Chapter 4

A great Variety ofChildren's BooksNeatly printed, and adorned with elegant Cuts, are ſold byT.C. CUSHING, at the Printing-Office in Salem—viz.LittleROBIN RED-BREAST.Memoirs of a PEGTOP.The SUGAR-PLUMB; or, ſweet Amuſement for leiſure hours.The JUVENILE BIOGRAPHER, containing the Lives of little Maſters and Miſſes.Be MERRY and WISE; or, the Cream of the Jeſts, and the Marrow of Maxims, for the Conduct of Life.The HOLY BIBLE abridged.Hiſtory of little KING PIPPIN.Hiſtory of GILES GINGERBREAD.Hiſtory of TOM JONES.Hiſtory of Maſter JACKEY and Miſs HARRIOT.Hiſtory of CHARLES CAREFUL and HARRY HEEDLESS.Mother GOOSE's Melody.The Exhibition of TOM THUMB.Tom Thumb's SONG BOOK.The FATHER's Gift.The MