be &longs;o, no
per&longs;ons having a greater &longs;tock to come and
go upon. For &longs;o it was, that the language
of the bog trotter, had gained the good
will of this &longs;ame Hecuba, and &longs;he ordered
him a tankard of metheglim, to make himself
merry with the &longs;ervants.

Returning to the parlour &longs;he continued
her conver&longs;ation with the Captain; but her
mind running upon Teague &longs;he could not
avoid introducing his name, with a view
to learn &longs;ome particulars of his hi&longs;tory.
This is a civil young man, &longs;aid &longs;he, that
came with you, and of a conver&longs;ation above
ordinary per&longs;ons. The Captain being
an ob&longs;erver of the pa&longs;&longs;ions of the
mind, as they expre&longs;s them&longs;elves in the
eye and a&longs;pect, &longs;aw that Teague had made
&longs;ome impre&longs;&longs;ion on the affections of this
goodly old maiden gentlewoman: Nor
was he di&longs;plea&longs;ed with it; for his fir&longs;t alarm
was, that &longs;he would have fa&longs;tened
on him&longs;elf; but her pa&longs;&longs;ion taking this

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[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

cour&longs;e, would be le&longs;s trouble&longs;ome. Framing
his an&longs;wers therefore to her que&longs;tions,
with a view to favour what had &longs;o fortunately
commenced, he gave her to understand,
that, though in the di&longs;gui&longs;e of
a &longs;ervant, Teague was no incon&longs;iderable
per&longs;onage; that he had been a member
of Congre&longs;s one or two years; though,
by the bye, this was &longs;tretching the matter
a little, as he had only had it in his power
to be one. But if it is allowable to &longs;train
a point at all, it is in the recommendation
of one who &longs;tands well enough already;
for not being taken on the recommendation,
there is no deception; and it
is but civility to make one more plea&longs;ed
with their choice, than they already are.

The Captain &longs;aid nothing of his having
preached, or being about to preach; for
the idea of &longs;ermons, and catechi&longs;ms, impressing
the mind with religious awe, is
unfavourable to love. As to his being a
member of the philo&longs;ophical &longs;ociety, it
could be neither here nor there with a lady,
and therefore he was &longs;ilent with re&longs;pect
to this al&longs;o.

Supper being brought in, they &longs;at down;
but little conver&longs;ation pa&longs;&longs;ed; the mind
of the enamorata being more in the

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[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

kitchen than in the parlour. After &longs;upper, the
Captain &longs;itting &longs;ometime, and &longs;eeming
drow&longs;y, was a&longs;ked by his ho&longs;te&longs;s, if he
cho&longs;e to go to bed: An&longs;wering in the
affirmative, a &longs;ervant waited with a candle;
and bidding her good night, he was
lighted to his chamber.

No &longs;ooner had he withdrawn, but the
old lady &longs;ent her compliments to Teague,
to take a &longs;eat in the parlour; where &longs;itting
down to a roa&longs;ted duck, ju&longs;t brought in,
a few &longs;lices of gammon on a plate, a piece
of veal, and a couple of roa&longs;ted potatoes,
he was de&longs;ired to partake: the old lady
ca&longs;ting amourous looks at him, in the
mean time. I &longs;ay looks; for though
&longs;he had but one eye to look with, yet
looking often, &longs;he might be &longs;aid to ca&longs;t
looks. It was a new thing to the Irishman,
to be at a table with a &longs;ervant at
his back; and he began now to think that
fortune meant to do him ju&longs;tice: and with
an ea&longs;e, and &longs;elf-po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion, which &longs;ome
would call affrontery, he did the honours
of the table; helping him&longs;elf, and talking
as fa&longs;t as con&longs;i&longs;ted with his di&longs;po&longs;ition
to &longs;atisfy his appetite. May it plea&longs;e your
lady&longs;hip, &longs;aid he, I am a poor &longs;harvant
now, but I have &longs;een the time, when I

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[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

have ate at as good a table as the Captain
my ma&longs;ter, though he rides upon a hor&longs;e
and I trot on foot. My uncle, by the
mother's &longs;ide, Shan O'Gan, had a deer
park, and kept race-hor&longs;es, to go to de
fair, and the city of Cork; and my father's
brother, Phelim O'Regan, was a
ju&longs;tice of the pace, and hung paple for
&longs;taleing &longs;hape. I might have been a member
of parliament, if I had &longs;taid at home
and went to &longs;chool; but &longs;ending a challenge,
and fighting wid my own dear cousin
Denis O'Conelly, I had to fly de kingdom,
and brought noting wid me but my
brogs, and ten guineas in my pur&longs;e; and
am now noting but a poor &longs;harvant, unle&longs;s
your lady&longs;hip would take pity upon me,
and marry me; for I am wary of this way
of tratting after a crazy Captain, that has
no &longs;en&longs;e to curry his own har&longs;e; and I
have to fight duels for him, and keep him
from being knocked down like a brute
ba&longs;te; for dis very day, when he had a
quarrel wid a ha&longs;tler, and was trown upon
his back, I lifted him up, and &longs;aid,
Dear honey, are you dead? took de ha&longs;tler
by de troat, and choaked him, and he
could not &longs;pake, but &longs;aid, Dear shentlemen,
&longs;pare my life; &longs;o dat if your

-- 032 --

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

ladyship will take me to your&longs;elf, I will &longs;tay
wid you, and take care of de har&longs;es, and
cows, and de &longs;hape, and plant parates, and
&longs;lape wid you, and a&longs;k not a farthing, but
your own &longs;weat &longs;elf into de bargain; for
you are de beauty of de world; and fasting
or &longs;laping, I could take you to my
arms, dear crature, and be happy wid
you.

The lady was by this time entirely won,
and gave him to under&longs;tand, that in the
morning, after con&longs;ulting a friend or two,
the marriage might be celebrated.

I give only a &longs;ketch of the court&longs;hip that
took place, for a great deal was &longs;aid; and
it was near midnight before the lovers
could prevail upon them&longs;elves to part;
when Teague was lighted to his bed, and
had as good as that in which the Captain
&longs;lept, which was a new thing to him; being
accu&longs;tomed to pig in with ho&longs;tlers and
&longs;ervants, at the places where they lodged.

The Captain was up early in the morning,
and a&longs;toni&longs;hed not to find Teague stiring,
but enquiring of the &longs;ervants where
Teague &longs;lept, he was &longs;hewn up a pair of
&longs;tairs, which he a&longs;cended, thinking he
had one or two more to a&longs;cend before he
reached the garret. But what was his

-- 033 --

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

astonishment, when he was &longs;hewn into a
room on the &longs;econd floor, where he found
Teague &longs;noring on a feather bed with
curtains. Waking him, Teague; &longs;aid he,
this goes beyond all your former impudence;
to crawl up out of the kitchen, and
get into a feather bed. Plea&longs;e your anour,
&longs;aid Teague, to ring a bell, and call up a
&longs;harvant, to bring boots, and &longs;lippers; for
I am to be married dis marning.

The Captain was thunder-&longs;truck; and
comprehending the whole of what had taken
place, &longs;aw his faux pas in recommending
him to the ho&longs;te&longs;s; and now it only
remained, to cure the blunder he had
made, if it was at all curable.

We are &longs;hort &longs;ighted mortals; and while
we &longs;top one leak, the water ru&longs;hes in at
another. The very means that we u&longs;e to
&longs;ave our&longs;elves from one evil, leads us to a
wor&longs;e. The Captain had need on this
occa&longs;ion of all his addre&longs;s. Compo&longs;ing
him&longs;elf, he di&longs;&longs;embled, and &longs;poke as follows:

Teague, &longs;aid he, will you that are a
young man, and have great pro&longs;pects before
you, con&longs;ign your&longs;elf to the arms of an
old woman. Her breath will kill you in
the cour&longs;e of a fortnight. The fact is, &longs;he

-- 034 --

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

is a witch, and inchantre&longs;s; &longs;he made the
&longs;ame propo&longs;ition to me la&longs;t night, of marrying
me; but I declined it. The world
is full of the&longs;e &longs;ort of cattle. There was
one Shagne&longs;a Circe, in old times, that used
to gather all &longs;he could into her net,
and transform them into hogs. Sir Teague
Uly&longs;&longs;es was the only one that had the &longs;en&longs;e
to keep clear of her mu&longs;ic, and avoid her.
Did you &longs;ee that drove of hogs before the
door, when we rode up la&longs;t evening. They
are nothing more than &longs;tragglers which &longs;he
has transformed into &longs;wine. I did not &longs;leep
a wink la&longs;t night, thinking of the danger
to which you were expo&longs;ed, and indeed I
expected nothing le&longs;s, than to find you
this morning a barrow, fattened up for a
fea&longs;t, a day or two hence. Did you think
&longs;uch an old haridan as this can have any
natural concupi&longs;cence for a man; or if &longs;he
has, it is for a few days only, until &longs;he can
make him fit for &longs;laughter. Then by throwing
a little water on him, or by the bare
blowing of her breath, &longs;he makes a beefcow,
or hog-meat of him, and he finds the
knife at his throat, and &longs;calding water taking
off his bri&longs;tles, and his guts out, and
is into the pickling-tub before he knows
what he is about. Do you think, Teague,

-- 035 --

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

that I have read books for nothing? Have
you not &longs;een me in my &longs;tudy, morning
and night, looking over Greek, and Hebrew
letters, like partridge tracks? All
this to find out what was going on up and
down the world. Many a hi&longs;tory of witches,
and conjurers, I have read, and know
them when I &longs;ee them, ju&longs;t as I would my
own &longs;heep, when I am at home. Better
indeed, for unle&longs;s my &longs;heep are marked, I
could not know them; but marked or not
marked, I know witches; and if I am not
mi&longs;taken, this is the greate&longs;t witch that ever
run. She was all night in my room,
in the &longs;hape of a cat. It is God's mercy,
that &longs;he had not changed her&longs;elf into an
alligator, and eat you up before the morning.
When I came into the room I expected
to find nothing el&longs;e but bones, and
particles of hair, the remnant of her repast;
but it &longs;eems &longs;he has thought you not
fat enough, and has given you a day or
two to run, to improve your fle&longs;h, and
take the &longs;alt better. The wor&longs;t thing, after
transformation, is the having you cut,
in order to make you fatter and better
pork, which is generally done the fir&longs;t
day; and ca&longs;tration is a painful operation,
be&longs;ides the lo&longs;s of the part. I have

-- 036 --

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

had &longs;everal of my acquaintances &longs;erved in
this manner, falling in with old women
whom they took for fortunes; but were
in reality witches, and had dealings with
the devil.

Teague by this time was out of bed, and
had dre&longs;&longs;ed him&longs;elf in his overalls and &longs;hort
coat, and was ready for a march. Indeed
he wi&longs;hed to e&longs;cape as &longs;oon as po&longs;&longs;ible;
and de&longs;cending the &longs;tairs, going to the
&longs;table, and &longs;addling the hor&longs;e, they both
&longs;et out, without taking leave. It was in
this manner Eneas quitted Dido, and got
a &longs;hip-board, before &longs;he was awake; and
the only difference was, that Teague had
left no little Iulus in the hall, to put her
in mind of the father.

-- 037 --

[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]

TRAVELLING along, the Captain
could not but ob&longs;erve to Teague, the
injudicious choice he was about to make,
even had the woman not been a necromancer.
For the man who &longs;urrenders
him&longs;elf to the arms of a &longs;uperannuated female,
for the &longs;ake of fortune, acts a part
not le&longs;s unworthy and di&longs;graceful, than the
pro&longs;titute who does the &longs;ame for half a
crown. While a man has the u&longs;e of his
limbs and arms, he ought to be above &longs;uch
mercenary motives; and true happine&longs;s
can be found only in congruity, and what
is natural. Teague &longs;eemed &longs;till to have
&longs;ome hankering after the &longs;upper of ducks,
and the feather bed; but as they proceeded,
the recollection became more faint,
for di&longs;tance and time, is the cure of all
pa&longs;&longs;ions.

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BOOK III.

[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]

PROCEEDING four or five miles,
they breakfa&longs;ted; and afterwards, going
on a mile or two further, they came
to a church where a number of people
were convened, to hear the deci&longs;ion of an
eccle&longs;ia&longs;tical con&longs;i&longs;tory, met there on an
affair which came before them. It was
this: Two men appeared, the one of a
grave a&longs;pect, with a black coat; the other
without the &longs;ame clerical colour of garb;
but with papers in his pocket which announced
his authority to preach, and officiatate
as a clergyman. The man with
the black coat, averred, that coming over
together, in a ve&longs;&longs;el from Ireland, they
had been me&longs;&longs;mates; and while he was
a&longs;leep one night, being drow&longs;y after

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[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]

prayers, the other had &longs;tolen his credentials
from his pocket. The man in po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion
of the papers, averred they were his own,
and that the other had taken his coat, and
by advantage of the cloth, thought to pa&longs;s
for what he was not.

The con&longs;i&longs;tory found it difficult, without
the aid of in&longs;piration, to decide; and that
faculty having now cea&longs;ed, there were no
other means, that they could &longs;ee, to bring
the truth to light.

The Captain being informed of this perplexity,
could not avoid &longs;tepping up, and
addre&longs;&longs;ing them as follows: Gentlemen,
&longs;aid he, there is a text in your own Scripture,
which, I think, might enable you to
decide: It is this, “by their fruits you &longs;hall
know them.
” Let the two men preach;
and the be&longs;t &longs;ermon take the pur&longs;e; or laying
a&longs;ide the figure, let him that expounds
the &longs;cripture be&longs;t, be adjudged the clergyman.

The propo&longs;ition &longs;eemed rea&longs;onable, and
was adopted; the competitors being desired
to withdraw a little, and conn over their
notes, that they might be ready to deliver
a di&longs;cour&longs;e re&longs;pectively.

The Captain ob&longs;erving the countenance
of him in po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion of the papers, was

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[figure description] Page 040.[end figure description]

sensible, from his palene&longs;s, and dejection of aspect,
that he was the impo&longs;tor. Going out
therefore &longs;hortly after, and falling in with
him, as he walked in a melancholy mood,
at a little di&longs;tance from the church, &longs;aid he
to him, I perceive how it is, that the other
is the preacher; neverthele&longs;s I would wi&longs;h
to a&longs;&longs;i&longs;t you, and as I have been the means
of bringing you into this predicament, I
&longs;hould be di&longs;po&longs;ed to bring you out.—Let
me know how the ca&longs;e really &longs;tands.

The other candidly acknowledged that
having been a yarn-merchant in Ireland,
his capital had failed, and he had thought
proper to embark for this country; and
coming over with this clergyman, he had
purloined his papers; and would have taken
his coat, had it not been too little for
him; a thing which never &longs;truck the ecclesiastical
tribunal. But the matter being
now reduced to an actual experiment of talents,
he was at a lo&longs;s; for he had never
preached a &longs;ermon in his life. It was true,
he had heard &longs;ermons and lectures in abundance;
and had he been &longs;uffered to go
on and preach at his lei&longs;ure among&longs;t the
country people fir&longs;t, he might have done
well enough; but to make his fir&longs;t e&longs;&longs;ay
in the pre&longs;ence of a learned body of the

-- 041 --

[figure description] Page 041.[end figure description]

clergy, would hazard a detection; but
now he &longs;aw his over&longs;ight in not having taken
the notes of the other, at the &longs;ame
time he took the vouchers of his mi&longs;&longs;ion.

The Captain encouraged him, by observing,
that there were few bodies, ecclesiastical
or civil, in which there were more than
one or two men of &longs;en&longs;e; that the majority
of this con&longs;i&longs;tory, might be as ea&longs;ily
humbugged, as the lay people; that a good
deal would depend on the text that he took;
&longs;ome were ea&longs;ily preached upon; others
more difficult. An hi&longs;torical pa&longs;&longs;age about
Nimrod, or Nebuchadnezzar, or Sihon,
king of the Amorites, or Og, king of
Ba&longs;han; out of Gene&longs;is, or Deuteronomy,
or the book of Judges, or Kings, would
do very well; but that he &longs;hould avoid
carefully the book of Job, and the P&longs;alms
of David, and the Proverbs of Solomon;
the&longs;e requiring a con&longs;iderable theological
knowledge; or, at lea&longs;t, moral di&longs;cu&longs;&longs;ion
and reflection. Keep a good heart, &longs;aid
he, and attempt the matter. The i&longs;&longs;ue
may be better than you apprehend.

With this, taking him a little further to
the one &longs;ide, where his hor&longs;e was tied, he
took out a bottle from his &longs;addle-bags, with
a little whi&longs;ky in it, which Teague had put

-- 042 --

[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]

there, and gave him a dram. This had a
good effect, and rai&longs;ed his &longs;pirits, and he
&longs;eemed now ready to enter the li&longs;ts with
his antagoni&longs;t.

The other, in the mean time, had gone
in, and was ready, when called upon, to
hold forth. The man with the papers returning,
with the Captain not far behind,
took his &longs;eat. The board &longs;ignified, that
one or other might a&longs;cend the pulpit. The
credential man, wi&longs;hing to gain time, to
think farther what he was about to &longs;ay,
but affecting politene&longs;s, yielded precedence
to the other, and de&longs;ired him to
preach fir&longs;t. Accordingly &longs;tepping up, he
took his text and began.

-- 043 --

[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]

Prov. viii. 33. Hear in&longs;truction and be wi&longs;e,
and refu&longs;e it not.

INSISTING on the&longs;e words, I &longs;hall
enquire, 1. Whence it is that men are
aver&longs;e to in&longs;truction. 2. The misfortune
of this di&longs;po&longs;ition. La&longs;tly, Conclude
with inferences from the &longs;ubject.

1. Whence it is that men are adver&longs;e to
in&longs;truction.
The fir&longs;t principle is indolence.
The mind loves ea&longs;e, and does not wi&longs;h to
be at the trouble of thinking. It is hard
to collect ideas, and &longs;till harder to compo&longs;e
them; it is like rowing a boat: whereas,
acting without thought, is like &longs;ailing before
the wind, and the tide in our favour.

The &longs;econd principle is pride. It wounds
the &longs;elf love of men, to &longs;uppo&longs;e that they
need in&longs;truction. We re&longs;ent more the
being called fools than knaves. No man

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[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]

will own him&longs;elf weak and uninformed.
In fact, he has not humility to think he
is: or, if he &longs;hould be con&longs;cious of a want
of knowledge, he is unwilling that others
&longs;hould have the &longs;ame opinion: and he will
not &longs;ubmit to be in&longs;tructed, as that would
imply that he is not already &longs;o.

The third principle is pa&longs;&longs;ion. When
we are di&longs;po&longs;ed to &longs;atisfy the de&longs;ires of
the con&longs;titution, or the affections of the
mind, which are unlawful, we do not wi&longs;h
to hear di&longs;&longs;ua&longs;ion from the indulgence.
The lecture comes to torment before the
time, when the con&longs;equence mu&longs;t afflict.

Under the &longs;econd head, we &longs;hall &longs;hew
the misfortune of this di&longs;po&longs;ition. It is what,
in early life, begins to fix the difference of
per&longs;ons. The hearer of in&longs;truction, even
with more moderate parts, becomes the
more &longs;en&longs;ible boy. The hearer of instruction
has a better chance for life and mature
years. Into how many dangers do
young per&longs;ons run; leaping, climbing,
running, playing truant, and neglecting
books? Into what affrays too will pa&longs;&longs;ions
prompt them, when they begin to feel the
&longs;inew &longs;trong, and the manly nerve braced?
They value corporeal &longs;trength, which they

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have in common with the hor&longs;e, or the ox,
and neglect the cultivation of the mind,
which is the glory of our nature. What
is a man without information? In form
only above a bea&longs;t. What is a man, negligent
of moral duty? Wor&longs;e than a
bea&longs;t; becau&longs;e, he is de&longs;titute of that by
which he might be governed, and of which
his nature is capable; and without which,
he is more dangerous, in proportion as he
is more ingenious.

I &longs;hall conclude with inferences from the
&longs;ubject.

It may be &longs;een hence, with what attention
we ought to hear, and with what observation,
&longs;ee. The five &longs;en&longs;es are the avenues
of knowledge; but the reflection of
the mind on ideas pre&longs;ented, is the &longs;ource
of wi&longs;dom. Under&longs;tanding is better than
riches; for under&longs;tanding leads to compotcency,
and to know how to u&longs;e it. Laying
a&longs;ide, therefore, all indolence, pride,
and pa&longs;&longs;ion, let us hear in&longs;truction, and
be wi&longs;e, and refu&longs;e it not.

This, reverend brethren, is a &longs;hort sermon.
It is one in miniature; like the model
of a mechanical invention, which is
complete in its parts, and from whence

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[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]

may be &longs;een the powers of the inventor.
I did not intend to take up your time with
a long di&longs;cour&longs;e; becau&longs;e, ex pede Herculem;
you may know what I can do by
this e&longs;&longs;ay.

The fact is, I am regularly bred, and
licen&longs;ed; but this my competitor, is no
more than a yarn merchant; who, failing
in his trade, has adventured to this country:
And coming over in the ve&longs;&longs;el with
me, took the opportunity one night, when
I was a&longs;leep, and picked my fob of the&longs;e
papers, which he now &longs;hews.

Thus having &longs;poke, he de&longs;cended.

The other, in the mean time, had been
at his wits end what to do. The technical
difficulty of taking a text, and dividing
it under &longs;everal heads, and splitting
each head into branches, and pur&longs;uing
each with &longs;uch &longs;trickne&longs;s, that the thoughts
&longs;hould be ranged under each which belonged
to it, as exactly as you would
the coar&longs;er yarn with the coar&longs;er, and
the finer with the finer; or put balls with
balls, and hanks with hanks. At la&longs;t he
had determined to take no text at all; as
it was much better to take none, than to
take one and not &longs;tick to it.

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[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]

Accordingly, he re&longs;olved to preach up and down
the &longs;cripture, wherever he could get a
word of &longs;ea&longs;onable doctrine. Mounting the
pulpit, therefore, he began as follows:

The fir&longs;t man that we read of was Adam,
and fir&longs;t woman Eve: &longs;he was tempted
by the &longs;erpent, and eat the forbidden
fruit. After this &longs;he conceived and bare
a &longs;on, and called his name Cain; and
Cain was a tiller of the ground, and Abel
a keeper of &longs;heep; for &longs;he conceived and
bare a &longs;econd &longs;on, and called his name
Abel. And Cain &longs;lew Abel. There were
&longs;everal generations unto the flood, when
Noah built an ark, and &longs;aved him&longs;elf and
his family. After the flood, Abraham begat
I&longs;aac, and I&longs;aac begat Jacob, and Jacob
begat Jo&longs;eph and his brethren. Potiphar's
wife, in Egypt, took a fancy for
Jo&longs;eph, and ca&longs;t him in ward; and Potiphar
was a captain of Pharaoh's guards;
and Jo&longs;eph interpreted Pharaoh's dream
of the lean cattle; and there were twelve
years famine in the land; and Mo&longs;es passed
for the &longs;on of Pharaoh's daughter,
and married Jethro's daughter, in the land
of Midian, and brought the I&longs;raelites out
of the land of Egypt; and Jo&longs;hua the &longs;on

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of Nun, and Caleb the &longs;on Jephunneh;
and the walls of Jericho fell down at the
&longs;ound of ram's horns; and Samp&longs;on &longs;lew
a thou&longs;and with the jaw-bone of an a&longs;s;
and Delilah the harlot; and Gideon, and
Barak, and Jephthah, and Abinoam the
Giliaditi&longs;h; and Samuel, and Saul, and
the prophets; and Jonathan, and David;
and Solomon built him an hou&longs;e; and silver
was plenty as the &longs;treet &longs;tones in Jerusalem;
Rehoboam, and Jeho&longs;ophat, and
the kings of I&longs;rael and Juda; Daniel was
ca&longs;t into the lions' den; and Shadrach,
Me&longs;hach, and Abed-nego; and I&longs;aiah and
Jeremiah; and Zachariah, and Zerobabel;
Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, and the
apo&longs;tles; Mary Magdalene, out of whom
were ca&longs;t &longs;even devils; and the father of
Zebedee's children; and Pontius Pilate,
and the high prie&longs;t, and Ananias and Sapphira,
and the &longs;even trumpets, in the Revelations,
and the dragon, and the woman.
Amen. I add no more.

The lay people pre&longs;ent were mo&longs;t plea&longs;ed
with the la&longs;t di&longs;cour&longs;e; and &longs;ome of the
younger of the clergy: But the more aged,
gave the preference to the fir&longs;t. Thus it
&longs;eemed difficult to decide.

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The Captain ri&longs;ing up, &longs;poke: Gentlemen,
&longs;aid he, the men &longs;eem both to have
con&longs;iderable gifts, and I &longs;ee no harm in
letting them both preach. There is work
enough for them in this new country; the
fir&longs;t appears to me, to be more qualified
for the city, as a very methodical preacher;
but the la&longs;t is the mo&longs;t practical; and
each may an&longs;wer a valuable purpo&longs;e in
their proper place.

The deci&longs;ion &longs;eemed judicious, and it
was agreed that they &longs;hould both preach.
The man who had been the yarn merchant,
thanked their reverences, and gave out
that he would preach there that day week,
God willing.

The clergy were &longs;o plea&longs;ed with the Captain,
that they gave him an invitation to
go home with them to an elder's hou&longs;e,
ju&longs;t by; but recollecting the trouble he
had with Teague on another occa&longs;ion, and
the danger of being drawn into a like predicament,
&longs;hould he fall into conver&longs;ation
with the clergymen, and take it into his
head to preach, he declined the invitation,
and ha&longs;tened to get his hor&longs;e, and having
Teague along &longs;ide, proceeded on his journey.

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BOOK IV.

[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]

THE in&longs;uing day, the Captain arrived
in a certain city, and put up at the
&longs;ign of the Indian Queen. Taking a day
or two to refre&longs;h him&longs;elf, and get a new
pair of breeches made, and his coat mended,
which was a little worn at the elbows,
he went to look about the city. The
fourth day, when he had propo&longs;ed to &longs;et
out to perambulate this modern Babylon,
and called for Teague to bring him his
boots, there was no Teague there. The
ho&longs;tler being called, with whom he u&longs;ed
to &longs;leep, informed, that he had di&longs;appeared
the day before. The Captain was alarmed;
and, from the recollection of former
incidents, began to enquire if there were any
elections going on at that time. As it

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[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]

&longs;o happened, there was one that very day.
Thinking it probable the bog-trotter, having
&longs;till a hankering after an appointment
might offer him&longs;elf on that occa&longs;ion, he &longs;et
out to the place where the people were
convened, to &longs;ee if he could di&longs;cover
Teague among&longs;t the candidates. He could
&longs;ee nothing of him; and though he made
enquiry, he could hear no account. But
the circum&longs;tance of the election drawing
his attention for &longs;ome time, he forgot
Teague.

The candidates were all remarkably
pot-bellied; and waddled in their gait.
The Captain enquiring what were the pretensions
of the&longs;e men to be elected; he was
told, that they had all &longs;tock in the funds,
and lived in large brick buildings; and
&longs;ome of them entertained fifty people at a
time, and eat and drank abundantly; and,
living an ea&longs;y life, and pampering their appetites,
they had &longs;wollen to this &longs;ize.

It is a &longs;trange thing, &longs;aid the Captain, that
in the country, in my route, they would elect
no one but a weaver, or a whi&longs;ky distiller;
and here none but fat &longs;wabs, that guzzle
wine, and &longs;moke &longs;egars. It was not &longs;o in
Greece, where Phocion came with his plain
coat, from his humble dwelling, and

-- 052 --

[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]

directed the coun&longs;els of the people; or in Rome,
where Cincinnatus was made dictator from
the plough. Something mu&longs;t be wrong,
where the inflate, and pompous are the objects
of choice. Though there is one good arising
from it, that there is no danger of my
Teague here. He could not afford to give
a dinner; and as to funds, he has not a single
&longs;hilling in them. They will make him
neither mayor nor legi&longs;lator in this city.

Na faith, &longs;aid Mr. M`Donald, the Scotch
gentleman who had been pre&longs;ent at the embarrassment
of the Captain, on the occa&longs;ion
of the former election; and having, a few
days before, come to the city, and observing
the Captain in the crowd, had come
up to acco&longs;t him, ju&longs;t as he was uttering
the&longs;e la&longs;t words to him&longs;elf: Na faith, &longs;aid
he, there is na danger of Teague here,
unle&longs;s he had his &longs;cores o' &longs;hares in the
bank; and was in league with the brokers,
and had a brick hou&longs;e at his hurdies, or
a &longs;hip or twa on the &longs;tocks. A great deal
u&longs;ed to be done, by employing advocates
with the trade&longs;men, to li&longs;ten to the
news, and tell them fair &longs;tories; but all
is now lo&longs;t in &longs;ub&longs;tantial intere&longs;t, and the
funds command every thing. Be&longs;ides, this
city is &longs;warming with Teagues, and

-- 053 --

[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]

O'Regans, and O'Brians, and O'Murphys, and
O'Farrels; I &longs;ee, that they cannot be at
a lo&longs;s without your bog trotter.

The Captain having his fears ea&longs;ed, in
this particular, returned home, greatly
troubled, neverthele&longs;s, that he could not
come up with the Iri&longs;hman.

-- 054 --

[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]

REFLECTING with him&longs;elf, that
Teague was inclined to women, and
that he might have gone to &longs;ome of tho&longs;e
hou&longs;es, which are not in the be&longs;t repute
with the religious part of the community,
the Captain thought it might not be ami&longs;s
to make enquiry. Being informed by the
waiter, that he had overheard gentlemen,
at the hou&longs;e, in their cups, &longs;peak of a certain
Mrs. Robe&longs;on, who kept a hou&longs;e of
that kind; and, as far as he could understand,
it was in &longs;uch a part of the city, a
few doors from &longs;uch a &longs;treet.

The Captain having &longs;et out, coming
into the neighbourhood, and making inquiry,
was directed to the hou&longs;e. Knocking,
and, on a &longs;ervant coming to the door,
enquiring for Mrs. Robe&longs;on; he was &longs;hewn
into a parlour, and in a little time the old
lady entered. Being &longs;eated, he took the
liberty of addre&longs;&longs;ing her: Madam, &longs;aid he,
I am not unacquainted with the &longs;tile and

-- 055 --

[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]

designation of your hou&longs;e. Why, as to that,
&longs;aid &longs;he, we do the be&longs;t we can; but the
times are hard, and it is a very difficult
thing to pick up a good looking healthy
girl, now a days. So many young women,
&longs;ince the war is over, having taken
to virtuous ways, and got married, has
almo&longs;t broke us up. But I have been fortunate
enough to light upon one, yesterday,
that is a rare piece, ju&longs;t from the
country; and I am &longs;ure —

It is not in the way that you mean, madam,
&longs;aid the Captain, that I take the liberty
to call upon you. I have a &longs;ervant
man, of the name of Teague O'Regan,
that is inclined to women, and has been
ab&longs;ent &longs;ome days; and it has occurred to
me, that he may have come to your hou&longs;e,
or &longs;ome other of the like kind; and may
be &longs;kulking, to avoid my &longs;ervice. As he
has little or no money, it is impo&longs;&longs;ible he
can be much in your way; and I could
make it better worth your while to inform
on him, and &longs;urrender him up.

Teague O'Regan, &longs;aid the old lady!
&longs;nuffing; Teague O'Regan! I would have
you know, &longs;ir, that no Teague O'Regans
come here; we keep a hou&longs;e for the fir&longs;t
gentlemen; not for waiters, or

-- 056 --

[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]

understrappers, or any of the common &longs;orts.
There is no half-crown, or five &longs;hilling
pieces here. Teague O'Regan indeed!
there is no Teague O'Regan at this hou&longs;e.
We have meat for his ma&longs;ter. I was saying
there was a young woman ju&longs;t now
from the country, that looks more like a
woman of family, than a country girl;
but is &longs;o melancholy and mopi&longs;h, that &longs;he
&longs;carcely &longs;peaks; and &longs;tands in need of
&longs;ome one to talk to her, and keep her in
&longs;pirits. She is fit for any gentleman.
Teague O'Regan! Humph! There is no
Teague O'Regan puts his foot into my
door.

The Captain a&longs;&longs;ured her, that he by no
means meant to give offence. That tho'
the bog-trotter could not have acce&longs;s to
her fir&longs;t rooms; yet he did not know but
he might have got in with &longs;ome of her
under maids, and be about the kitchen.

The lady, being now appea&longs;ed on the
&longs;core of Teague, was in a good humour,
and renewed her hints to the Captain, with
re&longs;pect to the young woman. She is, &longs;aid
&longs;he, as good looking a girl as ever came
to my hou&longs;e; and has not &longs;een a &longs;ingle
per&longs;on but your&longs;elf, whom &longs;he has not yet
&longs;een; but may &longs;ee, if you chu&longs;e; and

-- 057 --

[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]

a very pretty girl &longs;he is; but keeps mopish
and melancholy, as if &longs;he was crossed
in love, and had come to town for
fear of her relations, and wi&longs;hes to keep
out of &longs;ight of every body.

The Captain being no &longs;tranger to the art
the&longs;e matrons u&longs;e, in their addre&longs;&longs;es, to
enhance the value of their wares, was but
little moved with the recommendation &longs;he
had given. But as there were &longs;ome circumstances
in the account of the young
woman, that were a little &longs;triking, his curiosity
was excited to let her be called in,
and pre&longs;ent her&longs;elf. Accordingly, the old
lady &longs;tepping out, a young woman made
her appearance, of con&longs;iderable beauty;
but in her countenance expre&longs;&longs;ions of woe.
Her blue eye &longs;eemed involved in mi&longs;t;
for &longs;he &longs;hed no tears; her &longs;orrow was
beyond that.

Young woman, &longs;aid the Captain, it is
ea&longs;y to perceive that you have not been
in this way of life long; and that you have
been brought to it, perhaps, by &longs;ome uncommon
circum&longs;tances. My humanity is
intere&longs;ted; and it occurs to me to a&longs;k, by
what means it has come to pa&longs;s. The part
which he &longs;eemed to take in her di&longs;tre&longs;s,
in&longs;piring her with confidence; and being

-- 058 --

[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]

reque&longs;ted by him to relate her &longs;tory frankly,
&longs;he began as follows:

My father, &longs;aid &longs;he, lives at the di&longs;tance
of about twenty miles from this city, and
is a man of good e&longs;tate. I have two brothers,
but no &longs;i&longs;ters. My mother dying
when I was at the age of fourteen, I became
hou&longs;e-keeper for the family.

There was a young man that u&longs;ed to
come to the &longs;ame church to which we went.
He was of the very lowe&longs;t cla&longs;s, mean in
his appearance, of homely features, and
a dimunitive per&longs;on. Yet he had the assurance
to put him&longs;elf in my way on every
occa&longs;ion; endeavouring to catch my eye;
for he did not dare to &longs;peak to me. But
I hated him, and was almo&longs;t re&longs;olved to
&longs;tay at home on Sundays, to avoid him;
for he began to be very trouble&longs;ome. His
attentions to me were taken notice of by
my brothers. They were confident that I
mu&longs;t give him &longs;ome encouragement, or he
would not make &longs;uch advances. My father
was of the &longs;ame opinion. I a&longs;&longs;ured
them I had never given him any encouragement,
and I never would; that I was
as much aver&longs;e to him as po&longs;&longs;ible.

I &longs;hunned him and hated him. He persisted
a long time, almo&longs;t two years, and

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[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]

&longs;eemed to become melancholy, and at la&longs;t
went away from the neighbourhood; and,
as I heard afterwards, to &longs;ea. I began
now to reflect upon his a&longs;&longs;iduity, and endeavours
to engage my affections. I recollected
every circum&longs;tance of his conduct
towards me, &longs;ince the fir&longs;t time I was obliged
to take notice of him. I rea&longs;oned
with my&longs;elf, that it was no fault of his, if
his family was low; and if he him&longs;elf had
not all that comeline&longs;s of per&longs;on which I
wi&longs;hed in a hu&longs;band; yet he was sufficiently
puni&longs;hed in his pre&longs;umption in thinking
of me, by what he mu&longs;t have &longs;uffered,
and by his going to &longs;ea, which he did to
get out of my &longs;ight, finding his attempts
to gain my affections, hopele&longs;s. I dreamed
of him; and &longs;carcely a moment of the
day pa&longs;&longs;ed, but my thoughts were running
on the danger to which he was expo&longs;ed.
It &longs;eemed to me that if he came back, I
&longs;hould be more kind to him. I might at
lea&longs;t &longs;hew him, that I was not in&longs;en&longs;ible
of his attachment.

In about a year he returned, and the
moment I &longs;aw him, I loved him. He did
not dare to come to my father's hou&longs;e. But
I could not help giving him encouragement,
by my countenance, when I met

-- 060 --

[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]

him in public. Emboldened by this, he
at la&longs;t ventured to &longs;peak to me; and I agreed
that he might come to a peach orchard,
at &longs;ome di&longs;tance from my father's
hou&longs;e, and that I would give him an interview.
There he came often; and with
a mo&longs;t lowly, and humble behaviour, fixed
my regard for him. Not doubting the
violence of his love for me, and my ascendency
over him, I at la&longs;t put my&longs;elf
in his power. Becoming pregnant, I hinted
marriage; but what was my astonishment
to find, that, on various pretences,
he evaded it; and as I became more fond,
he became more cold; which had no other
effect, than to make me more ardent than
before. It had been u&longs;ual, for many
months, to meet me every evening at this
place; but now I had gone often, and did
not find him there. At la&longs;t he withdrew
altogether, and I heard he had left the settlement.
Worthle&longs;s and ba&longs;e, as I now
knew him to be; and, though my reason
told me, that in per&longs;on he was &longs;till as
homely as I fir&longs;t thought him, yet I continued
to love him to di&longs;traction.

What was my di&longs;tre&longs;s, when my father,
and my brothers, found that I was with
child? They charged me, though

-- 061 --

[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]

unjustly, of having deceived them with re&longs;pect
to my attachment to this low creature,
from the fir&longs;t: In fine, my father dismissed
me from the hou&longs;e: My brothers, no
le&longs;s relenting than him, in their re&longs;entment
again&longs;t me, upbraided me with the offers
I had refu&longs;ed, and the treatment I had given
&longs;everal gentlemen, in their advances to
me. For, indeed, during the ab&longs;ence of
this worthle&longs;s man, I had been addre&longs;&longs;ed
by &longs;everal; but my pity and compa&longs;&longs;ion
for the wretch, had &longs;o wrought upon
me, that I could not think of any, or
&longs;carcely bear them to &longs;peak to me.

Di&longs;mi&longs;&longs;ed from my father's hou&longs;e, even
my younger brother, who was mo&longs;t &longs;oft and
yielding in his nature, &longs;eeming to approve
of it, I went to the habitation of a tenant
of my father; there remained &longs;ome time,
and endeavoured to make compen&longs;ation,
by the labour of my hands, for the trouble
I was giving them. But the&longs;e poor
people, thinking my father would relent,
had informed him where I was, and of
the care they had taken of me. The consequence
was, that, at the end of three
months, he &longs;ent for the child, of which I
had been brought to bed &longs;ome weeks before;
but ordered them in&longs;tantly to

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dismiss me, that I might never more offend
his hearing with my name.

I wandered to this city, and the fir&longs;t
night lay in the market hou&longs;e, upon a
bench. The next morning mixed with
the women that came to market, and enquired
for work of any kind. I could find
none; but at la&longs;t meeting with a young
woman who felt for my di&longs;tre&longs;s, &longs;he told
me, that &longs;he had a &longs;mall room in this city,
where &longs;he had lived &longs;ome time with an
aunt that was lately dead; and that now
&longs;he &longs;upported her&longs;elf by doing a little in
the millinery way; that if I would come
and take breakfa&longs;t with her, and &longs;ee where
&longs;he lived, I was welcome. Going with
the poor girl, I found her lonely and distressed
enough. Neverthele&longs;s I continued
with her &longs;everal months. But the work
was &longs;mall that we got to do, and times
becoming &longs;till wor&longs;e, I was obliged to
&longs;ell the cloths that I brought with me, to
the la&longs;t petticoat and &longs;hort gown, to support
our&longs;elves and pay rent. To bring
me to the la&longs;t &longs;tage of mi&longs;ery, the poor
girl who was more expert than I was, in
making any little provi&longs;ion that could be
made, fell &longs;ick and in &longs;hort time died. I
could bear to &longs;tay no longer in the room,

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and coming out to wander in the &longs;treets,
like a forlorn wretch indeed, and &longs;obbing
&longs;orely by my&longs;elf, when I thought no one
heard me, I was ob&longs;erved by this woman,
at who&longs;e hou&longs;e you now are, and pre&longs;&longs;ed
by her to go home. I &longs;oon found what
&longs;ort of a hou&longs;e it was, and had I not been
watched, when I talked of going away,
and threatened to be &longs;ent to jail, for what,
it is pretended I owe &longs;ince I came to the
hou&longs;e, I &longs;hould not have been here longer
than the fir&longs;t day.

The Captain feeling with great sensibility
the circum&longs;tances of her &longs;tory, made
reply: Said he, Young woman, I greatly
commi&longs;erate your hi&longs;tory and &longs;ituation,
and feel my&longs;elf impelled to revenge your
wrong. But the villain which has thus injured
you, is out of my reach, in two respects;
fir&longs;t, by di&longs;tance; and &longs;econd, being
too contemptible and ba&longs;e to be pursued
by my re&longs;entment even on your account.
But revenge is not your object, but support
and re&longs;toration to your friends, and
the good opinion of the world. As to
money, it is not in my power to advance
you any great &longs;um; but as far as words
can go, I could wi&longs;h to &longs;erve you: not
words to your&longs;elf only; but to others, in

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your behalf. It is evident to me, that
you have &longs;uffered by your own too great
&longs;en&longs;ibility. It was humanity and generosity,
that engaged you in his favour.
It was your imagination, that gave tho&longs;e
attractions to his vile and uncomely person,
by which you was &longs;educed. You have
been a victim to your own goodne&longs;s, and
not to his merit. The warmth of your
heart has overcome the &longs;trength of your
judgment; and your prudence has been
&longs;ubdued by your pa&longs;&longs;ion: or, rather, indeed,
confiding in a man whom you had
&longs;aved from all the pains, and heart-felt
mi&longs;eries of un&longs;ucce&longs;sful love, you have become
a &longs;acrifice to your compa&longs;&longs;ion and
tenderne&longs;s. The be&longs;t advice I can give
you, is, to compo&longs;e your&longs;elf for this night.
Pre&longs;erve your virtue; for I do not consider
you as having lo&longs;t it: your mind has
not been in fault, or contaminated. I
will endeavour to find out &longs;ome per&longs;on,
who may be di&longs;po&longs;ed to a&longs;&longs;i&longs;t you; and,
though it may be difficult for you yet to
e&longs;tabli&longs;h lo&longs;t fame, it is not impo&longs;&longs;ible. So
&longs;aying, he left the room; but the young
woman, impre&longs;&longs;ed with the&longs;e la&longs;t words
e&longs;pecially, viz. the diffculty, if not impossibility,
of regaining reputation, &longs;unk

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down upon her chair, and could not pay
him the compliment of thanks, at his departure.

During the night, through the whole
of which he lay awake, at the public hou&longs;e,
he ruminated on the extraordinary nature
of this incident, and the means which he
would adopt to recover this woman from
her unfortunate &longs;ituation.

Thought he, I am in a city where there
are a great body of the people called Quakers.
This &longs;ociety, above all others, is remarkable
for humanity, and charitable actions.
There is a female preacher, of whom I
have heard; a Lydia Wil&longs;on: I will inform
this good woman of the circum&longs;tance;
and, if ge gives me leave, I will bring
this &longs;tray &longs;heep to her; &longs;he may have it
in her power to introduce her to &longs;ome
place, where, by needle work, and industry,
&longs;he might live, until it may be in
my power, taking a journey to her father,
and &longs;tating the ca&longs;e, and giving my sentiments,
to re&longs;tore her to her family.

Early next morning, as &longs;oon as it could
be pre&longs;umed, the Quaker lady had &longs;et her
hou&longs;e in order;
that is, after the family
might be &longs;uppo&longs;ed to have breakfasted,
which was about nine o'clock, the

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Captain &longs;et out; and being admitted, stated
to Mrs. Wil&longs;on, the exact circum&longs;tances
as before related. The pious woman readily
undertook every office in her power.
Accordingly, taking leave, the Captain
&longs;et out for the hou&longs;e of Mrs. Robe&longs;on.

At the door, he met a number of men
coming out, and, on inquiry, he found a coroner's
inque&longs;t had ju&longs;t &longs;at on the body of a
young woman of the hou&longs;e, who had the
preceding evening, &longs;u&longs;pended her&longs;elf from
the bed po&longs;t with her garter. He was
&longs;truck, &longs;u&longs;pecting it mu&longs;t be the young
woman whom he had &longs;o much in his
thoughts. Going in, and enquiring, he
found it to be the ca&longs;e; and that they proposed
to bury as &longs;oon as the few boards of
a coffin could be got ready. As a man of
humanity, he could not but &longs;hed tears;
and blame him&longs;elf that he had not given
her &longs;tronger a&longs;&longs;urance of his interpo&longs;ition
before he left her, that &longs;he might not have
fallen into de&longs;pair, and taken away her
life.

The coffin being now ready, the funeral
&longs;et out, not for the burying ground of
a church yard; but for a place without
the city, called the Potter's-field: For suicide
forfeits Chri&longs;tian burial: Her

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obsequies attended, not by a clergyman in
front, nor by &longs;carfed mourners, holding
up the pall; nor was &longs;he borne on a bier,
but drawn on a cart; and the company
that followed her uncovered her&longs;e, were
not decent matrons, nor venerable men,
but old bauds, and &longs;trumpets, and cullies,
half drunk, making merry as they went along.

Being interred, they returned home; but
the Captain remaining &longs;ome time, contemplating
the grave, thus &longs;poke:

Earth, thou covere&longs;t the body of a lovely
woman, and with a mind not le&longs;s lovely;
yet doomed in her burial, to the &longs;ame
ground with negroes, and malefactors;
not that I think the circum&longs;tance makes any
difference; but it &longs;hews the opinion
of the world with re&longs;pect to thy per&longs;onal
demerit. Nor do I call in que&longs;tion the
ju&longs;tne&longs;s of this opinion; having &longs;uch circumstances
whereon to found it. But I
reflect with my&longs;elf how much opinion, operating
like a general law, may do inju&longs;tice.
It remains only with heaven's chancery to
reach the equity of the ca&longs;e, and ab&longs;olve
her from a crime; or at lea&longs;t qualify that
which was the exce&longs;s of virtue. If the fair
elements that compo&longs;ed her frame, &longs;hall

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ever again unite, and ri&longs;e to life, and as
the divines &longs;uppo&longs;e, her form receive its
&longs;hape, and complexion from her mental
qualities, and conduct on earth, &longs;he will
lo&longs;e nothing of her beauty; for her daring
di&longs;dain of her&longs;elf and fate, was a mark of
repentance,—&longs;tronger than all tears. Yet,
had &longs;he acted the nobler part of holding
her&longs;elf in life, pre&longs;erving her mind and
body cha&longs;te until famine had taken her away,
or the hand of heaven moved for
her relief, &longs;he had &longs;hone, at the la&longs;t ri&longs;ing,
with &longs;uperior brightne&longs;s; been ranked amongst
the fir&longs;t beauties of heaven, and
walked di&longs;tingui&longs;hed in the paradi&longs;e of
God. Doubtle&longs;s the Almighty mu&longs;t blame,
and chide her for this premature and ra&longs;h
&longs;tep. Fallen to the la&longs;t point of depre&longs;&longs;ion,
he was about to relieve her, and the sequel
of her days might have been happy
and &longs;erene. It was a di&longs;tru&longs;t of his providence.
She heard my words, though
&longs;he did not know my heart. And &longs;urely
it was my intention to relieve her. But
&longs;he erred again&longs;t my thoughts; &longs;he eluded
the gra&longs;p of my humanity. For this &longs;he
will be reprimanded by the Mo&longs;t High;
and fail of that &longs;upereminent glory which
awaits heroic minds. Yet, O world, thou

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do&longs;t her wrong, in &longs;entencing her to &longs;o low
a bed. Shall the wealthy, but di&longs;hone&longs;t
men; matrons cha&longs;te, but cold and cruel
in their feelings; &longs;hall the&longs;e have a
&longs;tone built over them, and occupy a consecrated
&longs;pot; whil&longs;t thou, unworthy, art
thrown among&longs;t the rubbi&longs;h of carca&longs;es,
&longs;wept from jails; or of emigrants, unknown
as to their origin and place.

Farewel, lovely form, whom late I
knew; and let the gra&longs;s grow green upon
thy grave. Thy &longs;orrows are expunged;
but mine are awake; and will be &longs;o, until
I al&longs;o come to the &longs;hades invi&longs;ible, and
have the &longs;ame apathy of heart with thee.

-- 070 --

BOOK V.

[figure description] Page 070.[end figure description]

RETURNING to his lodging, he
could not help reflecting by the way,
that probably poor Teague, mortified by
repeated di&longs;appointments, in going to
Congre&longs;s, being &longs;uffered to preach, or be
a member of the Philo&longs;ophical Society;
and what might afflict him &longs;till more, the
not marrying the rich ho&longs;te&longs;s, who had
made him overtures, might, in his de&longs;pair
of ever coming forward in any re&longs;pectable
capacity in life, have &longs;u&longs;pended him&longs;elf
from a beam, or plunged into the river,
and have put an end to his exi&longs;tence;
which, &longs;hould it be the ca&longs;e, being in
&longs;ome mea&longs;ure acce&longs;&longs;ary to this cata&longs;trophe
of the bog-trotter, by di&longs;&longs;uading from the&longs;e
&longs;everal preten&longs;ions, he could not acquit

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him&longs;elf of guilt; at all events, he would
feel great pain and &longs;orrow.

Such were his reflections for a great
part of this day; and had thought of putting
an adverti&longs;ement in the paper, to
know if any dead body had been lately
di&longs;covered; or inqui&longs;ition held on a young
man, with red hair, and a long leg, who
had been mi&longs;&longs;ing &longs;ome days, and was supposed
to have hung or drowned him&longs;elf.
But in the evening, meditating thus, mention
being made by &longs;ome of the lodgers,
of going to hear the annual oration, delivered
before the Philo&longs;ophical Society,
by a member; it &longs;truck his mind, that
po&longs;&longs;ibly Teague, falling in with &longs;ome of
this body, had been induced by them to
take a &longs;eat, and might be pre&longs;ent on that
occa&longs;ion. Not he&longs;itating, therefore, he
&longs;econded the propo&longs;al of going; and offered
to be of the party.

Coming to the hall, the philo&longs;ophers
were &longs;eated; but a black member &longs;at with
a taper before him, who, it &longs;eems, was
to deliver the oration.

The fact was this; A gentleman of Maryland
of the name of Gorum, had &longs;ent
to the &longs;ociety, &longs;ome time before, a curiosity
found by one of his negroes in the

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[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]

mud of Wye river, on the banks of which
his &longs;eat was. It appeared to be a &longs;tone,
with a cavity &longs;ufficient to receive a man's
foot, and was adjudged by the &longs;ociety to
be an Indian's petrified mocca&longs;on. The
&longs;ingularity of the di&longs;covery, well intitling
the gentleman to a &longs;eat, he was invited;
but &longs;ending his compliments, he gave
them to under&longs;tand, that Cuff, (for that
was the name of the negro) was more intitled
to that honour than he was, being
the per&longs;on who had found the curio&longs;ity;
and as he made it a point to do his &longs;laves
ju&longs;tice in any perqui&longs;ite of their own, he
could not think of robbing one, on this occasion
of any honour, to which he might
be introduced by this di&longs;covery.

The &longs;ociety approved his hone&longs;ty, and
fair dealing; and by unanimous ballot,
admitted the negro; who, having been a
member &longs;ome time, had been appointed,
to pronounce the annual oration. Cuff, a
good deal di&longs;concerted in hearing of the
ta&longs;k impo&longs;ed upon him, had applied to
his ma&longs;ter to know what to &longs;ay. Colonel
Gorum attending a good deal to literary
matters, had heard of an oration delivered
before the &longs;ociety, the object of which was
to prove that the Africans had been once

-- 073 --

[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]

white, had &longs;harp no&longs;es, and long hair;
but that by living in &longs;un-burnt climates,
the &longs;kin had changed colour, the hair become
frizzled, and in the cour&longs;e of generation,
the imagination of the mother, presenting
obtu&longs;e objects, had produced an offspring
with flat no&longs;es. He therefore gave
Cuff to under&longs;tand, that it would be doing
no more than ju&longs;tice to his countrymen, for
he was a Guinea negro, if he &longs;hould avail
him&longs;elf of this occa&longs;ion to prove that men
were all once black, and that by living in
&longs;nowy countries, and being bleached by
the weather, the &longs;kin had gradually become
white, and the hair moi&longs;t and long, and
the imagination pre&longs;enting prominent objects
to the mothers, or the fathers differing
among them&longs;elves, and pulling one another
by this part, had given the long and
pointed no&longs;e.

Cuff, thus prepared, &longs;et out; having arrived,
and being on this occa&longs;ion to harangue,
began as follows:

The Oration.

Massa &longs;hentiman; I be ca&longs;h crab in de
Wye riva: found ting in de mud; tone,
big a man's foot: hols like to he; fetch

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Ma&longs;&longs;a: Ma&longs;&longs;a &longs;ay, it be de Indian moccason.—
O! fat de call it; all tone. He &longs;ay,
you be a fila&longs;afa, Cuff: I &longs;ay, O no, Massa;
you be de fila&longs;afa. Wel; two tree
monts afta, Ma&longs;&longs;a call me, and &longs;ay, You
be a fila&longs;afa, Cuff, fo' &longs;artan: Getta ready,
and go dis city, and make grate peech for
&longs;hentima fila&longs;afa. I &longs;ay, Fat &longs;ay? Ma&longs;&longs;a:
Ma&longs;&longs;a &longs;ay, &longs;omebody &longs;ay, dat de fir&longs;t man
was de &longs;ite man; but you &longs;ay, dat de fir&longs;t
man was de black a-man. Vel, I &longs;et out
out: come along: Ma&longs;&longs;a gi me pa&longs;s. Some
&longs;ay, where you go, Cuff? I &longs;ay, dis city, be
a fila&longs;afa. O no, Cuff, you be no filasafa:
call me fool, gi me kick i'de backside;
fall down, get up again, and come
to dis city.

Now, &longs;hentima, I &longs;ay, dat de fir&longs;t man
was de black a man, and de fir&longs;t woman
de black a woman; an get two tree children;
de rain va&longs;ha de&longs;e, an de &longs;now
pleach, an de coula come brown, yella,
coppa coula, and, at de la&longs;t, quite fite;
an de hair long; an da fal out vid van anoda;
and van ca&longs;h by de no&longs;e, an pull;
&longs;o de no&longs;e come lang, &longs;harp no&longs;e.

Now I go home, Ma&longs;&longs;a &longs;hentima; an
tel grate Ma&longs;&longs;a, dat make peech, an ibedy
body vas da; an den Cuff fin a more

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[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]

tings—cabs, oy&longs;ta, cat-fi&longs;h, bones, tones,
ibedy ting; &longs;en to you, &longs;hentima.

The oration being ended, the Society
could do no le&longs;s than appoint a committee
to wait on Mr. Cuff, and reque&longs;t a copy
of his oration, that it might be publi&longs;hed.

But the Captain, in the mean time, had
examined, with great attention, the whole
audience; but could not di&longs;cover Teague.
Departing, therefore, with the re&longs;t, his
thoughts recurred to his fir&longs;t idea, viz.
that the unfortunate creature had committed
&longs;uicide. Drawing up, therefore, an
adverti&longs;ement, he &longs;ent it to a daily paper;
but, though it appeared next morning,
and the day elap&longs;ed, there was no word of
Teague.

-- 076 --

[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]

THERE is no fact that has proved
more &longs;tubborn than the diver&longs;ity of
the human &longs;pecies; e&longs;pecially that great
extreme of diver&longs;ity in the natives of Africa.
How the de&longs;cendants of Adam and
Eve, both good looking people, &longs;hould
ever come to be a vile negro, or even a
mulatto man or woman, is puzzling.

Some have conjectured, that a black
complexion, frizzled hair, a flat no&longs;e, and
bandy legs, were the mark &longs;et on Cain,
for the murder of his brother Abel. But,
as the deluge drowned the whole world,
and only one family was &longs;aved, the blacks
mu&longs;t have all peri&longs;hed; like the Mammoth,
who&longs;e bones are found on the
Ohio, and other places, which was too big
for Noah to get into the ark.

Some &longs;uppo&longs;e, that it was the cur&longs;e pronounced
upon Canaan, the &longs;on of Noah,
for looking at his father's nakedne&longs;s. They
got rid by this means of the difficulty of

-- 077 --

[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

the flood; but by Mo&longs;es' own account,
the Canaanites were the de&longs;cendents of
Canaan; and we do not hear of them being
negroes; which, had it been the ca&longs;e,
we cannot doubt would have been laid hold
of by the I&longs;raelites, as a circum&longs;tance to
ju&longs;tify their extirpating, or making &longs;laves
of them.

Lord Kames, in his Sketches of the History
of Man, &longs;olves the difficulty, by supposing,
that, at the building of Babel,
there was a confu&longs;ion of complexions, as
well as languages. But, be&longs;ides that it is
not to be &longs;uppo&longs;ed, that the hi&longs;torian would
pa&longs;s over &longs;o material a circum&longs;tance, without
particularly mentioning it, it is introducing
a miracle, which we are not warranted
in doing, unle&longs;s it had been expressly
laid down to have been wrought.

The la&longs;t theory, has been that of accounting
for the change, from the climate,
and accident of wind and weather;
calling in aid, in the mean time, the imagination
of the mothers. This does not appear
altogether &longs;atisfactory. At lea&longs;t, there
are tho&longs;e who would not be aver&longs;e to hear
&longs;ome other &longs;olution of the difficulty. I
have thought of one, which I would &longs;ugge&longs;t
with great diffidence; the authors of tho&longs;e

-- 078 --

[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

before me being great men, and their hypothesis
not lightly overthrown.

I am of opinion that Adam was a tall,
&longs;traight limbed, red haired man, with a fair
complexion, blue eyes, and an aquiline
no&longs;e; and that Eve was a negro woman.

For what nece&longs;&longs;ity to make them both
of the &longs;ame colour, feature, and form,
when there is beauty in variety. Do not
you &longs;ee in a tulip, one leaf blue, and another
white, and &longs;ometimes the &longs;ame leaf
white and red?

As God made Adam in his own likeness,
&longs;o it is to be &longs;uppo&longs;ed, that Adam
begat &longs;ome in his; and the&longs;e were red
haired, fair complexioned, blue eyed, proportionably
featured boys and girls; while,
on the other hand, &longs;ome took after the
mother, and became negro men and women.
From a mixture of complexion, the
offspring, at other times, might be a &longs;hade
darker, in one ca&longs;e, than the father; and
a &longs;hade lighter, in another ca&longs;e, than the
mother; and hence, a diver&longs;ifyed progeny,
with a variety of features; from the
bottle-no&longs;e to the mire-&longs;nipe; which is that
of the people in the we&longs;t of Ireland; and
from the auburn of the Cor&longs;ican hair, to
the golden locks of the Caledonian

-- 079 --

[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]

beauty; and from the black eye, to the hazle
and the grey.

It may be a&longs;ked, How at the flood?
when Noah, his wife, his three &longs;ons, and
their wives, eight per&longs;ons, only were saved?
It is but giving &longs;ome of the &longs;ons negro
wenches for their wives, and you have the
matter all right.

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[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]

AS I have &longs;aid, the day pa&longs;&longs;ed over, and
there was no word of Teague. In
the evening, as it was u&longs;ual with the gentlemen
at the Indian Queen, to go to &longs;ome
place for the amu&longs;ement of an hour or
two; mention being made of a celebrated
preacher, a Univer&longs;ali&longs;t, as he was called;
that is, one who preaches the doctrine of
univer&longs;al &longs;alvation; it was propo&longs;ed to go
to hear him, as he was to hold forth that
evening. The Captain readily con&longs;ented;
and it &longs;truck him, that, as this was a new
fangled doctrine, and the preacher had
made a great noi&longs;e; and as it was a
doctrine that, con&longs;cious of a good deal of
fornication, would naturally plea&longs;e Teague,
it was not impo&longs;&longs;ible but the Iri&longs;hman
might have become a di&longs;ciple of this reformist,
and be at his conventicle.

Coming in among&longs;t the crowd, and obtaining
&longs;eats, they &longs;aw the preacher a&longs;cend
the pulpit, and, after the preliminary

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exercise of p&longs;alms and prayer, take a text,
and begin his &longs;ermon.

His text was taken from one of tho&longs;e
pa&longs;&longs;ages of &longs;cripture, which &longs;peaks of “the
lion lying down with the kid, and the tyger
with the lamb;” which have been interpreted
of the Millenium; but were applied
by him, to that period, when, as
the &longs;ea &longs;hall give up her dead, &longs;o hell &longs;hall
give up her damned; and the devil himself
&longs;hall come to lick &longs;alt out of the hand
of an angel.

Enlarging on this doctrine, and supporting
it with a variety of proofs from
&longs;cripture, and arguments from rea&longs;on, he
&longs;eemed to have brought the matter to a
point; an&longs;wering all objections, and closing
in with the hearer. At this &longs;tage, u&longs;ing
that figure of oratory, which is u&longs;ual in
the pulpit, of a&longs;king que&longs;tions, and pressing
for an an&longs;wer, but expecting none;
he would &longs;ay, Is not this conclu&longs;ive? Is it
not evident? Is there any here can advance
an argument again&longs;t it? Will any of you
&longs;peak—I pau&longs;e for an an&longs;wer?

Mr. M`Donald, in the mean time, (the
Scotch gentleman; who happened to be
there,) thinking him really &longs;erious, and
that he wanted an an&longs;wer; or taking

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advantage of the pau&longs;e, and the interrogation,
to &longs;peak his mind, leaning over the
front of a back &longs;eat, made reply:

Why, &longs;aid he, I like the doctrine well
enough, and ha' na' di&longs;po&longs;ition to o'erthrow
it. I dinna muckle care if there
ware na' hell ava. If ye could make that
out, I wad rather hear it, than o' being
&longs;moaked twa' or three thou&longs;and years in
the devil's nuke, or &longs;inged wi' his burnt
brim&longs;tone, even if we &longs;hould get out afterwards.
Ye need na' put your&longs;el in a
pa&longs;&longs;ion, or be flee'd that you'll no get proselytes;
for I &longs;hall warrant you, as many
every night as ye can weel &longs;tow awa i' the
conventicle.

The preacher giving thanks to God for
the &longs;ucce&longs;s in his mini&longs;try, in the remarkable
conver&longs;ion of the man who &longs;poke, the
Scotch gentleman &longs;aid again; Ye need
na ca' it a conver&longs;ion; for I ha' been o'
the &longs;ame opinion a' my life; that it was a
&longs;are thing to bide the kiln of hell, and
they wad de&longs;erve muckle thanks wha could
e&longs;tabli&longs;h that we &longs;hould na' &longs;tay long in it,
or that there was na' &longs;uch place ava.

The preacher commenting upon this,
ob&longs;erved that &longs;ome were orthodox from
their birth, like Jeremiah, who was

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[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]

sanctified in his mother's womb; but others
were hardly brought to the truth, with
much teaching and in&longs;truction. That the
pre&longs;ent was a happy in&longs;tance of one who
was in the right way from his very early
years.

The Captain in the mean time, had been
thinking of the doctrine; and thought it
rea&longs;onable to &longs;uppo&longs;e, that the Almighty
might relieve after &longs;ome time, and let the
damned devils go. Ju&longs;t as with him&longs;elf at
pre&longs;ent in the ca&longs;e of Teague; if he had
got his hands on the bog-trotter, he could
not help being very angry, and would be
di&longs;po&longs;ed to puni&longs;h him with great &longs;everity;
but after &longs;ome time he knew his pa&longs;&longs;ion
would &longs;ub&longs;ide, and he would forget his
delinquencies.

Teague in this manner running in his
head, as the people, after &longs;ome epilogue of
prayer and benediction, being di&longs;mi&longs;&longs;ed,
were retiring, he got up, and rai&longs;ing his
voice, begged the audience to detain a
little. — Good people, &longs;aid he, if any of
you &longs;hould come acro&longs;s a young man, a
&longs;ervant of mine, of the name of Teague
O'Regan, I &longs;hall thank you to &longs;end me notice
to the Indian Queen, where I lodge.
And, according to the adverti&longs;ement in

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this day's paper, I will give two dollars
reward.

Thinking him deranged in his brain,
they proceeded, and took no notice of the
proclamation.

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IN the infancy of Chri&longs;tianity it was
thought a hard matter to get to heaven;
and that when once in hell, there
was no geting out. A certain father of
the church, of the name of Origen, was
the fir&longs;t to be more liberal in his sentiments,
and thought, that after a certain
period, there would be a jail-delivery of
the damned. I do not know that he went
&longs;o far as to let the devils them&longs;elves out
upon a furlough; but at the pre&longs;ent time,
we all know very well, that the time will
come, when they will be out all together;
at lea&longs;t the univer&longs;ali&longs;ts tell us this, and
prove it.

The doctrine was received in &longs;ome part
by the early councils; but in other parts
rejected. The matter was compounded
by e&longs;tabli&longs;hing a purgatory; for not consenting
to liberate from hell, in order to

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[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]

&longs;atisfy the advocates of a temporary punishment,
they fixed up a middle place,
where all the advantages of penal purgation
could be enjoyed, without the necessity
of contradicting the eternity of hell
torments.

Indeed under the catholic church, the
&longs;trait gate, and the narrow way, and the
many called, and few cho&longs;en, was a good deal
laid a&longs;ide, and the road made pretty plain
by indulgencies and ab&longs;olutions. But at
the reformation, the matter was brought
back to its old bed again, and the cry of
their being but a remnant &longs;aved, was raised
in every pulpit. There has been &longs;ome
relaxation of late years with almo&longs;t every
&longs;ect of Prote&longs;tants; and there is not ju&longs;t
&longs;uch a fury of tumbling great crowds into
the tolbooth, as there was in the days of
John Knox, and the framers of the Westminster
confe&longs;&longs;ion of faith, and catechi&longs;ms.
Dr. Bellamy, a New-England divine, &longs;ome
years ago, &longs;tated in his pamphlet, that the
damned would be to the &longs;aved, as the malefactors
of a country to hone&longs;t people that
came to an untimely end by jail or gibbet.
Some now preach boldly, not perhaps a
total exemption, from future puni&longs;hment,
but a final re&longs;toration from it; &longs;o that the

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[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]

matter is now brought nearly to what it
was in the days of Origen. I do not know
that I would be of opinion with the
Scotch gentleman, and wi&longs;h the matter
carried farther, e&longs;tabli&longs;hing that there is
no hell at all; becau&longs;e if the thing &longs;hould
take a turn, it might go to the other extreme,
and be all hell; &longs;o that none &longs;hould
be &longs;aved; and in&longs;tead of univer&longs;al salvation,
we &longs;hould then have the doctrine of
the damnation of the whole, bodily.

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THE next day, revolving every thing
in his mind, it occurred to the Captain,
that the Iri&longs;hman might have gone
out of town, hearing of an election at a
di&longs;trict, and have been elected to Congre&longs;s.
As that body was then &longs;itting, he thought
it could be no great trouble to go to the
hou&longs;e, and ca&longs;t an eye from the gallery,
and &longs;ee if the raggamuffin had got there.
There was one that had a little of the
brogue of Teague upon his tongue, but
nothing of his phy&longs;iognomy; others had a
good deal of his manner; but there was
none that came ab&longs;olutely up to the physic
of his per&longs;on.

However, being here, the Captain tho't
it not ami&longs;s to li&longs;ten a while to the debates
upon the carpet. A certain bill was
depending, and made, it &longs;eems, the order
of the day. Mr. Cogan being on the floor,
&longs;poke:—Sir, &longs;aid he, addre&longs;&longs;ing him&longs;elf to
the chair, the bill in contemplation, is, in

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[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]

my opinion, of a dangerous tendency. I
will venture to foretel, that, if it goes into
a law, the cows will have fewer calves,
and the &longs;heep le&longs;s wool; hens will lay
fewer eggs, and cocks forget to crow day-light.
The hor&longs;es will be wor&longs;e &longs;hod, and
&longs;tumble more; our watches go too &longs;low;
corns grow upon our toes; young women
have the &longs;tomach ach; old men the gout;
and middle aged per&longs;ons fainting fits. The
larks will fall dead in the field; the frogs
croak till they bur&longs;t their bags; and the
leaves of the trees fall before the autumn.
Snow will be found in the heat of harve&longs;t,
and dog days in winter. The rivers will
revert; and the &longs;hadows fall to the ea&longs;t in
the morning. The moon will be eclip&longs;ed;
and the equinoxes happen at a wrong season
of the year. Was it not &longs;uch a bill
as this, that changed the old &longs;tile; that
made the eclip&longs;e in the time of Julius Cesar;
that produced an earthquake at Jamaica,
and &longs;unk Port Royal? All history,
both ancient and modern, is full of
the mi&longs;chiefs of &longs;uch a bill. I &longs;hall, therefore,
vote again&longs;t it.

Mr. Bogan was now on the floor, and
advocated the good effects of the bill.

Sir, &longs;aid he, addre&longs;&longs;ing him&longs;elf to the

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[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]

chair, I appear in &longs;upport of the bill. I
&longs;ay, it will have a good effect on the physical
world e&longs;pecially. The ducks will be
fatter, the gee&longs;e heavier, the &longs;wans whiter,
the red-birds &longs;ing better, and partridges
come more ea&longs;ily into traps. It will kill
rats, muzzle calves, and cut colts; and
multiply the breed of oy&longs;ters, and pickle
cod-fi&longs;h. It will moderate the &longs;un's heat, and
the winter's cold; prevent fogs, and cure
the ague. It will help the natural brain;
brace the nerves, cure &longs;ore eyes, and the
cholic, and remove rheumati&longs;ms. Con&longs;ult
experience, and it will be found, that
provi&longs;ions of the nature propo&longs;ed by this
bill, have an a&longs;toni&longs;hing influence in this
re&longs;pect, where they have been tried. I mu&longs;t
take the liberty to &longs;ay, the gentleman's
allegations are totally unfounded; and he
has committed him&longs;elf, in the matter of his
hi&longs;tory; the earthquake in Jamaica, not
happening in the time of Julius Ce&longs;ar; and
therefore could have nothing to do with
the eclip&longs;e of the &longs;un. I &longs;hall, therefore,
vote in favour of the bill.

Mr. Cogan ro&longs;e to explain; and &longs;aid,
that he did not &longs;ay, that the earthquake at
Jamaica, was at the &longs;ame time with the

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[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]

clip&longs;e of the &longs;un, which happened at the
birth of Julius Ce&longs;ar.

Mr. Bogan ro&longs;e to correct the gentleman:
It was not at the birth of Julius
Ce&longs;ar, but at his death, that the earthquake
happened.

Mr. Hogan was on the floor: Said, he
thought he could reconcile the gentlemen
on that head. It was well known Julius
Ce&longs;ar lived about the time of the rebellion
in Scotland; a little after Nebuchadnezzar,
king of the Jews. As to the earthquake,
he did not remember what year it happened;
and therefore could &longs;ay nothing about
it.

At this period, the que&longs;tion being called,
it was put, and carried by a majority
of 25.

The Captain, &longs;atisfied with this &longs;ample
of Congre&longs;&longs;ional debates, retired, and came
to his lodging.

-- 092 --

[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]

IT was about three or four o'clock in
the afternoon, that &longs;ome one, who had
read the adverti&longs;ement re&longs;pecting Teague,
came to the Captain, and informed him,
that a per&longs;on, an&longs;wering the de&longs;cription,
had been lately employed to teach Greek
in the Univer&longs;ity. Struck with the idea,
that the bog-trotter might have pa&longs;&longs;ed himself
for a Greek &longs;cholar, whereas he understood
only Iri&longs;h, he &longs;et out to the University,
to make enquiry. Knocking at
the door of the principal, he was admitted;
and, being &longs;eated, addre&longs;&longs;ed him as
follows: Said he, &longs;ir, a pede&longs;eque of mine,
(for talking to the rector of a college, he
did not chu&longs;e to u&longs;e the vulgar terms, waiter,
or bog-trotter,) a pede&longs;eque of mine,
whom I have found u&longs;eful, &longs;ave that he is
&longs;omewhat trouble&longs;ome in pretending to
places of appointment for which he is not

-- 093 --

[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]

qualified; a thing, by the bye, too common
in this country; where men, without
the aid of academic knowledge, thru&longs;t
them&longs;elves into places requiring great
learning and ability: (This he &longs;aid to
&longs;latter the man of letters; as if a man could
know but little, that had not been forged
or furbi&longs;hed at his &longs;chool): I &longs;ay, this pedeseque
of mine, has ab&longs;conded for &longs;ome
days; and I have been able to collect no
account of him until la&longs;t evening, that a
per&longs;on, having read an adverti&longs;ement of
mine in the gazette, came to me, and informed,
that one, an&longs;wering the description
I had given, both as to appearance
and accompli&longs;hments, had been lately employed,
as profe&longs;&longs;or of the Greek language,
in this Univer&longs;ity. Now, though I well
know this Pady, as I may call him, to understand
no Greek; yet, as he &longs;peaks Irish,
and has much a&longs;&longs;urance, and little
hone&longs;ty in matters where his ambition is
concerned, I did not know, but he might
have impo&longs;ed him&longs;elf upon you, for a
Greek &longs;cholar, and obtained a professorship.

The principal made an&longs;wer, that it was
true that a per&longs;on from Ireland had been
lately employed in that capacity; and that

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[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]

&longs;hould he be di&longs;covered to be an inpo&longs;tor,
it would be u&longs;ing the univer&longs;ity very ill.
The Captain thought &longs;o too; and taking
it for granted that it was Teague, expressed
his &longs;urpri&longs;e that they had not examined
him, before he was admitted; or at
lea&longs;t had &longs;uch proof by letters as would
have had a&longs;certained his being qualified.
The principal ob&longs;erved, that as to examination
they had no one at hand to examine,
as there were none of the tru&longs;tees
or profe&longs;&longs;ors of other branches in the university
under&longs;tood Greek; as for him&longs;elf
he did not, having not &longs;tudied it in early
life, and for a &longs;eries of years, having giving
him&longs;elf to politics and mathematics;
&longs;o that unle&longs;s they could &longs;end out for a
Roman Catholic prie&longs;t, or a Scotch clergyman,
there was none to examine. The
improbability of any per&longs;on pa&longs;&longs;ing himself,
above all things, for a ma&longs;ter of the
Greek language on the &longs;core of understanding
Iri&longs;h, was &longs;uch, that it never came into
their heads to &longs;u&longs;pect it, &longs;o as to demand
letters.

Had you known &longs;aid the Captain, this
bog-trotter of mine, (here he forgot the
word pede&longs;eque) as well as I do, you
would not be &longs;urpri&longs;ed at his attempting

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[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]

any thing; and that he &longs;hould be now in
your academy giving Greek lectures, understanding
nothing but the vernacular
tongue of his own country. Here he gave
an account of his &longs;etting up for Congress,
&c. as explained in the preceding
part of this narrative.

However, wi&longs;hing to &longs;ee the raggamuffin
that he might unkennel him, he was
accompanied by the principal to the chamber
of the p&longs;eudo profe&longs;&longs;or, con&longs;idering as
he went along, in what manner he &longs;hould
acco&longs;t him; whether he &longs;hould break out
upon him with a direct invective, or with
ironical words; &longs;uch as, Mr. Profe&longs;&longs;or,
you mu&longs;t be a very learned man, not only
to under&longs;tand Iri&longs;h, but Greek: but perhaps
the Greek and Iri&longs;h language are
much the &longs;ame. It mu&longs;t be &longs;o; for I know
that a few days ago, you did not understand
a word of this, and to acquire a dead
language in &longs;uch a &longs;hort time would be impossible,
unle&longs;s the living tongue was a
good deal a-kin to it. But I had never
under&longs;tood that Iri&longs;h had any more affinity
to the language of Athens and Sparta,
than the Er&longs;e, or the German, or the
Welch; however, we mu&longs;t live and learn,

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[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]

as the &longs;aying is; you have &longs;hewn us what
we never knew before.

Conning a &longs;peech of this &longs;ort in his own
mind, with a view to divert the principal,
and amu&longs;e him&longs;elf with Teague, he entered
the chamber of the profe&longs;&longs;or; who &longs;at
in an elbow chair with Thucidydes before
him.

What was the &longs;urpri&longs;e of the Captain
to find that it was not Teague.

In fact, it was a per&longs;on not wholly unlike
him, e&longs;pecially in a hinge of the
brogue which he betrayed in his di&longs;cour&longs;e;
for though the profe&longs;&longs;or was really a man
of education, having been early &longs;ent to St.
Omer's, where he had &longs;tudied, being intended
for a prie&longs;t, and under&longs;tood not
only the Greek, and Latin, but &longs;poke
French; yet in the pronunciation of the
Engli&longs;h tongue, he had that prolongation
of the &longs;ound of a word, and articulation
of the vowel O, which con&longs;titutes what
is vulgarly called the brogue, as being
the pronunciation of the native Iri&longs;h; who
being a depre&longs;&longs;ed people, are mo&longs;t of them
poor, and wear a kind of mean &longs;hoe, which
they call a brogue.

After an apology to the profe&longs;&longs;or for
mi&longs;taking him for a certain Teague

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[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]

O'Regan, whom he had in his employment,
at the reque&longs;t of the profe&longs;&longs;or, the principal
and the Captain took &longs;eats.

The profe&longs;&longs;or &longs;aid, His name was not
O'Regan, being O'Dougherty; but he
knew the O'Regans very well in Ireland.
There was a Pady O'Regan in the &longs;ame
cla&longs;s with him at St. Omer's, when he read
Craike. That he was a good &longs;cholar, and
under&longs;tood Craike very well; and he would
be glad if he was over in this country to
tach Craike here; it appeared to be a very
&longs;carce language; but he had become a
pra&longs;te, and was now a mi&longs;&longs;ionary to Paraguay,
in Sout-America.

The Captain punning on his pronunciation
of the word Greek; and willing to
amu&longs;e him&longs;elf a little with the profe&longs;&longs;or,
could not help ob&longs;erving, that he was under
a mi&longs;take, as to the &longs;carcene&longs;s of the
Craike language in the&longs;e States. That
there were whole tribes who &longs;poke the
Craike language; there was that of the
heron, and the raven, and &longs;everal other
fowls. A German profe&longs;&longs;or, who was present,
apprehending the Captain to be under
a mi&longs;take, and willing to correct him,
ob&longs;erved—It is, &longs;aid he, the Creek language,
that the profe&longs;&longs;or means. As to

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[figure description] Page 098.[end figure description]

that, &longs;aid the Captain, it is al&longs;o &longs;poken
plentifully in America. There is a whole
nation of Indians, on the borders of South
Carolina and Georgia, that &longs;peak the Creek
language; men, women, and children.

The profe&longs;&longs;or knowing more of the classics
than of the geography of the&longs;e United
States, and of the heathen gods more
than of the aborigines of this country, expressed
a&longs;toni&longs;hment. If what you tell me
be a trut, &longs;aid he, it is a crate di&longs;covery:
perhaps de&longs;e may have de fragments o' de
books o' de philo&longs;ophers and poets that
are lo&longs;t, and de profe&longs;&longs;ors cannot come
acra&longs;s in deir own countries; but I have
tought dat de Craike language was &longs;poke
only in de Morea, and a little in Ru&longs;&longs;ia,
and Con&longs;tantinople.

The Captain a&longs;&longs;ured him, the principal
favouring the mi&longs;take, by a grave face,
and bowing as the Captain &longs;poke, that it
was ab&longs;olutely the vernacular language of
the&longs;e people.

Why den, &longs;aid the other, do dey not
get profe&longs;&longs;ors from among&longs;t de&longs;e, to tache
Craike in deir Colleges?

Becau&longs;e, &longs;aid the Captain, we have been
heretofore on ho&longs;tile terms with the&longs;e Indians;
and it is but of late that we have

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[figure description] Page 099.[end figure description]

made a peace. But now, it is to be presumed,
we &longs;hall have it in our power to
procure from them able teachers.

The profe&longs;&longs;or was alarmed at this; as
&longs;uppo&longs;ing it would &longs;upercede the nece&longs;&longs;ity
of his &longs;ervices; or, at lea&longs;t, much reduce
the price of his tuition. He could have
wi&longs;hed he had not come to this quarter of
the world; and was almo&longs;t ready, in his
own mind, to bind up what he had, and
go back to Clogher.

So ended their vi&longs;it to the Univer&longs;ity,
and the Captain withdrew.

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[figure description] Page 100.[end figure description]

IT may be thought a prepo&longs;terous idea,
that it could, for a moment, be supposed
po&longs;&longs;ible, that the pede&longs;eque could
have had the a&longs;&longs;urance to pa&longs;s him&longs;elf for
a Grecian. But I had it from the Marquis
de la Luzerne, that a friend of his, who
was in &longs;ome public capacity at Mo&longs;cow;
and was entertained by a principal inhabitant
of the city, was a&longs;ked by him, to vi&longs;it
an academy, where the French language
was taught; and at which his &longs;on, a young
lad, then was. What was the &longs;urpri&longs;e
of the gentleman, to find a Pady from
Cork, who under&longs;tood not a &longs;ingle word of
French, or Latin, teaching an unknown
gibberi&longs;h, which mo&longs;t probably was Iri&longs;h?

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OUR Chevalier was now at his wits
end; not being able to conceive of
any other place of amu&longs;ement, in which
Teague might be found; when all at
once it came into his head, (led to it,
perhaps, from the reference, in his late
conver&longs;ation, to the Indian tribes,) that
probably he might have fallen in with the
Indian treaty-man, and have been prevailed
upon to per&longs;onate a chief. It appeared
to him therefore advi&longs;eable to go
directly to the &longs;ecretary at war, to know
if any party of Indians had been lately
there to negociate a treaty.

Being introduced, and after &longs;ome ceremony,
acco&longs;ting the &longs;ecretary, he gave
him to under&longs;tand why it was that he had
the honour to wait upon him, viz. that he
had a &longs;ervant of the name of Teague O'Regan,
an Iri&longs;hman, who had been ab&longs;ent
&longs;ome days, and that from a circum&longs;tance
which happened in the way to the city, he

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had rea&longs;on to &longs;u&longs;pect, he might have been
picked up by a certain Indian treaty-man,
to &longs;upply the place of a Welch black&longs;mith,
who had died, and had pa&longs;&longs;ed for a chief
of the Kickapoos.

The &longs;ecretary was a good deal chagrined,
believing the Captain to be &longs;ome wag that
had come to make this enquiry by way of
burle&longs;que on the Indian treaties; and
with &longs;ome irritation of mind, gave him
to under&longs;tand, that there had been no Indian
treaty-man, or Kickapoo chief there;
that no treaty had been held with the Indians
for above a month pa&longs;t, &longs;ince the
king of the Togamogans had drawn goods;
but treaty or no treaty, it ill became him
in the appearance of a gentleman, to throw
a burle&longs;que upon government, by insinuating
that his Iri&longs;hman could be impo&longs;ed
upon them for a chief.

I mean no burle&longs;que, &longs;aid the Captain,
a little irritated in his turn; I have had too
much trouble to keep him from the Indian
treaty-man that was coming here, to be
di&longs;po&longs;ed to je&longs;t with &longs;o &longs;erious an affair.
The hair-breadth e&longs;cape of going to Congress,
or being licenced as a preacher, or
being cho&longs;en as a member of the philosophical
&longs;ociety, was nothing to this, as it

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was &longs;o difficult to guard again&longs;t it, the Indian
recruiters imitating &longs;avages, not only
in their dre&longs;s and painting, but in the dexterity
to way-lay and &longs;urpri&longs;e.

I wi&longs;h youto know, &longs;ir, &longs;aid the secretary,
that I comprehend your burle&longs;que very
well. But though you and others may
mi&longs;repre&longs;ent our policy in the Indian treaties,
it is ba&longs;e irony and ridicule to insinuate
that the Indians we treat with, are
not chiefs.

Chiefs, or no chiefs, &longs;aid the Capain, I
am not &longs;aying, nor care; but only wi&longs;h to
know if you have been in&longs;tituting any
treaty with my Teague, who has been absent
&longs;ome days.

I will be much obliged to you to withdraw
from my office, &longs;aid the &longs;ecretary.

I &longs;hall withdraw, &longs;aid the Captain; and
not with that re&longs;pect for your understanding
and politene&longs;s, which I could have
wi&longs;hed to entertain. I have addre&longs;&longs;ed you
with civility; and I was entitled to a civil
an&longs;wer; but I &longs;ee the “in&longs;olence of office,”
is well enumerated, by the poet, among&longs;t
the evils that make us &longs;ick of life. Your
humble &longs;ervant Mon&longs;ieur Secretary; I &longs;hall
trouble you no further.

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RETURNING to the Indian Queen,
a play bill, for the evening, had announced
the performance of the tragedy
of Macbeth, and a farce called the Poor
Solider. A party of the gentlemen, from
the public hou&longs;e, had taken a box; and
the Captain agreed to go with them to
the play. Having delivered their tickets,
and being admitted to the box, it &longs;truck
the Captain to ca&longs;t his eye upon the pit
and galleries, and ob&longs;erve if he could any
way de&longs;cry the phy&longs;iognomy of Teague.
As before, when with the &longs;ame view he
&longs;urveyed the members of Congre&longs;s, he
could di&longs;cover &longs;everal that a good deal resembled
him; but yet not the identical
per&longs;on. The curtain being now drawn
the play began. Nothing material occured
during the performance of the tragedy,
&longs;ave that when the witches came in, there
was one in her cap and broom&longs;tick who&longs;e
features a good deal re&longs;embled the Irishman's,
and who, had &longs;he not been an old

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woman and a witch, might have pa&longs;&longs;ed for
Teague. The Captain was &longs;truck with the
re&longs;emblance of feature, and long frame of
the bog-trotter, covered with a &longs;hort gown
and petticoat; and borrowing a gla&longs;s from
one that &longs;at in the box with him, endeavoured
to reconnoitre more perfectly, and
could have &longs;worn that it was the mother,
or &longs;i&longs;ter of Teague, that had ju&longs;t came
from Ireland, and joined the company.

The tragedy being ended, the farce began
to be acted, and who &longs;hould come forward
in the character of Darby, but the
long &longs;ought for Teague. The fact was,
he had before appeared in the tragedy, in
the character of an over-grown red-headed
witch. It was more natural for him to
appear in the character of Darby his own
countryman; for he &longs;pake with the brogue
naturally, and not by imitation. The managers
had had him all the while of his
ab&longs;ence from the Captain, under tuition,
teaching him his part, which was not difficult
to do; the manner and pronunciation
being already his own.

It was this had induced the managers to
take him up, as a &longs;ub&longs;titute; the per&longs;on
who actually played the part of Darby, being,
at this time, out of the way. As the

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natural &longs;qual of a pig is &longs;uperior to an imitation
of it; &longs;o it was allowed by the audiance,
that Teague exceeded the p&longs;eudo Irishman
that u&longs;ually performed this part.
All were plea&longs;ed but the Captain, who&longs;e
&longs;en&longs;e of propriety could &longs;carcely re&longs;train
him from throwing his cane at the begtrotter.
Thought he with him&longs;elf, what
avails it that I prevented him from taking
a &longs;eat in a legi&longs;lative body, or from preaching,
or being a philo&longs;opher; if after all,
he has relinqui&longs;hed my &longs;ervice, and turned
player; a thing, no doubt, fitter for him,
than the being a &longs;enator, or clergyman,
or philo&longs;opher; becau&longs;e he can appear in
&longs;ome low character in the farce or comedy,
and come off tolerably enough. For though
among&longs;t the dramatis per&longs;onæ of learned
bodies, there are Tony Lumpkins, and
Darby M`Faddins in abundance, yet there
ought to be none; and Teague had better
be on the &longs;tage than in &longs;uch capacities,
&longs;ince he mu&longs;t be &longs;ome where. But to
leave me without notice, after all my civilities
to him, is ungrateful, and de&longs;erves
all that I can &longs;ay bad concerning him. I
&longs;hall give my&longs;elf no farther trouble on this
head; but let him take his cour&longs;e. I mu&longs;t
endeavour to find another &longs;ervant who can
&longs;upply his place.

-- --

BOOK VI.

[figure description] Page 107.[end figure description]

THE foregoing had been the reflections
of the Captain during the exhibition
of the farce. But the play being ended,
and having come home, the next day he
began to put his re&longs;olution in practice;
and to think how he could &longs;upply him&longs;elf
with another &longs;ervant. It &longs;truck him to
purcha&longs;e a negro; and mentioning this to
the company, at breakfa&longs;t, at the Indian
Queen, one of the people called Quakers,
who was pre&longs;ent, and overheard the
conver&longs;ation, made an apology for the
liberty he took in making &longs;ome objections.
Friend, &longs;aid he, thee appears to
be a di&longs;creet man, from thy behaviour,
and conver&longs;ation; and if thee will not be
offended, I would a&longs;k if thee can&longs;t

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[figure description] Page 108.[end figure description]

reconcile it with thy principles, to keep a
&longs;lave. As to that, &longs;aid the Captain, I have
thought upon the &longs;ubject, and do not &longs;ee
any great harm in the matter. If we look
to inanimate nature, we &longs;hall find, that
the great law is Force. The Carte&longs;ians
call it pre&longs;&longs;ure and &longs;uction: The Newtonians
call it attraction and gravitation.
The &longs;un, the large&longs;t body in the univer&longs;e,
endeavours to draw all towards it; while
the le&longs;&longs;er globes &longs;truggle to fly off at a
tangent. The den&longs;e air takes place of the
rare; and the heavier particles of water
cau&longs;e the lighter to recede. The tall oak
over&longs;hades the under wood. There is a
predominancy, and &longs;ubordination in all
things. In the animal creation, the weaker
is always &longs;ubject to the &longs;trong; who even
devour them, when the fle&longs;h &longs;uits their
appetite: and the very teeth and jaw-bone
of carnivorous animals, &longs;hew the intention
of nature, that they &longs;hould make a prey
of living creatures. Do you blame yourselves,
when you &longs;ubjugate elephants, or
hor&longs;es, or oxen of the plough, to your
u&longs;e? What right have you to invade the
liberty of a playful young colt, more than
of an African inhabitant? Or have you
not as good a right to take up a negro, and

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[figure description] Page 109.[end figure description]

put him to your work, as you have to cut a
calf, and manufacture him for the draft?

In this ca&longs;e, there is a difference, &longs;aid
the Quaker; a negro is a human creature,
and po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;es all the natural rights of man.

That may be, &longs;aid the Captain. But
what are the natural rights of men? Are
they not finally re&longs;olvable, as in the inanimate
world, into power on the one hand,
and weakne&longs;s on the other.

Who is it that ab&longs;tains from dominion,
when he has it in his power to a&longs;&longs;ert it?
Power is the great law of nature; and nothing
but the pacts or conventions of society
can contravene it. I &longs;hould think myself
ju&longs;tifiable in making any man a &longs;lave to
an&longs;wer my purpo&longs;es, provided I treated him
well while he was &longs;uch. This I take to be
the only condition which the law of rea&longs;on
annexes to the enjoyment of &longs;uch property.
I may be warranted in taking, and managing
an animal of the hor&longs;e kind; but it is
my indi&longs;putable duty not to abu&longs;e him by
cau&longs;ing him to &longs;uffer famine, or endure
too much toil. The &longs;ame with any other
animal that I en&longs;lave; there is a tacit condition
annexed to the grant which the law
of nature gives, viz. That the &longs;ervice be
exacted with moderation; and proper

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[figure description] Page 110.[end figure description]

nouri&longs;hment be provided. I admit al&longs;o,
that humanity would dictate that a &longs;lave
ought to be con&longs;ulted as much as is consistent
with my convenience. For in&longs;tance;
if I had the Grand Turk in my power, as
he has been accu&longs;tomed to a &longs;oft and effeminate
way of living, it would be hard to
put him all at once to maul rails, or clearing
out meadow ground, or the like; or if
it &longs;hould fall in my way to have Catherine
of Ru&longs;&longs;ia in that capacity, as &longs;he is a women
of an elevated mind, it would be inhumane
to put her to the lowe&longs;t drudgery,
&longs;uch as &longs;crubing out rooms, and carrying
water from the pump; but rather indulge
her if I could afford it, with a more ea&longs;y
employment, e&longs;pecially as &longs;he is an old woman,
of knitting &longs;tockings and carding
wool. There is no man would be more
di&longs;po&longs;ed to treat a &longs;lave with tenderne&longs;s
than my&longs;elf; but to deny me of my right
altogether of making one, or of trafficking
for one when made, is carrying the matter
too far.

So much for the right of en&longs;laving. But
if we put it on the principle of what will
conduce to the aggregate happine&longs;s of
mankind, we &longs;hall find it to be, that there
&longs;hould be ma&longs;ter and &longs;ervant, or in other

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words, owner and &longs;lave. The economy
of nature illu&longs;trates this, in the &longs;ub&longs;erviency
of one thing to another: But, independent
of any illu&longs;tration, it mu&longs;t be known
on reflection, and is felt in experience, that
all are not competent to all things; and
in the ca&longs;e of temporary &longs;ervants, much
time is taken up in contracting with them
for their remanence; and it is a considerable
time before they get into the habit
of our &longs;ervice; and having it in their power
to retire from us, when inclination may
direct, there is an in&longs;ecurity in the attachment.
But as the &longs;lave has the master
always to provide for him; &longs;o ma&longs;ter
has the &longs;lave always to &longs;ub&longs;erve him: and
thus, by a conjoint intere&longs;t, the felicity
of both is promoted, and the &longs;um of human
happine&longs;s increa&longs;ed. Hence it is,
that mo&longs;t nations have made u&longs;e of &longs;laves.
The patriarch Abraham, had three&longs;core
and ten &longs;ervants born in his hou&longs;e. What
were the&longs;e but &longs;laves? The Jews, his descendants,
had bond-men, and bond-women:
Were not the&longs;e &longs;laves? The Roman
&longs;laves were more in number than the citizens;
and among&longs;t the Greeks, the mo&longs;t
virtuous of them, viz. the Spartans, kept
in their &longs;ervice the mo&longs;t depre&longs;&longs;ed of all

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&longs;laves, the Helotes; who, when we consider
the black broth, the food, and severe
life of the ma&longs;ters, mu&longs;t have lived
on poor fare, and in a laborious &longs;ervice
indeed.

But it may be &longs;aid, that example of
wrong never con&longs;titutes right. Grant it;
but if you examine the capacities, and even
inclinations of men, will you not find,
that &longs;ome are qualified only to be &longs;laves.
They have not under&longs;tanding to act for
them&longs;elves. Nor do all love freedom, even
when they have it. Do not many surrender
it; and prefer ki&longs;&longs;ing a great man's
back&longs;ide, to being independent? It is not
always, even from the views of advantage,
that men are &longs;ycophants; but from an
ab&longs;tract plea&longs;ure in being drawn into the
vortex of others. There is a plea&longs;ure in
&longs;lavery, more than unen&longs;laved men know.
Why is it, that, even after the convul&longs;ion
of a revolution in a government, in favour
of liberty, there is a natural tendency
to &longs;lavery; and it finally terminates in
this point. The fact is, a &longs;tate of liberty
is an unnatural &longs;tate. Like a bone out of
place, the mind, in an individual, or political
capacity, &longs;eeks the condition of a
ma&longs;ter or &longs;ervant; avoiding, as the

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[figure description] Page 113.[end figure description]

particular propen&longs;ity may be, the one or the other.
There cannot be a greater proof that
this is founded in nature, than the common
moral ob&longs;ervation, that the greate&longs;t tyrants,
that is, the wor&longs;t ma&longs;ters, make the mo&longs;t abject
&longs;laves: And, vice ver&longs;a, that the mo&longs;t
&longs;ub&longs;ervient of mankind, when you give
them power, make the wor&longs;t u&longs;e of it: All
this becau&longs;e, in the&longs;e ca&longs;es, the per&longs;ons are
mi&longs;placed, and not in their proper &longs;tations.
Julius Ce&longs;ar made a humane generous master;
but he would have made a very intriguing,
trouble&longs;ome valet de chambre. It
would have been impo&longs;&longs;ible to have got any
good of him. On the other hand, Tiberius
would have made an excellent ho&longs;tler, and
taken a beating, with as much re&longs;ignation,
as a hou&longs;e beagle, who is u&longs;ed to it. So
that it evidently is the provi&longs;ion of nature,
that there are materials of &longs;lavery; and
the fault of tho&longs;e, whom &longs;he intends for
ma&longs;ters, if they do not make &longs;laves. But
as it is difficult to determine, a priori, who
are intended for &longs;lavery or freedom, &longs;o
as to make a judicious di&longs;tribution, things
mu&longs;t take their cour&longs;e; and the rule be,
catch, catch can; and every man have a
&longs;ervant when he can get one. It is in
vain to be &longs;queami&longs;h, and &longs;tick at colour.

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It is true, I would rather have a white
per&longs;on, if &longs;uch could be got; as I prefer
white to black; e&longs;pecially in the &longs;ummer
&longs;ea&longs;on, as being a more light and airy colour.

Thy rea&longs;oning, &longs;aid the Quaker, is more
rhetorical than logical; and thy analogies
of nature, and hi&longs;torical proofs, cannot
&longs;o far oppre&longs;s the light within, as to make
me think, that it is given to thee, or me,
to make &longs;laves of our &longs;pecies.

As to that, &longs;aid the Captain, I am not
clear that a negro is of our &longs;pecies. You
may claim kindred with him, if you
plea&longs;e; but I &longs;hall not.

I &longs;hall not di&longs;pute that with thee, &longs;aid
the Quaker: for I perceive thee does not
give credit to what the book &longs;ays of the
fir&longs;t man, and his de&longs;cendants: But will
thee not grant me, that the African,
though not of the &longs;ame &longs;tock, is, at lea&longs;t
a man; that is of the human genus,
though the &longs;pecies of the white and the
black may not be the &longs;ame; if &longs;o, ha&longs;t
thou more right to en&longs;lave him, than he
thee?

Grant it, &longs;aid the Captain; for my reasoning
tends to that, and re&longs;olves the right
into the power.

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[figure description] Page 115.[end figure description]

If &longs;o, &longs;aid the Quaker, thee may be the
&longs;lave in thy turn.

Doubtle&longs;s, &longs;aid the Captain; and it is
not of &longs;o much con&longs;equence who is &longs;lave,
as that there be one. It is better that the
foot be foot, and the head be head; but
if there is a conver&longs;ion, neverthele&longs;s, let
there be head and foot. It is nece&longs;&longs;ary
that there be domination and &longs;ubjection,
in order to produce a compound improvement
and advantage.

You could &longs;ee by the Quaker's countenance,
that he thought the rea&longs;oning sophistical;
but as he did not know very well
what he could &longs;ay more, he was &longs;ilent.

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[figure description] Page 116.[end figure description]

IT is thought by &longs;ome, the Captain was
not &longs;erious in thus advocating the cau&longs;e
of &longs;lavery. Be that as it may, he omitted
&longs;ome &longs;erious arguments, that naturally
pre&longs;ent them&longs;elves on that &longs;ide on which
he rea&longs;oned: For in&longs;tance, it &longs;trikes me
at fir&longs;t blu&longs;h, that there can be no moral
wrong in catching a young African, and
bringing him away from his own happiness
to pur&longs;ue ours. For if there were, is
it to be &longs;uppo&longs;ed, that humane and ju&longs;t
per&longs;ons, would promote and &longs;upport the evil,
by purcha&longs;ing &longs;uch negro, or retaining
him, and his offspring, when purchased.
For, on the principle that the receiver
is the thief, or, to &longs;peak more strictly,
a thief, the purcha&longs;er of the African
takes the guilt along with the po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion;
and, in the language of the law, every act
of retainer is a new tre&longs;pa&longs;s. For the evil

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[figure description] Page 117.[end figure description]

of the original act, if there be evil in it,
cannot be rendered pure by the filtration
of purcha&longs;e, and retaining. So that the
holder of the negro, in the tenth transmission,
is an aider, or abettor, of the original
act of taking; if I may u&longs;e the word
aider, or abettor, in a ca&longs;e of tre&longs;pa&longs;s;
where, by the definition of the law, all
who any ways concur in the act, and further
it, are principals. The holder of a
negro mu&longs;t, therefore, look back to that
act which fir&longs;t made him, or an ance&longs;tor,
a &longs;lave; and if he cannot ju&longs;tify this, he
cannot ju&longs;tify the retaining him in servitude:—
What a con&longs;equence mu&longs;t this be!
There is no man that pretends to humanity,
much le&longs;s to religion, would be &longs;afe
in being the po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;or of a &longs;lave. The only
way therefore to get rid of the difficulty is
to ju&longs;tify, ab origine, traffic in all &longs;uch property.

That it is ju&longs;tifiable I have no doubt.
Is there any religious denomination, except
the fanatical people called Quakers,
that have made it a term of communion
not to hold a &longs;lave. In admitting to
church privileges, I have never heard,
of the que&longs;tion a&longs;ked, Have you any negroes,
and do you keep &longs;laves? If it was

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[figure description] Page 118.[end figure description]

a matter of con&longs;cience, would not conscientious
per&longs;ons them&longs;elves make it.

The a&longs;&longs;emblies or &longs;ynods of the Presbyterian
church, or conventions of the Episcopal,
in America, have &longs;aid nothing on
this &longs;ubject. Is an omi&longs;&longs;ion of this kind
reconcilable with the idea, that it is a
natural evil, or a moral wrong.

In the phrenzy of the day, &longs;ome weak
minded powers, in Europe, begin to consider
what is called the African trade as a
moral wrong, and to provide for a gradual
abolition of it. If they will aboli&longs;h
it, I approve of its being done gradually;
becau&longs;e, numbers being embarked in this
trade, it mu&longs;t ruin them all at once, to
de&longs;i&longs;t from it. On this principle, I have
always thought it a defect in the criminal
codes of mo&longs;t nations, not giving licence
to the perpetrators of offences, to proceed,
for a limited time, in larcenies, burglaries,
&c. until they get their hands out of u&longs;e
to the&longs;e pur&longs;uits, and in u&longs;e to others. For
it mu&longs;t be greatly inconvenient to thieves
and cut-throats, who have engaged in this
way of life, and &longs;pent time, and expended
money, and run great ri&longs;ks in acquiring
&longs;kill in their employment, to be obliged
all at once to withdraw their hands, and lay

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[figure description] Page 119.[end figure description]

a&longs;ide picking locks, and apply themselves
to indu&longs;try in other ways, for a livelihood.

The law of Penn&longs;ylvania on this principle,
has provided for the gradual abolition
of the &longs;lavery of negroes. For tho&longs;e who
have got them could not do without them,
no more than a robber could do without
the money that he takes, being pre&longs;&longs;ed by
&longs;ome great nece&longs;&longs;ity to make u&longs;e of that
expedient to recruit his pur&longs;e. All tho&longs;e
therefore who have been originally taken
from the coa&longs;t of Africa, and deprived of
liberty, or de&longs;cended from &longs;uch, and inheriting
&longs;lavery, when recorded agreeably
to the act in que&longs;tion, continue &longs;laves, and
for life, and their offspring to a certain
period. But were we to entramel the
ca&longs;e with political or moral doubts respecting
the original right of caption, and subjugation,
the difficulty would exi&longs;t of reconciling
it with natural right to hold a
&longs;lave for a moment, even whether the law
&longs;anctioned it or not;
in which ca&longs;e we &longs;hould
find it nece&longs;&longs;ary to go as far as the fanatics in
religion, and &longs;et our &longs;laves free altogether.

It is from not duly attending to this circumstance,
that ab&longs;tract rea&longs;oners talk of
abolition; a doctrine which, however

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absurd, is becoming the whim of the day;
and the phren&longs;y &longs;eems to gain &longs;uch ground,
that I would not wonder if they would
next a&longs;&longs;ert that it is unlawful to u&longs;e the servitude
of hor&longs;es, or other bea&longs;ts of burden,
as having a natural right, to live in
the fields, and be as free as mankind. The
be&longs;t way to avoid extremes, is to check
the principle; I hold the right of ab&longs;olute
&longs;ubjugation, of whites, blacks, and browns
of all nations, again&longs;t gradual abolition,
or any abolition what&longs;oever. This being
the only con&longs;i&longs;tent principle, &longs;hort of an
ab&longs;olute emancipation, made in&longs;tantly; for
in no mean is there rea&longs;on, or a re&longs;t for
con&longs;cience.

That it is of importance to &longs;ettle the consciences
of &longs;ober minded per&longs;ons in Pennsylvania,
clergymen, and members of the
Pre&longs;byterian church e&longs;pecially, who have
negroes, mu&longs;t be well known from that
tenderne&longs;s of con&longs;cience, for which &longs;uch
are remarkable. Some, indeed, carry their
ideas of the extent of duties &longs;o far, as not
to omit grace to meat, or the formal worship
of prayer, reading chapters, and singing
p&longs;alms, on the &longs;et occa&longs;ions, on any
con&longs;ideration what&longs;oever; what is more,
will not &longs;have a beard, on the Sabbath day,

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for a cow. Now, &longs;hould they, by any
means, come once to think of the wickedness
of en&longs;laving men, there would be no
getting them to keep a negro. For tho&longs;e
of this denomination; and, indeed, mo&longs;t,
or all others of the Chri&longs;tian, hold, that
the Africans, though of a &longs;able race, is
of their own &longs;pecies; being de&longs;cended
from Adam. This being the ca&longs;e, a &longs;light
matter, the bare directing their attention to
the &longs;ubject, would alarm pious people, and
lead them to the favourite maxim of the
go&longs;pel—“Do to others, as you would
have others to do to you.”

As oppo&longs;ed to the enfranchi&longs;ement of negroes,
generally, and in Penn&longs;ylvania in
particular, I have been under apprehensions,
that &longs;ome of our young lawyers in
the courts, might plead the con&longs;titution of
the &longs;tate, by which it is e&longs;tabli&longs;hed that
“all men are born equally free and independent.”
Now admitting that a negro is
a man, how &longs;hall any ma&longs;ter retain him as
a &longs;lave? On a habeus corpus, he mu&longs;t be
&longs;et at liberty. At lea&longs;t I cannot conceive
how the judge could remand him to his
drudgery. The con&longs;titution is the law
paramount, and framed by a convention of
the people, recognizing the original right

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of freedom in a negro, allowing him to
be a man; and caries us above the act of
the legi&longs;lature for the gradual abolition,
&c. which by implication &longs;eems to &longs;uppo&longs;e
that negroes may be &longs;laves:—

An implication incon&longs;i&longs;tent with the power
exerci&longs;ed by the law. For if negroes
were &longs;laves, and &longs;o the property of tho&longs;e
who claimed them, could the legi&longs;lature
affect that property, without indemnification
to the ma&longs;ters?

I &longs;hall &longs;ay no more on this head, le&longs;t I
&longs;hould furni&longs;h hints to pettifoggers, who
may make an ill u&longs;e of their information.

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JUST at this moment a waiter coming
in, told him there was a per&longs;on without,
that is, in the bar room, who wi&longs;hed
to &longs;peak with him. Going out, who &longs;hould
&longs;trike his optics, but Teague.

The fact was, being elated with the success
of his performance on the &longs;tage, attributing
that to art which was nature itself,
he had counted more upon his accomplishments
than he ought to have done,
and had made advances to the mi&longs;tre&longs;s of
the manager, who was al&longs;o an actre&longs;s, and
not greatly coveting an amour with the
bog-trotter, made a merit of the circumstance,
to induce an opinion of fidelity, and
informed the manager of the pre&longs;umption
of the Iri&longs;hman. The manager in the
mo&longs;t unbecoming manner, without either
citation, examination, trial, conviction,
or judgment, but laying a&longs;ide all forms of
law, had in&longs;tituted an original proce&longs;s of

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him&longs;elf, and laying hold of a hor&longs;e-whip,
had applied this implement to the back and
&longs;houlders of Teague, and as the Iri&longs;hman
made an effort of re&longs;i&longs;tance at the fir&longs;t onset,
the manager had been under the necessity,
by turning the but end of the whip,
to knock him down, which he did by a
&longs;troke above the left eye-brow, which not
only bereft him of &longs;en&longs;es for the pre&longs;ent,
but a di&longs;colouration of the eye for &longs;ome
days, and a &longs;car probably his whole life
after.

It was this incident had induced him
to leave the theatre, and brought him
back to the Captain, whom he now accosted
in the following manner: Dear ma&longs;ter,
for the love of &longs;halvation, forgive a poor
&longs;harvant that has been killed this marning
with a great cudgel, ju&longs;t for nothing at all,
but not pla&longs;ing a damned whore, that
wanted me to &longs;tale the manager's cloathing,
and go off wid her. This is all that
a poor &longs;harvant gets by being hane&longs;t; but
by &longs;hant Patrick, and the holy cra&longs;s, it is
what I de&longs;erve for leaving the &longs;arvice of
a good ma&longs;ter, as your anour, and taking
up with bog-tratters, and &longs;tage players,
that would &longs;ooner take a cup of wine than
the holy &longs;acrament, and get drunk every

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night in de wake, and go to de devil
head foremo&longs;t; but if your honour, dear
ma&longs;ter, will forgive the pa&longs;t, and my running
away, and laving you, I will come
back again, and &longs;arve you to the day of
judgment, or any langer time that your
honour pla&longs;es, and clane your boots and
&longs;purs, and rub down the bay har&longs;e; the
poor old crature, how aften I have tought
of him when I was in my rambles and he
was a &longs;lape, la&longs;te they &longs;hould chare him of
his oats, and give him nather hay nor
&longs;traw to ate; for I always liked to take
care of a good har&longs;e, and a good ma&longs;ter;
and aften tought of your honour, when
I was among the bog-tratters of the &longs;tage,
and gave you a good name, and was always
talking of you and forgot my part,
and put the managers in a pa&longs;&longs;ion, who
fell upon me, and bate me like a dog.

The Captain &longs;aw the incon&longs;i&longs;tency in the
relation; one while alleging the tale bearing
of the mi&longs;tre&longs;s, as the occa&longs;ion of it;
again, a deficiency in the recital of his
part; but expecting no truth from the Irishman,
cared very little how it came to
pa&longs;s. The principal thing that occupied
his thoughts, was whether to receive the
bog-trotter, or di&longs;mi&longs;s him. He reflected

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with him&longs;elf on the trouble he had had
with him, on his various preten&longs;ions to
advancement; his unea&longs;ine&longs;s of mind, and
fatigue of body, for &longs;everal days pa&longs;t, in
examining &longs;tews, methodi&longs;tical conventicles,
rumaging philo&longs;ophical &longs;ocieties, attending
elections, and li&longs;tening to the debates
of Congre&longs;s, to &longs;ee if he could any
where ob&longs;erve his phy&longs;iognomy, or distinguish
his brogue. He could not think
of &longs;ubjecting him&longs;elf to &longs;uch uncertainty
in the attendance of any &longs;ervant, with &longs;uch
prepo&longs;terous ideas, as being a legi&longs;lator,
philo&longs;opher, &c. Again, he con&longs;idered,
that probably this la&longs;t cha&longs;ti&longs;ement he had
received, might have a good effect, in curing
him of the freaks of his ambition;
and a mind broken and reduced by disappointment,
is in a mellow &longs;tate, and more
capable of receiving the &longs;eeds of good advice,
than a mind full of vanity or pride,
that has never yet received blows. Deliberating
on the&longs;e grounds, his humanity
prevailed, and he determined to receive the
raggamuffin into favour.

This being &longs;ettled, and learning from
the Iri&longs;hman in what manner he had been
inveigled, and drawn away by the manager,
to go upon the &longs;tage; and that it was

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only becau&longs;e Teague had made advances
to a woman that was a whore already,
that the manager had made &longs;uch an attack
upon his per&longs;on, he wi&longs;hed to puni&longs;h him,
if it &longs;hould appear to be within the province
of the law to do it. Accordingly,
inquiring what principal lawyer there was
in that city, was informed of a certain counsellor
Grab. Taking Teague with him,
he &longs;et out to con&longs;ult this gentleman.
Coun&longs;ellor Grab was in his office, among&longs;t
large &longs;helves of books, or &longs;helves of large
books; not, as the Latins &longs;ay, Co-opertus,
aut obrutus, &longs;ed comitatus libris;
that is,
In the mid&longs;t of his books. He had on a
pair of &longs;pectacles, not &longs;o much on account
of age, as to make the client believe that
he laboured under a premature want of
&longs;ight, from much reading; or, becau&longs;e a
pair of len&longs;es, magnifying the organs of
vi&longs;ion, gives the appearance of a larger eye,
which has a good effect on the per&longs;on consulting,
impre&longs;&longs;ing the idea of a broader
view of things that are before it.

Entering, the Captain addre&longs;&longs;ed him&longs;elf
to the coun&longs;ellor, and gave him the outlines
of the injury done to Teague; The
coun&longs;ellor, in the mean time, &longs;u&longs;pending
his reading in a large book, which he had

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before him, printed in Saxon letter, and
rai&longs;ing his head, until the gla&longs;&longs;es of his
&longs;pectacles were brought to bear upon the
phy&longs;iognomy of the Captain.

The Captain having fini&longs;hed his account,
referred him to Teague, the &longs;ubject
of the battery, for a a more particular
detail of the circum&longs;tances. Teague was
glad of the opportunity of &longs;peaking before
a learned lawyer, and was beginning to
give a relation of the whole affair; but
the Captain &longs;topped him, bidding him wait
until the lawyer &longs;hould him&longs;elf reque&longs;t him
to begin. The lawyer was &longs;ilent: after
having reconnoitered with his gla&longs;&longs;es, one
while the Captain, another while Teague,
he dropped his optics, and began to read
again. The Captain, thinking he had not
been &longs;ufficiently under&longs;tood, recommenced
the narration, and gave an account of
what he him&longs;elf had &longs;uffered from the inveigling
and detaining his &longs;ervant, and
the vi&longs;ible injury which the &longs;ervant himself
had &longs;u&longs;tained. The lawyer was &longs;till
&longs;ilent; and, though he had eyed him while
&longs;peaking, as a Tu&longs;can a&longs;tronomer would
the moon, yet he applyed him&longs;elf again to
the reading the black letter, that was before
him.

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The Captain thought it &longs;trange treatment;
and was, for &longs;ome time, at a lo&longs;s
to know what to think of the matter. But
recollecting, opportunely, that the circumstance
of a fee had been omitted, he took
out his pur&longs;e, and threw down two dollars.
The lawyer &longs;eemed a little moved,
but ca&longs;t his eye again upon the black letter.
Finding the two dollars not sufficient,
the Captain threw down two more.
The coun&longs;ellor rai&longs;ed his head from the
book, and you might di&longs;cern &longs;ome dilitation
of the mu&longs;cles of the face, as bespeaking
an approaching opening of the
voice; but &longs;till there was &longs;ilence; and
might have been to this hour, had not the
Captain recollected, at this moment, what
he had all along forgot, that half a joe
was the fee of a lawyer. Doubling, therefore,
the four dollars that were already
down, the lawyer came to his voice, the
organs of his &longs;peech were loo&longs;ed, and taking
the gla&longs;&longs;es from his eyes, he gave his
coun&longs;el as follows:

Said he, You have a double remedy in
this ca&longs;e; again&longs;t the manager who inveigled,
and again&longs;t the &longs;ervant him&longs;elf:
Again&longs;t the &longs;ervant, on the act of Assembly,
if indented; at common law, on the

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contract to &longs;erve. For even a &longs;ervant at
will, and not engaged for any &longs;pecial
time, is not at liberty to de&longs;ert the &longs;ervice
of his ma&longs;ter, without rea&longs;onable notice
fir&longs;t given. So that you may have your
remedy again&longs;t the &longs;ervant, in the fir&longs;t
in&longs;tance, by bringing the matter before
the court of quarter &longs;e&longs;&longs;ions; and having
time put upon him, as the phra&longs;e is, for
this dereliction of your &longs;ervice; or, an
action on the contract, expre&longs;s or implied,
as the ca&longs;e may be, wherein he &longs;hall repair,
in damages, the lo&longs;s &longs;u&longs;tained.

The bog-trotter was alarmed at the idea
of an action again&longs;t him; and looking
wi&longs;tfully at his ma&longs;ter, exclaimed; Dear
ma&longs;ter, will you trow de law upon me,
dat am as innocent as a &longs;hild unborn; and
would go to death and damnation for you.
Dear ma&longs;ter, I &longs;uffered enough by de cudgel
of dat player, for all de running away
I have done; and, God love your &longs;houl,
keep de law in its own place, and not let
it come acra&longs;s a poor &longs;harvant, that has
nathing but as he works and trats about;
but let de&longs;e grate big books of his honour
de lawyer, &longs;pake to de manager, for his
deceiving a poor &longs;harvant, and putting it
in his head to run away, and lave a good

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ma&longs;ter; and his beating him with a grate
cudgel into the bargain.

I have no de&longs;ire, &longs;aid the Captain, to
pur&longs;ue the bog-trotter; as he has made
acknowledgments for his fault; but would
want the utmo&longs;t rigour of the law to be
put in force again&longs;t the player.

You have al&longs;o in this ca&longs;e a double remedy,
&longs;aid the coun&longs;ellor; by pro&longs;ecution
on the part of the &longs;ervant, and on your
part. Nay, the &longs;ervant him&longs;elf has a double
remedy; for he may pro&longs;ecute by indictment,
or bring his action of a&longs;&longs;ault
and battery; or both. I would recommend
the action only; becau&longs;e, where no indictment
is pro&longs;ecuted, and the civil action
only brought, exemplary damages may be
given, as well as reparatory. For in the
civil action, it will affect the minds of a
jury, that the party has already &longs;uffered all
that is in the nature of puni&longs;hment by a
criminal proceeding; and nothing remains
with them, but to give reparatory damages.
On the part of the ma&longs;ter, two kinds
of action may be brought; either an action
of tre&longs;pa&longs;s, vi et armis, laying a perquod
&longs;ervitium ami&longs;it;
or &longs;imply an action
on the ca&longs;e, for the con&longs;equential damage
of inveigling the &longs;ervant.

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As to the number of remedies &longs;aid the
Captain, or the kind of them, I care very
little how many there are, or what they
are; I want only a good remedy; give
me a good &longs;wingeing one again&longs;t the ra&longs;cal,
and I care very little what it is called.

I &longs;hall then, &longs;aid the coun&longs;ellor, advi&longs;e
&longs;imply an action on the ca&longs;e; and count generally
on the inveigling, and detaining,
and rendering unfit for &longs;ervice while in
his power. In this mode, the whole circumstances
of the injury may be brought
together, and &longs;ummed up into one point
of view; and enhancing the quantum of damages,
can expatiate on the value of your
&longs;ervant, and the &longs;pecial occa&longs;ion you had
for his &longs;ervice, at this particular juncture;
for I make no doubt he is a valuable servant;
and that it has been an almo&longs;t irreparable
injury to you, to have been defrauded
of his &longs;ervice at this time.

As to his value, &longs;aid the Captain, there
can be no doubt, not only as a &longs;ervant,
but in other re&longs;pects. I have been offered,
or at lea&longs;t I &longs;uppo&longs;e I could have got, an
hundred pounds for him, to be a member
of Congre&longs;s, or to preach, or to go to
the Philo&longs;ophical Society, or to be an Indian
treaty-man; but have refu&longs;ed every

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propo&longs;al made him, or me, for the&longs;e purposes;
and now to have him kidnapped,
and taken off, without fee or reward, and
employed as an actor, and beat, and rendered
u&longs;ele&longs;s, at lea&longs;t for &longs;ome time, into
the bargain, is too much for any man to
put up with. If there is law in the land, let
it be put in force; and this man made
an example.

The coun&longs;ellor had no need of spectacles,
to give him&longs;elf the appearance of a
glaring and broad look, on this occa&longs;ion;
for the words of the Captain made him
&longs;tare &longs;ufficiently, without the aid of a magnifying
medium, to enlarge his optics.
He began to take him for a madman;
at lea&longs;t, in &longs;ome degree, deranged in his
brain; to talk of his &longs;ervant being in request
for a member of Congre&longs;s, and the
like.

Yes, continued the Captain, he not only
inveigled away a &longs;ervant, that was
thought fit to be a member of Congre&longs;s,
and a preacher, and an Indian treaty-maker,
and a philo&longs;opher, and what not;
but has kept me, the&longs;e three days, trotting
after him, and trying to find him, at election
places, and in Congre&longs;s boarding-houses,
and the hall where they have their

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debates, and churches, and pulpits, and
chambers of philo&longs;ophical &longs;ocieties, and
profe&longs;&longs;or&longs;hips, and where not; to &longs;ee if
I could find him; while this manager had
him, in the mean time, at rehear&longs;als,
teaching him the art of mimickry, for the
&longs;tage.

The coun&longs;ellor, in the mean time, had
reflected with him&longs;elf, that, whether madman,
or no madman, the Captain had
money, and might be a good client, let
his cau&longs;e be what it would; and &longs;o composing
the mu&longs;cles of his face, &longs;eemed to
agree with him; and ob&longs;erve, that doubtless
the quality and capacity of the &longs;ervant
would be taken into view, in e&longs;timating
the damages: That, if it appeared he was
not only fit &longs;tuff for a &longs;ervant; but to be
advanced to &longs;uch eminent offices as the&longs;e,
not only the inveigling the embryo legislator,
preacher, and philo&longs;opher; but the
a&longs;&longs;aulting and beating him, and, by that
means, di&longs;abling him from immediate service,
mu&longs;t be viewed in the light of an
atrocious injury, and in&longs;ure a verdict accordingly.

Very well, &longs;aid the Captain; and I &longs;hall
wi&longs;h to have the matter determined as
&longs;peedily as po&longs;&longs;ible, as I may be but a few

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days in town; and, be&longs;ides, as the marks
are yet apparent on the face, and, I suppose,
back, of the bog-trotter, it will appear
to the judges, and jury, without the
trouble of witne&longs;&longs;es, what damage he has
&longs;u&longs;tained.

The proce&longs;s of law, &longs;aid the coun&longs;ellor,
is tedious, but certain; you cannot expect
a trial, in this ca&longs;e, until the 3d or 4th
term; that is, nine months, or a year.

How &longs;o, &longs;aid the Captain? Becau&longs;e, &longs;aid
the coun&longs;ellor, it is now two months, or
upwards, before the court to which the
writ will be returnable. Even if a declaration
is then filed, the defendant may
imparl until the &longs;ucceeding term, which
is three months; when if there is no demurer
general or &longs;pecial, a rule to plead
will be taken, which may not be put in
until the &longs;ucceeding term of three months
again: At this term, if there is no replication,
rejoinder, &longs;urrejoinder, rebutter,
or &longs;urrebutter, to draw up and file,
while the defendant may crave a term, issue
will be joined, and at the next term
trial. But even after a verdict, there may
be the delay of a term, on a motion for a
new trial depending; &longs;o that in the law

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there is delay; but this delay is the price
of ju&longs;tice.

It is a price, &longs;aid the Captain, that I
will not give for it. If you will bring it
about in a &longs;hort time to have this fellow
flogged, even with half the &longs;tripes he has
given my &longs;ervant, I &longs;hall not think the
half joe thrown away; but to be a year or
half a year about the bu&longs;ine&longs;s, is putting
the matter &longs;o far off, that it may as well
be omitted altogether. If you could only
get him &longs;entenced to take a kick or two
from my foot, or Teague's, before we leave
the city, I &longs;hould be &longs;atisfied.

The lex talionis, &longs;aid the coun&longs;ellor,
makes no part of our law. You can punish
only in e&longs;tate, not in per&longs;on, for a
&longs;imple a&longs;&longs;ault and battery, as this is. Do
you not hang a man for murder, &longs;aid the
Captain; and why not puni&longs;h per&longs;onally for
an a&longs;&longs;ault and battery? Becau&longs;e it is our
law, &longs;aid the coun&longs;ellor; and, in a civil
action, the object is damages.

A civil action, and damages, are &longs;trange
phra&longs;es, &longs;aid the Captain; how can civility
and damages, be reconciled.

The&longs;e are technical terms, &longs;aid the
coun&longs;ellor, which per&longs;ons, not of the prosession,
are at lo&longs;s to under&longs;tand; but

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have, in them&longs;elves, a di&longs;tinct and sensible
meaning.

Let the terms mean what they will, &longs;aid
the Captain, it all comes to this at la&longs;t—
There is no getting at the manager, under
a year, or two year's race for it; before
which time, Teague will have forgot
the abu&longs;e he has received, and I my trouble
in running after a &longs;trayed Iri&longs;hman,
through this city; and, therefore, it may
be as well to give the matter up, and &longs;it
down with the lo&longs;s.

That as you plea&longs;e, &longs;aid the coun&longs;ellor;
and putting on his &longs;pectacles, ca&longs;t his eye
again upon the black letter.

The Captain, without bidding him ki&longs;s
his back&longs;ide, beckoned to Teague to follow
him, and withdrew from the chamber.

Having retired; Teague, &longs;aid the Captain,
this thing of law has been well &longs;aid
to be a bottomle&longs;s pit. The way to it is
like that to the &longs;hades;


—Facilis de&longs;cen&longs;us averni;
Sed re&longs;erre gradus, hic labor, hoc opus e&longs;t.
This pettifogger &longs;eemed to have a thousand
remedies at his command, and yet
none that would &longs;erve us; as the redre&longs;s,

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if any, is to be po&longs;tponed to &longs;uch a di&longs;tant
day. I have heard a great deal of the&longs;e
cattle, and I believe they are be&longs;t off that
have lea&longs;t to do with them. They have
&longs;o much jargon of technical terms, that
the devil him&longs;elf cannot under&longs;tand them.
Their whole object is to get money; and,
provided they can pick the pocket of half
a joe, they care little about the per&longs;on
that con&longs;ults them. The fir&longs;t lo&longs;s is the
be&longs;t; you had better put up with the currying
you have got, than have my pocket
picked, on pretence of redre&longs;s a year or
two hence, which may, perhaps, prove a
century.

Teague was contented to put up with
the drubbing, and have no more &longs;aid about
it.

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THE Captain had con&longs;oled him&longs;elf
with the idea that Teague was now
cured of his folly, and would no more be
di&longs;po&longs;ed to entertain notions of ambition,
and unrea&longs;onable projects. He was disappointed
in his hope; for that very evening,
the Iri&longs;hman wa&longs;hing down the recollection
of his woes with &longs;ome exhilerating
drink, and though not intoxicated, but
enlivened only, he came to the Captain:
Said he, Dear ma&longs;ter, what would your
anour think, if a poor &longs;harvant &longs;hould
turn lawyer; and get a half joe when a
cu&longs;tomer comes to con&longs;ult him in the
morning? would it not be better than
currying a hor&longs;e, and tratting about like
a big dog; with no &longs;en&longs;e to live like a
man of fartune, and have a big hou&longs;e over
his head, and books about him, and
take half joes from paple that come to him
about their quarrels and batings, through

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de town, and &longs;ending dem aff as wi&longs;e as
if dey never had come to him, and de
great &longs;pectacles, to look like a blind man,
dat was blind before he was born, and
could &longs;ee more than two or three other
paple, for all dat; and was a canjurer,
and a wizzard, and could take money for
nating. Would it not be better, ma&longs;ter,
than tratting like a fool, and di&longs;puting wid
paple, and having nating to lay up; but
be as poor as a church mou&longs;e, or a rat, all
the days of our life, and paple laugh after
us when we are gone.

The Captain was thrown into a reverie
of thought, by the &longs;peech of the bog-trotter;
reflecting, that his pre&longs;umption
and folly was incurable; for, notwithstanding
all that had been &longs;aid to him, or
&longs;uffered by him, his natural propen&longs;ity remained
the &longs;ame; according to the maxim—
Naturam expellas bufurca, u&longs;que recurret;
You may to&longs;s out nature with a
pitchfork, &longs;he will &longs;till come back upon
you. Not &longs;o much from any further view
of reclaiming him, as from indignation,
and re&longs;entment, again&longs;t his pre&longs;umption,
the Captain projected, in his mind, a farther
means of cha&longs;ti&longs;ing him. He had
heard of a work-hou&longs;e, in this city, into

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which refractory &longs;ervants are committed,
and put to hard labour; &longs;uch as pounding
hemp, grinding plai&longs;ter of Paris, and picking
old ropes into oakum. He re&longs;olved to
have the raggamuffin put into this a while.
Counterfeiting, therefore, an approbation
of his project of becoming lawyer, doubtless,
&longs;aid he, the profe&longs;&longs;ion of the law is a
profitable bu&longs;ine&longs;s, where money is very
ea&longs;ily got, by the bare breath of the
mouth. Neverthele&longs;s, it requires time and
&longs;tudy to qualify for this profe&longs;&longs;ion. Nay,
the introduction to the &longs;tudy, by being
put under an eminent lawyer, in full practice,
is it&longs;elf very expen&longs;ive. An hundred
pi&longs;toles is &longs;ometimes the fee. This I could
not very well afford; but I have an acquaintance
in this town, who, I am persuaded,
would be willing to oblige me,
and will take le&longs;s. I will call upon him
early to-morrow, and &longs;ettle the contract.

Accordingly the next day, calling on
the keeper of the work-hou&longs;e, he gave him
an account of his refractory &longs;ervant, and
with a gratuity of a couple of guineas, obtained
his con&longs;ent, to take the bog-trotter
under his direction, and give him a few
le&longs;&longs;ons in picking oakum, and grinding
plai&longs;ter of Paris, and pounding hemp, not

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withholding, in the mean time, a &longs;ea&longs;onable
application of the cow&longs;kin, in the intervals
of &longs;tudy of the&longs;e &longs;everal branches of the
law. For the idea was to be impo&longs;ed upon
Teague, that this was an office, or as
it were an inn of court, or chamber of
the Inner Temple; and that the &longs;everal
flagellations, and grindings, and poundings,
were &longs;o many le&longs;&longs;ons, and lectures,
to qualify him for the practice of the law.

It happened, fortunately, that the keeper
of the work-hou&longs;e was well qualified
for the ta&longs;k; for, in early years, he had
been put an apprentice to an attorney, and
had &longs;ome opportunity of attending courts,
and hearing the names of books to which
the advocates referred in their pleadings;
but having a turn for extravagance, and
a di&longs;&longs;olute manner of life, he had come to
poverty, and, through various &longs;cenes, to
jail. There, by addre&longs;s, he had gained
the good will of the jailor's daughter,
whom he married; and, by the intere&longs;t of
his new father-in-law, having obtained his
liberation, he was, from acting as deputy
jailor, in a &longs;eries of time, at length promoted
to be the keeper of this work-hou&longs;e.
Indeed, from his employment, being acquainted
with the pri&longs;oners, and finding

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him&longs;elf &longs;ometimes intere&longs;ted in their fate,
and being led to attend their trials, he
had, even in his la&longs;t capacity, been a good
deal about courts, and heard law phra&longs;es
and books mentioned.

Accordingly, when Teague was introduced,
which was that very afternoon, he
had, at his command, the names of the
abridgers, and reporters, and commentators
of the law, and the technical terms in
the commencement and proce&longs;s of a &longs;uit;
&longs;o that, when the key was turned, and,
after having &longs;tript him of the linen doublet
that was upon him, he began to give
him the fir&longs;t application of the cow&longs;kin,
he told him this was reading Wood's Institutes;
and when, after this, he was sentenced
to an hour or two's hard labour,
at grinding plai&longs;ter of Paris, this was called
Coke upon Littleton; and when the employment
was varied, pounding hemp, or
picking oakum, it was called Hawkin's
Pleas of the crown, or Fo&longs;ter, or 4th
Black&longs;tone, &c. When the poor bog-trotter,
reduced to a &longs;keleton, living on
bread and water, complained of the hard
u&longs;age, and offered him&longs;elf a &longs;ervant for
life, to curry hor&longs;es and bru&longs;h boots, to
any Chri&longs;tian creature that would take him

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[figure description] Page 144.[end figure description]

out of that place; he was told, that, as he
had begun the &longs;tudy of the law, he mu&longs;t
go through with it; that that was but the
commencement of the &longs;uit; that in a year's
time he would learn to file a declaration;
in another, to put in a plea; in a third,
to join i&longs;&longs;ue; and in a fourth, to conduct
a trial; that unle&longs;s a bill of exceptions
had been filed, or there was a motion, in
arre&longs;t of judgment, or a writ of error
brought, he might be admitted the fifth,
and begin to practice the &longs;ixth year: At
all events, provided he would &longs;ubmit himself,
with due application, to fa&longs;ting, and
cow&longs;kinning, and grinding plai&longs;ter of Paris,
pounding hemp, and picking oakum,
he might be a lawyer the &longs;eventh year,
and wear &longs;pectacles, like coun&longs;ellor Grab,
and take half a joe when he thought proper.

I know not by what &longs;imile to repre&longs;ent
the howl of the Iri&longs;hman, at this pro&longs;pect of
the duration of his woes. It was like that
of a wolf at the bottom of a well, or a
dog that had lo&longs;t his ma&longs;ter, or a cow
her comrade, or &longs;ome forlorn wanderer
that has mi&longs;&longs;ed the way, and given up all
hopes of being extricated from the wilderness.
At the various applications of the

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[figure description] Page 145.[end figure description]

cow&longs;kin, he had jumped, and cur&longs;ed, and
&longs;wore, and prayed, and be&longs;eeched, and
promi&longs;ed a thou&longs;and &longs;ervices, of currying
hor&longs;es, and bru&longs;hing boots, and trotting
where ever he was ordered, provided they
would &longs;et him at liberty. When employed
at the hard labour, before mentioned,
he had groaned, and cur&longs;ed the law, the
coun&longs;ellor, and the half joe. Ah, thought
he, if my dear ma&longs;ter, the Captain, knew
how hard a ting it was to &longs;tudy law, and
to fa&longs;t widout ating or drinking, and be
bate wid a cow-&longs;kin, he would not have
given the hundred pi&longs;toles, nor the half
of it, to have had me kicked and cuffed
in dis manner: I would give body and
&longs;houl into the bargain, if I could &longs;ee him
once more at that iron gate there, to &longs;pake
to him, and be&longs;ache him to take me out
of this purgatory. He was a good ma&longs;ter;
and when I was a fool, and wanted to be
a member of Congre&longs;s, and prache, and
be a phalo&longs;ophar, he told me, Teague,
you are a fool; and what they would do
wid me there; how they would bate me,
and ate me, and take de &longs;kin aff my back,
and make a cow or a &longs;hape od me; and
now I am wor&longs;e than a cow or a &longs;hape,
or a hor&longs;e in de tame; for I am cut, and

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curried, black and blue; till my fle&longs;h is
raw, and a cholic in my belly, wid fa&longs;ting;
and all to &longs;toody dis law. The devil take
coun&longs;ellor Grab, and de half joe.

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[figure description] Page 147.[end figure description]

THE Captain having been led to think
&longs;o much of law, of late, was &longs;truck
with the idea of vi&longs;iting courts of ju&longs;tice,
and hearing &longs;ome of tho&longs;e ca&longs;es argued,
which come before them. Understanding
that a court was then &longs;itting, he resolved
to take the opportunity of the interval
of Teague's purgation, in the workhouse,
to amu&longs;e him&longs;elf with the pleading
of the advocates. Accordingly, repairing
to the court hou&longs;e, he took his place amongst
the crowd, and li&longs;tened to what
was going forward.

What came before the court was a motion
in arre&longs;t of judgment. A Jonathan
Mun had been indicted, and found guilty
of “felonoiu&longs;ly taking and carrying away
water out of the well of Andrew Mab.”
It was moved in arre&longs;t of judgment, that
larceny could not be committed of water
in a well, it being real property; for it

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[figure description] Page 148.[end figure description]

was a di&longs;tinction of the common law, that
larceny could not be committed of things
real, or &longs;avouring of the realty, Black. 232.
2 Ray. 470. Hawkins, &c. So that taking
away the &longs;oil was merely a tre&longs;pa&longs;s;
and taking away the water could be no
more.

It was an&longs;wered, that water being fluitans,
et mobilis,
could not be con&longs;idered
as real property; that an ejectment would
not lie for water, but for &longs;o many acres of
land covered with water, Yelv. 143. 1
Burr. 142. Becau&longs;e it was impo&longs;&longs;ible to
give execution of a thing which is always
tran&longs;ient and running, Run. 36. quotes
Cro. Jas. 150. Lev. 114. Sid. 151.
Thence it is that in a grant of the &longs;oil it is
nece&longs;&longs;ary, as we &longs;ee from old forms, to add
the right of ways, woods, and water-courses,
Lilly. Con. 132. and 179. Bridg.
Con. 321. That whatever might be &longs;aid
of water in its natural bed on the &longs;oil,
as water in a running &longs;tream; yet a well
being dug by the labour of hands, the
water thus acquired, mu&longs;t be counted as
per&longs;onal, not real property. Barbcray,
Titius, and Locke. That at a well, the
water being drawn up by the bucket, and
thus by one act &longs;eparated from the

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[figure description] Page 149.[end figure description]

freehold, and by another taken from the bucket,
it becomes a &longs;ubject of larceny; as in
the law of corn, trees, or gra&longs;s growing.
For if the&longs;e be &longs;evered at one time, and
at another time taken away, it is larceny.
Hawk. Pl. Cr. 93.

It was replied, that an ejectment would
lie of water in a well; for here the water
is fixed in a certain place, within the
bounds and compa&longs;s of the well; and is
con&longs;idered as part of the &longs;oil. Run. 37.
That, ex vi termini, in the indictment,
“out of the well,” it mu&longs;t be con&longs;idered
as water ex, out of, or from the well;
that is, water &longs;evered by the very act of
taking; for otherwi&longs;e it would have been
expre&longs;&longs;ed, by “water out of the bucket”
of Andrew Mab; not out of the well;
and &longs;o the taking could not be larceny,
but tre&longs;pa&longs;s; as in the ca&longs;e of a tree
that is cut down at one time, and taken
away at another; or apples growing on a
tree, or &longs;haken down and gathered from
the &longs;oil; the fir&longs;t being a tre&longs;pa&longs;s, the second
larceny.

Curia advi&longs;ari vult.

The Captain whi&longs;pering to lawyer Grab,
enquired what difference it made in the

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puni&longs;hment, whether it was larceny or trespass?
He was an&longs;wered, that in the one
ca&longs;e it was hanging by the common law,
and in the other to pay the value of the
property. A very material difference indeed,
&longs;aid the Captain, to depend on &longs;o
nice a di&longs;tinction.

-- 151 --

BOOK VI.

[figure description] Page 151.[end figure description]

THE Captain had now lei&longs;ure to reflect
on the predicament in which
he left Teague; and thinking he might
have had what was &longs;ufficient to cure him
of his folly, or at lea&longs;t re&longs;train it, thought
of making a vi&longs;it to the hou&longs;e of employment,
or &longs;ending to liberate the valet.

This thought running in his head, he
naturally &longs;ugge&longs;ted it to a gentleman with
whom he was, at this time, in conversation,
on indifferent &longs;ubjects; the gentleman
lodging at the &longs;ame inn, or public
hou&longs;e, and &longs;eeming to be a per&longs;on of considerable
&longs;hrewdne&longs;s and di&longs;cernment, not
only of the affairs of men in general, but
of the &longs;pecial &longs;pirit and character of the&longs;e
times.

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[figure description] Page 152.[end figure description]

Said the gentleman; The folly of your
man has certainly been very great, to suppose,
that he could be qualified to &longs;u&longs;tain
the profe&longs;&longs;ion of an advocate, and to practise
law: For, though in this, as in mo&longs;t
other profe&longs;&longs;ions, “the race is not always
to the &longs;wift, nor the battle to the &longs;trong;”
but the people that &longs;heweth favour; that is,
take up an opinion of abilities, where
there are none; yet your &longs;ervant, having
&longs;o little, even of the &longs;emblance of qualification,
it would be counting too much on
the circum&longs;tance, to promi&longs;e great &longs;ucce&longs;s
in his ca&longs;e. His pro&longs;pect of advancement
would be much more certain in the political
career. You &longs;eem, by your account,
to have di&longs;couraged him in taking a feat in
the legi&longs;lature; and would not wi&longs;h now
to contradict your&longs;elf: yet why not indulge
him in taking a place in the executive
of &longs;ome government. As far as I &longs;ee,
with that ambition which is natural to him,
you will find him but of little u&longs;e, as a
waiter; and you may as well let him do
&longs;omething for him&longs;elf, as not. If appointed
in the department of finance, he can
u&longs;e clerks; and, in a very &longs;hort time, he
may learn to write his name, &longs;o as to give
his &longs;ignature to any paper; and this, with

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[figure description] Page 153.[end figure description]

the help of clerks to do the accountant business,
would be &longs;ufficient: At lea&longs;t, there
have been tho&longs;e in the&longs;e departments, who
have been approved, and yet could do little
more. Should he even become a governor;
furni&longs;hed with a &longs;ecretary, he can
be at no lo&longs;s to compo&longs;e his me&longs;&longs;ages, or
other communications, to individuals, or
public bodies.

But what I would propo&longs;e, and will
&longs;uit him be&longs;t, will be to go into the general
government; and, under this, the
diplomatic line will be eligible. He might
be appointed con&longs;ul to the port of Cork
or Dublin; or the Barbary States; or other
places: Or he might go as ambassador
to the grand Mogul; or envoy extraordinary
to the king of England; or
other princes or potentates in Europe.

If you &longs;hould think of favouring him in
this career, it will be nece&longs;&longs;ary for him to
appear at the levee of the pre&longs;ident, that
he may be introduced with a certain gradual
etiquette of advancement.

What! &longs;aid the Captain; introduce a
ragged bog-trotter to the pre&longs;ident of the
United States!

Not ragged, &longs;aid the gentleman; you
can have a pair of breeches made for him;

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[figure description] Page 154.[end figure description]

and put &longs;hoes upon his feet: a &longs;word will
be nece&longs;&longs;ary; and &longs;ome other articles of
equipment. And when you bring this
into view with his making his fortune,
you will not con&longs;ider it as advancing much
for a per&longs;on whom you wi&longs;h to &longs;erve.

The Captain began to think there was
weight in the ob&longs;ervations of this gentleman;
and that it might be proper to let
the bog-trotter have a chance of doing
what he could: Accordingly, he wrote a
note to the keeper of the hou&longs;e of employment,
to liberate him for the pre&longs;ent.

The &longs;tate of politics at this time, and
the pro&longs;pect of Teague's advancement, we
&longs;hall leave to the Third Volume of this
work.

-- --

POSTSCRIPT.

[figure description] Page 155.[end figure description]

IT is well for men in office, that my pen has
taken this turn; and that I employ my&longs;elf in
writing harmle&longs;s non&longs;en&longs;e, rather than &longs;trictures on
their conduct In the ca&longs;e of the famous Gordon,
who, with Trenchard, was an author of what were
&longs;tiled Cato's Letters, it is well known that the &longs;hrewd
mini&longs;ter of that day, Walpole, dreading the effects
of the&longs;e writings, wi&longs;ely laid a plan to free his administration
from them; by affecting to admire the
&longs;tile; and &longs;aying, that it were a pity &longs;o noble a genius
were not employed in giving a &longs;ample of good
language, where there would be no occa&longs;ion to invent,
but merely to clothe ideas. For this rea&longs;on,
he would con&longs;ider it as a great happine&longs;s, could he
be induced to tran&longs;late &longs;ome work of merit; and
give it in the beautiful garb of his expre&longs;&longs;ion. By
this addre&longs;s, and the addition of a pen&longs;ion, the author
was induced to undertake the tran&longs;lation of
Tacitus.

Now, what government, with great art, got
Gordon to do, I have done of my own accord; that
is, to amu&longs;e my&longs;elf in ab&longs;tract compo&longs;ition; regarding
words only, and letting men of place alone.
Neverthele&longs;s, as the &longs;ale of the&longs;e is not certain; and
if I &longs;hould find it an expen&longs;e, rather than a profit, to
proceed in the work, I may quit it, and fall foul of
the public mea&longs;ures, tho&longs;e who di&longs;charge the public
tru&longs;t, at the pre&longs;ent time, may not be altogether
&longs;afe. It were, therefore, wi&longs;e policy in &longs;uch, to
a&longs;&longs;i&longs;t the &longs;ale as much as po&longs;&longs;ible; and it might not
be ami&longs;s, in the fir&longs;t in&longs;tance, to buy up, each of
them, a number of copies I do not know that I
have any thing to &longs;ay of the pre&longs;ident of the United

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[figure description] Page 156.[end figure description]

States; or that I would &longs;ay it, if I had; nevertheless,
it might not be ami&longs;s for him, on the principle
of pre&longs;ervation, and, agreeably to that univer&longs;al
prudence he has ever &longs;hewn, to take a few; perhaps
50 might &longs;uffice. The &longs;ecretary of the trea&longs;ury,
and the &longs;ecretary at war, might take, between
them, about 500. As to the &longs;ecretary of &longs;tate, he
is &longs;uch a &longs;kin-dried philo&longs;opher, that an author would
make as little out of him, as a fly would out of a
weather-beaten bone; and &longs;o, it is of little consequence
to him, whether he buys one at all; for I
believe I &longs;hall not trouble my head about him. As
to the Congre&longs;s that have &longs;at &longs;ince the adoption of
the federal con&longs;titution, they need not put themselves
to the expence, individually or collectively,
of purcha&longs;ing one pamphlet; as I am determined
not to be bought off by them; but in a work which I
&longs;hall by and by publi&longs;h, will canva&longs;s, freely, the respective
demerit of their votes. I have not yet
written any of this work; but I have it all in my
mind; and if I had a ready amanuen&longs;is, to take it
down, could give a volume in a &longs;hort time.

The whole gradation of officers and place-men,
under government, are a good deal in my power.
Not that I would de&longs;cend to attack them; but I
might affect the &longs;y&longs;tem by which they are supported.
A pretty liberal purcha&longs;e, therefore, on their
part, might be money not ill laid out.

The men that are upon the government of Pennsylvania,
would find their account, in making it
worth my while to let my fingers run in this way,
a while longer. Peream ne &longs;cribam; I mu&longs;t write;
and if I &longs;hould break out upon them, I know not
where I might end.

The End of the Second Volume.

-- --

Section

[figure description] Page i.[end figure description]

MODERN CHIVALRY.

VOL. III.

-- --

[figure description] Blank Page.[end figure description]

-- --

Section

[figure description] Page iii.[end figure description]

Modern Chivalry:
CONTAINING THE
ADVENTURES
OF
Captain John Farrago,
AND
TEAGUE O'REGAN,
HIS SERVANT.

Volume iii.

By H. H. BRACKENRIDGE.

Quicquid agunt homines, nostri, farrago libelli.

Juvenal.

PITTSBURGH.

Printed and Sold by John Scull.

M.DCC.XIII.

[Entered according to Act of Congre&longs;s.]

-- --

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-- --

INTRODUCTION.

[figure description] Page v.[end figure description]

Proceeding with my object; the
giving an example of a perfect &longs;tile in writing,
I come now to the third volume of
the work. I well know, that it will not
all at once, and by all per&longs;ons, be thought
to be the model of a perfect &longs;tile, for it is
only the perfectly in&longs;tructed, and delicately
di&longs;cerning that can di&longs;cover its beauties:
and perhaps none will be more apt to pa&longs;s
them by than the learned of the academies,
and the mo&longs;t ver&longs;ed in grammar rules of
writing, for there is a greene&longs;s in the judgment
of the &longs;chool critics with re&longs;pect to
what is &longs;imple and natural in compo&longs;ition.

To illu&longs;trate this by anology. Let a
dancing ma&longs;ter pa&longs;s his judgment on the
movements of the be&longs;t bred man in life;
and not finding in his po&longs;ition and attitudes,
an evident conformity to the le&longs;&longs;ons of the
&longs;alatory art, he will conclude that he has
not been taught to move with propriety.
He does not know that it is this very circumstance
that con&longs;titutes the excellence of
the movements of the ea&longs;y and perfectly

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[figure description] Page vi.[end figure description]

genteelman; to wit, that when you observe
him, it will never once come into
your mind that he thinks of his attitudes or
po&longs;itions in the lea&longs;t; but that every movement
is ju&longs;t as it happens, and without any
intention on his part. Ars e&longs;t celare artem.
To wit; It is the &longs;ecret of good ta&longs;te and
perfection in behavior to conceal that you
ever think of it at all. So it is the mo&longs;t
perfect proof of a good &longs;tile, that when you
read the compo&longs;ition, you think of nothing
but the &longs;en&longs;e; and are never &longs;truck with
the idea that it is any otherwi&longs;e expre&longs;&longs;ed
than every body would expre&longs;s it.

That &longs;tile, is not good, where it appears
that you have not dared to u&longs;e a word
without thinking a long time whether you
ought to u&longs;e it; that, in the di&longs;po&longs;ition of
words, you have carefully &longs;tudied which
ought to go fir&longs;t and which la&longs;t; and, that
your &longs;entence has a cadence which could
not come by chance; but is the effect of
de&longs;ign and art.

I acknowledge that no man will ever
write a good &longs;tile that has not well &longs;tudied,
and exerci&longs;ed him&longs;elf in writing, &longs;electing
with a mo&longs;t perfect delicacy, in all ca&longs;es;
the proper term; but he mu&longs;t go beyond
this, and be able to deceive the world, and
never let it come into their heads that he

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hath &longs;pent a thought on the &longs;ubject. But
it is not one in five hundred that is born
with that &longs;en&longs;ibility of nerve as to be able to
attain with the help of great in&longs;truction and
practice, a perfect judgment in the u&longs;e of
words. It is for this rea&longs;on that I am ambitious
of the prai&longs;e of writing well &longs;o far
as re&longs;pects language. For it requires no
uncommon &longs;tructure of nerves, or organization
of the brain to produce good &longs;en&longs;e;
the ma&longs;s of mankind is equal to this.

Language, as it is the peculiar gift, &longs;o
it is the highe&longs;t glory of our &longs;pecies; and
the philologi&longs;t is to be con&longs;idered as cultivating
the mo&longs;t u&longs;eful and ornamental of
all arts. Pur&longs;uing therefore &longs;olely the u&longs;e
of words, I do not de&longs;cend profe&longs;&longs;edly to
think of &longs;en&longs;e; neverthele&longs;s, if at any time
there &longs;hould be found ideas that have &longs;ome
con&longs;i&longs;tency and meaning, they may de&longs;erve
attention, as much as if it was the primary
object of my work to expre&longs;s them; for
it is not their fault if I &longs;et little &longs;tore by
them, and think more of the dre&longs;s that I
put upon them than I do of them&longs;elves.

I am happy to find that in the review of
this publication, given in Young's magazine,
my ideas of the merit of the &longs;tile, is
recognized, and fully ju&longs;tified. And as
my work may be well &longs;uppo&longs;ed, to have

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a much more exten&longs;ive circulation, and to
live longer than that mi&longs;cellaneous performance,
I have thought it not ami&longs;s, for
the honor of the critics to extract &longs;ome part
of the ob&longs;ervations which have been made
by them, and which are as follows:

“The author of the work before us,
is H. H. Brackenridge, well known in
the literary world for his treati&longs;e on the
œconomy of Rats, a &longs;atirical compo&longs;ition,
in which under the veil of allegory, he designates
the mea&longs;ures of the federal government;
as al&longs;o for his hi&longs;tory of Weazles,
in which the &longs;ame &longs;trokes are given to tho&longs;e
at the helm of our affairs, in a different fable,
and narration. In the pre&longs;ent work
which he entitles Modern Chivalry, he disowns
the idea of any moral or &longs;entiment
what&longs;oever, and propo&longs;es &longs;tile only as the
object of the compo&longs;ition. And to this
object, in our opinion, he &longs;crupulou&longs;ly
adheres; for though on &longs;ome occa&longs;ions,
there would &longs;eem to be a &longs;emblance of
idea, yet this we mu&longs;t attribute to the
imagination of the reader, ju&longs;t as in looking
upon a plai&longs;tered wall, attentively for
a long time, you will conceive the inequality
of the &longs;urface, or accidental &longs;cratchings,
to be the &longs;hape of birds and bea&longs;ts, or
the letters of the alphabet. Yet as rea&longs;on

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[figure description] Page ix.[end figure description]

in this ca&longs;e will correct the fancy, and
bring to mind that there is really no character
or image there, there being none
intended; &longs;o on a peru&longs;al of the work in
que&longs;tion, looking a long time for &longs;en&longs;e,
you may at la&longs;t conceive that you ob&longs;erve
&longs;ome glimmerings of it, yet when you
recollect that you have it from the author
him&longs;elf that he means none, you will be
&longs;en&longs;ible that it is nothing more than the accidental
combination of words which has
given this picture to the mind.

Stile, then, which is his object, mu&longs;t
al&longs;o be ours, in our view of the publication.
For, to give a &longs;imile; if a manufacturer
of cloth, or a taylor that forms it into
ve&longs;tments, &longs;hould come forward, and produce
each his work, to be con&longs;idered merely
as to the manufacture, or making up,
without regard to the materials of the
woof and warp in the one ca&longs;e, or the
wearing in the other, it would be ab&longs;urd
to enquire of the&longs;e when nothing was proposed
to you re&longs;pecting them, by the artists
them&longs;elves.

Confining our&longs;elves therefore to the
&longs;tile of this performance, we ob&longs;erve, that
it has what is the fir&longs;t characteri&longs;tic of excellence;
viz. Simplicity. This con&longs;i&longs;ts
in the choice of the plaine&longs;t and mo&longs;t

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[figure description] Page x.[end figure description]

familiar words, and in the arrangement of
the words in their natural order. There
is a great difference between a vulgar term,
or phra&longs;e, and that which is common,
and comes fir&longs;t upon the tongue, in ea&longs;y
and familiar conver&longs;ation. It is the mistake
of this di&longs;tinction which leads &longs;ome
writers to avoid the phra&longs;e that any one
would u&longs;e, and &longs;eek out what is uncommon.
Hence there appears a variation in
the words they put upon paper, from
tho&longs;e which they them&longs;elves would u&longs;e in
conver&longs;ation. And why this? Ought not
language to be preci&longs;ely the &longs;ame whether
&longs;poken or written.

Per&longs;picuity is the natural re&longs;ult of simplicity,
and needs not to be laid down as a
different characteri&longs;tic. For can there be
ob&longs;curity in that compo&longs;ition where the
mo&longs;t familiar word is u&longs;ed, and that word
put in its proper place. This brings to mind
the definition of &longs;tile by Swift; “proper
words in proper places.” There can
be nothing more ea&longs;y than the compo&longs;ition
of our author, His writing &longs;avours of
the &longs;kill of an artificer who after many
years exercitation in his art, acquires a
power of accompli&longs;hing his work by a habit
of the fingers, independent of any application
of the mind. So that while in

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[figure description] Page xi.[end figure description]

the &longs;tile of others there is an appearance
of exertion, here there is what a superficial
ob&longs;erver would call carele&longs;&longs;ne&longs;s,
but which the &longs;ound critic will di&longs;cover to
be the re&longs;ult of a perfect ma&longs;tery of all that
relates to language.

It is pretty generally believed that our
&longs;tile has been con&longs;tantly degenerating from
the time of queen Anne, in who&longs;e reign
flouri&longs;hed tho&longs;e immortal penmen, Swift,
Addi&longs;on, Arbuthnot, Tillot&longs;on, Bolinbroke.
&c. If the &longs;tile of Mr. Brackenridge
is examined, and compared with
tho&longs;e models, it will be found to be in the
&longs;ame pure, &longs;imple attic ta&longs;te. We &longs;hall
therefore not he&longs;itate to recommend it as
a re&longs;torer of all that is correct and beautiful
in writing.” So far the reviewers.

I have &longs;aid that I was happy to find that
the&longs;e have had the good ta&longs;te to find out
what I my&longs;elf had thought of the composition.
But as I wi&longs;h at all times to let
the reader, into a knowledge of my real
&longs;entiments, I will confe&longs;s that the&longs;e are
merely words of cour&longs;e with me, and that
I was not happy to find my work prai&longs;ed
in any re&longs;pect; becau&longs;e I wi&longs;hed to have a
quarrel with the critics; and this not because
I love war, ab&longs;tractedly con&longs;idered;
but becau&longs;e in this ca&longs;e I &longs;hould have had

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[figure description] Page xii.[end figure description]

an opportunity of &longs;hewing my polemic
talents. Nay, expecting an attack, I
had prepared a number of good thoughts
in my mind, to be u&longs;ed in my conte&longs;t with
them. What is more I had actually written
a copy of ver&longs;es in the Hudibra&longs;tic
rhyme and manner, for their u&longs;e, in which
I con&longs;idered them as Mu&longs;kitoes, or flies
of &longs;ome kind, that were trouble&longs;ome to
men; and though the occa&longs;ion fails, yet
there can be no impropriety in giving to
the public tho&longs;e &longs;trokes of &longs;atire which lay
dormant in my mind. As the&longs;e would
apply more particularly to an attack upon
me; yet the e&longs;&longs;ay being in general
terms, it may appear without a particular
circum&longs;tance to call it forth; merely as a
&longs;pecimen of what I could do had there been
occa&longs;ion for it. And the in&longs;ertion will
be excu&longs;eable, when it is con&longs;idered how
painful it is to be fru&longs;trated in what we
propo&longs;e as our plea&longs;ure. I have known a
good man wi&longs;h to have bad news true,
merely becau&longs;e he had related them: and
we may conceive a &longs;aint vexed at not finding
a man dead, when he had dige&longs;ted a
funeral &longs;ermon in his mind, and was ready
to bury him. On this principle, therefore,
and in &longs;pite of the critics, I will have my
ver&longs;es publi&longs;hed: they are as follows:

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THE critic fir&longs;t po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;'d the earth,
And by his rules gave authors birth.
You may be ancient: critic, hark!
Were you with Noah in the ark?
In what compartment were you &longs;een?
'Mong&longs;t creatures clean or the unclean?
The critic, &longs;ir's, the natural father
Of every &longs;nifling, &longs;nuffling author;
And when you nod or &longs;nore or &longs;leep,
We &longs;hly on po&longs;teriors creep,
And rou&longs;e you to a bright exertion,
Of all your faculties; you whore&longs;on.
How can there be idea of beauties,
Unle&longs;s the critic genius &longs;hew't-us?
The angle of the &longs;ight obtu&longs;e,
Can &longs;ee no more than doth a goo&longs;e,
Whil&longs;t we with micro&longs;copic eye,
Examine as you would a fly,
See through the crevices of fancy,
As far as human eye&longs;ight can &longs;ee,
Tell where there is or is not Grammar;
What phra&longs;eology wants hammer—
Or file to make the ver&longs;e run &longs;moother,
Where &longs;ound is har&longs;h, or term uncouther.
I grant you &longs;ee defects and errors,
Of tho&longs;e in genius your &longs;uperiors:
The &longs;kin however &longs;moothly curried,
To a flea's eye is deep and &longs;urrowed.
His optics may perceive a wart,
That grows upon the un&longs;een part,
But for the beauty of the frame,
It is above the ken of them—
Thus critics tell that bard divine
Has a rough word in &longs;uch a line,
Or that the &longs;acred poem &longs;carce
Can bear the trot of &longs;uch a ver&longs;e,
That feeble author in &longs;uch &longs;entence
Has not the vis, the &longs;pirit inten&longs;e,
That Pega&longs;us was lame when he rode,

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Over this or that dull period:
They tell, but never felt the force,
Of genius in his rapid cour&longs;e.
What? did not Quintilian fully,
Develope all the prai&longs;e of Tully?
And 'mong&longs;t the Greeks, the great Longinus,
Who may be ju&longs;tly &longs;til'd his highne&longs;s,
With critic judgment join the fire,
Of Heaven it&longs;elf? who can go higher?
From your vile accu&longs;ation who&longs;e's &longs;afe?
Not even the elder &longs;caliger Jo&longs;eph,
Who had a mind as big's a mountain,
Could all defects and beauties contain,
And &longs;hew'd that Homer was inferior,
And Virgil hit perfection nearer.
Have you the a&longs;&longs;urance &longs;ir to &longs;peak,
Again&longs;t the Roman worth and Greek?
So much we hear I believe that no man's,
Tongue is &longs;till of Greeks and Romans;
For if di&longs;pute &longs;hould ri&longs;e pa&longs;t curing,
Which way 'tis be&longs;t to make our urine,
And each &longs;hould argue &longs;tiffly his way,
All mu&longs;t give up, the Greeks pi&longs;s'd this way.
But there in modern times is Bently,
Who &longs;ung of Richard Blackmore daint'ly.
I grant it, critic, there's a thou&longs;and;
The li&longs;t beginning has nor knows end.
They &longs;warm in millions from the flood—
The Hebrew critics fir&longs;t drew blood;
And this is what is meant by Babel
Where all were critics that were able.
The Rabbin and the Talmudi&longs;t,
Fought hand to hand and fi&longs;t to fi&longs;t,
About the pentateuch of Mo&longs;es;
Their tales, the wilde&longs;t &longs;tuff, God knows is.
If there has been &longs;ome Grecian critic,
Above the offspring of a &longs;eed-tic;
Yet where is one in modern days
Who can de&longs;erve that &longs;hare of prai&longs;e?

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For metamorphos'd down to vermin,
Who can the various &longs;hapes determine.
And &longs;mall and great are prone to mi&longs;chief,
And every clan and &longs;ect has his chief.
They &longs;warm like Caledonian clu&longs;ter,
When the Mac Neils and Camrons mu&longs;ter;
Or as when hou&longs;e wife &longs;preads her &longs;ugar,
With water mix'd, each in&longs;ect bugar,
Relinqui&longs;hes pots, tubs and pails,
And for the booty &longs;preads his &longs;ails.
Thus all the race of critics gather,
Around the foot&longs;teps of an author,
Bite through his overalls and &longs;tocking,
And biting &longs;hins, you know's no joking.
Who now a days fits down to write
Uninterrupted by a bite?
Unle&longs;s he takes good care and puts on,
A pair of leggins or has boots on.
They &longs;ay of Reynard who loves gee&longs;e,
That when oppre&longs;s'd with &longs;warm of fleas
He takes in's mouth a lock of wool,
And gradually retires to pool;
The fleas by &longs;ecret in&longs;tinct led,
Fly from the tail and trunk to head,
With &longs;peed each mother's &longs;on of them goes
To &longs;eek the promontory of no&longs;e,
And when no more remains abaft,
Fox &longs;hakes his head and leaves the raft.
Who could find out by book or &longs;ermon,
An equal way t' allude the vermin,
Would merit a rich premium more,
Than vers'd in philo&longs;ophic lore,
The member who di&longs;&longs;ects a glow-worm,
To &longs;ee if 'tis a bea&longs;t and no worm,
I wi&longs;h &longs;ome virtuo&longs;o won'd,
Who natural hi&longs;tory under&longs;tood,
Di&longs;&longs;ect a critic, &longs;hew his jaw teeth,
Whether they are quite &longs;mooth or &longs;aw-teeth,
Re&longs;embling butterfly or a&longs;p,

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Or &longs;harp and pointed like a wa&longs;p;
And by the grinders edge determine,
Corn-eating or carnivrous vermin.
I'd give, my&longs;elf, a golden medal,
To know if't has a brown or red tail,
And whether when it moves it goes on
An hundred feet or half a dozen;
But many gla&longs;&longs;es mu&longs;t be ground out,
Before the&longs;e my&longs;teries can be found out.
I leave it to &longs;ome great Linæus,
Who may by this be fam'd as he was.

The reviewers in Young's Magazine,
may &longs;ee from hence how well it was for
them, though unfortunate for me, that
they have dealt in approbation &longs;olely.
The prettie&longs;t part of the hi&longs;tory of any author,
is his war with the critics; and as
that prince's reign, &longs;eems unintere&longs;ting
where we are not amu&longs;ed with &longs;ieges and
battles, &longs;o the life of an author is dull and
monotonous where we hear of no litigations
with a Bavius, or Mævius, a Dennis,
or a Colly Cibber.

It is true I have heard one ob&longs;ervation
made, viz. that though my &longs;tile is excellent
of the kind; yet it is but of one kind,
and as Swift &longs;aid of him&longs;elf that he could
never ri&longs;e to the &longs;tile of an oration or a
&longs;ermon, &longs;o it would &longs;eem to be the ca&longs;e
with me, that I am competent only to
that humble &longs;pecies of diction which &longs;uits
the di&longs;&longs;ertation, but ri&longs;es not to the &longs;well

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[figure description] Page xvii.[end figure description]

of lofty oratory. It is true this is the &longs;tile
I have u&longs;ed in the memoirs of the Captain;
becau&longs;e it is the &longs;tile which &longs;uits &longs;imple narrative.
Neverthele&longs;s, it is not with me
as it was with Swift; and in this re&longs;pect,
I am his &longs;uperior; for I can ri&longs;e to the
&longs;well of the highe&longs;t pipe of diction. And
to evince this, I will here produce an oration
delivered by me about two years ago,
when I officiated in the capacity of Chaplain
to the light infantry company of Pittsburgh.
I produce it only as a &longs;ample of
&longs;tile; for as to other merit I will not answer
for it; and if the learned &longs;hould not
think it, in point of &longs;entiment, worthy
of my fame, let it be my apology that
the company at who&longs;e call I was, and
military di&longs;cipline being &longs;trict, I was obliged
to obey at a &longs;hort notice; the company
I &longs;ay, having given me but about two
hours warning, the compo&longs;ition bears the
marks of ha&longs;te, not having that condensation
of &longs;entiment which deliberation gives
But of this let the public judge. I give it
as delivered.

The Oration.

“What is the object for which a &longs;oldier
ju&longs;tifiably draws his &longs;word? the protection
of per&longs;onal and &longs;ocial right. This is comprehended
under one word, LIBERTY.

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By this we are to under&longs;tand the natural
liberty of man, independent of government;
or liberty in a &longs;tate of &longs;ociety,
and government. The fir&longs;t being but ideal,
it is the la&longs;t to which our thoughts are directed
in the u&longs;e of this word. What then
is liberty? It is the enjoying under &longs;ome
form of government, an equality of rights:
an equal right to &longs;peak, and an equal right
to act: where no one can or dare arrogate
a &longs;uperiority of power or privilege.

Who would not ri&longs;k a life for &longs;uch a blessing?
Who would not immolate a hecatomb
of foes who &longs;hould dare to invade it.

Cæsar; I admire thy talents, I prai&longs;e thy
virtues; but in the face of nations, on the
height of the world, thou dared&longs;t to u&longs;urp
a &longs;uperiority over brave men. The &longs;oul of
Brutus, or of Ca&longs;ius could not brook it;
the &longs;oul of Cato or of Ca&longs;ta could not
brook it; every Roman felt the in&longs;ult, and
approved the act, that took away thy life.

When under&longs;tood and felt, what are
the charms of Liberty? When po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed
and enjoyed, what are its effects: greatness
of thought, and greatne&longs;s of conduct.
Can the va&longs;&longs;al think nobly? Can the dependent
mind act boldly? No, “there is
a lion in the way,” and cowardice benumbs
the faculties.

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Are mankind &longs;en&longs;ible of this? There
have been tho&longs;e who have borne honorable
te&longs;timony of it. Shall I give you proofs?
I recur not to the academies to bring thence
the &longs;entiments of philo&longs;ophic men. I depict
not tho&longs;e who have fought for liberty.
I give you the &longs;en&longs;e of a people who had
enjoyed it; who had lo&longs;t it, and who had
been re&longs;tored to it. Stating the occa&longs;ion,
I &longs;hall give it in the words of Plutarch.
“Philip and the Macedonians had &longs;ubdued
the Grecian &longs;tates. The&longs;e calling in the
Romans, &longs;ubmitted to their authority, and
received garri&longs;ons in all their cities. Titus
Flaminius, who commanded the Roman
forces, beat the Macedonians, and
reduced them to their own territories.
The Grecian &longs;tates were &longs;till en&longs;laved, but
had changed their ma&longs;ters. The Ætolians
had thence taken occa&longs;ion to a&longs;k them,
whether it were not matter of much consolation
that, though their chains weighed
heavier, yet they were now neater and
better poli&longs;hed than formerly? Whether
Titus were not de&longs;ervedly admired by
them as their benefactor who had unshackled
the feet of Greece and tied her up by
her neck? Titus vexed hereat, made it his
reque&longs;t to the &longs;enate, and at la&longs;t prevailed
in it, that the garri&longs;ons in the&longs;e cities &longs;hould

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be di&longs;charged, that &longs;o the Grecians might
be no longer debtors to him, for a partial
but entire favor. The I&longs;thmian games
were now renewed, and multitudes &longs;at
crowded in the theatre to &longs;ee the exerci&longs;es;
for Greece, who of late days not only
found re&longs;pite from war, and was in full possession
of peace, but entertained farther
hopes of regaining her liberty, made holiday
for it. As the&longs;e were celebrating,
&longs;ilence was commanded by &longs;ound of a trumpet,
and the cryer, &longs;tepping from amid&longs;t
the &longs;pectators; made proclamation, that
Titus Quintus, the procon&longs;ular general,
having vanqui&longs;hed king Philip and
the Macedonians, re&longs;tored the Corinthians,
Locreans, Phoceans, Eubæans, Achæans,
Pthiotæans, Magnitians, The&longs;&longs;alians, and
Perribæans, to their own country, laws
and liberty; took off all impo&longs;itions upon
them, and withdrew their garri&longs;ons
thence.” At the fir&longs;t, many heard not at
all, and others did not di&longs;tinctly hear what
was &longs;aid; but an odd kind of bu&longs;tle and &longs;tir
there was in the theatre, &longs;ome wondering,
&longs;ome a&longs;king, &longs;ome crying out to the cryer,
“Repeat that again, repeat that again.”
When therefore fre&longs;h &longs;ilence was
made, the cryer rai&longs;ing his voice, his &longs;peech

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more ea&longs;ily reached the ears of the company.
The &longs;hout, which in that extacy of
joy they gave, was &longs;o incredibly great
that it was heard to &longs;ea. The people all
jumped upon their legs; there was no farther
regard to the diver&longs;ions they came for,
but all fell a leaping and dancing, and
hugging one another; and all &longs;alute Titus
with the title of &longs;aviour and defender of
Greece. The &longs;trength there is in voices,
and the many relations we have of the
wonderful effects of it, were &longs;een verified
upon this occa&longs;ion: For the crows that
were then accidentally flying over the
&longs;tage, fell down dead upon the &longs;hout. For
the voices being numerous, and the acclamations
violent, and the parts of the air
&longs;eparated from each other, they could no
longer give &longs;upport to the birds, but let
them tumble; unle&longs;s we &longs;hould rather
imagine the&longs;e crows to fall and die, &longs;hot
through with the noi&longs;e as with a dart.”

Are the pre&longs;ent inhabitants of that country
&longs;en&longs;ible of the value of liberty? They
are not. They are en&longs;laved by the Ottoman
power. Could they be re&longs;u&longs;citated
to a &longs;en&longs;e of this magic word; this extatic
&longs;entiment, what would be their &longs;en&longs;ation?
What the acclamation? The Theban, the
Achean country would hear it, all Attica

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and Sparta would re&longs;ound. The Ægean
and Corinthian &longs;eas would tremble.
Mount Olympus and Helicon would triumph.
The Gods on the one, and the
Mu&longs;es on the other, would celebrate the
fe&longs;tival. But O! Poetic and philo&longs;ophie
country, where my mind ranges every
day; whence I draw my be&longs;t thoughts;
where I conver&longs;e with the &longs;chools of wi&longs;e
men, and &longs;olace my&longs;elf with the company
of heroes, thou art lo&longs;t in &longs;ervitude, and
great mu&longs;t be the revolution that can extricate
thee thence.

Let me con&longs;ole my&longs;elf with the pro&longs;pect
of a nation, who, after more than a
thou&longs;and ages of barbarian conque&longs;t and
feudal tyranny, have emerged to liberty.
It is France I have in view. O glorious
people? Liberty de&longs;cended not to you.
But it is your acqui&longs;ition. You have broke
the fetters that en&longs;lave you, and tyranny
has been put under foot. The legi&longs;lative
and judicial authority of your government
has been rendered independent of your
monarch, and the monarch reduced to a
&longs;imple executive power. Shall the sovereigns
of Europe con&longs;pire to rein&longs;tate him
in his ab&longs;olute dominion? Shall they hope
to &longs;ubdue a nation of brave men contending
for liberty: Why do the heathen rage

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and the people imagine vain things.”
Sooner &longs;hall the clouds of the atmo&longs;phere
re&longs;train the electric fluid, or the object
&longs;truck upon re&longs;i&longs;t the electric &longs;hock: Sooner
&longs;hall the height of hills and the weight
of mountains repre&longs;s the caverned air, and
earthquakes cea&longs;e to bur&longs;t, than the generous
flame of liberty in this enlightened
nation, can be extingui&longs;hed and lo&longs;t.

Noble nation, you do us too much honor
in &longs;aying that you drew from us the
in&longs;piration of liberty. You drew it from
your&longs;elves. The Monte&longs;quieus, the Rousseaus,
the Voltaires, the Abbe Raynalls
of your country. We felt the like &longs;pirit;
and re&longs;i&longs;ted the Briti&longs;h power, and were
aided by you in the conflict. May you
enjoy that liberty which you a&longs;&longs;i&longs;ted us to
po&longs;&longs;e&longs;s; may your example give that liberty
to &longs;urrounding kingdoms which you
your&longs;elves enjoy. The mind contemplating
the &longs;ubject is enlarged, and travels from
&longs;tate to &longs;tate, and from kingdom to kingdom
hailing the voice of liberty. It is not
in the nature of things that &longs;uch a renovation
&longs;hould take place at once. But the
day may not be far di&longs;tant when Spain and
Sardinia, Sweden and Ru&longs;&longs;ia, Germany
and Poland may hear the voice of liberty;
when Turky in Europe, and the i&longs;lands of

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the Archipelago may hear the &longs;ound, and
with an acclaim &longs;urpa&longs;sing the I&longs;thmean
voice, convul&longs;e the heavens with the impul&longs;e.

Pur&longs;uing the thought, what would be
the effect of &longs;uch a re&longs;urrection of the
dead? The expre&longs;&longs;ion which I have incidently
u&longs;ed has given me a &longs;imile. It
would re&longs;emble the re&longs;u&longs;citation of the
dead at the la&longs;t day, when the inhabitants
of the earth recovering limbs and new bodies,
&longs;hall rai&longs;e their voice. Great will
be their exultation; great their acclaim.
They will &longs;hout, and with an emulation
not unplea&longs;ing to the Almighty, &longs;truggle
to &longs;urpa&longs;s his yet re&longs;ounding trump it&longs;elf.”

A copy of the preceding oration was
&longs;ent by me to the Abbe Gochin, with
whom I have been in habits of intimacy
the&longs;e forty five years, and was by him
tran&longs;lated into elegant French. It was
the peru&longs;al of this that brought me acquainted
with the Jacobin clubs of that
kingdom, and induced Mr. Claviers to
make honorable mention of me at the bar
of the a&longs;&longs;embly.

The fact is, as may be &longs;een from the
oration, I po&longs;&longs;e&longs;s great ver&longs;atility of &longs;tile,
and va&longs;t compa&longs;s of &longs;entiment and imagination.
Nature intended me for a writer,
and it has always been my ambition. How

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often have I &longs;ighed for the garrets of London;
where I have read hi&longs;tories, manners,
and anecdotes of Otway, Dryden,
and others, who have lived in the upper
&longs;tories of buildings, writing paragraphs,
or e&longs;&longs;ays in pro&longs;e or ver&longs;e. I have lamented
my hard fate that I was not one of
the&longs;e. Was I to go to London, of which
I have &longs;ometimes thought, my fir&longs;t object
would be to vi&longs;it the aerial man&longs;ions of the&longs;e
divine inhabitants. There is not a garret
where any of the&longs;e have dwelt, or where
any of their de&longs;cendents now dwells, that
I would not rummage to find papers, &longs;craps
and remains, of what may be &longs;till there. I
would at any rate vi&longs;it mo&longs;t of the pre&longs;ent
men who live by their wits, and conver&longs;e
with them, indulging that plea&longs;ure which
one takes in a con&longs;imilarity of genius.

It was on this principle that the la&longs;t
time I was in the city of Philadelphia, I
made enquiry of the book&longs;ellers, if there
did not begin to be in that city &longs;ome of
the&longs;e garret people? I was told by Dobson
of a certain M`Comas, a Scotchman,
that had come over about two years ago,
and was in that way: that he had written
paragraphs for the gazettes, and occasionally
e&longs;&longs;ays for the magazines; and that
he lived in &longs;uch an alley, I forget the

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name of it, but that he had not &longs;een him
for &longs;everal weeks; and &longs;uppo&longs;ed he was
engaged in preparing &longs;ome work for publication.
With the advantage of this hint,
&longs;etting out, I found the alley, and by description,
the hou&longs;e; when knocking at
the door, an old woman opened it, to
whom addre&longs;&longs;ing my&longs;elf, I enquired if Mr.
M`Comas, the author, did not live there?
He did live here, &longs;aid the old lady, but
about two weeks ago he died, and left me
a quarter's rent unpaid, This is all a poor
woman gets by lou&longs;y authors and &longs;uch
truck that keep writing night and day,
and biting their nails, and mumbling to
them&longs;elves, like witches or warlocks, that
I was frightened out of my wits many a
night, as he was tramping about in the
garret over my head and talking to him&longs;elf.

I was &longs;truck with the undervaluing manner
in which this old lady &longs;poke of the author,
and being in &longs;ome pa&longs;&longs;ion, you old
jade &longs;aid I, are you not &longs;en&longs;ible of the honor
done you in having a genius for your
tenant; a man that with a &longs;ingle &longs;troke of
his pen could make you immortal. Ay
mortal, &longs;aid &longs;he, I am a poor enough
mortal to want my quarter's rent, with
his writings and fangles; I would rather
have a per&longs;on that would &longs;it &longs;till, and hold

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his tongue, and &longs;leep in my hou&longs;e, than a
raving crazy brained creature like him,
that made more noi&longs;e than the rats, and
was behind with his rent when he died,
not leaving a pair of breeches or an old
coat that would &longs;ell for the expence of
burying him. By this time I had a little
compo&longs;ed my mind, and &longs;uppre&longs;&longs;ed my
re&longs;entment, and told her I would pay her
the quarter's rent for the honor of the
cloth, if &longs;he would give me leave to vi&longs;it
the cele&longs;tial man&longs;ion where the bard had
re&longs;ided. Accordingly, depo&longs;iting the
rent, which was two &longs;hillings and &longs;even
pence, I was permitted to a&longs;cend or rather
climb up a ladder with broad &longs;teps of
plank, to the habitation which was the
&longs;econd &longs;tory, for it was a low building,
with two apartments, the one on the
lower, and the other on the upper flooring.
The roof was low, and did not permit
a tail man as I am, to &longs;tand upright
on my entrance. Looking about, by the
help of an opening in the weather-boarding
of the gable end, I di&longs;covered a few
papers, which I took to be manu&longs;cripts,
lying in a corner near a kind of &longs;tool, with
a board before it, nailed to the gable end,
on which he u&longs;ed to write, and making a
perqui&longs;ite of the&longs;e in lieu of my two

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shillings and &longs;even pence, I de&longs;cended: nor
have I any rea&longs;on to repent of my vi&longs;it,
or the &longs;um paid, for among&longs;t the&longs;e I have
di&longs;covered &longs;ome &longs;craps of great merit, and
particularly a fini&longs;hed poem, of considerable
length, with the title of Cincinnatus,
in Hudibra&longs;tic ver&longs;e; a kind of rhyme
of which I am fond. I &longs;hall not, therefore,
&longs;cruple here to in&longs;ert the poem in
this introduction, as a &longs;pecimen of what
this man's manner was.

I know it will immediately be &longs;urmi&longs;ed
by &longs;ome, that the whole is a fiction, and
that I my&longs;elf have written this poem, and
that the &longs;tory of an author, &c. is an invention
to make it the more intere&longs;ting to
the reader, and to keep my&longs;elf out of
&longs;ight and behind the curtain; in the &longs;ame
manner, as Cervantes, in his Don Quixotte,
pretends that his hi&longs;tory is a translation
from a Moori&longs;h writer, Cid Hamed,
if I forget not; and the author of the Adventures
of a Guinea tells us of his tracing
the work to its repo&longs;itory in manu&longs;cript,
from a &longs;ingle &longs;heet which he found, if I
remember right, wrapt round a pound of
pepper which he had bought at the &longs;hop of
a grocer. At any rate, though I may
not be accurate, as to the la&longs;t circum&longs;tance,
yet I mean to &longs;ay in general, that, as

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many writers of fictitious works, in order
to give them an air of truth and reality;
or to delight the reader by relating &longs;ome
accidental manner of coming at what was
nearly lo&longs;t, invent tales of finding &longs;hreds
and &longs;craps of compo&longs;itions, and thence
tracing to the &longs;ource; or that by taking
lodgings that had been before occupied by
&longs;ome poet or philo&longs;opher, they di&longs;cover
in an old trunk, or el&longs;ewhere, the lucubrations
which they now offer to the public,
&longs;o I may be &longs;u&longs;pected of adopting a
common mode of introducing what I myself
have written; but the fact is as I
have &longs;tated. Indeed, upon the lea&longs;t reflection,
no one would &longs;uppo&longs;e that I
could be the author of the poem; becau&longs;e,
though it is but a playful &longs;atire, and tho&longs;e
of the Cincinnati who are men of &longs;en&longs;e,
would only &longs;mile at the performance, yet
there are weak brethren, who might be
offended; and I &longs;hould not wi&longs;h to have
a &longs;word run through my body, for all the
plea&longs;ure that a little mirth gives. But as
to the man that is dead, nothing can hurt
him; and therefore there can be no danger
in publi&longs;hing what he wrote.

The &longs;cheme of the poem &longs;eems to be,
that of a member of the Cincinnati Society
with the badge at his brea&longs;t coming into a

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village, and the people of different descriptions
falling in with him occa&longs;ionally, and
altercating with him re&longs;pecting the demerits
of the in&longs;titution, and the propriety of
the emblem which he wore. The introduction
is as follows.

A Poem.



What time the States had &longs;ettled peace
With adver&longs;aries over &longs;eas,
And troops di&longs;banded, it &longs;eem'd good,
To in&longs;titute a brotherhood,
Among the chieftains of the war,
Of Cincinnati character,
Who now laid by their arms and came,
To &longs;eek an agricultural fame---
On territory they had &longs;av'd;
For as together they had brav'd,
The toils of &longs;ervice, wi&longs;h'd a tie,
At lea&longs;t upon the memory,
Of that companion&longs;hip; hence 'twas,
The in&longs;titution came to pa&longs;s,
Of a &longs;ociety and badge.
At fir&longs;t it did provoke the rage,
Of &longs;everal of the citizens,

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As being &longs;avouring of de&longs;igns,
Of a nobility of title;
And chevaliering here a little;
And hence, when one of the&longs;e in's gate,
Came to a village of the &longs;tate,
With badge dependant at his bo&longs;om,
It &longs;eem'd a &longs;ingular ro&longs;y crozum,
And drew attention and &longs;urmi&longs;e;
And every one that &longs;eem'd more wi&longs;e,
Began di&longs;cu&longs;&longs;ion of th' affair.
A certain pedagogue was there,
Did fir&longs;t acco&longs;t, and a&longs;k'd the ri&longs;e,
And the intendment of device,
And why he wore a turkey there,
Effigies of a bird of the air,
And other &longs;uch interrogatories.
The Cincinnat who heard the queries,
Explain'd the hi&longs;tory of the club,
And effigy upon the bob;
Vidilicet, that having fought,
And put the adver&longs;ar's to trot,
Retir'd from war, like Cincinnatus,
And were about to plant potatoes;
But fir&longs;t in memory of their warfare,
And individuals did mo&longs;t care for,
Had &longs;et up club and wore a badge.
And what bird have you in the cage,
Quoth pedagogue? is it a goo&longs;e,
That you have cho&longs;en for your u&longs;e?
Or a wild turkey or a &longs;wan?

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This hurt the Cincinnati man----
Quoth he, I will not &longs;ay you mean,
T' affront, and throw out with de&longs;ign,
This &longs;arca&longs;m on the badge we wear;
For 'tis an eagle of the air,
And emblematical of power,
As having dominion of the lower,
The fowls of the &longs;tack-yard and the grove;
And hence become the bird of Jove,
And is device upon the badge,
Which you and other fools with rage,
Decry and vilify and abu&longs;e,
As being without &longs;en&longs;e or u&longs;e;
Becau&longs;e your ignorance is &longs;uch,
You cannot comprehend it much,
The meaning of the hieroglyphic,
Or motto that is &longs;cientific,
Devis'd by &longs;cholars that were good,
And authors of &longs;imilitude.
Quoth pedagogue, I own I &longs;aw
It had a bird's tail and a claw;
But never did &longs;o far encroach,
To look di&longs;tinctly on the broach
Whether a grey goo&longs;e or a drake,
That gives him&longs;elf i' th' roo&longs;t a &longs;hake,
But what re&longs;emblance is there here,
To him of Roman character;
Who wore no brochet at his button;
Or a remarkable e&longs;cutcheon;
But when he quit the war and battle;

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Return'd t' his harrow and draft cattle,
Without a goo&longs;e-re&longs;embling bauble;
Or other bird or bea&longs;t, could gabble,
A word of Latin or of Greek.
But what the phra&longs;e it &longs;eems to &longs;peak?
Relinquit omnia, &longs;ervare
Rempublicam; by the lord Harry,
The Roman had not much to leave,
And would have laugh'd him&longs;elf in's &longs;leeve,
T' have had the&longs;e words applied to him.
And you that are of modern time,
Were in the &longs;ame predicament,
Before were to the warfare &longs;ent;
So that the point is not in this,
From whence eulogium takes its ri&longs;e,
The having left a &longs;teer or two,
Or an old hor&longs;e with which did plow;
But your returning to your place,
When armies had been &longs;ent to gra&longs;s;
So that 'twere better you had made it,
Nunc victor ad aratrum redit:
Or &longs;ome &longs;uch phra&longs;eology,
De&longs;ignating the eulogy,
Which really did belong to &longs;uch,
As not ambitious over much,
Return'd from victory and war,
To till their ground, and take the care,
Of &longs;tock upon their farms; but wore,
No other en&longs;ign than before,
With barbarous Latin &longs;uch as this,

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A&longs;&longs;um'd for their hypothe&longs;is.
Quoth Cincinnat, a great Quintilian,
You are, and have read books a million;
Can give a Latin word to teach us,
Which way the Romans pull'd up breeches;
Or how tobacco quid in cheek,
Was turn'd by the enlighten'd Greek;
You cough and grunt by &longs;yntax rules
Drawn from the pro&longs;ody of &longs;chools;
But though I know not Cincinnatus,
Or other Roman that begat us,
The club nam'd after him is good
And I could &longs;hew it if I would;
But ea&longs;ier to di&longs;&longs;olve the knot
By &longs;litting no&longs;e or cutting throat;
Than talking about book or cla&longs;&longs;ic,
And reading till it makes the eyes ach;
For that my bu&longs;ine&longs;s is; this, yours;
Which &longs;ophi&longs;try, a hanger cures.
So &longs;ay no more about the matter.
Meantime with ignorance and ill-nature,
There was a certain clergyman,
That took upon him to explain,
The meaning of the badge and u&longs;e,
By reading hi&longs;tory of the Jews;
Conceiv'd was an idolater,
That from the ea&longs;tern climes came there
With native &longs;parrow at his brea&longs;t;
Or what el&longs;e bird it was expre&longs;s'd;
Egyptian ibis or a &longs;tork,

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That did among the &longs;edges lurk,
In face of dictate that was given,
By decalogue that came from heaven,
Inhibiting the wor&longs;hiping,
Of graven bird or bea&longs;t or thing;
Or otherwi&longs;e a great magician,
He was, and dangerous on the occa&longs;ion;
For had a trinket of his own,
And abracadrabra writ thereon,
With &longs;ome infernal &longs;pell or force,
Above a common Chri&longs;tian's powers.
The Cincinnat enrag'd to hear
Attack upon his character,
Addre&longs;&longs;ed him&longs;elf to the populace,
Were then a&longs;&longs;embled at the place.
Quoth he, though no great orator
Experience being more in war,
Yet &longs;en&longs;e of injury and wrong,
May loo&longs;en word-&longs;trings of my tongue;
Enable me to tell my tale
In way, perhaps, acceptable;
E&longs;pecially as candour hears,
As is evinc'd by your drop'd ears.
For well aware that public lies,
In&longs;inuation and &longs;urmi&longs;e,
Had got the &longs;tart of me, I fear'd,
I would not be with candour heard.
But to begin----'tis gone abroad,
That I have image of fal&longs;e god,
Hung at my brea&longs;t; the effigy

-- xxxvi --

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Of bird, or bea&longs;t, or fi&longs;h or fly;
Which idol grav'd in bit of gold,
Like the idolaters of old,
I wor&longs;hip, and put up a prayer,
Tho' but a wild fowl of the air.
The clergyman has given ri&longs;e,
To this religious prejudice,
As natural to every mind,
To breed according to its kind;
But nothing more di&longs;&longs;imilar,
Than that a &longs;oldier in the war,
Should wor&longs;hip God at all, or bea&longs;t,
In effigy or &longs;hape expre&longs;s'd;
For &longs;eldom wor&longs;hip the true God,
Save when &longs;ome danger comes the road;
Unle&longs;s the &longs;wearing by the Lord,
Or zounds or zucks, or &longs;ome &longs;uch word,
May be accounted reverence,
Expre&longs;s'd to the Omnipotence;
And therefore much le&longs;s probable
T' adore the vi&longs;ual beak or bill
Of this &longs;mall eaglet that I wear.
As to idolatry am clear;
For though know nothing more about,
Religions that are &longs;et on foot
Than a grey goo&longs;e; yet catholic,
Let all men wor&longs;hip till they're &longs;ick;
Nor interfere with church or p&longs;alm,
But be plain &longs;oldier as I am.
You that compo&longs;e my audience,

-- xxxvii --

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Are per&longs;ons of &longs;uperior &longs;en&longs;e,
And can with others &longs;et that right
Mi&longs;repre&longs;ented by the wight,
And &longs;ave my hard earn'd character,
And the good name I wi&longs;h to bear.
There was a citizen ju&longs;t by,
Who li&longs;tened to apology.
Quoth he it may not be the &longs;hape
Of bird or bea&longs;t at which you gape,
For &longs;ake of reverence or of prayer;
But to di&longs;tingui&longs;h what you are;
The only &longs;aviours of the cau&longs;e;
It being not the truth; whereas
Are many others that have fought,
And taken the He&longs;&longs;ians by the throat,
And may de&longs;erve more &longs;olid prai&longs;e,
Than wearing that &longs;mall thing of bra&longs;s,
Unworthy even of you that chu&longs;e,
To have the en&longs;ign of the goo&longs;e.
Is't not ridiculous that one,
Who in the &longs;ervice has been known,
As champion of a &longs;ober cau&longs;e,
Which with it &longs;uch advantage draws
As to &longs;ecure our liberty,
And place the thirteen &longs;tripes on high
In this &longs;evere and ruggid clime,
Should turn his thoughts to &longs;uch a whim
As &longs;avours of a ruder age,
When every light-head wore a badge;
And is no trophy or a &longs;poil

-- xxxviii --

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The warrior earn'd, upon the &longs;oil,
But arbitrary honor made,
By &longs;ome one of the brazier trade;
And is no &longs;pecial proof of worth;
There are &longs;o many to hold forth.
Preten&longs;ion to the &longs;ame device;
For the peculiar honor lies,
In being di&longs;tingui&longs;h'd in de&longs;ert.
Are you the only that merit,
In revolution brought about?
Or are there not among&longs;t the croud,
Some others that have ju&longs;t pretence,
If not with &longs;word, at lea&longs;t with brains,
To patrioti&longs;m in the cau&longs;e?
If not with arms they have withjaws
In councils of the &longs;everal &longs;tates,
Or by their writings in Gazettes,
Rebuff'd the Briti&longs;h power and force
And militated with di&longs;cour&longs;e;
And many who have &longs;poke and wrote,
Have al&longs;o on occa&longs;ion fought.
And there are victims of the cau&longs;e,
By operation of the laws;
In favor of the general good.
What think you of the multitude,
Reduc'd by fluctuating paper,
E&longs;tates vani&longs;hing like vapour,
And brought to beggary and lo&longs;s:
For take the people in the gro&longs;s,
And all have &longs;uffer'd more or le&longs;s;

-- xxxix --

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And &longs;o may claim by &longs;ervices,
At lea&longs;t a bit of lead or pewter,
As their de&longs;ervings are minuter,
And in&longs;titute a club or &longs;o,
For what they did again&longs;t the foe,
In their particular grades and places;
So that the multitude increa&longs;es,
To an infinity of badges;
The honorary rights and wages,
Of the whole bulk of citizens.
In this there was but little &longs;ense,
To which the Cincinnat replied,
As having more rea&longs;on on his &longs;ide.
Quoth he, it is a &longs;mall affair,
If at the period of the war,
We in&longs;tituted this our club,
To recreate us after rub,
And wear a badge which &longs;ome arraign
As vi&longs;ionary toy, and vain;
But is not fancy that &longs;upplies,
One half of things which are our choice;
And all beyond the dre&longs;s and food,
Is but imaginary good?
The cut, the colour of the garb
Di&longs;tingui&longs;hing the Jew from Ar'b;
And all kinds of appendages,
Of different tribes and nations dre&longs;s
Have their foundation in caprice;
Not from nece&longs;&longs;ity take ri&longs;e.
The &longs;avages that are untaught

-- xl --

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Do wear their honors at the &longs;nout;
And nature &longs;anctions the pur&longs;uit
By giving feathers to the brute.
The badge we wear is not a charm
Of Phy&longs;ical or moral harm;
But forcibly doth operate,
And in the human mind create
A love of fame and dignity,
By having this before the eye;
As, in the Briti&longs;h i&longs;le, a &longs;tar
And Garter, is reward of war;
And the St, Louis cro&longs;s in France,
In other places like advance:
It is a &longs;mall thing if from toil,
Of &longs;ummers &longs;un and winters &longs;oil,
Deficient in the &longs;tipend due,
We wear a thing di&longs;tinct from you,
A trifling &longs;ignet of our own,
Shall &longs;carcely co&longs;t us half a crown,
Is there a law again&longs;t the u&longs;age,
Pro&longs;cribing it as a &longs;urplu&longs;&longs;age;
So that a writ of capias corpus
Can have the virtue to di&longs;turb us,
If there is neither rule of nature,
Or juri&longs;prudence that can deter,
Why not ju&longs;t let the things go on,
In the &longs;ame channel 'tis begun?
For though not great the excellence,
Yet have there not been men of &longs;en&longs;e
Among the Romans and the Greeks,

-- xli --

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That wore &longs;uch things about their necks?
A bull or button at the brea&longs;t;
Or el&longs;ewhere, that has well expre&longs;s'd,
The &longs;ignal honor they had won,
By keeping adver&longs;aries down;
Or &longs;aving citizen at lea&longs;t;
And yet the thing not made a je&longs;t,
By per&longs;ons that have talk'd like you?
Quoth citizen, it may be true;
And al&longs;o in the modern days,
There have been found out many ways,
To tickle fancies of the fools.
There &longs;carcely is a king but gulls,
His courtiers with appendages,
(At lea&longs;t when he is moneyle&longs;s)
Of title, or &longs;ome &longs;illy badge
With which they dance like birds in cage,
Proud of a feather that is red,
Or blue, becau&longs;e they take't in head,
It does them honor with the prince;
But here we have a little &longs;en&longs;e,
In the&longs;e United States, and hate,
Such phanta&longs;y of a wrong pate;
And wi&longs;h t' have merit of our own,
And not a mark to make it known,
Hung up like &longs;ign at tavern door,
Or barber's pole your no&longs;e before,
Evincing what there is within,
You could not other ways divine.
Be&longs;ides why do you quote the Greeks,

-- xlii --

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Or Romans that had like dogs tricks?
There is a difference in the ca&longs;e;
For there, the people's &longs;uffrages,
Be&longs;tow'd the honor that was worn;
But here it would not &longs;erve your turn,
But you your&longs;elves a&longs;&longs;um'd device.
Quoth Cincinnat, 'tis all damn'd lies;
We took it up, 'tis true, but yet,
It may be &longs;aid the gift of the &longs;tate,
Becau&longs;e the honor was our right,
And by de&longs;erving we came by 't.
Be that as't may the thing is &longs;afe,
And well befitting to the brave;
Quite innocent in name and nature;
Nor works a harm to &longs;ingle creature,
Is neither error, nor a &longs;in,
T' offend a layman or divine.
At this the clergyman &longs;poke out,
Who &longs;till was &longs;tanding in the croud.
Quoth he, have &longs;aid, and &longs;ay it again
The thing is heatheni&longs;h and vain,
And wearer an idolater,
Of whom there is ju&longs;t cau&longs;e to fear,
Being &longs;ome fal&longs;e prophet come to light
As is laid down in &longs;acred writ,
That fell deceivers would ari&longs;e,
In latter times to blind our eyes,
And draw us from the truth we hold;
For as to that &longs;ame bit of gold,
What u&longs;e? unle&longs;s &longs;imbolical,

-- xliii --

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Of &longs;omething bad and magical,
With rhyme that is engrav'd thereon?
If the mythology was known,
It might be found it was that gog,---
And magog that has lain incog,
So long in the apocalyp&longs;e;
And now emerging from eclip&longs;e,
Has ri&longs;en in &longs;uch &longs;hape to men.
The Cincinnat to him again:
Quoth he, it ill becomes a prie&longs;t,
To travel from his &longs;phere, and je&longs;t,
About this trinket that I wear;
Again&longs;t it roaring like a bear,
Who &longs;hould be rea&longs;oning with the jew,
Wherever he can find a clue;
Or with the infidel, about,
The devil's horns and cloven foot.
Is this the knowledge that you gather,
From every old and half dead father,
As Chry&longs;to&longs;tom or Poly-carp,
Who on a different &longs;tring did harp;
From you, about our in&longs;titutions,
In&longs;tead of prayers and ab&longs;olutions,
And teaching from the catechi&longs;m,
The origin of faith and &longs;chi&longs;m:
Which is unnatural and ab&longs;urd,
De&longs;erves to be cha&longs;tis'd and cur'd?
For have you not an ample &longs;cope;
Or as we &longs;ay, enough of rope,
To vent your rage and crudities,

-- xliv --

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Again&longs;t the errors that ari&longs;e,
Of fools that are propen&longs;e to evil,
And lay the fault upon the devil,
As if he were a Jack o' lantern,
In every whole and corner &longs;auntering,
Who never yet was out of hell,
Or knew a &longs;ingle &longs;yllable,
About the matter laid t' his charge,
In pulpit oratory at large?
I'&longs;t not enough to &longs;plit your text:
(Till every hearer's heart is vex'd)
In forks and branches multiple,
And fir&longs;tlies, and &longs;o-forths at ill,
With heads and horns of Daniel's ram,
That in the prophet's vi&longs;ion came;
Or bring a &longs;ermon out of what
Has &longs;carce the &longs;emblance of a thought,
By twi&longs;ting, turning, proper phra&longs;e;
Or cloathing pri&longs;tine nakedne&longs;s,
With commentaries of the brain,
Which no man el&longs;e could find therein?
And have you not interminable,
Career to run as fa&longs;t as able,
Through all the &longs;y&longs;tems of the faith,
And variations that it hath,
Drawn from theology of &longs;chools,
Or &longs;elf-born of the preachers &longs;kulls,
And built upon the ab&longs;tract ba&longs;e;
Which was originally much le&longs;s:
For &longs;o exten&longs;ive is the flood,

-- xlv --

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Of knowledge that is bad or good,
A man may &longs;ou&longs;e therein and to&longs;s,
Ju&longs;t as in ocean would a goo&longs;e,
And find no &longs;hore or bottom out
Of doctrines that are &longs;et on foot?
Why then nece&longs;&longs;ity to &longs;tretch,
Your legs upon us at a fetch,
As if you had not room at home
To canter on your hypodrome,
But mu&longs;t inveigh again&longs;t what is
But a mere &longs;ymbol and device,
And has no moral turpitude;
Or meaning that is bad or good,
Save ju&longs;t to &longs;hew the club we're of?
Quoth preacher, it is well enough
To put that face upon the matter,
To keep the world from knowing better,
Le&longs;t it &longs;hould do your club a damage.
But is it not an molten image
Which the commandment hath forbidden?
Quoth Cincinnat, are &longs;o prie&longs;t-ridden
That common &longs;en&longs;e has little place.
It may be molten, to u&longs;e phra&longs;e,
But what of that, if not the u&longs;e
Is a new god to introduce,
And wor&longs;hip &longs;emblance of a bea&longs;t,
Or bird that is upon the cre&longs;t?
It cannot give offence to Mo&longs;es,
Or hurt the decalogu's-probo&longs;cis,
Or you that are con&longs;ervators,

-- xlvi --

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Of all that in religion &longs;tirs.
So that it is unnece&longs;&longs;ary,
To make our club your adver&longs;ary
By thus mi&longs;con&longs;truing the badge,
By inuendoes that engage
The rabble to have prejudice.
Quoth clergyman the matter lies
Ju&longs;t here; the pagan deities,
False gods in Egypt or el&longs;ewhere
Did under &longs;ome &longs;uch &longs;hape appear;
And even we read among&longs;t the Jews
They fell &longs;ometimes to this abu&longs;e;
But chiefly wor&longs;hip'd calves and &longs;tocks;
For which were given them &longs;ore rebukes.
But pagani&longs;m wor&longs;hip'd fowls,
Eagles and pigeons and vile owls,
Which you would imitate by this
A &longs;ample of idolatries, ---
And whoredom people did commit,
And &longs;ins of the fle&longs;h in holy writ;
And hence were bani&longs;h'd from the earth
Which gave the &longs;everal nations birth.
Of Canaanites and after them,
The Phili&longs;tines that err'd the &longs;ame;
The Romans, Greeks, and other pagans,
That had their a&longs;tharoths, and dagons
And wor&longs;hip'd bulls, and goats and heifers;
And were your oracle believers;
Whichbrought the cur&longs;e of God upon them:
And hence it is that there is no man,

-- xlvii --

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Who &longs;ees affection that you have
For that which workmen did engrave,
But fears a judgment for the &longs;in,
And wickedne&longs;s that is there in;
So that I preach and pray and fa&longs;t---
Quoth Cincinat, not much of the la&longs;t;
At lea&longs;t may &longs;pare it, and take food,
As prayers can do but little good;
And all your exhortation, is
A rhap&longs;ode of ab&longs;urdities,
To make the &longs;imple people &longs;tare,
About this wild fowl of the air.
But as you &longs;eem to be a fool,
The be&longs;t way is to crack your &longs;kull
And let in light to give you &longs;en&longs;e
And make your &longs;oul like other mens;
Removing this enthu&longs;ia&longs;m,
That turns your brain to Jewi&longs;hi&longs;m.
With that he drew as if to &longs;trike;
But one among the people, quick,
Who was a great philo&longs;oper,
Though yet had made but little &longs;tir,
Put by the blow, and thus be&longs;poke;
Quoth he, your hot-born rage revoke,
Nor draw your &longs;word upon the cloth,
Becau&longs;e you are a little wroth;
And without rea&longs;on or ju&longs;t cau&longs;e,
what has been thrown out; whereas,
It is a general allegation,
And turns upon the whole profe&longs;&longs;ion

-- xlviii --

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Of club, which has &longs;o broad a ba&longs;e
It ea&longs;ily bears it, in this ca&longs;e,
And is not per&longs;onal alone,
To you on whom the thing is thrown;
And when a number are to bear
The ignominy of the affair,
It is as nothing to the whole.
Have you Don Quixotte in your &longs;kull,
And yet not recollect the &longs;peech,
He made t' a town within his reach,
Which had conceiv'd offence, becau&longs;e
His Sancho braying like an a&longs;s;
At which he was not any &longs;louch;
Did &longs;eem to &longs;ay they were ju&longs;t &longs;uch?
He tells them that no words can &longs;trike
Or hurt a body politic,
Becau&longs;e the offence has no ju&longs;t ba&longs;e
Of individual in the ca&longs;e.
Are not the learn'd profe&longs;&longs;ions known
To be ju&longs;t &longs;tring to harp upon?
We &longs;ay that lawyers are all rogues,
And preacher, that he but humbugs;
And of phy&longs;ician, that he kills;
More than he cures, with his damn'd pills,
And yet we have not on our backs,
The whole of the&longs;e like pedlars packs;
For the phy&longs;ician, lawyer, prie&longs;t,
I aughs at the matter, as a je&longs;t.
Why, then enrag'd, at any one,
For obloquy, that he has thrown,

-- xlix --

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Ju&longs;t for a theme of his di&longs;cour&longs;e,
To rai&longs;e a laugh among the boors'
Do they who write your wor&longs;t of &longs;atires,
And ironies and all &longs;uch matters,
Po&longs;&longs;e&longs;s a temper wor&longs;e than others,
Drawn from the nature of their mothers;
Or ju&longs;t to &longs;hew their wit, at times,
They &longs;cratch out paragraphs and rhymes;
Attack the elergy, or the bar;
Or with hypocrates make war;
Or chu&longs;e a country, or a town
To be the &longs;ubject of lampoon;
Who laugh and read the ridicule;
And only but a natural fool,
Would take in head to fight or fence;
Or 'gain&longs;t the &longs;lander break his &longs;hins.
But where there may be &longs;ome ju&longs;t ba&longs;e,
Of obloquy, in any ca&longs;e,
It more behooves to bear, as here,
Where though the matter may be clear,
You have a right to wear what badge,
You choo&longs;e; yet, there are who alledge,
It is a tre&longs;pa&longs;s to break heads;
For though the man is pleas'd who reads,
The hi&longs;tory of atchievment, yet,
Not him who feels the blow on's pate.
Un&longs;ea&longs;onable chivalry,
Does not with modern times agree;
Where law takes place of ancient prow'&longs;s,
puts a &longs;top to the abu&longs;e,

-- l --

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Nor troubles knights to knock down cows;
Or giants that have broke a hou&longs;e;
So that it is unnece&longs;&longs;ary;
To eudgel any adver&longs;ary,
E&longs;pecially a clergyman,
Who has his priviledge: again,----
Inglorious to make war with &longs;uch,
Not having honor very much,
Of victory, when it is obtain'd.----
There was a corporal by, hot-brain'd;
Who had been in the war, and fought;
But no bald eagle, yet had got;
Or was a partner of the club,
Which military had &longs;et up;
And took it much ami&longs;s that tho&longs;e,
Who equally had fac'd the foes,
Unworthily, were left i' the lurch,
To &longs;tand the back &longs;ide of the porch,
And though, were al&longs;o at the mu&longs;tering;
Yet had not at the brea&longs;t, or po&longs;tern,
A thing, &longs;ignificant of this----
For his part, he was wounded thrice,
While that &longs;ame officer that &longs;poke,
Had &longs;carcely ever &longs;een the &longs;moke.
But &longs;ince he was &longs;o hot to fight,
With clergyman, no man of might,
Had better turn to him a &longs;oldier,
Would make his blood a little colder;
And ea&longs;e him of intemperate pa&longs;&longs;ion;
Becau&longs;e the clergyman had rea&longs;on,

-- li --

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And others, to find fault, and blame,
The Cincinnat that left no fame,
To th' common &longs;oldier, and the &longs;ergeant,
But of their own accord, took charge on't;
And wore this honor as their own,
Appropriate to them&longs;elves alone.
The Cincinnat, who heard this, &longs;poke.
Quoth he, whether, in, or, out of &longs;moke;
Or where, the bullets flew, or fell;
And men, and mu&longs;kets, fought like hell;
No matter, to an officer,
Who only has a right to wear,
The emblem of the victory;
Becau&longs;e there mu&longs;t be low and high;
And what is better born and bread,
'Tis rea&longs;onable &longs;hould be the head.
For what our nature makes the foot,
Doth, in the inferior &longs;tation trot.
As, in this very body of ours,
We do not go, upon all fours;
So, it is rea&longs;onable, there &longs;hould,
Be a di&longs;tinction of the brood;
And tho&longs;e who have but little &longs;en&longs;e
And lower quality of brains,
Should occupy a &longs;phere beneath.
Is not the officer the head?
When we gave orders you obey'd,
So that 'tis proper you po&longs;&longs;e&longs;s
But the inferior grade and place;
And have no badge or in&longs;titution.

-- lii --

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The corporal felt his pa&longs;&longs;ion ru&longs;hing.---
Quoth he, have ju&longs;t as good a right,
As you, though thus you did come by't
To take to our&longs;elves and wear a badge.
The Cincinnat felt greater rage.
Quoth he, for&longs;ooth, becau&longs;e you fought,
Where battle was a little hot,
You claim the privilege with us,
To be o' th' in&longs;ide of the hou&longs;e,
To have in&longs;ignia at your brea&longs;t!
As well might an irrational bea&longs;t,
The hor&longs;e that draws artillery gun,
Or &longs;oldier had to ride upon,
Put in for heraldry, becau&longs;e,
Has &longs;ometimes been where dancer was.
What would you think to &longs;ee a ribbon
Or badge, hung at his tail, or hipbone!
A burle&longs;que on your appetite,
To have this matter made &longs;o light,
Which were a proper ridicule
When &longs;uch a Teague O'Regan fool
As you, would claim the e&longs;tabli&longs;hment.
The corporal's anger which was pent
Broke out.---It was not proof of &longs;en&longs;e,
Or other quality of brains,
Quoth he, that fabricated one,
An officer, and let alone,
The other, that was ju&longs;t as good;
But Congre&longs;s, that was in the mood;
For, had a comrade, in my hut,

-- --

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That would have made a perfect butt,
Of many that were officers,
Who had as little &longs;en&longs;e as bears---
And yet for&longs;ooth poor &longs;oldier dick,
May wi&longs;h for honor, till he's &longs;ick,
And get no knob, or bit of ribbon,
Hung at his bo&longs;om, or his hipbone,
As many of the codheads have,
Who did not &longs;hew them&longs;elves &longs;o brave,
In any battle that was fought.
At this, the Cincinnat, red hot,
Drew out his hanger, to &longs;hed blood,
And hew down corporal, as he &longs;tood:
But thought it be&longs;t, t' acco&longs;t him fir&longs;t,
Before the matter came to th' wor&longs;t.
As Homer, when he wages battle,
Between two of heroic cattle,
He has a parly, and a &longs;peech,
To know each other, which is which;
And, of what origin, they were;
And, how the devil, they came there:
Becau&longs;e, whoknows, but they were cou&longs;ins?
So &longs;hould not cut each others weazons;
But, turn to other combatants:
And even in the time of giants,
And champions, throughout chri&longs;tendom,
Before they, hand to hand, did come,
And actual cla&longs;hing of the &longs;words,
'Twas not unu&longs;ual to have words;
Though what was u&longs;ual to be &longs;aid,

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Have not at pre&longs;ent in my head:
But do, remember, very well,---
What from our Cincinnatus fell,
“Quoth he, if, &longs;o prepo&longs;terous,
T' have al&longs;o what they call a goo&longs;e,
Is your ambition, why not take,
God's name, and hang it at your neck;
Or at your breech, or back, or bo&longs;om;
Or like a turkey-cock, at no&longs;e o' 'im?
Some wooden peg, or pewter noggin,
To wear it as you are a joging;
Or copper ball, or piece of metal
Inferior, for the common cattle;
With &longs;omething on it like a bird
Or &longs;ign of poultry; whence infer'd,
That you have rob'd hen-roo&longs;ts, you rogue
Or &longs;tole a duck or drake incog;
When rations were a little &longs;carce,
This &longs;eem'd to make the thing a farce;
And a militia man ju&longs;t by,
Who li&longs;ten'd t' him attentively,
Was angry, and began to frown,
To &longs;ee the &longs;oldier &longs;o run down.
Quoth he, though but a common rat,
I am, and you a Cincinnat.
Great captain, that have &longs;poke &longs;o loud,
In your haranguing to the croud;
And, though I know the &longs;oldier would
Much rather have a fowl for food,
And eat the wing or rib of a goo&longs;e,

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Than &longs;mell its picture at his no&longs;e;
Yet take a part in his defence,
Becau&longs;e he &longs;peaks the better &longs;en&longs;e;
And undervaluing, you throughout
Hits me, and others in the croud,
Who being but militia per&longs;ons,
Who in the war have made exertions
Yet have no right to wear the badge,
As indirectly you alledge,
By title and the club a&longs;&longs;um'd---
By this time common fame had drum'd
The like ideas every where,
Among&longs;t the people that were there,
With &longs;uch exaggeration, as---
Is natural in the like ca&longs;e;
Videlicet, that the prognatus
Who then was there of Cincinnatus
Had ridicul'd all common people;
And blackguarded them like the devil,
Calling them all &longs;crubs and bodkins,
And habberda&longs;hers, and &longs;uch odd things:
How, that they ran away at York,
And left the regulars at the work;
And fled at Germantown and broke,
Whil&longs;t they were bu&longs;y in the &longs;moke:
At other places turn'd about,
And &longs;carcely ever &longs;hew'd their &longs;nout,
Where there was danger, or hot fire.
One of the people that was nigher,
Became the &longs;poke&longs;man of the re&longs;t;

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And rage now boiling in his brea&longs;t;
Quoth he, no doubt, we are but goats
And &longs;carce above the bea&longs;t that trots,
Compar'd with you, in what was done,
And &longs;ervices, you &longs;on of a gun;
Tag-rag and bob-tail, doubtle&longs;s, are
Compar'd with vet'ran officer:
Becau&longs;e we have not at our bo&longs;om
That thing of yours, a ro&longs;y crozum;
Are not embelli&longs;h'd with a broach,
At head or neck, or brea&longs;t, or crotch;
A Latin motto or an en&longs;ign,
Our toils, or &longs;ervices evincing;
Being but a vulgar &longs;ort of whigs,
That in the marches danc'd our jigs;
Nor help'd at Trenton to take He&longs;&longs;ians;
Or fought like you, on other occa&longs;ions;
Or at the Cowpens, made good battle;
And &longs;o are but a common cattle;
And you alone &longs;u&longs;tain'd the cau&longs;e,
While we like bears at home &longs;uck'd paws;
And cannot now advance a claim,
To hieroglyphic of your &longs;ame.
Quoth Cincinnat, the charge is fal&longs;e,
And of the nature of all tales,
Which contradict, and &longs;hew by proof,
Intrin&longs;ical, what they are of.
What? an American, by birth,
Degrade the military worth,
And le&longs;&longs;en the applau&longs;e,

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Of my compatriots, in the cau&longs;e,
Of tho&longs;e who fought, in front, or flank,
In regular, or militia rank.
My &longs;entiments are the rever&longs;e;
And never had in view t' a&longs;per&longs;e
The &longs;ignal honor you have won,
In order to advance my own.
The&longs;e words had rea&longs;on, but his voice
Was wholly buried in the noi&longs;e;
And as the clamour was, to beat
And cha&longs;ti&longs;e, this our Cincinnat,
His words could not re&longs;train the mob,
Or check the violence of hubbub.
For where a multitude convenes
To carry on &longs;ome hot de&longs;igns,
They mu&longs;t do &longs;omething, or &longs;eem &longs;lack,
Of &longs;kill and courage, for the attack.
So ru&longs;hing di&longs;compos'd, the throng,
Brought violence, and blows along:
Here one uprais'd a ponderous &longs;tone;
Another got an old hor&longs;e bone;
El&longs;ewhere, was &longs;een, a block of wood,
Portending to the knight no good;
And all around, the face of war
Appear'd, ju&longs;t gathering, in the air.
Say, &longs;hall he wage an equal fight;
And wound whole ranks, and kill outright;
Like val'rous Hector, at the &longs;iege,
Of Troy, compo&longs;e a perfect bridge,
Of bodies, upon which to tread,

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And &longs;well the rivers with the dead;
Or mow a whole battalion down,
Like Ajax, &longs;on of Telamon;
Con&longs;truct a rampart of the &longs;lain;
And &longs;trew with carca&longs;es the plain?
Or &longs;hall I bid him jump among,
The individuals of the throng;
Like Alexander when half crazy
He leapt the walls of Oxcydracy?
Or &longs;hall I render him expert
The various wiles of war t' exert;
And now give way, and now advance,
And &longs;pit a parcel on his lance?
Shall I de&longs;cribe a various fray,
And change the fortune of the day;
Now on the verge of a defeat;
And now, in turn, advantage get;
One while broke down, like very &longs;tubble;
Now ri&longs;e, and give the foe more trouble?
What wounds &longs;hall &longs;pecify; what heart,
Oppre&longs;s with javelin or dart?
What names relate, and characters
Of tho&longs;e who rag'd this day like bears?
I wave the arduous ta&longs;k of this;
Becau&longs;e narration would be lies;
For, ju&longs;t the naked truth expre&longs;s'd,
In hi&longs;tory, is always be&longs;t.
Hence &longs;hall relate what came to pa&longs;s;
And how the i&longs;&longs;ue really was;
Videlicet---but here again,

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I feel the ru&longs;hing epic vein,
To bring Minerva, from the clouds,
Down &longs;liding through aerial &longs;hrouds;
To make her vet'ran champion wi&longs;e,
And teach him that no honor lies
In waging battle, where the chance,
Of war, between the combatants,
Is &longs;o unequal, as this was;
For, had no head piece, made of bra&longs;s;
Or iron, adamant, or wood;
And let him do the be&longs;t he could;
Yet &longs;till, the number, and the weight,
Of blows, that mu&longs;t a&longs;&longs;ail the pate,
Would overpower his be&longs;t defence,
And wound him, or knock out his brains.
'Twas no Minerva, or a God,
From dome cele&longs;tial, or abode,
But, his own rea&longs;on, play'd the part,
And put di&longs;cretion in his heart.
For, &longs;eeing that the wild mi&longs;rule,
Of mob, as raging to the full,
As pedlars at an Ul&longs;ter fair,
With their &longs;hilelahs, &longs;wung in air,
Left him no hope of victory,
He thought the be&longs;t way was to fly,
And without waiting for the blows,
He turn'd the corner of a hou&longs;e;
E&longs;caping from the rioters:
As when a morning &longs;hadow &longs;tirs,
And hides it&longs;elf behind a wood,

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Before the &longs;un that would &longs;uck blood,
Pur&longs;uing, with his ri&longs;ing heat,
The thing that is not adequate,
To give him battle, and with&longs;tand
The numerous beams he has at hand:
To overpower it on the plains,
And maul it, and knock out its brains.
Retir'd, and to a tavern got,
Where &longs;uch di&longs;turbance there was not;
Fatigu'd with what had &longs;ung and &longs;aid,
Now on a &longs;ofa laid his head;
Becau&longs;e he did not wi&longs;h to trudge.
God Morpheus who does not begrudge
A dream, lent one to keep him quiet.
He &longs;aw a plain, and there e&longs;pied,
The champions of the former period,
And airy cour&longs;ers, on which they rode:
The cavalcade of ancient knight-hood?
A &longs;hew would do the very &longs;ight good;
Such, as the mon&longs;ters, had knock'd down;
And dwarfs, and giants, overthrown;
And fiery dragons of the air;
And pale-fac'd virgins that were there;
Whom they had re&longs;cued from the gra&longs;p,
Of ravi&longs;hers that did encla&longs;p
Their &longs;nowy bodies, in their arms;
And drank the lu&longs;tre of their charms;
Or knights them&longs;elves, who had been freed,
From oaken durance, where were tree'd;
Or bound in rocks, where by a &longs;pell,

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They had remained invi&longs;ible,
The Cincinnat approach'd the throng,
Who beckon'd him to come along;
As recognizing his advance,
To be that of no common man's;
But one who came to join the &longs;quad,
By that &longs;ame baublet that he had;
With en&longs;ign of the eagle's beak,
And motto in th' original Greek
Or Latin, knew not which it was:
For things had come to &longs;uch a pa&longs;s,
When the&longs;e knights flouri&longs;h'd, devil a one,
Had &longs;uch a thing as learning known;
But all depended on their &longs;la&longs;hing,
For fame, and for diurnal ration;
And cut and carv'd their &longs;u&longs;tenance,
By force of vig'rous arm and lance.
The Cincinnat addre&longs;s'd as ought,
With cho&longs;en words and &longs;elect thought.
Quoth he, my &longs;eniors, in the art,
Of chevalry's great ma&longs;ter part;
You &longs;ee me, of a junior breed;
A germ, &longs;prung from the &longs;elf &longs;ame &longs;eed,
Of predece&longs;&longs;ors in romance,
And orders that did flouri&longs;h once;
Profe&longs;&longs;ion now degenerate,
Reduc'd to the very lowe&longs;t &longs;tate;
For even the Cincinnati club
Which imitative is &longs;et up,
Is much traduce'd, and badge do wear

-- lxii --

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Is greatly undervalu'd here;
Particularly a pedagogue,
And clergyman that is in vogue,
And other cavilers, ju&longs;t now
I met with in a town came through;
Do lead a&longs;tray the populace,
Who have no judgment in the ca&longs;e.
A &longs;enior from the &longs;quad &longs;tep'd forth,
Of a &longs;uperior mein, and worth:
Quoth he, the more the degration,
Of chivalry, the more occa&longs;ion,
For an exertion of the brain,
To kindle up the thing again;
And doubtle&longs;s this &longs;ame club of yours,
Has, as't were added boots and &longs;purs,
To bring it to a trot once more
And re&longs;torate the days of yore.
And, if di&longs;couragements ari&longs;e,
In this the greater honor lies,
To overcome and per&longs;evere.
'Tis true, no dragons of the air,
Or fiery vultures do occur,
T' encounter with, and make a &longs;tir;
Or dam&longs;els ravi&longs;h'd in a wood;
Or giant to let out his blood:
Or an inchanter with his &longs;pell;
But yet there is the devil in hell
To pay with other villainies,
That in your modern days take ri&longs;e
Such as fal&longs;e notions of the right,

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Which it behooves a valourous knight
T' arraign with free born thought and &longs;peech
And tell the people which is which;
And no le&longs;s courage is requir'd,
To &longs;peak the truth with which are fir'd;
Than to knock down a cow at gra&longs;s,
Or mon&longs;ter that did come to pa&longs;s.
Meantime a me&longs;&longs;age had been &longs;ent
By Charlemagne to call from tent,
By trumpeter, the &longs;everal orders,
That lay upon th' enchanted borders,
Our hero look'd to &longs;ee where was,
Old Cincinnatus in the ca&longs;e.
In vain, for, in ely&longs;ium hous'd,
His mettle had not yet be rous'd;
But mixed, with the ignoble &longs;hades,
Did wander, idly in the glades;
And as in life, had been a plowman,
And wore no badge, or dre&longs;s uncommon;
So now he troubles not his herd,
With the&longs;e; but walks among the dead,
The Romans, or ob&longs;curer Greeks;
That wore no pendle at their necks.
At this the Cincinnat below,
Awaking as &longs;ome one came through,
Saw nothing but the &longs;tanding chairs,
And landlord coming down the &longs;tairs.

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It would &longs;eem a little &longs;trange, what
could have induced this bard, to have made
choice of the preceding &longs;ubject for his poem,
as not being an American; or at lea&longs;t,
long in America; and could not be much
intere&longs;ted, one would think, in the institution
of the Cincinnati Society. But it is
to be ob&longs;erved, that poets, chu&longs;e a &longs;ubject,
and ridicule, or prai&longs;e, not becau&longs;e they
care any thing about the matter; but because
there may be &longs;ome novelty or originality
in the &longs;ubject; and, &longs;o, what they
write, not altogether beaten and common.

It may be al&longs;o ju&longs;t to ob&longs;erve, that foreigners
were more alarmed at the institution
of the &longs;ociety than Americans, and
for this rea&longs;on, becau&longs;e, they &longs;aw at home
the orders of nobility with &longs;tars, garters,
cro&longs;&longs;es, &c. and felt the weight of superior
rank, of which the&longs;e were &longs;ometimes
the badges: and transferring the idea to
the Cincinnati, they con&longs;idered them in
the &longs;ame point of view. Hence, it was,
that Mirabeau, in France, was led to
compo&longs;e a treati&longs;e again&longs;t the in&longs;titution,
&longs;hewing it to be, as he conceived, unfavorable
to equality, and dangerous to the
liberty of the&longs;e &longs;tates. Burke has been
the only American that has written, professedly,
on the tendency of this club:

-- lxv --

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but, as his name imports, I take it he
mu&longs;t have been, originally, an Iri&longs;hman;
and had conceived, in that country, an
unfavorable idea of titled per&longs;ons, Sir
this, and Sir that one, &c. Probably
he has been of the Hearts of Oak, or
White Boys, who were of a levelling
principle, and oppo&longs;ed to all elevation
from the common ma&longs;s.

For my part, I could never &longs;ee that it
was of any con&longs;equence whether this institution
exi&longs;ted or not. For it mu&longs;t naturally
evaporate in a few years, the &longs;pirit
of the times being wholly changed, from
what it was in the days of chivalry, and
not capable of &longs;upporting an excre&longs;cene
which has no natural root, or foundation
in the opinion of the people.

The public may think what it will of
this little work of the unfortunate Scotchman;
but it appears to me, to have the
vivida vis, animi, in a very great degree;
and the ver&longs;ification, though carele&longs;s, is
&longs;pirited. The brokenne&longs;s and disjointings
of the ver&longs;es, one line running into, and
interlaced with another, carries it beyond
the monotous, though perhaps, more musical
imitators of Butler: among&longs;t whom,
Trumbull, of Connecticut, ea&longs;ily de&longs;erves
the fir&longs;t place; yet though in his &longs;imilies,

-- lxvi --

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and other excellencies of his compo&longs;ition,
he may &longs;urpa&longs;s the Cincinnatus of M`Comas;
neverthele&longs;s I mu&longs;t give the Scotch
bard the prai&longs;e of greater variety in the
&longs;tructure of his ver&longs;es. I &longs;hould have been
glad to have &longs;een him before his exit. I
have no doubt, that want of food, reducing
him to great weakne&longs;s, together with pain of
mind from his de&longs;olate &longs;ituation, in a new
country, where there were but few in the
&longs;ame line with him&longs;elf, with whom he
could &longs;hare his joys, or communicate his
griefs, might ha&longs;ten the di&longs;&longs;olution of his
frame, prematurely. For, from what I
have collected of the mode of life and private
hi&longs;tory, in general, of bards, and
tho&longs;e who live by their wits, in old countries,
I can ea&longs;ily conceive the plea&longs;ure
which they have with each other, when,
after a fortunate paragraph with one, or
a copy of ver&longs;es with another, they collect
a few &longs;hillings, and after &longs;tarving several
days in the garrets while they had
been writing the&longs;e, they now come together,
in an evening, to break their fa&longs;t,
with a few tripes, and a little ale, to exhilirate
their hearts.

Peace to the manes of M`Comas. He lies
buried in the Potter's-field; with a &longs;ingle
&longs;tone at his head, which I my&longs;elf, though

-- lxvii --

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I do not wi&longs;h to boa&longs;t of it, have put there,
with this in&longs;cription on it, and nothing
more, Sanders M`Comas. I hope there
will be no mi&longs;take, in future times, reading
it M`Comus, in&longs;tead of M`Comas:
becau&longs;e, it might be thought, to be a composition
of the name of the god of wit
among the Romans, which was Comus,
with the word Mac, put to it, which is a
Scoth adjective, which would puzzle antiquarians,
and be unintelligible: for the
fact is, he was a Scotchman, and his name
&longs;pelled, as I have written it.

-- --

BOOK I.

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CHAPTER I.

Having got through this long introduction
which may re&longs;emble that &longs;pecies of
pompion they call a qua&longs;haw, who&longs;e neck
is longer than the whole body; I &longs;ay resemble
it, for it will not be altogether like
it, as it will not be more at mo&longs;t, than a
third of the work. However it has been
long enough, in all con&longs;cience. We hasten
to the &longs;equel of the adventures of the
Captain, and Teague his &longs;ervant.

It will be recollected, that pe&longs;tered with
the prepo&longs;terous ambition of the bog-trotter;
the Captain, by the advice of a
gentleman, had con&longs;ented to let him try
his luck of getting into &longs;ome employment
under government.

-- 002 --

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However; after reflecting with him&longs;elf,
a long time on the &longs;ubject, he could not
help expre&longs;&longs;ing to the gentleman, with
whom he was &longs;till in conver&longs;ation, his
doubt of the &longs;ucce&longs;s of &longs;uch preten&longs;ions.
Said he, after all, I do not &longs;ee, how it
can be rea&longs;onable to &longs;uppo&longs;e that he can
come to any great height, in &longs;tate affairs:
He is totally illiterate and uncultivated.

As to that, &longs;aid the gentleman, it is no
rea&longs;on at all. Do we not read in hi&longs;tory
of per&longs;ons of the lowe&longs;t education who
have ri&longs;en to the greate&longs;t heights both in
the civil, and military line. Butcher's
&longs;ons, keepers of pigs, feeders of &longs;heep,
traffickers in &longs;mall wares, have come to
be Cardinals, Popes, and mini&longs;ters of
&longs;tate. That impu&longs;e of mind which he discovers
to be &longs;omething, indicates a capacity
of being &longs;o. We &longs;eldom find in men,
a &longs;trong de&longs;ire of obtaining any thing
which depends on human power, who have
not been able to obtain it. Hence it has
been &longs;aid, that let a man determine to be
Lord Mayor of London, and he may arrive
at that dignity.

The Captain yielding to the rea&longs;ons,
began to think, in what manner, it might
be proper, to give him an introduction,
and bring him forward; whether to

-- 003 --

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endeavor to cultivate an acquaintance with
&longs;ome members of Congre&longs;s, or the heads
of departments, &longs;uch as the Secretary of
the Trea&longs;ury, of State, at War, &c. or
to begin with &longs;ome of the &longs;ubordinate
clerks, and ri&longs;e gradually to the knowledge
of the principals.

This, &longs;aid the gentleman, would be
beginning at the wrong end. The&longs;e people
mu&longs;t naturally be jealous, e&longs;pecially of
&longs;uch as appear to have talents; not knowing
but that in time they may come to supercede
them. The mo&longs;t advi&longs;eable way
is to attack the head at once: Pre&longs;ent him
at the levee of the Pre&longs;ident, and make
him known to the Chief Magi&longs;trate. This
is going to the fountain, and not depending
on the &longs;treams, that divide among themselves;
and &longs;ometimes &longs;ink in the earth,
and di&longs;appear.

Having been once &longs;een at court, he will
acquire friends; and the Pre&longs;ident him&longs;elf,
can with more propriety take notice of
him.

But would it not be nece&longs;&longs;ary, &longs;aid the
Captain, before we undertake to pre&longs;ent
him at the levee of the Pre&longs;ident, that I
&longs;hould have him rubbed down, and cloathed
a little better than he is at pre&longs;ent.

-- 004 --

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Not at all, &longs;aid the gentleman. It will
be be&longs;t to pre&longs;ent him, puris naturalibus,
ju&longs;t as he is, without brogues; in his over-alls,
with that long coat and &longs;louched hat,
which you have given him to wear. The
Pre&longs;ident &longs;eeing him as he is, will imagine
what he may be, when he comes to be
dre&longs;&longs;ed off in a &longs;uitable manner; and imagination
always out-goes the reality. Besides;
unle&longs;s he had been accu&longs;tomed for
&longs;ome time to good cloathing, he will appear
aukward in it, and move with pain
to him&longs;elf, and to others. Take a country
girl that is neat enough in her &longs;hort
gown and petticoat, and put her in a fine
&longs;ilk with &longs;tays, and &longs;he will appear to
much le&longs;s advantage. A clown in his
jacket and trow&longs;ers, is re&longs;pectable; but
in a broadcloth coat, with &longs;uitable habiliments,
he would move ridicule.

Governed by the&longs;e ob&longs;ervations, the
Captain propo&longs;ed to take Teague to the
levee the next evening.

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The gentleman who thus advi&longs;ed the Captain,
though a grave man, I do not think was &longs;erious. He
has been what we call a wag, and wi&longs;hed to amu&longs;e himself
with the extravagance of introducing Teague as a
candidate for public offices, and taking him to the Levee.
For the Iri&longs;hman was certainly in no very decent apparel
to appear at the court, even of a republic. The
jacket and trow&longs;ers, or overalls, as &longs;ome call them,
that he had upon him, though of rough materials,
being a coar&longs;e tow linen, that had not had but one
boiling before it was made up, were not even whole;
what is more, not clean, not that he had voluntarily
on &longs;ome great occa&longs;ion, for a public or private calamity,
as was the manner of the Jews, rent his garments,
and put on &longs;ackcloth, and &longs;trewed a&longs;hes on his head;
but what came to the &longs;ame thing, by lying by the fire
&longs;ide at night, and wre&longs;tling in the day with the ho&longs;tler,
and &longs;ervants at the tavern, he was reduced to the &longs;ame
raggedne&longs;s and a&longs;h-powdered &longs;tate.

Neverthele&longs;s, though there might not have been
time to have wa&longs;hed his duds; yet a patch or two might
have been put upon his ve&longs;tments; a con&longs;iderable impression
having been made upon his flank, by a &longs;harp
point; and his rear being uncovered, a hand's-breadth
or more; unle&longs;s indeed his breeches had been taken off
altogether, and he had come forward, a real &longs;ans
culotte,
without any thing on his back&longs;ide at all.

-- 006 --

[figure description] Page 006.[end figure description]

Having waited with impatience
for the evening, the Captain, with the
candidate, &longs;et out for the levee. Arriving
at the door, the Captain, entering
fir&longs;t, and Teague ju&longs;t behind, he addressed
the Pre&longs;ident: Said he, may it plea&longs;e
your Excellency, here is a young man,
whom I take the liberty to introduce, as
a candidate for &longs;tate employment. He
has been offered a &longs;eat in Congre&longs;s. But
it appears to me that a place in the executive
department would &longs;uit him better;
his name is Teague O'Regan; and has
been for &longs;ome time a &longs;ervant of mine, a
bog-trotter; but I believe I could now
&longs;pare him if your Excellency has occa&longs;ion
to make u&longs;e of him. The Attorney General,
and &longs;everal others who were present,
were a good deal confounded at the
propo&longs;ition. A little lean Frenchman in
in the room, with a &longs;word by his &longs;ide,

-- 007 --

[figure description] Page 007.[end figure description]

was a&longs;toni&longs;hed; and expre&longs;&longs;ed above an
hundred foutres to him&longs;elf in the compa&longs;s
of a minute; I do not mean that he &longs;poke
out, but thought them to him&longs;elf in a
&longs;hort &longs;pace. A Briti&longs;h con&longs;ul pre&longs;ent,
who was a man of a philo&longs;ophic turn of
mind, could not but reflect on the nature
of a republican government, and the extraordinary
a&longs;&longs;urance of the lowe&longs;t cla&longs;s to
pretend to offices.

The Pre&longs;ident, in the mean time, contemplating
the object, made a pau&longs;e. But
after &longs;ome time recollecting him&longs;elf, bowed
to the Captain, and to Teague, and signified
that doubtle&longs;s proper notice &longs;hould
be taken of the merits of the gentleman,
and provi&longs;ion made for him. This he
&longs;aid, bowing at the &longs;ame time in a circular
manner, and turning round as if to converse
with another per&longs;on, to whom attention
was in his turn, due. Teague in
the mean time advancing with his mouth
open, and both his arms &longs;tretched out, was
about to harrangue in his own dialect, as
pla&longs;e your honor, &c. But an aid of the
Pre&longs;ident, or &longs;ome one concerned in the
ceremonial of the occa&longs;ion, touching the
Captain and Teague, and conver&longs;ing with
them towards the door, gave them to understand,
that they might depart for the

-- 008 --

[figure description] Page 008.[end figure description]

pre&longs;ent; and that there was no manner
of que&longs;tion, but that his Excellency had
taken a note of the matter, and when any
appointment was about to take place, the
gentleman would be remembered.

-- 009 --

[figure description] Page 009.[end figure description]

I observe, from &longs;ome &longs;craps, in the public papers,
that the holding a levee by the Pre&longs;ident of the United
States, has given offence, to men of &longs;evere, and extreme
republican ideas: For, as at the reformation from
the Roman Catholic &longs;uper&longs;tition, the puritans, and
other thorough paced reformi&longs;ts, were offended with
the Church of England, for retaining &longs;ome particulars
of the ancient ceremonies; &longs;uch as the ring in marriage;
the cro&longs;s in bapti&longs;m; the &longs;urplice; kneeling at the
&longs;acrament; bowing at the name of Je&longs;us, &c. &longs;o here;
the more rigid revolutioni&longs;ts from monarchy, object to
any ve&longs;tige of its cu&longs;toms, and would lay a&longs;ide totally
all re&longs;emblance of it.

On the other hand, it is &longs;ugge&longs;ted by tho&longs;e who
would ju&longs;tify, or, apologize for the holding a levee,
that it is in it&longs;elf, no &longs;ub&longs;tance or e&longs;&longs;ential of monarchy;
it is, at the mo&longs;t, but a &longs;hadow of it, and can do little
harm; that the in&longs;titution was &longs;ugge&longs;ted by John
Adams, who having ju&longs;t returned from his emba&longs;&longs;y in
England, had no doubt good rea&longs;on to &longs;uppo&longs;e, that it
would be plea&longs;ing to the Engli&longs;h people who were accustomed
to &longs;uch things; and to the king e&longs;pecially,
who, as far as we under&longs;tand from Peter Pindar, is but a
thick-headed prince: It would be plea&longs;ing to him, to
reflect that though he had lo&longs;t direct authority and jurisdiction
in the&longs;e &longs;tates, yet we were &longs;till di&longs;po&longs;ed to
touch, as it were, the hem of his garment, and adopt
&longs;ome of the trappings of royalty. In this ca&longs;e he could

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[figure description] Page 010.[end figure description]

with more propriety take notice of his brother George;
having a levee like another prince, than if he remained
but a bare republican, like a plucked fowl, without any
plumage to decorate his dignity. It is al&longs;o &longs;aid, that it
was on this principle that Citizen Adams, propo&longs;ed introducing
titles of nobility, &longs;uch as, Duke and Dutche&longs;s,
Marqui&longs;s and Marchione&longs;s, Count and Counte&longs;s, Baronet
and Barone&longs;s, &c. For, that complying in the&longs;e
&longs;mall matters with the &longs;tile of the Engli&longs;h ranks, and
the genius of their government, it would produce and
pre&longs;erve a greater amity between the nations; and with
the court e&longs;pecially, and enable us to obtain greater
advantages in our treaties of commerce. Whatever
may have been the principle, I do not think the proposition
bad. It could not be blameable; for Saint
Paul him&longs;elf, in matters of religion, a thing much more
delicate in its nature, did not he&longs;itate to &longs;have the heads
of four young men, to plea&longs;e the Jews; and what was
wor&longs;e, circumci&longs;ed the poor boy Timothy. What
then, if to humour a weak king, and a prejudiced people,
we had received the appellations of nobility? Be&longs;ides;
the matter might have been &longs;o managed, as not to injure
the &longs;tamina of our con&longs;titution; that is, not to
confer the titles; but let the people take them. Carlisle,
for in&longs;tance, the con&longs;table in Philadelphia, might
have called him&longs;elf Lord Carli&longs;le, and &longs;o on.

The advocates for a levee, &longs;ay, that it is u&longs;eful in order
to avoid the interruptions of per&longs;ons calling on the
Pre&longs;ident at his private hours, who have no other bu&longs;ine&longs;s
than merely to be introduced and to &longs;ee him; that setting
a couple of hours a&longs;ide, one day in the week, for the
purpo&longs;e of &longs;atisfying the curio&longs;ity of the people, is good
œconomy; and is like throwing a barrel to a whale, in
order to pre&longs;erve the &longs;hip. For, that, if this was not
indulged, little el&longs;e could be done through the week,
than attending to the formality of receiving vi&longs;itants.
To this it is an&longs;wered that it mu&longs;t be impertient in any
one to call upon the Pre&longs;ident who has no bu&longs;ine&longs;s with

-- 011 --

[figure description] Page 011.[end figure description]

him, and if he has bu&longs;ine&longs;s, a levee is not the place to
&longs;ettle it; that the Roman Pretors, and Grecian Archons
made out to di&longs;charge their offices, without this
expedient; that it is not con&longs;i&longs;tent with the honor of
wi&longs;e and mode&longs;t republicans to have it &longs;uppo&longs;ed, that
from idle, and light-headed curio&longs;ity, they would be
trouble&longs;ome to their chief magi&longs;trate; if any were &longs;o,
calling once, they could be di&longs;mi&longs;&longs;ed in &longs;uch a manner,
as to cure them of it; and the thing being once known
to be improper, the idea would pervade the ma&longs;s of the
citizens, and the mo&longs;t unin&longs;tructed, would be taught
not to tran&longs;gre&longs;s by &longs;o obvious an intru&longs;ion.

Be&longs;ides; the curio&longs;ity of &longs;eeing a man eminent in
office, exi&longs;ts chiefly with weak minds; for the more
&longs;olid know, that it is not the figure of a great man that
has made him &longs;uch; but a &longs;eries of prudent and successful
conduct. They are &longs;en&longs;ible that when they &longs;ee
the mo&longs;t di&longs;tingui&longs;hed in arts, in letters, or in arms,
they will &longs;ee a per&longs;on that looks ju&longs;t like another man.
Is it worth while then, &longs;ay the anti-lee-vites, to con&longs;ult
the curio&longs;ity of gaping haubucks, by obliging the chief
magi&longs;trate of a government, to &longs;hew him&longs;elf to them
once a week, when he has &longs;o much real bu&longs;ine&longs;s on his
hands?

For my part, lying at the back of a mountain here;
the cool we&longs;t wind blowing on me; I find my&longs;elf little
heated with the difference of opinions on this que&longs;tion.
All I &longs;hall &longs;ay, is, that the ceremony of a levee would
not be agreeable to my mind; and if I &longs;hould be cho&longs;en
Pre&longs;ident at any time, with which my friends flatter me,
I believe I &longs;hall not continue it, unle&longs;s indeed, I &longs;hould
be allowed to di&longs;charge it by proxy. For I could not
my&longs;elf, &longs;ubmit to &longs;tand two hours, once a week, in a
circle, like a bear at a &longs;take, to be &longs;aluted by all comers
and goers, and be obliged to &longs;ay, &longs;ome words of cour&longs;e,
to get clear of them. It is po&longs;&longs;ible, this declaration
may affect my election, but &longs;uch is my habit of candour,
that being on the &longs;ubject, I could not help making it.

-- 012 --

[figure description] Page 012.[end figure description]

And I flatter my&longs;elf, the mo&longs;t &longs;treneous lee-vites, may
be reconciled to it, when I propo&longs;e in its place to have
my&longs;elf taken off the more abundantly in portraits, and
to have innumerable medals &longs;truck repre&longs;enting my
phy&longs;iognomy and features; and to a&longs;&longs;i&longs;t this, I &longs;hall not
be backward, to have di&longs;criptions given of my per&longs;on,
manners, and apparel, to &longs;atisfy the curio&longs;ity of strangers.
This I hope will &longs;uffice.

-- 013 --

[figure description] Page 013.[end figure description]

From the reception at the levee,
which the Captain thought favorable, he
began to entertain more confidence in the
advancement of Teague; and, under this
impre&longs;&longs;ion, thought it now advi&longs;eable to
begin to take &longs;ome pains with his bodily
appearance, and by the next interview,
produce him to the be&longs;t advantage.

To conduct this by &longs;y&longs;tem, the fir&longs;t
thing was to heave him down, as it were,
and &longs;crape off his barnacles. This was
done by ordering into an apartment of
the kitchen, at the Indian Queen, a tub
of warm water. His overalls being &longs;tript
off, and putting his feet and legs in this,
with hickory a&longs;hes, and a pint of &longs;oft &longs;oap,
the ho&longs;tler was occupied an hour or two,
in the nece&longs;&longs;ary lotion and friction, until
the upper &longs;kin began to come off, and the
natural complexion of his fle&longs;h appear.
After this being &longs;tript altogether, his
whole body underwent the &longs;ame operation,
the Captain &longs;tanding by, and ordering
his joints to be &longs;tretched, in the manner
of the Turks in their baths. After this, a
clean &longs;hirt was put on him, and the u&longs;ual
attire of a common man.

-- 014 --

[figure description] Page 014.[end figure description]

The next thing to be done towards
forming the bog-trotter, to &longs;ome degree
of decency, was the teaching him &longs;ome
more ea&longs;y movements of his per&longs;on, &longs;o as
not to lift his feet &longs;o high, or make &longs;uch
long &longs;trides; as not being nece&longs;&longs;ary, where
there were now no &longs;loughs or ditches to
leap over, but carpets, or plain floors to
&longs;tep upon. This, with the in&longs;tructing him,
in what manner, to turn his toes out, or
at lea&longs;t to keep his feet parallel in walking;
and turning round, to throw one heel
into the hollow of the other foot; at the
&longs;ame time, in what manner to bear his
arms and head; and to pre&longs;erve, or, incline
his body, in receiving or returning a
&longs;alutation: con&longs;idering by what means
this was be&longs;t attainable, the Captain
thought to him&longs;elf it might be advi&longs;eable,
in the fir&longs;t in&longs;tance, to employ a dancing
ma&longs;ter. For though the le&longs;&longs;ons of &longs;uch a
teacher, might not give ea&longs;e of behavior,
all at once, yet the&longs;e might lay the foundation
of it. For, no man ever came

-- 015 --

[figure description] Page 015.[end figure description]

from the hands of a dancing ma&longs;ter with
a natural ea&longs;e and flexibility of joint and
limb; yet being taught to move by rule at
fir&longs;t, in the cour&longs;e of mixing with good
company, the wire edge of art would
wear off, and an ea&longs;e of demeanor be attained.
For this rea&longs;on he thought proper,
the next morning, to &longs;end for Monsieur
Douperie, and to addre&longs;s him as
follows:

Mon&longs;ieur Douperie, &longs;aid he, here is a
young man of &longs;ome talents, as the world
&longs;uppo&longs;es, though I never could find them
in him; who, is in a fair way to be introduced
into the political, and probably the
gay world: and as he is but ru&longs;tic and aukward
in his movements, I would wi&longs;h to
have him poli&longs;hed; not that I expect he
can attain to great perfection in the highe&longs;t
&longs;pecies of the dance, &longs;uch as the minuet,
or the cotilion, or even the manœuvres
of a country dance; but &longs;imply in the position
of his feet, and to &longs;tep and move
with propriety. For I do not think it
nece&longs;&longs;ary for a &longs;tate&longs;man, that he be a
proficient in the &longs;altatory art; but, simply,
that he be able to bear him&longs;elf upright,
and to enter a room in an ea&longs;y manner,
and not take too long &longs;trides in
walking acro&longs;s the floor.

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[figure description] Page 016.[end figure description]

The Frenchman, eyeing Teague,
thought with him&longs;elf, that he was but a
rough &longs;ubject to work upon; neverthele&longs;s,
concealing his &longs;entiment, as the manner
of the nation is polite and compliant, he
replied. Mon&longs;ieur Capitaine, &longs;aid he,
ver great &longs;en&longs;ible of de honneur, que vous
me faites, de attitude of dour&longs;elf be &longs;o ver
natural, dat prove de high degree que vous
acquis in de art dat I ta&longs;he; and trow un
grand lu&longs;tre, on de talents dat I po&longs;&longs;ede.

Such was the compliment to the Captain
him&longs;elf; though, by the bye, he was
but a plain man, and had never been taught
to dance.

Mon&longs;ieur Douperie continuing, turned
his attention now to the bog-trotter.
Dis Mon&longs;ieur, &longs;aid he, appear de be&longs;t
calcule of de vorld for de dan&longs;e. Sa taille,
ver good, his limb promettent, ver much
en faveur of his talents futures. His muscle,
et &longs;on apparance nerveu&longs;e, confirm
me of his &longs;tren&longs;e in de execution. His
eye, be ver good, pour fixet &longs;on vi&longs;avis,
his partner. Tout me promet un grand
expectation make Mon&longs;ieur mo&longs;t egal
my&longs;elf, in de art of de dan&longs;e.

As to that, &longs;aid the Captain, I would
not have you too &longs;anguine. You do not
take into view the low &longs;tate in which he

-- 017 --

[figure description] Page 017.[end figure description]

is; and what pains will be nece&longs;&longs;ary before
you can bring him to that point where you
begin with others. So low is my opinion
of his pre&longs;ent grade in point of manners,
that I had thought of putting him a while
under the care of a per&longs;on &longs;killed in
breaking oxen, that he might be taught
to move by rule in &longs;ome rough way at
fir&longs;t, before I would trouble you with
giving him the nicer precepts that re&longs;pect
the locomotive art.

Tres plai&longs;ant Capitaine, ver plai&longs;ant,
&longs;aid the dancing ma&longs;ter, mais, j'me promet
dat Mon&longs;ieur make ver good proficiance,
in ver &longs;hort time.

The Captain now thinking proper to
withdraw, left Teague to his le&longs;&longs;ons.

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[figure description] Page 018.[end figure description]

Monsieur Patrick, &longs;aid Mon&longs;ieur
Douperie, for under&longs;tanding that he was
an Iri&longs;hman, and thinking that all Irishmen
were named Patrick, he gave him
this appellation: Mon&longs;ieur Patrick, &longs;aid
he, il faut commencer, par les principes;
mu&longs;t begin by de principle.

La primiere principe, de fir&longs;t le&longs;&longs;ong
e&longs;t placer les pieds; place de foot. Voyez;
dis foot, cy; comme cela, (&longs;hewing
him how to place his foot) and ce luy, dat
foot, la; comme dis foot. (Shewing him
by his own foot how to place it) Tournez
les pieds; open de foot, quoi! vous
ouvrez la bouche; vous open de mout, and
not de foot. Vous keep vos foot in de
&longs;ame po&longs;ition, et vous baillez: you open
de mout. La &longs;econ principe, is to keep
de body droit; trait. Mu&longs;t &longs;it firm &longs;ur
&longs;es membres, on de limb. Tenez votre
body as dis (&longs;hewing him in what manner
to keep his body) a&longs;&longs;ieyez vous, &longs;ur vos
membres, comme ce la; dis way Monsieur
sieur Quoi! encore la bouche ouverte,

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[figure description] Page 019.[end figure description]

you open de mout again Mon&longs;ieur Patrick.
Fermez la bouche, &longs;hut de mout.

I &longs;top here to ob&longs;erve, that the opening
the mouth when an exertion of the mind
or body is required, is a habit very common
with uninformed men, and not at all
peculiar to Teague: you will ob&longs;erve,
that men, who have not been long, or at
lea&longs;t much in the habit of writing, when
they put pen to paper, open the
mouth, and protrude the tongue, moving
it, as the pen turns to the right hand
or to the left; or draws the &longs;troke long
or &longs;hort; and, you will &longs;ee a cordwainer
of good &longs;kill in his trade, from mere habit,
and not any defect of art, put out his
tongue, and move it, as if it could guide
his hand, when he is parcing nicely the margin
of the &longs;oal of a &longs;hoe or boot: Having
made this ob&longs;ervation in ju&longs;tice to the bog-trotter,
I return to my narration.

The Captain coming in at this point of
the bu&longs;ine&longs;s, made enquiry of Mon&longs;ieur
Douperie, what &longs;ucce&longs;s he appeared to
have with his pupil. Bien tolerable, Monsieur
Capitaine, &longs;aid Mon&longs;ieur Douperie,
ver tolerable: Mon&longs;ieur es d'une tres
bonne naturel; ver good di&longs;po&longs;ition. A
la commencement il ne faut pas nous
flatter, mu&longs;t not flatter, wid de plus haut

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[figure description] Page 020.[end figure description]

degre, du &longs;ucces; at de fir&longs;t of de lessong.

The Captain, not &longs;o much from the
words of the dancing ma&longs;ter, as from his
countenance, and the tone of his voice,
&longs;aw, that he was not &longs;o &longs;anguine with
regard to the proficiency of the bog-trotter
as he had been at fir&longs;t: Neverthele&longs;s,
he was not di&longs;couraged in &longs;uffering
Mon&longs;ieur Douperie to go on with his
le&longs;&longs;ons; becau&longs;e he expected little more,
as has been &longs;aid, than &longs;ome improvement
of &longs;tep and gait. Nor did he draw any
conclu&longs;ion unfavorable with re&longs;pect to the
attainments of the bog-trotter in a political
career; becau&longs;e he well that auk wardne&longs;s
of manner is not at all incon&longs;i&longs;tent with
the highe&longs;t literary and political abilities;
and that &longs;ome of the greate&longs;t geniu&longs;e&longs;s that
the world has produced have never been
able to attain the graces of behavior. The
poet Horace, &longs;ays of Virgil; magnum
ingenium &longs;ub inculto corpore latet: and
the anecdote of Harley, earl of Oxford,
is well known; who, when Queen Anne
made him Lord Trea&longs;urer, his dancing
ma&longs;ter expre&longs;&longs;ed his a&longs;tonishment, and
wondered what the Queen could &longs;ee in
him; for he was the greate&longs;t dunce he
ever had at his &longs;chool.

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[figure description] Page 021.[end figure description]

With the&longs;e reflections withdrawing he
left the Frenchman to go on with his lesson.

La troi&longs;ieme principe; de tird le&longs;&longs;ong,
&longs;aid Mon&longs;ieur Douperie, is to lift de foot;
you lift de foot, Mon&longs;ieur Patrick, le pied
droit, de right foot furs; here Teague
rai&longs;ed the left, O! mon dieu, &longs;aid the
dancing ma&longs;ter, le pied droit, et non pas
le guache; de right foot, and not de left.
E&longs;t il po&longs;&longs;ible, you no di&longs;ting de right foot
from de left. Il faut lever le guache: a
la bonne heure, you lift de left foot.

Now, Mon&longs;ieur Patrick; un pas avec
le pied guache; lift de left foot. Here
Teague lifted the right foot, thinking of
the former le&longs;&longs;on, and willing to plea&longs;e the
dancing ma&longs;ter by giving him that foot
which had &longs;eemed to be &longs;o much in reque&longs;t
with him. O! mon dieu, par blieu, &longs;aid
Mon&longs;ieur Douperie, e&longs;t il po&longs;&longs;ible you no
di&longs;ting de right foot from de left?

It is ob&longs;ervable of the French character
that while they pre&longs;erve their temper,
they are all complai&longs;ance, and have the
&longs;ofe&longs;t words imaginable; but when they
break, it is all at once, and they pa&longs;s to
the oppo&longs;ite extreme of peevi&longs;hne&longs;s. It is
not altogether owing to an irritability of
nerve but to that &longs;y&longs;tem of politene&longs;s which

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[figure description] Page 022.[end figure description]

they cultivate; becau&longs;e when the chord of
civility is immoderately &longs;tretched by a concealment
of the feelings, when it is let
go, it flies the farther, and with the
quicker vibration, beyond the medium of
its ten&longs;ion.

O! mon dieu, par blieu, &longs;aid the
Frenchman; and here he had almo&longs;t &longs;aid
foutre, which is one of the wor&longs;t epithets
that is given, when great contempt is
about to be expre&longs;&longs;ed.

However, compo&longs;ing his temper, and
re&longs;uming his in&longs;tructions; he continued;
now Mon&longs;ieur Patrick, &longs;aid he, le pied
droit, lift de right foot. Here Teague,
as he had not plea&longs;ed his in&longs;tructor by what
he had done la&longs;t, viz. lifting the right foot,
now lifted the left, being always at cro&longs;s
purpo&longs;es, as it were, or &longs;till too far forward,
or too far back in his motions, to
corre&longs;pond with the directions given.

O! diable, diable, &longs;aid the Frenchman,
rai&longs;ing his voice, and almo&longs;t vociferating;
quoi ferai je? il e&longs;t impo&longs;&longs;ible d' in&longs;truire
cet garcon: no po&longs;&longs;ible make you understand
fat I &longs;ay, you do. Attendez vous,
Mon&longs;ieur Patrick; you look at me, and
lift de foot dat I lift; now I lift de right
foot; lift de right foot.

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[figure description] Page 023.[end figure description]

Teague &longs;tanding oppo&longs;ite the ma&longs;ter,
and lifting that foot which was on the
&longs;ame &longs;ide with that of the in&longs;tructor made
the &longs;ame blunder as before, and lifted the
left foot.

Mon&longs;ieur Douperie enraged beyond all
bearing, ran out of the room, and left
his &longs;cholar for the pre&longs;ent.

The day after this, Mon&longs;ieur Douperie,
having compo&longs;ed his temper and attending,
the Captain made enquiry, as u&longs;ual, of the
progre&longs;s of his pupil. The Frenchman
endeavoring to put the be&longs;t face on the
matter, &longs;aid &longs;ome things of cour&longs;e and
complimentary; but could not help intimating
that it was une grand difficulty en
le commencement, in de beginning, to
make Mon&longs;ieur di&longs;ting de difference of de
right foot, and de left.

As to that, &longs;aid the Captain, it is a national
incapacity; for which, as al&longs;o for
their propen&longs;ity to make what they call
bulls, it is difficult to account. There are
not a people more brave than the aborigines
of Ireland, and are far from being
de&longs;titute of talents, and yet there is a
certain liability to blunders, both in their
words and actions, that is &longs;ingular. Whether
it is that a mind &longs;trong and vigorous,
and of exten&longs;ive range cannot attend to

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[figure description] Page 024.[end figure description]

&longs;mall things; or that a great flow and hurry
of animal &longs;pirits, carries them too fa&longs;t
for reflection; or that there is a transposition
of the brain, &longs;o that things pre&longs;ent
them&longs;elves by contraries to the imagination;
I cannot tell: but the fact is &longs;o that
in their own country, as I have been told,
when they are taught to dance, which,
by the bye, is a hint which I forgot to
give you, they bind on the right and left
foot different badges, on the one, a twisted
wi&longs;p of &longs;traw, which they call a &longs;ugan
and on the other a band of ozier twi&longs;ted
in like manner, which they call a gad: &longs;o
that when the word is given to rai&longs;e the
one foot, and depre&longs;s the other, it is
ri&longs;e upon &longs;ugan, and sink upon gad;
&longs;o, that though the tiro may not all at
once, and on the word given, be able to
di&longs;tingui&longs;h the right foot from the left, he
may ea&longs;ily tell gad from &longs;ugan, as his eye
can a&longs;&longs;i&longs;t his ear in this ca&longs;e; the object
being &longs;imple; whereas right and left
are relative terms, and that which is on
the right in one po&longs;ition, will be on the
left in the contrary.

Mon&longs;ieur Douperie was willing to avail
him&longs;elf of this hint, for under&longs;tanding that
the bog-trotter was a candidate for &longs;tate
affairs, he was greatly anxious to have the

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[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]

honor of giving him &longs;ome proficiency.
Accordingly, though he did not procure
a &longs;traw &longs;ugan, and an ozier gad, yet he
made u&longs;e of what he thought might be
equivalent, viz. a red rag, and a blue;
&longs;o that in&longs;tead of bidding him move the
right foot or the left, he could de&longs;ire him
to move the red rag or the blue.

Having tied the&longs;e upon his ancles next
morning, he began his le&longs;&longs;on. Now,
Mon&longs;ieur Patrick, &longs;aid he, lift de foot
dat hab de red ribbon: Teague obeyed
with exactne&longs;s and promptitude, and
rai&longs;ed that foot. Now, &longs;aid Mon&longs;ieur
Douperie, de foot dat hab de blue ribbon.
Teague hit the direction, and rai&longs;ed
the foot with the blue rag upon it.

A la bonne heure, vous y voila, &longs;aid
the dancing ma&longs;ter; ver glad Mon&longs;ieur
Patrick you make &longs;o good proficiance; en
peu de tems, je vous pre&longs;entera a l' assemble.
You dan&longs;e ver well, &longs;hort time.

La quatrieme principe, &longs;aid the dancing
ma&longs;ter, de fort le&longs;&longs;ong e&longs;t former une pas,
to make de &longs;tep. Voyez Mon&longs;ieur Patrick,
fat I do. You make &longs;tep, ne
pas long &longs;tep, mais van little &longs;tep. The
Iri&longs;hman attempting to obey the directions
and to &longs;tep, made a &longs;tride about an ell in
length with his arms &longs;tretched out, and

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[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]

gaping at the &longs;ame time. Foutre, &longs;aid
the dancing ma&longs;ter; quoi! Vous baillez;
you ope de mout yet. Oh, diable! diable!
foutre! une bete! But compo&longs;ing
him&longs;elf, he proceeded. Rangez vous a
quartier; &longs;tep to de van &longs;ide, comme ce
la; &longs;hewing in what manner to &longs;tep out
with one foot at right angles to the other.

The Iri&longs;hman, endeavoring to confine
his feet to rule, felt him&longs;elf as much embarrassed
as if chained by the heels; and
attempting to make the &longs;tep as reque&longs;ted,
and making the u&longs;ual exertions, with his
eyes &longs;taring, his arms &longs;tretched, and his
mouth open, lo&longs;t the command of him&longs;elf
on the floor, and being thrown from the
line of gravity, was about to fall, when to
&longs;ave him&longs;elf, he made a catch at the dancing
ma&longs;ter, and drew him down with him.

The dancing ma&longs;ter &longs;uppo&longs;ing that he
hand under&longs;tood him, though in French,
when he u&longs;ed the term foutre, and called
him a bea&longs;t, and re&longs;enting this, was about
to take vengeance, and having heard of
their mode of biting, gouging, &c. in
America, was much alarmed, and di&longs;po&longs;ed
to throw him&longs;elf on the genero&longs;ity of the
Iri&longs;hman, as not being able to contend
with him in &longs;trength: He exclaimed, O!
my lord Patrick, excu&longs;ez moi, pardon,

-- 027 --

[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]

Mon&longs;ieur Patrick, je demand pardon.
Pauvre diable que je &longs;uis. I be van poor
dible. Vous etes un honnete homme.
Ver good man. Un homme brave, courageux,
ab&longs;olument un homme brave,
gallant, tres brave, O! je &longs;uis un malheureux,
I be van poor dible. Je demand
pardon, my lord Patrick.

The&longs;e were the exclamations of the
Frenchman, though, at the &longs;ame time,
he was uppermo&longs;t, but entangled by the
bog-trotter, who having &longs;till a hold of
him, was endeavoring to ri&longs;e; which the
other was di&longs;po&longs;ed to prevent, thinking
it advi&longs;eable to retain the advantage he
po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed, and to keep him down until he
could appea&longs;e him by his entreaties, or
until help &longs;hould arrive &longs;o continuing his
expo&longs;tulation, he exclaimed, O! my lord
Patrick, faites moi, grace. I give you
my money. J'ai beacoup d'argent. I
give you an order &longs;ur mon intendant de
cent Louis; one, two, tree hundred
guinea. I forgive de compen&longs;ation of de
le&longs;&longs;ong,

Teague, in the mean time, having understood
that cha&longs;ti&longs;ement was u&longs;ually
given at &longs;chool, for inattention or flowne&longs;s
in acquiring the elements, and not understanding
broken French, conceived, that

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[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]

the dancing ma&longs;ter was expre&longs;&longs;ing his resentment,
and about to inflict puni&longs;hment;
and therefore endeavoured to excu&longs;e himself
by a &longs;peech on his part. God love
your &longs;houl, &longs;aid he, dont be after bateing
me, becau&longs;e I can't walk like a crippled
coo&longs;e, ju&longs;t at once. By Shaint Patrick,
dis is like &longs;toodying law in de workhou&longs;e,
where de fir&longs;t ting is a good bateing;
God love your &longs;houl, let me up, and i'l
&longs;tep as &longs;trait as a lame &longs;hape, or a dog
wid dis leg broke into de bargain.

By this time &longs;truggling, they were both
on their feet, the Frenchman, &longs;till calling
out, voulez vous me tuer; O! ma femme,
mes enfans, &longs;pare my life my lord
Patrick, and the bog-trotter beginning
to cur&longs;e and &longs;wear, and to rai&longs;e the Iri&longs;h
howl.

Being di&longs;engaged, the dancing ma&longs;ter
made his e&longs;cape, and waiting on the Captain,
not wi&longs;hing to be under the nece&longs;&longs;ity
of giving any more le&longs;&longs;ons, gave him to
under&longs;tand that Mon&longs;ieur had made ver
good proficiance, en ver &longs;hort time; that
he was capable to pre&longs;ent him&longs;elf in public
wid all de &longs;ucce&longs;s po&longs;&longs;ible; that it was not
nece&longs;&longs;ary to give him any more le&longs;&longs;ons.

The Captain did not &longs;uppo&longs;e that the
Iri&longs;hman could have made &longs;uch advances

-- 029 --

[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

as the politene&longs;s of the Frenchman would
lead him to believe, but he concluded he
might have acquired what would be sufficient
as a foundation for his obtaining &longs;ome
decency, though not elegance in his manner
and deportment. Paying, therefore,
Mon&longs;ieur Douperie the &longs;um he demanded,
and thanking him for the pains he had
taken, the Frenchman withdrew.

-- 030 --

[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

Having be&longs;towed &longs;ome pains to
cultivate the per&longs;onal movements of the
bog-trotter, it now remained to endeavor
to improve his manners. This the
Captain undertook, him&longs;elf, and though
he had not read Che&longs;terfield, yet he had
&longs;ome common ideas of decency, and delicacy
in habits, and behaviour. On this
point, addre&longs;&longs;ing his pupil, he began.

Teague, &longs;aid he, you have now got,
in literal terms your rough coat off; that
is, you have &longs;ome better dre&longs;s, than what
you u&longs;ed to wear; you have al&longs;o had &longs;ome
le&longs;&longs;ons, in what manner, to &longs;tand, or
move your feet, as there may be occa&longs;ion;
it now remains to in&longs;truct you with regard
to habits of delicacy, in &longs;ome matters.
You mu&longs;t be careful to keep your hands
and face clean; pair your nails, and let
no black be under them. Wa&longs;h the in&longs;ide
of your mouth, and bru&longs;h your teeth;
keep a handkerchief, and wipe your no&longs;e
with this, not with your bare hand; when

-- 031 --

[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

you cough, &longs;pit out, even &longs;hould there be
nothing to &longs;pit, le&longs;t the imagination of
another, may &longs;uppo&longs;e that there is; you
mu&longs;t not belch, or break wind from your
mouth, or from any other part. By the
bye Teague, I have my fears of you in
this la&longs;t particular, for you know you
have not been always careful in trotting
with me to ob&longs;erve a delicacy in this respect;
and, it would be the devil in hell, if
in a company of ladies, an indi&longs;cretion of
this kind &longs;hould e&longs;cape you.

In the next place you will be careful to
avoid &longs;cratching your head, or your backside,
or putting your hand in the waistband
of your breeches, or turning your
back to the fire, and pulling up your coat
behind, which is the way of the vulgar.
Put but a &longs;mall quid of tobacco in your
mouth, not &longs;well the cheeks as if you had
robbed a weaver of a ball of yarn, and put
it there. Do not &longs;pit on a floor, but in
the fire, or in your handkerchief if you
mu&longs;t &longs;pit. In eating, &longs;it clo&longs;e to the table,
do not put your no&longs;e too near the
plate; put but a little in your mouth at
once; do not &longs;peak while your mouth is
full; or while you chew. If any one
&longs;peaks to you in this predicament, bow;
as much as to &longs;ay I will an&longs;wer you

-- 032 --

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

presently: drink healths &longs;paringly, if at all.
Do not blow in your cup to cool your tea.
Keep your infirmities to your&longs;elf, and do
not complain of co&longs;tivene&longs;s, or laxativeness;
of pains in the bowels, &c. A gentleman
&longs;hould have no complaints, unle&longs;s
to his phy&longs;ician, of any thing, but the
gout, or a fever, or the like. Give no
information of a bad dige&longs;tion; or food,
being heavy, or light to your &longs;tomach; of
your agreeing with this or that food, but
its not agreeing with you, as the vulgar
&longs;ay; that is, as we &longs;hall under&longs;tand you,
it gives you the belly-ach. Take care not
to value your&longs;elf, on your eating, as that
will &longs;hew a gro&longs;s mind; or on your drinking
much, as that is but a low ambition.
Sing no bawdy &longs;ongs; e&longs;pecially among&longs;t
ladies; &longs;uch as Brian O'Linn, and
Arthur O'Bradley; or that about
Tri&longs;tram Shandy O. For though the&longs;e
were &longs;uitable enough to your former station,
and &longs;uch as you have been accustomed
to &longs;ing among the girls at the taverns,
yet they will not pa&longs;s among&longs;t more refined
company. You mu&longs;t get &longs;ome more
fa&longs;hionable airs, &longs;uch as the Bird, or
Guardian Angels, or the like.

Even at clubs, among&longs;t gentlemen, I
would recommend it to you to avoid lewd

-- 033 --

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

and indecent &longs;ongs; e&longs;pecially if they are
of the gro&longs;s and di&longs;gu&longs;ting kind. As you
are an Iri&longs;hman, a ver&longs;e or two of Lango
Lee might be excu&longs;eable, perhaps. It is
true, that in the higher ranks, among
both males and females, the double entendre
is &longs;ometimes u&longs;ed; but unle&longs;s it is with
great delicacy, and relieved by &longs;ingular
wit, it is not admi&longs;&longs;ible.

There are rules of good manners which
you are to ob&longs;erve. Such as when you
walk with any per&longs;on, let them walk
next the wall; if you are about to enter
a room, with another, let him enter fir&longs;t.
or if about to &longs;it down, give way to another
who is al&longs;o about to &longs;it down. Decline
the higher &longs;eat. You mu&longs;t not talk
too much; e&longs;pecially about your&longs;elf;
boa&longs;ting, as I have heard you do sometimes,
of jumping and trotting, and how
you could wre&longs;tler, and the like. I am
afraid. Teague, that after all the pains
I am taking with you, you will &longs;poil the
broth, by &longs;ome out-breakings, of your
old tricks, and habits in &longs;ome way or
other. However, &longs;ince I have &longs;uffered
my&longs;elf to be per&longs;uaded to try the matter,
let it go on, we &longs;hall &longs;ee the i&longs;&longs;ue of it.
The&longs;e are the outlines of &longs;ome of the hints
upon manners, given by the Captain.

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BOOK II.

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

Having thus far cultivated the bog-trotter
by wa&longs;hing, and currying his person,
forming his movements; refining
his manners, and give him &longs;ome ideas of
delicacy of behavior, it now remained to
indoctrinate him in a knowledge of politics:
and for this purpo&longs;e, as he could
not read the Gazettes, or other publications,
it became nece&longs;&longs;ary, to give him the
opportunity of oral information, on political
que&longs;tions: and as attending the debates
of Congre&longs;s, and hearing only, in
the galleries, would not put it in his power
to join occa&longs;ionally in the debates, and
exerci&longs;e him&longs;elf in &longs;peaking; the

-- 035 --

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

attending private clubs, or &longs;pending evenings,
occa&longs;ionally, at beer hou&longs;es, &longs;eemed the
more eligible means to be adopted. Accordingly
an evening, after this, the Captain
taking him to a beer hou&longs;e, and occupying
a bench, called for a mug of
ale, and bade Teague attend to the conversations
that were going forward.

The redemption of what are called certificates
was at that time the &longs;ubject of debate.
It is well known to the readers of
the pre&longs;ent day in America, but which
perhaps will not be &longs;o well under&longs;tood
when this work comes to be read an hundred
years hence, that the United States,
having incurred debts during the war with
Great Britain, and being unable at that
time to di&longs;charge them, could only give,
certificates of the re&longs;pective &longs;ums due to
the &longs;everal creditors; the&longs;e they did give
to the &longs;oldiers of their army, to tho&longs;e from
whom they had purcha&longs;ed articles, or
who had rendered any &longs;ervice: The prospect
not being immediate of the public being
in a condition of taking up the&longs;e, and
the nece&longs;&longs;ity of many of the holders pressing,
they had transferred their right in
the certificates for a fourth, fifth, or &longs;ixth
of their nominal value; in &longs;ome ca&longs;es, at
a much lower rate. The que&longs;tion was,

-- 036 --

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

whether under the&longs;e circum&longs;tances, the
original holder &longs;hould be bound by the contract,
and the transferree ought to take
the whole &longs;um from the public.

It was &longs;tated on one &longs;ide, that it was
the folly of the holder to make the contract.
There was no fraud or impo&longs;ition
in the ca&longs;e; what he did was with his eyes
open. There was no undue advantage on
the part of the purcha&longs;er, for he took no
more than the place of the holder; and
the bargain was fair and equal on both
&longs;ides. The one had a pre&longs;ent certainty
which he preferred: the other an uncertainty
of a greater &longs;um, of which he cho&longs;e
to run the ri&longs;k. The purcha&longs;er who gave
credit to the bills of the &longs;tates, &longs;tood in a
better point of view than the holder, who
di&longs;tru&longs;ting payment, had parted with
them.

On the other &longs;ide it was contended,
that the certificates being only the evidence
of the debt, the receiving that was no
payment; that real &longs;ervice was rendered,
and real payment &longs;hould be made;
that the purcha&longs;er di&longs;covered a di&longs;tru&longs;t of
the credit of the government as well as
the holder, in not giving the full value,
and therefore &longs;tood on no better ground;
that from the prevailing ideas under which

-- 037 --

[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]

the&longs;e contracts were made, the holder did
conceive him&longs;elf parting with the&longs;e securities
at an under value, and the purcha&longs;er,
as obtaining them at that rate, but neither
had an idea that the lo&longs;s on the one
hand, or the advantage on the other,
could be &longs;o great as on the principle of the
provi&longs;ion made for the di&longs;charge of the
public debt it had come to be; that for
the&longs;e and other rea&longs;ons mea&longs;ures ought to
have been adopted of a di&longs;crimination between
the original holders and the transferrees.

Teague had li&longs;tened attentively, and,
contrary to the injunction of the Captain,
with his mouth open. He would willingly
have taken a part in the debates, but
the Captain, thinking the &longs;ubject too abstruse
to begin with, did not &longs;eem to approve
of it, and &longs;haking his head, repre&longs;&longs;ed
the di&longs;po&longs;ition of the bog-trotter.

The next topic of argument, was that
of the a&longs;&longs;umption of the &longs;tate debts. In
order to under&longs;tand this we mu&longs;t &longs;tate;
that, in carrying on the war again&longs;t Great
Britain, contracts were made, and debts
incurred, on the faith of the confederated
&longs;tates, by their repre&longs;entatives in Congre&longs;s,
and this was called the continental debt.
At the &longs;ame time, contracts were made

-- 038 --

[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]

and debts incurred, on the faith of individual
&longs;tates, by their repre&longs;entatives in
the &longs;tate legi&longs;lature, and this was called the
&longs;tate debt. This whole debt, continental
and &longs;tate, had been thrown into one ma&longs;s,
and the payment a&longs;&longs;umed by the Congre&longs;s.
The policy of this mea&longs;ure was now canvassed.
On the one &longs;ide, it was contended,
that as the whole debt, continental
or &longs;tate, was payable by the United States,
each &longs;tate paying the quota apportioned
by the re&longs;olves of the former Congre&longs;s,
and having credit for what &longs;tate debt
contracted on account of the war, was
over or beyond this quota, the que&longs;tion
was no more than this, whether the ways
and means of rai&longs;ing money for the discharge
of its proportion of the &longs;tate debt,
&longs;hould remain with any &longs;tate, as was before
in the ca&longs;e of furni&longs;hing its quota;
or whether the United States, a&longs;&longs;uming
the debt in the fir&longs;t in&longs;tance, &longs;hould take
upon them&longs;elves to di&longs;charge the whole;
that it came to the &longs;ame thing, as the debt
was payable by the whole, and the only
que&longs;tion, was with whom it &longs;hould lie to
devi&longs;e ways and means, to di&longs;charge it;
that the &longs;y&longs;tem of finance became more
&longs;imple, when the United States, a&longs;&longs;umed
the whole, and provided for the payment

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[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]

by ways and means of their own at once;
that it would contribute to the energy and
&longs;ecure the establishment of the federal government,
to have that government the
immediate debtor of the whole amount.

To this it was an&longs;wered, that each &longs;tate
was a better judge of the ways and means,
within it&longs;elf, for the rai&longs;ing money to discharge
its debt; and while the United
States, now having command of the imposts
&longs;hould nece&longs;&longs;arily take upon them to
collect and provide for the di&longs;charge of
the continental debt, properly &longs;o called;
yet it might be left with each &longs;tate as before,
to collect and pay over what was
called the &longs;tate debt; receiving credit from
the United States, and having a right to
draw from thence, any overplus of that
proportion which by the re&longs;olves of the
former Congre&longs;s they ought to pay of
the whole debt.

The Captain thinking this &longs;ubject al&longs;o
above the comprehen&longs;ion of the Iri&longs;hman,
was not willing that he &longs;hould &longs;peak yet.

The next topic was that of the incorportion
of the bank of the United States,
&longs;ome contending that no power was given
by the con&longs;titution to the general government
to incorporate banks; others asserting
that though not expre&longs;&longs;ly, yet under

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the article of paying debts, &c. and making
laws nece&longs;&longs;ary for that purpo&longs;e, it
was by implication given.

The Captain thought this al&longs;o above the
reach of Teague, and obliged him to be
&longs;ilent.

The next &longs;ubject of argument was the
policy of the war carrying on again&longs;t the
Indians. By &longs;ome it was contended that
an Indian was a good creature, &longs;imple and
inoffen&longs;ive, like a young child; that you
might put your finger in his mouth, and
he would not bite; that by &longs;peaking softly
and kindly, and giving him victuals and
drink, and leggins, and breech-clouts, and
blankets, you might do what you plea&longs;e
with him; that when you gave him ammunition
and fire arms, he would go out
and kill turkies, and &longs;hoot down &longs;quirrels,
and bring you in a deer, now and then; that
there was no &longs;uch thing as an Indian stealing
a hor&longs;e, or burning a hou&longs;e, or taking
a &longs;calp, unle&longs;s you had fir&longs;t &longs;tolen his
hor&longs;e, or burnt his hou&longs;e, or made a
catch at his &longs;calp; that when you made a
treaty with the&longs;e people, they had &longs;uch a
love of ju&longs;tice, &longs;uch a &longs;en&longs;e of honor, &longs;uch
a perfect command of them&longs;elves, and
their young men, that, there was no danger
of their departing from the treaty.

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On the other hand it was advanced,
that, as a &longs;avage differed little from a bea&longs;t
of prey; a wolf, or a panther of the
woods; was rude; his pa&longs;&longs;ions violent,
attached to no farm; cultivating no art;
his only amu&longs;ement, or &longs;en&longs;e of honour,
war; or hunting, the image of war;
his &longs;en&longs;e of ju&longs;tice, little; his &longs;en&longs;e of honour,
none at all; no government in his
&longs;tate of &longs;ociety; no &longs;ecurity for individual
or national engagements; that fear
pervading the ma&longs;s, by reaching the feelings,
and apprehen&longs;ions of each individual
was the only principle by which they
could be governed; that in&longs;tead of treaties
and giving goods, as heretofore, it
became us to retaliate by a heavy war
again&longs;t them, and to make known, by
feeling, our &longs;uperior &longs;trength.

Such were the arguments on each &longs;ide
of this que&longs;tion; when the Captain looking
at Teague, and ob&longs;erving that he was
anxious to advance his opinion, a&longs;&longs;enting
with a bow, or inclination of his head, he
&longs;eemed to &longs;ignify that he might &longs;peak.

But before we hear him, it will be necessary
to ob&longs;erve, that during the preceding
arguments, the company had taken
notice of him, as he &longs;at be&longs;ide the Captain
with a mug of beer before them; and

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had wondered in their own minds, who
he could be; for though he was a little
bru&longs;hed up by this time, as may be supposed,
having been at the levee, and taught
to dance, and received le&longs;&longs;ons of delicacy,
and what not; neverthele&longs;s, there was
&longs;till an uncoothne&longs;s in his appearance that
could not be all at once &longs;haken off.

“His form had yet not lo&longs;t all her original
roughne&longs;s: nor appeared le&longs;s than a paddy
dre&longs;&longs;ed; and the exce&longs;s of ru&longs;ticity removed.”
He therefore the more ea&longs;ily
engaged attention, when rai&longs;ing his voice,
he addre&longs;&longs;ed them as follows:

Pla&longs;e your honours, &longs;aid he; I have
heard of de&longs;e Indians, when I was trating
with the Captain my ma&longs;ter. I came
acra&longs;s one o' dem, who affer'd a hundred
dallars for my &longs;coolp; he was going to a
traty here abouts. But my good ma&longs;ter
the Captain took my part, and didn't let
him take it aff; de vile &longs;avages! O! I
have heard of de&longs;e Indians; pla&longs;e your
honours; they come out of de woods, and
&longs;tale &longs;hape, like de rabbers in Ireland, and
burn hou&longs;es, and take &longs;coolps; trate wid
de&longs;e! I would trate wid dem, wid a good
&longs;helelah, or a tomahawk to break der
heads. Give dem goods! by Shaint Patrick,
I would give dem a good bullet

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[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]

hole in deir faces; or &longs;hoot dem trough
de back&longs;ide for deir pains. If I was in
Cangre&longs;s, and God love your &longs;houls, I
wi&longs;h you would put me dere, I would
make a law to coot dem aff, every one o'
dem. O! if my uncle Phelim, and my
cou&longs;ins Dennis and Dermot, and my brother
Murtock, and de oder boys was
here, we would cha&longs;e dem, as you would
cha&longs;e one of deir own &longs;hape; and keep
dem aff de country, and &longs;end dem home
to eat paratoes. God love your &longs;houls,
rai&longs;e a good party and go out upon dem,
and bring dem to de coort, and not let
dem be &longs;taling &longs;hape, and taking &longs;coolps
from de poor people.

You tink to pla&longs;e dem, by &longs;paking good
words to dem. Spake a good cudgel upon
der heads, and bid dem be a&longs;y dear honies,
and keep at deir homes, and plant
paratoes, and be hang'd in deir own country;
pla&longs;e your honours. Trate wid dem!
Trate wid de woolves or de bears, dat
roon troo de woods: I would trate wid a
good knock in deir troat, and be doon
wid dem.

From the manner in which he &longs;poke,
of having been in danger of lo&longs;ing his &longs;calp,
and the Captain re&longs;cuing him, it was understood
that he had been in a campaign

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[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]

again&longs;t the Indians, and his fervour was
excu&longs;ed, and thought natural. Tho&longs;e
particularly who were for u&longs;ing force
again&longs;t the &longs;avages, thought the Iri&longs;h gentleman
had &longs;poken very well.

Encouraged with this &longs;ucce&longs;s, the bog-trotter
was confirmed in his opinion, that
he was fit for any political appointment;
and the Captain him&longs;elf, began to entertain
better hopes of his advances than he
had yet done.

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Though I am not employed in political affairs; or,
meaning to make my book a treati&longs;e of finance; yet I
may be indulged in a few remarks on the preceding
&longs;ubjects.

I am far from being greatly confident that I am right;
neverthele&longs;s I will acknowledge that in the ca&longs;e of the
certificates, I always found my&longs;elf inclined to have made
a di&longs;crimination. It &longs;eems to me that even on the principles
of the municipal law, it would have been justifiable.
Let us apply the chancery deci&longs;ions to the ca&longs;e
of the contract between the original holders, and the
transferrees. In a court of equity, a contract will be
&longs;et a&longs;ide on the principle of,

1&longs;t. Fraud.

2d. The uncon&longs;cionablene&longs;s of the bargain.

3d. The being again&longs;t the public intere&longs;t, and good
policy.

1&longs;t. Fraud: And in this ca&longs;e, it is not nece&longs;&longs;ary to
prove expre&longs;s fraud: pre&longs;umptive is &longs;ufficient. “This
court, meaning the court of chancery, &longs;ays lord chancellor
Hardwicke, will relieve again&longs;t pre&longs;umptive fraud,
&longs;o that equity goes farther than the rule of law; for
there fraud mu&longs;t be proved, and not pre&longs;umed only.”
1&longs;t Atkins 352.

To apply this principle in our ca&longs;e. Is there not
pre&longs;umption of fraud, where the holder of a certificate
parts with it for a little more than the tenth of what is
really due upon it? But it is well known that actual
and expre&longs;s fraud, did in general exi&longs;t in the traffic in
the&longs;e &longs;ecurities, the purcha&longs;ers, individually, or in
combination with others, decrying the credit of the

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[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]

government, and depreciating as much as po&longs;&longs;ible, the
value of the certificates.

But the &longs;ame great chancellor, lays it down, that
“To take an advantage of another man's nece&longs;&longs;ity is
equally bad as taking advantage of his weakne&longs;s, and
in &longs;uch &longs;ituation, as incapable of making a right u&longs;e of
his rea&longs;on, as in the other. Fraud has been con&longs;tantly
pre&longs;umed, or inferred from circum&longs;tances, and conditions
of parties; weakne&longs;s and nece&longs;&longs;ity on the one &longs;ide,
and extortion and avarice, on the other; and merely
from the intrin&longs;ic uncon&longs;cionablene&longs;s of the bargain.
There
are hard uncon&longs;cionable bargains, which have been
con&longs;trued fraudulent, and there are in&longs;tances, where
even the common law hath relieved for this rea&longs;on expressly.”
1&longs;t Atkins 352.

2d. But the bare uncon&longs;cionablene&longs;s of the bargain,
all idea of fraud out of the que&longs;tion, would be &longs;ufficient
to &longs;et a&longs;ide the contract in a court of equity.

Sir John Strange, the ma&longs;ter of the rolls in the court
of chancery lays it down; that “there may be ca&longs;es
where this court will interpo&longs;e to prevent improvident
per&longs;ons from ruining them&longs;elves, before the expectancy
falls into po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion,
though no expre&longs;s fraud or impo&longs;ition
appears.” 1&longs;t Atkins 346.

But let it be &longs;uppo&longs;ed that the contract was equal,
and con&longs;cionable at the time of making it; the one taking
a &longs;mall &longs;um certain, and the other receiving the uncertainty
of a large &longs;un.; yet has it not become unconscionable
by the event? Did any purcha&longs;er ever expect
to be paid the whole nominal &longs;um, in gold or &longs;ilver?
The ideas of the time mu&longs;t be yet fre&longs;h in every man's
mind; and we well know that no man was &longs;o &longs;anguine
as to expect this. It was &longs;uppo&longs;ed that &longs;omething might
be done towards paying the intere&longs;t at a future day, or
lands in the we&longs;tern country, might be obtained for
them. But whatever the purcha&longs;er might think, no
&longs;eller did imagine that for one-third, or one-half of a
dollar, he was transferring twenty or twenty five shillings.
It was not in the contemplation of the parties

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[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]

to lo&longs;e &longs;o much on the one &longs;ide, or gain &longs;o much on the
other. It is an unexpected event that has put it in the
power of the public to do more in making a provi&longs;ion
for the payment of the public debt, than could at that
time be fore&longs;een. What is more; it is an event brought
about by the joint efforts of the original holder and the
tranferree; I mean a new con&longs;titution of government,

under which the legi&longs;lature of the &longs;tates having the
command of all re&longs;ources, was able to make a better
provi&longs;ion for the&longs;e debts. It is unrea&longs;onable, and unconscionable
that the transferree &longs;hould take all the advantage
of this event? Let any man putting a thou&longs;and
dollars in his pocket from the bank of the United States,
look at the war-worn &longs;oldier, or the widow and fatherless
who has parted with them, and &longs;ay if his con&longs;cience
is not touched with a &longs;en&longs;e of the unrea&longs;onable gain.
If it is not, it ought to be. At any rate, on the principle
of unrea&longs;onablene&longs;s, a contract of &longs;uch undue advantage,
would not be &longs;anctioned by the law. The

3d. Ground is that of the public intere&longs;t, and good
policy. Lord Hardwicke lays it down, “that political
arguments, in the fulle&longs;t &longs;en&longs;e of the word, as they
concern the government of a nation mu&longs;t, and have always
been of great weight in the con&longs;ideration of this
court (the court of chancery) and though there may be
no dolus malus in the contract, as to other per&longs;ons; yet,
if the re&longs;t of mankind are concerned, as well as the parties,
it may properly be &longs;aid that it regards the public
utility.” 1&longs;t Atkins 352.

There can be nothing more hurtful to a people than
&longs;udden lo&longs;&longs;es, and &longs;udden gains to individuals. Happiness
depends on a gradual acce&longs;&longs;ion of attainment. Perhaps
a &longs;udden lo&longs;s inflicting with melancholy, is not
more hurtful, than &longs;udden great gains, hurrying into
a &longs;ituation for which the mind is not gradually qualified.
But &longs;udden gains out of the way of common indu&longs;try,
affect the &longs;en&longs;ations of others, who partake not; and
feel chagrin and di&longs;&longs;atisfaction with their &longs;tate in life.

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Such gains &longs;ap the foundation of common indu&longs;try.
For what man will be equally content to labour in his
vocation, and pur&longs;ue the common means of a livelihood
when he &longs;ees his neighbour all at once, by &longs;ome fortunate
ca&longs;t, &longs;o far before him in his acqui&longs;itions. It is
on this principle that our legi&longs;latures have prohibited
gaming, lotteries, &c. In the natural world there is
a gradation in all things. Animals grow to their &longs;ize
in a cour&longs;e of years; trees and plants, have their progress;
Jonah's ground might &longs;pring up in a night by a
miracle; but in general all the productions of nature
have a regular period of increa&longs;e.

The attainments of men are made to depend u&longs;ually
upon their indu&longs;try. As ye &longs;ow, &longs;o &longs;hall ye reap. In
well regulated &longs;ocieties this œconomy is imitated, and
where one e&longs;tate comes by accident, five hundred are
acquired by common means. Such an in&longs;titution of
things con&longs;titutes the health of any people.

On all or any of the&longs;e grounds, therefore, fraud, unconscionableness,
or &longs;ound policy, a contract of the nature
in que&longs;tion, would have been &longs;et a&longs;ide on a bill in
the chancery of England, and in our courts, the contract
would not be e&longs;tabli&longs;hed again&longs;t the original holder of a
certificate: or on payment to the transferree, an action
would lie to the original holder, counting for money
had and received to his u&longs;e, and demanding all above
the &longs;um originally paid, and with legal intere&longs;t from
the date.

But it will occur, that there were in mo&longs;t ca&longs;es a number
of transferrees between the original holder, and
the then po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;or. The impracticability of making
the&longs;e an&longs;werable to the original holder, for their respective
proportions of the undue gain, will put them out
of the que&longs;tion. The ca&longs;e would then have &longs;tood between
the original holder and the la&longs;t transferree. Shall
he be an&longs;werable to the original holder for all the intermediate
gains? No. But let him take no more than
the then &longs;elling price of the certificates. It became the
legi&longs;lature in the fir&longs;t in&longs;tance to have a&longs;certained the

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current value of the public &longs;ecurities, and to have made
provi&longs;ion for the redemption of them in the hands of
the transferrees, at that value and no more; but in
the hands of the original holders, at the full &longs;pecie value;
and let the &longs;um &longs;aved from transferrees go to the
original holders who had transferred. Was it practicable
that the&longs;e could be a&longs;certained? Let the proof lie
on the original holders; and where it could not be
made, let the public be the gainers.

As to the a&longs;&longs;umption of the &longs;tate debts, perhaps,
it would be advi&longs;eable for me to be as &longs;ilent as the
bog-trotter; as it is po&longs;&longs;ible, I may not have a perfect
knowledge of the que&longs;tion. But from the knowledge
I have on the &longs;ubject, it has appeared to me I will not
&longs;ay an unju&longs;t, but an impolitic mea&longs;ure. If more were
led to look to the general government, and to depend
upon it, as being the general debtor; yet with this it
took the odium of impo&longs;ing duties to di&longs;charge the
whole. It would have been as well perhaps, to have
left the &longs;tates them&longs;elves, to enact exci&longs;e laws, or to
devi&longs;e whatever other ways and means, they thought
proper while the impo&longs;ts, which the United States
had now got in their collective capacity, would have
been &longs;ufficient to have an&longs;wered the continental debt
where they were the immediate contractors. There
is that advantage in a public debt, that the fortunes of
many are made to depend on the exi&longs;tence of the government;
but as there, in the nature of things, can
be but few, in proportion to the whole, there will be
in that proportion, a greater number to be affected
with the payment, and to be carele&longs;s of the exi&longs;tence of
the government, or to wi&longs;h a di&longs;&longs;olution of it. When
that debt, as in the pre&longs;ent in&longs;tance, by the nece&longs;&longs;iries
of the di&longs;tre&longs;&longs;ed, the di&longs;tru&longs;t of the credulous, and opportunities
of the knowing, has come to be in few hands;
after having pa&longs;&longs;ed from the mo&longs;t de&longs;erving, at a &longs;mall value
it exi&longs;ts with an odium upon it in the public mind,
which naturally transfers it&longs;elf to all ways and means that
can be devi&longs;ed for the di&longs;charge of it. At the &longs;ame time

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[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]

that it is well to brace the government, and &longs;ecure its
&longs;trength, it is an object of equal moment to pre&longs;erve
it popular: affection, as well as power, are the bands
of authority.

As to the bank incorporation, I &longs;hall only &longs;ay, that
the doctrine of in&longs;ering powers by implication, is extremely
dangerous, and may ea&longs;ily be carried to overthrow
all the boundaries of any con&longs;titution. I think
it much the mo&longs;t advi&longs;eable, when the ca&longs;e is doubtful,
to wait until the &longs;ame authority by which the constitution
is e&longs;tabli&longs;hed, &longs;hall have declared its &longs;en&longs;e on the
&longs;ubject. For otherwi&longs;e, except as to the form of a government,
independent of its powers, a con&longs;titution will
be of no u&longs;e.

A tran&longs;gre&longs;&longs;ion of the con&longs;titution is the breach at
which tyranny enters; and of all things it is the mo&longs;t
difficult thing to pre&longs;erve a con&longs;titution inviolate. The
Council of Cen&longs;ors in Penn&longs;ylvania, was a means, and
I think a good one. They did them&longs;elves honour in
the report they made with re&longs;pect to the violation of
the con&longs;titution, though the &longs;pirit of party prevented
them from going far enough. Under the United States
there is but one means, and that is the deci&longs;ion of the
judiciary. The judges have done them&longs;elves honour in
a late ca&longs;e where they had the independence to declare
a law void which they con&longs;idered as uncon&longs;titutional.
In the ca&longs;e of the bank, would not a writ of quo warranto
lie. I can have no doubt of it; and, I may
be mi&longs;taken, but I can have no doubt but that
the judges would find them&longs;elves bound to declare the
act in que&longs;tion not within the powers granted to the
United States, and therefore void.

As to Indian treaties, having occa&longs;ionally in this
work, in&longs;inuated my ideas, it may &longs;eem a repetition
to &longs;ay any thing more on the &longs;ubject. Indeed the objection
may lie in general again&longs;t the work, that certain
&longs;ubjects, &longs;uch as the Philo&longs;ophical Society, Popular
Preaching, Indian Treaties, &c. have been too often
introduced. To this, I have to an&longs;wer, that it has

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been the &longs;y&longs;tem I propo&longs;ed, not to exhau&longs;t a &longs;ubject all
at once, but to touch it for the pre&longs;ent, and introduce
it afterwards in a different point of view, where &longs;uch
things might be added, as would otherwi&longs;e originally
have been brought in; ju&longs;t as, in order to pre&longs;erve a
reli&longs;h for the &longs;ame food, we do not dine upon it in continuance,
but having had veal to day, take pork to-morrow,
and the third day return to veal again.

Having certain ideas to inculcate, I bring them forward
at various times, and in different &longs;hapes, with
front, flank, rear, corps de re&longs;erve, &c. As the human
mind, from defect of attention, or incapacity, cannot
be reached all at once, in the manner of the prophet,
imitating his zeal, and knowledge of the heart, I give
“line upon line; precept upon precept; here a little,
and there a little.” This will be my apology, for
touching the &longs;ubject of Indian treaties again in this
volume.

On this &longs;ubject I lay down the&longs;e principles; that an
Indian is a man, and you may bind him by kind words
and good acts. But he is an ignorant, uninlightened
man, and when you lo&longs;e the affections of his heart,
you have little hold upon his rea&longs;on to recover it:
Re&longs;pect for you, in the fir&longs;t ca&longs;e, is the ground of his
attachment; fear of you in the la&longs;t, mu&longs;t be your
means to reclaim him. Hence it depends upon circumstances
when a treaty is expedient, and when a war is necessary.

Apply this to our pre&longs;ent &longs;ituation with the Indians.
At the conclu&longs;ion of the war with the Briti&longs;h, we were
thought to be conquerors: though the &longs;avages were
kept in the dark with re&longs;pect to the &longs;tipulated &longs;urrender
of the po&longs;ts on the lakes, and the ce&longs;&longs;ion of the Indian
country by their allies, yet it had tran&longs;pired among
them that we had been &longs;ucce&longs;sful again&longs;t the great king;
hence a fear of us was impre&longs;&longs;ed, and it was expedient
to treat.

We did treat, and after &longs;ome interval, as will always
be the ca&longs;e, war, again took place. They have

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[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]

have had the advantage. This is not, therefore, the
cri&longs;is to treat.

Among&longs;t our&longs;elves, do we not find, that if you
yield to the impo&longs;ition of an ignorant man, he will attribute
it to your want of di&longs;cernment to ob&longs;erve it;
whereas, on your part, it was to avoid all contention
with a low per&longs;on. If you are in&longs;ulted by an ignorant
man, he will attribute it to your cowardice, that you do
not challenge him, whereas, it is an unwillingne&longs;s to
have your name mentioned with his, as having had a
di&longs;pute at all. If you attempt to negociate a contract
with an ignorant man, and a&longs;k him ju&longs;t what you ought
to a&longs;k, he propo&longs;es le&longs;s than he otherwi&longs;e would have
done; and not until you convince him, that you are at
a world, in the&longs;e matters, will you induce him to agree
to what is rea&longs;onable.

A &longs;mall &longs;ucce&longs;s with an ignorant man, again&longs;t an adversary,
will give him hopes, which the occa&longs;ion does
not ju&longs;tify; becau&longs;e he does not comprehend the principles,
and &longs;ee how much accident, or cau&longs;es that may
not exi&longs;t again, had to do in the bu&longs;ine&longs;s. It is therefore
like &longs;elling a fowl in a rainy day, to attempt negociating
with an ignorant man, when his imagination
is not corrected by an experience of facts again&longs;t him.
It is on the principles of human nature, that I found
my ideas of managing the Indians.

I would deprecate a treaty at pre&longs;ent, becau&longs;e it
could not be permanent. We are in a fair way, to
bring things to a &longs;tate in which it might be advi&longs;eable
to treat. Let the event be what it may, I am one of
tho&longs;e who not only approve of the pre&longs;ent war again&longs;t
the Indians, but al&longs;o of the principle on which it is
carried on, viz. by a body of regular and well disciplined
troops. It is &longs;ugge&longs;ted by &longs;ome, that the militia
would be adequate. What? Becau&longs;e in the cour&longs;e of
the war again&longs;t the Briti&longs;h, when we had not disciplined
troops at all times, and in &longs;ufficient numbers to oppose
to the enemy, the militia of nece&longs;&longs;ity were obliged
to act, and &longs;ometimes acted well, will it be &longs;aid that

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[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]

they were preferable to the di&longs;ciplined troops? we know
they were not, though occa&longs;ionally they di&longs;covered
bravery, and were obedient to orders. But &longs;uppo&longs;ing
them equal; what is more, &longs;uppo&longs;ing them preferable;
are the inhabitants of the we&longs;tern country, to be perpetually
harra&longs;&longs;ed with militia duty? To be &longs;ubject to
the nece&longs;&longs;ity of quiting their occupations, and to be occasionally
&longs;oldiers? Did not the militia during the war
with Britain, groan under the nece&longs;&longs;ity of being obliged
to act? And &longs;hall this grievance exi&longs;t to the we&longs;tern
country, ten years after that war has been terminated;
and when it is in the power of the government, knowing
the &longs;eat of war with the &longs;avages, to have regular
troops to oppo&longs;e them; not as in the ca&longs;e of the Briti&longs;h,
where by means of their flects, the war was &longs;uddenly
transferable from place to place, and the militia were
obliged to act, in order to a&longs;&longs;i&longs;t the parts of our army,
until a greater force &longs;hould arrive.

Militia! That is, let every man do his own fighting.
Why not every man his &longs;mithing, ma&longs;oning, weaving,
and tayloring, as well? Becau&longs;e it will be better to
have per&longs;ons who will make a bu&longs;ine&longs;s of each particular
branch, and &longs;tick to it. It does not do to be a Jack
of all trades. Well, and why plow a &longs;pell, and then
fight? But the riflemen of the we&longs;tern country, are
the be&longs;t calculated to fight the Indians. Well: enli&longs;t
&longs;uch, and give them rifles, and make an abiding body
of them, that the country may have a permanent force
to depend upon. But they will not enli&longs;t. I engage
it, if you pay them well. When militia are called
upon they are not tho&longs;e that are drafted that go; they
are &longs;ub&longs;titutes. They co&longs;t high to tho&longs;e that employ
them; and being the refu&longs;e of the country, they are
good for nothing when they are employed. But let
tho&longs;e that are drafted go. Well; draft them from the
inland parts of the government, that have not families
to defend on the frontiers, and &longs;ee what will then be
&longs;aid. Volunteers are the thing, making a &longs;udden incursion.
If they make a &longs;udden incur&longs;ion, they will make

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a &longs;udden recur&longs;ion, and leave the matter as they found
it. A large army cannot find the Indians. They will
run away. Well, &longs;tay till they come back. Occupy
the country; and occupying it, then prepare to treat.
Treating at their own towns you will not be impo&longs;ed
upon by raggamuffins pa&longs;&longs;ing for chiefs; or tribes treating
who are at peace already, and are &longs;o &longs;ituated that
they dare not go to war. But the we&longs;tern country is
not worth defending at the expence of a &longs;tanding army.
Give it up then; ab&longs;olve us from our allegiance, and
let us make terms with the Briti&longs;h who have the command
of the Indians. For an army at lea&longs;t equal to
the pre&longs;ent e&longs;tabli&longs;hment mu&longs;t be kept up; otherwi&longs;e
all the treaties that can be made, will be of no avail;
for a pre&longs;ent vi&longs;ible force is the only &longs;anction of engagements,
with the &longs;avages; more e&longs;pecially in their
pre&longs;ent &longs;ituation, impelled, and &longs;upported by the traders
of Britain. I will not &longs;ay how far the government
takes a part, as there are different opinions on this subject.
But it is not the we&longs;tern country only that you
are defending. It is the very &longs;ea coa&longs;t &longs;ettlements. For
if we give way, and return to the ea&longs;t of the mountains,
will not the enemy come to the ea&longs;t after us?
If he finds no hor&longs;es or blankets, on the one &longs;ide, will
he not pur&longs;ue his rout to the other? If he mi&longs;&longs;es a &longs;calp
&longs;hort of the Schuylkill, will it not do to take it there?
The fact is, that the command of lake Erie, by po&longs;ts
e&longs;tabli&longs;hed upon it, and from thence to the Waba&longs;h,
are the only means of repre&longs;&longs;ing the Indians; not &longs;o
much from the actual force of the&longs;e e&longs;tabli&longs;hments as
from the effect upon the imagination of the enemy; for
&longs;eeing the boldne&longs;s of the &longs;tep, they will count more
upon our force than they ought; as at pre&longs;ent they
count le&longs;s; and it will refute the Briti&longs;h traders, who
deny the ce&longs;&longs;ion of the country made by that government.
But more e&longs;pecially, by encouraging our traders
under the protection of our po&longs;ts, a commerce will
be e&longs;tabli&longs;hed with the &longs;avages, under the no&longs;e of the
Briti&longs;h, and we may equally have the direction of them.

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Surely any man of the &longs;malle&longs;t reflection mu&longs;t know,
that a treaty and giving goods, is but a tran&longs;itory act,
and can have but a tran&longs;itory effect; whereas the means
that will reduce, and the intere&longs;ts that will conciliate,
ought to be permanent to be of any u&longs;e.

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BOOK III.

[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]

The circum&longs;tance of having been at the
levee, and having made a &longs;peech in the
beer-hou&longs;e, which had been much approved,
and above all, it being announced
that he was a candidate for &longs;tate employment,
had made the bog-trotter a pretty
general theme of conver&longs;ation. Sundry
per&longs;ons who were expectants upon government,
had procured them&longs;elves to be
introduced to him, as &longs;uppo&longs;ing that when
in office, by and bye, he might have it in
his power to do them &longs;ervice. Even by
tho&longs;e that were in government, in the
legi&longs;lative, executive, or diplomatic line,
he was not neglected. Several members
of Congre&longs;s had left cards. A&longs;&longs;i&longs;tants,
and deputy a&longs;&longs;i&longs;tants in offices, foreign
con&longs;uls, two or three directors and ca&longs;hiers
of banks, had waited upon him and paid
him their compliments.

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His name became known in the gay
world, and by a gradual introduction, he
had become acquainted in &longs;ome of the be&longs;t
families of the city. The ladies, in general,
were much taken with him. They
thought him a plain, frank, blunt &longs;poken
Iri&longs;h gentleman; not harra&longs;&longs;ing them with
deep ob&longs;ervations, drawn from books, or
an o&longs;tentation of learning; but always
&longs;aying &longs;omething gallant, and complimentary
of their per&longs;ons, or accompli&longs;hments;
&longs;uch as God love your &longs;houl, my dear
cratur, but you are de beauty of de
world. Sleeping or waking, I could
take you to my heart, and ate you wid
de very love o' d' my &longs;houl dat I have
for you. De look o' d' dur face, like
de &longs;un or de moon, run trugh me, and
burn up like a coal o' d' de fire; dat I
am &longs;hick and fainting to take du to my
arms, my dear cratur.

Declarations of this nature, made without
any ambiguity, and warm and violent
in their nature, had rendered him, as I
have &longs;aid, pretty generally a favorite of
the ladies: far indeed beyond any thing
which the Captain, &longs;imple and ignorant
of the world, had ever imagined: his
a&longs;toni&longs;hment therefore was not &longs;mall, a
day or two after this, when walking the

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&longs;treet, he &longs;aw a carriage, pa&longs;s by, with
a gentleman and lady; and on a&longs;king
who&longs;e carriage that was, and who the
gentleman that was in it; for he was
&longs;truck with &longs;ome re&longs;emblance of the bog-trotter;
it was an&longs;wered, that it was the
carriage of Mr. Haberda&longs;her, a merchant
of the city, who&longs;e lady was taking an
airing it would &longs;eem with Major O'Regan,
a member of Congre&longs;s, or Amba&longs;&longs;ador,
or &longs;omething that was ju&longs;t come to town.
God Almighty! thought the Captain; is
it po&longs;&longs;ible. I &longs;ee that I have been a fool,
all my life, and though ju&longs;t going out of
the world, am but beginning to get experience
to live in it. I had been led by
his own confidence, and by the opinion of
others, though with great doubts, on my
part, to &longs;uppo&longs;e it po&longs;&longs;ible that he might
have come to be of &longs;ome re&longs;pect in government,
the di&longs;charge of an office, requiring
rather &longs;olid, than brilliant parts;
but that in &longs;o &longs;hort a time, or indeed, after
any period, he &longs;hould become a favorite
of females of ta&longs;te and fa&longs;hion,
never entered into my head at all: and
for&longs;ooth they have given him the appellation
of Major, though he is about as much
a Major as my hor&longs;e.

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Such were the ideas which the circumstance
of Teague in a carriage with a fine
lady, naturally produced in his mind.
Nor indeed &longs;hould we think them unreasonable,
were it not that we know there
was nothing extraordinary in the ca&longs;e.
For though ab&longs;tractedly con&longs;idered, it
would &longs;eem improbable that the female
mind of great delicacy, and refinement,
&longs;hould be captivated by a rough and gro&longs;s
object; yet we know that the fact is in
nature, and we mu&longs;t leave it to the philosophers
to account for it. Nor will this
be any difficult ta&longs;k, when we con&longs;ider the
powers of imagination. Here was a new
object, unknown as to its origin, and
high as to its preten&longs;ions; and what is novel,
and not fully comprehended, and lofty
in its nature, has a &longs;upereminent dominion
over the human mind. Hence the proverb,
“far fetched, and dear bought, is good
for ladies.” But on the pre&longs;ent occa&longs;ion,
a particular principle operated in favour
of the bog-trotter: viz. the ta&longs;te and
fa&longs;hion of the day. For, as, in the age of
chivalry, a knight was the only object in
reque&longs;t, and at the beginning of the revolution
in America, a Baron, or a Count
from France or Germany was the ton,
&longs;o now, &longs;ince the adoption of the federal

-- 060 --

[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]

con&longs;titution, the appurtenant officers of
government are the only characters in
vogue. And as in the fir&longs;t in&longs;tance, mere
&longs;quires had been taken for knights, and
pa&longs;&longs;ed very well, and in the &longs;econd ca&longs;e,
taylors and barbers, had &longs;lurred them&longs;elves
for gentry or nobility, what could hinder
the bog-trotter from availing him&longs;elf of
the whim of the day, and be taken for
a per&longs;on qualified to fill any place in government,
from the bare pretending to
it? And being once taken for &longs;uch, what
prodigy was there in his being in reque&longs;t
with the females, and all the fir&longs;t families
of the city, who might be ambitious, and
vie with each other, in having him married
to a niece or a daughter, that &longs;o being
rai&longs;ed above plebians by the connection,
they might be con&longs;idered as of a pratrician
degree? Let the principle be what it
would, whether ta&longs;te, or ambition, the
fact was, that the bog-trotter was courted
and carre&longs;&longs;ed by all the fir&longs;t people: there
could be no card party without Major
O'Regan. A young lady &longs;itting by a gentleman
in any hou&longs;e, and &longs;eeing him
pa&longs;s by, would &longs;tart up, and run to
the window and &longs;ay, O, there is Major
O'Regan. When he was in company,
and would laugh, and put out his tongue,

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[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]

as if he was about to &longs;ing, Lilibullero, the
young ladies would laugh too; not that
there was any je&longs;t, in what he or they
&longs;aid, but ju&longs;t becau&longs;e the Major had laughed.
When he would put out his great
paw to touch the hand of any of them,
O, la! Major, one would &longs;ay, O, now!
Major, another would &longs;ay; don't now
Major, a third would exclaim, rather to
attract his attention, than to repre&longs;s his
advances. The fact was, there &longs;eemed to
be a kind of Teagueomania, among&longs;t the
females, &longs;o that all idea of excellence,
per&longs;onal, or mental was centered in him,
and all common lovers, were neglected,
or repul&longs;ed on his account. A melancholy
in&longs;tance of this kind occured to the
Captain the following day, when walking
by the margin of the river on which the
city &longs;tood, and towards a grove of wood,
which &longs;kirted it on the &longs;outh, he ob&longs;erved
a man &longs;itting on a tuft of the bank, with
his head reclining forward, in a melancholy
po&longs;ition, and looking down upon the
wave beneath him, in the manner in which
Achilles is de&longs;cribed by the poet Homer,
as looking on the purple ocean, and complaining
to the godde&longs;s Thetis of the injury
done to him, when the maid Bri&longs;feis had
been taken from his arms by the order of

-- 062 --

[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]

Agamemnon. Sen&longs;ibly touched with an
appearance of woe in any ca&longs;e, the Captain
could not avoid advancing, and accosting
him: Sir, &longs;aid he,----but what
need I take up the time of the reader with
&longs;tating particularly the words of the address:
it is &longs;ufficient to &longs;ay, that with all
the nece&longs;&longs;ary delicacy, the captain gave
him to under&longs;tand that he took a part in
his misfortune, if there was any upon his
mind, and would think him&longs;elf extremely
fortunate if by language, or acts, he could
alleviate his griefs.

Sir, &longs;aid the other, it is impo&longs;&longs;ible. I
am an unhappy man, who have been for
&longs;ome months in love with a young lady of
this city, and who&longs;e affections I had conceived
my&longs;elf to have engaged by the mo&longs;t
unremitting attention. I had counted
upon her, as my wife, and in all my industry
in bu&longs;ine&longs;s, which is that of a merchant,
I had my thoughts directed to the
provi&longs;ion, I hoped, to have it in my
power, to make, in order to &longs;upport her
with dignity and affluence. Yet within
the&longs;e few days, her attention is engaged,
and her affections alienated by a certain
Major O'Regan, that is, or, is about to
be engaged in &longs;ome public employment.

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[figure description] Page 063.[end figure description]

Major O'Regan, &longs;aid the Captain,
laughing; is it po&longs;&longs;ible!

Do you know him, &longs;aid the gentleman?

Know him, &longs;aid the Captain; he is my
bog-trotter; he has been my valet de
chambre this three years; and of late my
ho&longs;tler and boot cleaner, in my travels to
this city. I believe I could prevail with
him for a pair of breeches, or &longs;o, to re&longs;ign
his preten&longs;ions to the lady.

At this, the eye of the inamorato began
to re&longs;ume its lu&longs;tre; and the palene&longs;s of his
countenance to give way to &longs;ome freshness
of complexion. Give me your name,
and the name of the lady, &longs;aid the Captain,
and call upon me to morrow, at
the Indian Queen, about nine o'clock, and
I will endeavor to make &longs;uch terms on
your behalf with this &longs;ame Major O'Regan,
that he will give you no farther trouble,
on the &longs;core of the lady.

The inamorato expre&longs;&longs;ed his thankfulness
with great animation and fervour;
and accepted the invitation to wait upon
him at the time and place propo&longs;ed, informing
him, at the &longs;ame time, that his
name was Williams, and that of the lady,
was M`Cracken, a daughter of an alderman
of the city of that name.

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The Captain coming home, addre&longs;&longs;ed
the bog-trotter as follows: Major O'Regan,
&longs;aid he, for that I find is the title
which they have given you, there is a young
lady of this town of the name of M`Cracken,
whom you have by &longs;ome means engaged
to think favorably of you, to the
neglect of a former admirer, a Mr. Williams,
a merchant, of this city. This
gentleman had a claim upon her from a
prior attention, and though there is no
municipal law that con&longs;titutes it a wrong
in you to interfere; yet humanity will
dictate that it is a wrong. Becau&longs;e it is a
&longs;mall thing to a man who&longs;e affections are
not engaged; and who has yet wa&longs;ted no
time upon an object, to decline attention
to it, or relinqui&longs;h it. But to him who
has &longs;et his mind upon this or that lady, it
is death to be repulfed, and a man of honor
and delicacy of feeling, who &longs;ees the
advances of another which are well received,
will not interfere, even though the
object might be agreeable to him. Much
le&longs;s will he amu&longs;e him&longs;elf at the expence
of another, by paying attention when it
is his own vanity alone that he con&longs;ults, in
&longs;hewing in what point of view he could
&longs;tand if he &longs;hould think proper to per&longs;i&longs;t.
I hope better things of you Teague, and

-- 065 --

[figure description] Page 065.[end figure description]

that you will conduct your&longs;elf on the principles
of honour and humanity; you will
re&longs;ign this flirt, for &longs;uch I deem her, who----
he was going to &longs;ay, who could be
tickled with you; but having a point to
carry with Teague, he cho&longs;e to u&longs;e &longs;oft
words; who, continued he, could &longs;o
readily change one lover for another.
What &longs;ecurity have you of the affections
of one of &longs;o ver&longs;atile a mind, Mr. Williams
is a merchant, and has cloths in his
&longs;tore: he will give you the pattern of a
pair of breeches to decline your pretensions,
and re&longs;ign the jade to him who had
fir&longs;t ca&longs;t his eye upon her.

Teague, much more from this la&longs;t part
of the argument, than from the fine sentiments
of delicacy, &c. which were laid
down in the fir&longs;t of it, con&longs;ented to relinquish
the dulcinea; and &longs;o when Mr. Williams
called at the hour propo&longs;ed, an order
for the making of a pair of breeches was
given and the bog-trotter pledged his
word, that he neither would laugh, talk,
walk, or ogle with her any more.

Shortly after this, while reading a newspaper,
the Captain heard two men conversing
at the oppo&longs;ite end of the &longs;aloon in
which they &longs;at, one of them expre&longs;&longs;ing
his concern that having a cau&longs;e to be tried

-- 066 --

[figure description] Page 066.[end figure description]

before the court then &longs;itting, his lawyer
Mr. Hardicknute could not attend, being
indi&longs;po&longs;ed, and as it was alledged, from
a di&longs;appointment in love, by a Mi&longs;s Thimbleton,
who was of late, as it appeared,
taken with a certain Major O'Regan, an
Iri&longs;h gentleman of &longs;ome note, who had
paid attention to her.

Enquiring the re&longs;idence of the gentleman,
and being informed, the Captain
ever prompt to do offices of humanity,
immediately calling for Teague, who was
in the bar room with the waiter getting
him to write a love letter for him, &longs;et
out on a vi&longs;it to lawyer Hardicknute, and
being admitted to his chamber, where he
lay langui&longs;hing in bed, acco&longs;ted him, giving
him to under&longs;tand that he knew the
cau&longs;e of his complaint, not by feeling his
pul&longs;e as did the phy&longs;ician of Demetrius,
who was in love with Stratonice: nor by
any power of conjuring; but &longs;imply by
hearing it from a client who was intere&longs;ted
in his recovery; and that in con&longs;equence
of this information he had come to relieve
him, and had brought the identical Major
O'Regan along with him, who for half a
johannes was ready to re&longs;ign all pretensions
to the lady. This the Captain presumed,
from his influence with the

-- 067 --

[figure description] Page 067.[end figure description]

Irishman, and from his &longs;ucceeding on the former
occa&longs;ion.

The &longs;ick lawyer at this &longs;at up; and
having put on on his gown and &longs;lippers, expressed
great thanks to the Captain and
the Major, and very readily handed a half
johannes from his bureau, and calling for
pen, ink and paper, for he was not sufficiently
re&longs;tored to go to his office, he signified
that it would be proper the Major
&longs;hould give him &longs;ome in&longs;trument of writing
as evidence of the contract. It was
agreed on the part of the Captain and the
bog-trotter; and the lawyer wrote as follows:

“Know all men by the&longs;e pre&longs;ents, that
I Teague O'Regan, Major, am held and
firmly bound unto John Hardicknute, in
the &longs;um of one hundred pounds, money
of the United States, well and truly to be
paid to him the &longs;aid John, his heirs, executors,
admini&longs;tators, or a&longs;&longs;igns. Given
under my hand and &longs;eal this &longs;econd day of
June, in the year of our Lord one thousand
&longs;even hundred and ninety-one.

The condition of the above obligation is
&longs;uch, That if I the &longs;aid Teague O'Regan,
&longs;hall withdraw all attention, court&longs;hip,
or wooing on my behalf from a certain
Martha Thimbleton, lady, then the &longs;aid

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obligation to be void, otherwi&longs;e to remain
in full force and virtue.

his
TEAGUE † O'REGAN
mark.

Signed, &longs;ealed and delivered
in the pre&longs;ence of
JOHN FARRAGO.

This matter being fully &longs;ettled, the
Captain and the bog-trotter took their
leave and departed. On their way home,
a man was &longs;een to run acro&longs;s the &longs;treet,
dre&longs;&longs;ed in black, but without hat, coat,
or breeches on. The Captain conceived
it mu&longs;t be &longs;ome mad &longs;ans culotte, or unbreeched
per&longs;on that had come over from
Paris, and was running through the &longs;treets
here in order to bring about a revolution;
but on enquiry, he was informed, that it
was the Revd. Mr. M`Whorter, a young
clergyman, who had been deranged in his
under&longs;tanding on account of a preference
given by Mi&longs;s Fiddle to a certain Major
O'Regan, who had &longs;eemed to have engaged
her affections; that it was fir&longs;t discovered
on the preceding Sunday, when in
his prayer, in&longs;tead of &longs;aying “give
us this day our daily bread,” he repeated,
give us this day our daily Mi&longs;s Fiddle, and

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in&longs;tead of &longs;aying, “deliver us from evil,”
as he ought to have done, he &longs;aid, deliver
us from Major O'Regan; that ever &longs;ince
he had been getting wor&longs;e, and now had
thrown off a part of his garments, and
expo&longs;ing him&longs;elf in public, appeared to be
mad altogether.

The Captain thinking on the &longs;ubject,
was about to parody that line of the poet
and to &longs;ay;


Ye Gods what havock does O'Regan make
Among&longs;t your works.
But repre&longs;&longs;ing all poetical flights, he
wi&longs;hed to lo&longs;e no time, but as &longs;peedily as
po&longs;&longs;ible to wait upon the unfortunate ecclesiastic,
and by &longs;atisfying his mind, remove
his derangement. Accordingly
pur&longs;uing the clergyman, and having had
him &longs;eized and conveyed to a chamber;
he endeavored to make him &longs;en&longs;ible that
Major O'Regan, the cau&longs;e of his misfortune,
who was there pre&longs;ent, was ready
to quit claim to Mi&longs;s Fiddle, and give him
no cau&longs;e of unea&longs;ine&longs;s any farther. For
this, on their way, the bog-trotter, in consideration
of an intere&longs;t in the clergyman's
prayers, had promi&longs;ed to do. But poor
Mr. M`Whorter was too far gone. He
could talk of nothing, but &longs;ome incoherent

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jargon con&longs;i&longs;ting of a mixture of &longs;cripture
and profane language, one while about
Mi&longs;s Fiddle and Major O'Regan; another
while of Daniel in the Lion's den, and
Jonas in the whale's belly, and the Devil
running into &longs;wine. He would imagine
&longs;ometimes that the devil was in him&longs;elf,
and would &longs;queel like a pig.

The matter being thus hopele&longs;s, they
&longs;et off to come home. On their way they
fell in with a man who called him&longs;elf a doctor,
and had a bli&longs;tering plai&longs;ter in his
hand, and a gallipot, and a cly&longs;ter pipe
tyed with a &longs;tring about his neck, and
hanging down his back, and had alarmed
two or three ladies ju&longs;t before, offering
his &longs;ervices in the way of his profe&longs;&longs;ion.
On enquiry, it was found, that it was
the celebrated doctor Catapla&longs;m that had
lo&longs;t his &longs;en&longs;es, within three days pa&longs;t, on
account of a Major O'Regan, that was
likely to carry off Mi&longs;s Bla&longs;m, to whom
the doctor had been a &longs;uitor for &longs;everal
years, and with whom he had been ju&longs;t on
the point of marriage. De&longs;pairing from
the late experiment of doing any thing
with mad people, the Captain waved any
trouble with the doctor, but looking sternly
at Teague; this will never do, &longs;aid he:
I cannot reconcile it to my&longs;elf to be in the
mo&longs;t di&longs;tant way acce&longs;&longs;ary to &longs;o much

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mi&longs;chief; and as, from a deference to the
judgment of others, and to your importunity,
I have &longs;uffered my&longs;elf to be the
means of introducing you to this &longs;phere,
I mu&longs;t take care to repair the injury as
far as may be in my power, or at lea&longs;t
prevent any increa&longs;e of it as much as possible.
If there is &longs;ome tali&longs;manic charm,
God knows what it is, in your per&longs;on or
appearance, that makes you thus formidable
to the peace and happine&longs;s of others
in giving this &longs;ucce&longs;s among&longs;t the females,
and if you have not genero&longs;ity, or moral
&longs;en&longs;e of duty, to u&longs;e your advantage consistent
with humanity, it is full time you
&longs;hould be checked and drawn from this
&longs;phere altogether, and &longs;ent to your former
bog-trotting, or put into the &longs;tate
if you can get there, that hone&longs;t men may
marry their wenches, who&longs;e affections
they had previou&longs;ly engaged.

The bog-trotter was &longs;omewhat obstreperous;
or as the vulgar &longs;ay, obstrapalous,
on the occa&longs;ion; and &longs;eemed to
&longs;ignify that he would not de&longs;i&longs;t; but would
pay attention to whom he thought proper.

The Captain &longs;aw that it was a difficult
matter to lay the devil he had rai&longs;ed; and
his hopes re&longs;ted in this, that he was but
the bubble of a day, and that though

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light-headed young women in the unfortunate
ca&longs;es mentioned, had given him a visible
preference, yet it was rather to torture
their former lovers with a view to
try the &longs;trength of their pa&longs;&longs;ion than with
any intention &longs;eriou&longs;ly to make choice of
him, and finally accept him for a hu&longs;band.
For he could not think it po&longs;&longs;ible that a
woman of fa&longs;hion, and education, would
ultimately be willing to give her hand to
&longs;uch a raggamu&longs;&longs;in. If indeed, he could
come to be a judge, or a governor, &longs;uch
a thing might take place; but as it was, it
&longs;eemed to outrage all credibility.

In this he was mi&longs;taken; for but the
very next day, he was waited on by Mr.
Mutchkin, a merchant of the city, who
was in the whole&longs;ale and retail way as a
grocer, and who had an only daughter,
Mi&longs;s Mutchkin, to whom the Iri&longs;hman
had made his mo&longs;t &longs;erious propo&longs;als. It
was to her, by the a&longs;&longs;i&longs;tance of the waiter,
that he had been writing love letters:
Mr. Mutchkin, a cautious man, before
he would give his con&longs;ent to the match,
thought proper to call upon the Captain,
whom he under&longs;tood to be the uncle, or
guardian of the young gentleman, with a
view of enquiring into his expectations.

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Expectations! &longs;aid the Captain, why
ju&longs;t this; that if he &longs;hould chance to get
into office, it is well, and if not he mu&longs;t
return to his bog-trotting. Bog-trotting!
&longs;aid the merchant. Aye; bog-trotting,
&longs;aid the Captain: what el&longs;e would he do.
It is but ten days, or thereabouts, &longs;ince
he quitted it; and &longs;ince, by taking him to
levees, and beer-hou&longs;es, and rubbing and
&longs;crubbing him, and teaching him to dance,
and giving him &longs;ome le&longs;&longs;ons of manners,
he has been made fit to appear in the gay
world. He has but that pair of breeches
that you &longs;ee to his back&longs;ide, and a pattern
not made up yet, that merchant Williams
gave him; and for my part I have done
all for him that I can do: There is ju&longs;t
the truth Mr. Mutchkin; and if you chu&longs;e
to take him for a &longs;on-in-law, you are
welcome; but as, thank God, I have
pre&longs;erved a principle of candour and honesty
all my life, I will not deceive on
this occa&longs;ion; and if the match &longs;hould
prove unfortunate, you will not have me
to blame,

Mr. Mutchkin, expre&longs;&longs;ed by the staring
of his eye, his a&longs;toni&longs;hment; and as
&longs;oon as he could &longs;peak, thanked the Captain
for his candour, and declared his resolution
that if Major O'Regan as he had

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[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]

the a&longs;&longs;urance to call him&longs;elf, &longs;hould again
come to his hou&longs;e, he would turn him out
of doors; and that if his daughter &longs;hould
give him the lea&longs;t countenance for the future,
he would di&longs;own her entirely: He
had taken the greate&longs;t pains with her in
her education; &longs;he had been taught all the
polite accompli&longs;hments that could become
a lady; dancing, mu&longs;ic, painting, reading
French, the Belles Lettres, geography,
&c. and if, after all this, &longs;he would
throw her&longs;elf away on a raggamuffin to
the di&longs;credit of the family, he would no
longer take notice of her.

Fair, and &longs;oftly, &longs;aid the Captain; I
have a word of advice to give on the subject.
It is true, I have not travelled
much through the world; &longs;o as to vi&longs;it
France, Italy, Spain, or Portugal; nevertheless,
I have &longs;ome general knowledge
of the principles of human nature; not
only from books, but from my own observations,
of the &longs;mall circum&longs;tances that
have fallen in my way, and reflection upon
them; and have found, that in the intellectual
province, as well as in material
works, art accompli&longs;hes more than force;
nay, as in mechani&longs;m, the arch is strengthened
by the very weight you put upon it,
&longs;o, where the imagination is concerned, the

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[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]

attachment is fixed by an oppo&longs;ition to it.
Hence, it is, that the di&longs;&longs;ua&longs;ion of parents,
guardians, or friends is often &longs;o ineffectual,
with their daughters or wards, in matters
of love. It will behoove you, on this
occa&longs;ion, in order to accompli&longs;h your object,
to conceal your knowledge of the
circum&longs;tances communicated; to allow
the bog-trotter free ingre&longs;s and egre&longs;s as
u&longs;ual, and to affect to &longs;peak of him with
re&longs;pect. Leave it to me to &longs;ay &longs;uch
things to the young lady, as under pretence
of recommending her lover, will be
effectual to di&longs;gu&longs;t her, and remove her
attachment,

Mr. Mutchkin impre&longs;&longs;ed with the sincerity
and good &longs;en&longs;e of the Captain, consented
to be guided by him in this bu&longs;ine&longs;s,
and accordingly going home was &longs;ilent to
the mother and daughter with re&longs;pect to
the conver&longs;ation he had with the old gentleman,
who was con&longs;idered as the uncle
of Teague: and the following day when
the Captain waited upon the family, and
was introduced by Mr. Mutchkin, who
retiring under pretence of bu&longs;ine&longs;s, left
him alone with the daughter and mother
to make u&longs;e of the means he had propo&longs;ed.
For Mr. Mutchkin well knew that O'Regan
was a great favorite with the mother;

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[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]

and that it would be as difficult to convince
her as the daughter, of the impo&longs;ition in his
character. Nay, as &longs;he had promoted
the match, her pride, unle&longs;s &longs;he her&longs;elf
was the fir&longs;t to detect the impo&longs;ture,
would hinder her from &longs;eeing it, or at lea&longs;t
acknowledging it at all.

Being &longs;eated, conver&longs;ation en&longs;ued,
and Mrs. Mutchkin, paid the Captain
many compliments on the fine figure and
addre&longs;s of his nephew. Mi&longs;s Mutchkin,
hung down her head, and blu&longs;hed, as being
in the pre&longs;ence of the uncle of her lover
and hearing the name of Major O'Regan
mentioned. Why madam, &longs;aid the Captain,
I under&longs;tand that the bog-trotter,
has been well received in your family.
It is true I am not his uncle, nor is he a
Major; neverthele&longs;s many uncles have
had wor&longs;e nephews; and there have been
Majors that did not perhaps ever &longs;ee &longs;o
much &longs;ervice: for I have under&longs;tood from
him&longs;elf that he was inli&longs;ted once when he
was drunk, and was a while in the barracks
in Dublin; but got off when the
matter came to be examined, and it was
found that advantage had been taken of
him. For the Lord Lieutenant had given
&longs;trict orders, that in the enli&longs;tments the
utmo&longs;t fairne&longs;s &longs;hould be u&longs;ed; nor,

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[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

indeed was it nece&longs;&longs;ary in time of peace, to
take advantage; becau&longs;e there were men
enough to be got voluntarily, and deliberately
to enter the &longs;ervice. Nor indeed
had Teague him&longs;elf any objections to be a
&longs;oldier, but that his con&longs;titution had not
given him that courage which is nece&longs;&longs;ary
to enable a man to face an enemy with fire
arms: He could cudgel at a fair, or the
like, where he was &longs;upported by others
that would take the weight of the battle
off his hands; but except to wre&longs;tle at
carni&longs;h hug, as he calls it, with a ho&longs;tler,
now and then, I never knew him fond of
any contention what&longs;oever. I under&longs;tand
that he has been fortunate enough to render
him&longs;elf agreeable to the young lady
your daughter, and I congratulate myself
on the pro&longs;pect of having &longs;o accomplished
a young woman to be the wife of
my dome&longs;tic. I have had him now the&longs;e
three years. I bought him out a &longs;hip of
Iri&longs;h &longs;ervants. He has been always faithful
to me in the offices in which I employed
him, &longs;uch as bru&longs;hing boots, and rubbing
down my hor&longs;e. It is true his manners
were a little rude at fir&longs;t, but I have taken
a good deal of pains to teach him &longs;ome
of the outlines of a decent behaviour, &longs;uch
as to blow his no&longs;e with a handkerchief,

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[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

and keep from breaking wind in company,
a practice to which he was a good deal
addicted at his fir&longs;t &longs;etting out; and
though he takes long &longs;trides as you may
&longs;ee, from wearing brogues, and bog-trotting;
yet in the cour&longs;e of time, this
and other habits may be broke, by being
in good company. He has made considerable
improvement in the &longs;hort time, I
have taken pains with him. Though but
ten days &longs;ince he was heaved down, and
curried and bru&longs;hed up for a gentleman,
he has learned to chew food, without
grea&longs;ing his chin and cheeks. If he &longs;hould
fall into the hands of a lady of ta&longs;te, as
he is like to do, &longs;he may improve him &longs;till
more. It will be of particular advantage
to him to get a woman that can write and
read; as I under&longs;tand Mi&longs;s Mutchkin can
do very well; for as he can neither read
nor write him&longs;elf, it is nece&longs;&longs;ary that there
&longs;hould be one of a family that can. He
has been fortunate at the taverns where
we lodged to get the waiters to write and
read billets to ladies; but &longs;uch cannot be
always at hand for the&longs;e things; but a wife
may. It is true his hopes in government
are uncertain, as to being an amba&longs;&longs;ador
or con&longs;ul, but he may get to be a valet
de chambre to one of the&longs;e: and though

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[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]

the ambition of Mi&longs;s Mutchkin may not be
&longs;o much flattered, as to be the lady of a
mini&longs;ter, yet true happine&longs;s is to be found
in contentment; and the love &longs;he has for
his per&longs;on, may make amends for the
want of rank and honor; much more for
the want of fortune; for riches are but
dro&longs;s, and the maid of a kitchen may be as
happy as the mi&longs;tre&longs;s in the parlour. His
fortune indeed is not much. He has nothing
of his own, but what dre&longs;s he wears,
and a pattern of a pair of breeches, not
yet made up. My e&longs;tate is but &longs;mall,
con&longs;i&longs;ting in a farm, and implements of
hu&longs;bandry, with a couple of hor&longs;es, one
of which I have rode from home, while
he bog-trotted by my &longs;ide. Neverthele&longs;s,
if he marries Mi&longs;s Mutchkin I will endeavor
to do &longs;omething for him, and for two
or three years to come will engage to
find him in breeches and wai&longs;tcoats.

The young lady was confounded and
withdrew. The mother was &longs;ilent, and
with all her heart wi&longs;hed the Captain gone,
that &longs;he might dige&longs;t her mortification in
private. The Captain &longs;aw all this; but
without &longs;eeming to &longs;ee it, pre&longs;erved a
grave countenance, and with &longs;ome apology
of having an engagement &longs;o that he could

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[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]

not have the honor of a longer conversation,
he took his leave.

The dialogue that took place after this
between the mother and the daughter,
may be more ea&longs;ily imagined than expressed.
It was conluded that when
O'Regan came next to the hou&longs;e, the
porter &longs;hould be ready with a cow&longs;kin to
give him a &longs;uitable reception.

Mr. Mutchkin coming in was made acquainted
with the di&longs;covery of Major
O'Regan's hi&longs;tory. Affecting to be as
much a&longs;toni&longs;hed as them&longs;elves, he observed,
that it would be however proper
to di&longs;mi&longs;s him with civility, as he had been
received in the capacity of a &longs;uitor. Here
Mi&longs;s Mutchkin again blu&longs;hed, not as at
fir&longs;t, with an affected blu&longs;h of mode&longs;ty,
when Major O'Regan was at any time
mentioned, but with the blu&longs;h of confu&longs;ion
and &longs;hame. The mother di&longs;covering in
her countenance all the emotions of
wounded pride, and ungovernable resentment,
avowed her determination to have
him received with a cow&longs;kin by the porter.
Mr. Mutchkin, affecting to acquiesce,
as the&longs;e were matters in which he
did not wi&longs;h to concern, did but confirm
the re&longs;olution.

Accordingly, that evening, when the

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[figure description] Page 081.[end figure description]

bog-trotter being on the point of marriage
as he thought, came to take tea with Mi&longs;s
Mutchkin, ringing the bell, and being
admitted, a &longs;tout fellow, an Engli&longs;hman,
who &longs;erved in the capacity of Porter,
being prepared with a very heavy cowskin,
made an attack upon him. The
Iri&longs;hman exclaimed, and called out for
Mi&longs;s Mutchkin. O! God love your
dear lady&longs;hip, Mi&longs;s Mutchkin; by &longs;haint
Patrick; by de holy apo&longs;tles, I &longs;hall be
kilt and murdered into de bargain! O! I
&longs;hall be kilt and murdered. God love
your &longs;houl &longs;top wid your cow&longs;kin, till I
&longs;ay may prayers; and &longs;pare my life; O!
I &longs;hall be kilt and murdered, O! dis night,
in de hou&longs;e here. Mi&longs;s Mutchkin, where
is your dear lady&longs;hip, to look upon me
wid your eyes, and &longs;ave me from dis
bateing? O! I am kilt and murdered.

Saying the&longs;e words the porter had
kicked him out of the hou&longs;e, and &longs;hutting
the door, left him to his exclamations in
the &longs;treet.

Coming home, to the Captain, he made
a woeful complaint of the di&longs;a&longs;ter that had
befallen him; which the Captain took
care not to alleviate, but increa&longs;e, alledging,
that it mu&longs;t have been &longs;ome former
lover of the lady, who was exa&longs;perated at

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[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]

the preference given, and took this method
of revenge; that he now &longs;aw how dangerous
it was to interfere with men of
&longs;pirit in their court&longs;hips, and he ought to
be more careful for the future.

-- 083 --

[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]

HAVING given the preceding hi&longs;tory, and put my
name to it, there is no man that knows me, will
doubt of the truth of it. For I have always con&longs;idered
the fir&longs;t character of an hi&longs;torian to be veracity; and in
all my former compo&longs;itions, have endeavored to preserve
that character. There being therefore no doubt
of the facts, it will remain only to account for them,
and indeed, though we have partly done it already, in
&longs;ome ob&longs;ervations we have made, yet this, and the
like circum&longs;tances which occur every day in life, of
Teague O'Regans and bog-trotters, being the favorites
of ladies in preference to the mo&longs;t accompli&longs;hed men,
is &longs;o contrary to what we would expect, that it may
de&longs;erve a more minute developement of the cau&longs;es and
principles. In early times, and even yet among&longs;t &longs;imple
and uninformed people, the effect has been attributed
to love potions, or witchcraft; that is, either to
&longs;ome drug, or draught affecting the nerves, and deranging
the brain; or to &longs;ome &longs;upernatural power
operating on the faculties. But exploding the&longs;e, we
&longs;hall endeavor to explain the phenomenon upon the
common principles of the affections of the heart, and
the power of the imagination. But it mu&longs;t be presumed
that in general, advantage of per&longs;on, good
&longs;en&longs;e, and virtue prevail with the females, and where
the oppo&longs;ite is the ca&longs;e, it is to be con&longs;idered as out of
the common cour&longs;e of choice. Why it ever &longs;hould be
&longs;o, may depend on this; that a Teague O'Regan having
little &longs;en&longs;ibility of nerve, has all that apathy from
nature which the man of addre&longs;s has from habit, and

-- 084 --

[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]

more &longs;teadily, becau&longs;e the one is nature, the other art:
and coolne&longs;s in love, is a great &longs;ecret of &longs;ucce&longs;s. Sensibility
is irritable, unper&longs;evering, de&longs;ponding, extravagant;
and hence it is that no man who is deeply
enamoured of a lady before &longs;he has conceived &longs;ome
attachment on her part, has an equal chance to be
acceptable. The fond love of a refined mind, produces
&longs;illine&longs;s, in proportion to the delicacy of the feelings;
and the contra&longs;t being more ob&longs;ervable, the wi&longs;e man
becomes, or appears to be the greater fool. The
Teague O'Regan makes love without any heart at all;
he attends upon a lady as he would tread mortar:
flatters her as he would &longs;peak to a parrot, or &longs;troke a
cat, without a &longs;ingle &longs;en&longs;ation to di&longs;turb him. The
appearance of &longs;ecurity on the part of the lover, gives
the lady to &longs;uppo&longs;e that he is con&longs;cious of advantages,
and of cour&longs;e that there mu&longs;t be &longs;uch which &longs;he does
not yet di&longs;cover: or conceiving that &longs;he has not yet
ab&longs;olutely engaged him, &longs;he makes it an object to in&longs;pire
his attachment, and the very exerci&longs;e of her own pa&longs;&longs;ions
kindles a flame; for hopes and fears are the aliments of
love. A Teague O'Regan has no &longs;entiment of his own,
and therefore he approves all the rea&longs;on, and laughs at
all the wit of the lady; &longs;o that putting her in love with
her&longs;elf, &longs;he becomes in love with him. A man of
&longs;en&longs;e, expre&longs;&longs;es it; but if contrary to the lady's &longs;en&longs;e,
&longs;he thinks it non&longs;en&longs;e, and he becomes the Teague
O'Regan in her judgment.

Again, a Teague O'Regan is repre&longs;&longs;ed by no &longs;en&longs;e
of honour, or regard to a permanent happine&longs;s, from
pa&longs;&longs;ing him&longs;elf for what he is not, and practi&longs;ing imposition,
he impo&longs;es; talking of his great relations when
he has none, and of an e&longs;tate when the right owner, as
the Iri&longs;h phra&longs;e is, keeps him out of it, and provided
he can obtain the lady, he never thinks of the catastrophe
when the deception is di&longs;covered.

A Teague O'Regan is le&longs;s oppo&longs;ed by his rivals;
becau&longs;e no one &longs;uppo&longs;es that he can prevail. He is
a&longs;&longs;i&longs;ted by the female acquaintance of the lady, becau&longs;e

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[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]

they wi&longs;h her mortified by making a bad choice. In
affairs of love there is no lady has a friend except a father,
an uncle, or a brother; not always a mother,
&longs;eldom a &longs;i&longs;ter, but never any one el&longs;e. Becau&longs;e the
pride of a mother may be hurt by the defect of attention
to her&longs;elf; the jealou&longs;y of a &longs;i&longs;ter is rou&longs;ed, even tho'
provided for, le&longs;t it &longs;hould appear &longs;he had not married
equally well; and therefore the greater the fool, the
more friends he has with all the world, in his advances.
But &longs;etting all the&longs;e principles a&longs;ide, a particular circumstance,
as in the late ca&longs;e of the bog-trotter may
operate for the &longs;ea&longs;on, and make it an object to be addressed
by him.

I &longs;hall conclude the&longs;e &longs;trictures, by laying down &longs;ome
rules, for a prudent father, or guardian to correct the
imagination of a young lady, who appears to be facinated
with a bog-trotter; and in doing this, I conceive
I &longs;hall render e&longs;&longs;ential &longs;ervice to humanity. It is a
painful thing, having accumulated property, for the
&longs;ake of a child; and having taken pains to improve and
poli&longs;h, to have her thrown away upon a bea&longs;t; for according
to the expre&longs;&longs;ion of the poet, &longs;ome men are
bea&longs;ts, compared with others.



Man differs more from man,
Than man from bea&longs;t.
Wilmot.

As love then is the offspring of the imagination,
rea&longs;on has nothing to do with it. Ridicule is the only
remedy. Never let the Teague O'Regan be oppo&longs;ed,
or excluded from the hou&longs;e; but invited, and laughed
at; in the mean time giving the young lady no rea&longs;on
to &longs;uppo&longs;e that it is &longs;u&longs;pected &longs;he could po&longs;&longs;ibly have
any fancy for &longs;uch a per&longs;on. The father or guardian
may engage &longs;ome per&longs;ons of both &longs;exes, in confidence,
to join in the ridicule, and relate or invent incidents of his
ab&longs;urdities; for as the bog-trotter is making an attack
upon the honour and happine&longs;s of the family, it is self-defence,
and ju&longs;tifiable to counteract him by &longs;tratagem,
when open force will not avail. No object that is made
ridiculous can appear amiable; and as to what is

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respectable, we depend much more upon the opinion of
others, than our own. If a lover is oppo&longs;ed, the lady
attributes it to an old mu&longs;ty ta&longs;te in the father, or to
envy and jealou&longs;y in others, and out of pride &longs;he will
&longs;upport him; whereas if he is ridiculed, &longs;he becomes
a&longs;hamed of him, and gives him up. I have thought it
worth while to give this hint; becau&longs;e the greater part
of our romances and comedies in the Engli&longs;h language
are calculated to depreciate the re&longs;pect which a young
lady ought to have for the opinion of aged and grave
per&longs;ons; and to confirm her in taking the Teague
O'Regan of her own choice. For all &longs;uch are u&longs;ually
repre&longs;ented as old humdrum curmudgeons, or grany's
who&longs;e judgment is not worth regarding, and who&longs;e
ta&longs;te, in affairs of love, as in their dre&longs;s, is antiquated,
unfa&longs;hionable, and ab&longs;urd; but the adventurers, and
fortune hunters, are all po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed of ta&longs;te, and &longs;pirit,
and gallantry, and carry off the dam&longs;el and make her
happy. They &longs;top ju&longs;t at the marriage, and give no
view of the di&longs;gu&longs;t, repentance, and unhappine&longs;s that
en&longs;ues.

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BOOK IV.

[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]

Taking advantage of the humiliated
&longs;tate of mind in which the bog-trotter now
was, from the late cow&longs;kining, he had
received, the Captain thought he could
be drawn off from an extreme attention
to the ladies, and engaged to apply to the
qualifying him&longs;elf for &longs;tate affairs. Accordingly
continuing his addre&longs;s to him,
he ob&longs;erved, that though gallantry and
waiting upon ladies, was very agreeable,
yet prudence ought to be ob&longs;erved not to
create enemies, by &longs;eeming to engro&longs;s
their attachment, &longs;o as to put a man in
danger of duels, and cow&longs;kinings: at the
&longs;ame time it behooved a man not to &longs;uffer
his gallantry to interfere with bu&longs;ine&longs;s;
and more e&longs;pecially in the early &longs;tages
when he was about qualifying him&longs;elf for
any occupation, or appointment; that, as
he (Teague O'Regan) was a candidate
for &longs;tate affairs, he ought to check his

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career, and withdraw him&longs;elf for &longs;ome time
from the gay circles, in order to acquire
&longs;ome &longs;mall things which were nece&longs;&longs;ary to
the creditable and convenient di&longs;charge of
a public function; &longs;uch as learning to
write his name if po&longs;&longs;ible. As to learning
to read, or write generally that would
be a thing of years, if at all acquirable at
his period of life; but he might be taught
to imitate the few characters that composed
his name, in &longs;uch a manner as to pa&longs;s
for it; &longs;o that when he had to &longs;ign dispatches
or commi&longs;&longs;ions, or the like, he need
not be under the nece&longs;&longs;ity of making his
mark, like an Indian at a treaty; but
might do &longs;omething that would pa&longs;s for a
&longs;ignature in letters of the alphabet. So
providing him with a room, and placing
a table before him with an ink&longs;tand, and
&longs;trewing &longs;ome papers, and furni&longs;hing him
with &longs;pectacles, as if he was already making
out di&longs;patches, he began to in&longs;truct
him in making the letters, T, E, A, G,
U, E, &c.

But he had &longs;carcely begun, when the
waiter coming in, delivered a parcel of
cards, and billets for Major O'Regan.
The Captain in&longs;tantly reflecting that this
corre&longs;pondence with the gay world would
undo all that he was doing, and draw off the

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[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]

bog-trotter from his le&longs;&longs;ons, as &longs;oon as
the &longs;mart of the cow&longs;kining had worn off,
&longs;aw it nece&longs;&longs;ary to read the billets as from
different per&longs;ons, and containing language
different from what was in them.
The cards being chiefly from men in public
employment, he read as they really were.
Opening one of the large&longs;t of the billets,
aye, &longs;aid he, there is more of it. Do you
know this John&longs;ton that &longs;eems &longs;o much
enraged about Mi&longs;s Mu&longs;lin to whom you
have paid &longs;ome attention? by the bye, it
was a billet from Mi&longs;s Mu&longs;lin, to who&longs;e
acquaintance it would &longs;eem he had been introduced;
but the Captain read John&longs;ton.
By de holy fathers, &longs;aid Teague, I know
no John&longs;ton. He &longs;ends you a challenge,
&longs;aid the Captain, to meet him on the commons
this evening at &longs;ix o'clock, with a
brace of pi&longs;tols and a &longs;econd to determine
whether you or he has the be&longs;t right to
pay attention to this lady. We &longs;hall give
the billet as written by the lady, and as
read by the Captain.

Would wi&longs;h to have the plea&longs;ure of
Major O'Regan's company this evening at
tea. Lawyer Crabtree and Doctor Drug
will be here; and you know we &longs;hall &longs;plit

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[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]

our &longs;ides laughing at the ninnies. You're
&longs;o full of your jokes that I want you here.
Dear Major, don't be engaged; but come.

Yours &longs;incerely,
Patty Mu&longs;lin.
Wedne&longs;day Morning.

SIR,

You will in&longs;tantly do one of two things,
either relinqui&longs;h your attention to Mi&longs;s
Mu&longs;lin, and be no more in her company;
or meet me this evening preci&longs;ely at &longs;ix
o'clock, on the commons the back of the
Potter's-field, with a brace of pi&longs;tols, and
a &longs;econd, to take a &longs;hot. I &longs;hall have a
coffin ready, and a grave dug, for which
ever of us &longs;hall have occa&longs;ion to make u&longs;e
of it.

Your humble &longs;ervant,
Benjamin John&longs;ton.
Major Teague O'Regan.

In the &longs;ame manner, he read the other
billets, converting them from love letters
into challenges to fight with mortal weapons,
or into declarations of cudgeling,
and cow&longs;kining if he interfered any farther
in his attentions to &longs;uch and &longs;uch ladies.

The bog-trotter began to think the devil
was broke loo&longs;e upon him, and very

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[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]

readily gave the Captain leave to write
an&longs;wers, declining all combats, and declaring
his compliance with all that was requested
of him.

The waiter was the only per&longs;on who
by receiving the billets, and handing them
in the ab&longs;ence of the Captain, and reading
them to Teague, might inflame his mind
with the thoughts of the fine ladies, and
gay circles, from which he &longs;eemed to be ju&longs;t
recovered: taking him a&longs;ide, therefore,
and acco&longs;ting him, Mathew, &longs;aid he, for
that was the name of the waiter, I do
not know that I ought to find any fault
with your giving your &longs;ervice for &longs;ome
time pa&longs;t, to my Teague, in reading the
billets directed to him, and in writing his
an&longs;wers; but I de&longs;ire that there may be
nothing more of this. As he is about to
be clo&longs;ely engaged for &longs;ome time to come,
in acquiring &longs;ome &longs;cholar&longs;hip, and preparing
to enter on &longs;ome &longs;tate appointment,
I do not chu&longs;e that his mind &longs;hould be taken
off by affairs of compliment or love.
All billets therefore directed to him, you
will for the future hand to me. The waiter
promi&longs;ed compliance, and &longs;aid it was
all the &longs;ame thing to him, as all he had
done, was to oblige the bog-trotter, and

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[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]

if it was di&longs;agreeable to him (the Captain)
he &longs;hould do no more of it.

However, Teague continuing &longs;till to
have &longs;ome hankering after the company of
the ladies, &longs;o as not to have his mind &longs;o
much upon learning to write the characters
of his name as the Captain could have
wi&longs;hed, he found it nece&longs;&longs;ary to engage
the bar-keeper to a&longs;&longs;i&longs;t him in per&longs;onating
now and then, &longs;ome one who had come
to demand &longs;atisfaction for the interference
of the bog-trotter in affairs of love, that
by keeping up the alarm on his mind, he
might the better confine him to his &longs;tudies.
According to the plan agreed upon the
bar-keeper knocking at the door, and the
Captain opening it a little, and demanding
his bu&longs;ine&longs;s; is there not a Major O'Regan
here, he would &longs;ay (with a counterfeited
voice) who has preten&longs;ions to Mi&longs;s Nubbin?
(one of tho&longs;e who had &longs;ent billets) I
wi&longs;h to &longs;ee the gentleman, and try if I can
put this &longs;word in his body; (by the bye he
had a long &longs;word) God love your &longs;houl,
would O'Regan &longs;ay, dear Captain, don't
let him in. I &longs;hall die wid fear upon de
&longs;pot here; for I never fought a man in
cold blood in my life. Here the bar-keeper
as recognizing the voice of O'Regan;
yes, would he &longs;ay, I find he is here, let

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[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]

me in, that I may put this through him;
I had paid my addre&longs;&longs;es to Mi&longs;s Nubbin,
and was ju&longs;t about to e&longs;pou&longs;e her, when,
unlike a gentleman, he has interferred,
and turned her head with his attention.
By the New Jeru&longs;alem I &longs;hall be through
his wind pipe in a &longs;econd. Teague hearing
this and rai&longs;ing the Iri&longs;h howl, would redouble
his entreaties to the Captain not to
let him in. The Captain would &longs;ay, Sir,
if you mean to make a pa&longs;s at him, you
mu&longs;t make it through me; for I &longs;hall not
&longs;tand to &longs;ee a dome&longs;tic run through the
body, and his guts out, while mine are
in. You may therefore de&longs;i&longs;t, or I &longs;hall
have you taken into cu&longs;tody, as a breaker
of the peace, With this he would &longs;hut
the door, and the bar-keeper would go
off cur&longs;ing and &longs;wearing that he would
have revenge for the in&longs;ult that had been
offered him, by the Iri&longs;hman.

By the&longs;e artifices, certainly innocent
as the object was good; for it can be no
injury to deceive a man to his own advantage;
by the&longs;e artifices, the Captain succeeded,
in preventing a corre&longs;pondence
with the gay world, and detaching the
mind of his pupil, from the gallantries of
love. But when any member of Congre&longs;s
or officer of &longs;tate called upon him, he

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[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]

was admitted. Traddle called frequently,
and declared that he had no re&longs;entment
on account of Teague's propo&longs;ing to be
his competitor, at the election in the country;
but wi&longs;hed him &longs;ucce&longs;s in obtaining
&longs;ome appointment where his talents might
be u&longs;eful.

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Brackenridge, H. H. (Hugh Henry), 1748-1816 [1793], Modern chivalry: containing the adventures of Captain John Farrago, and Teague O'Regan, his servant. Part I. Volumes 1-3 (John M'Culloch, Philadelphia) [word count] [eaf800].
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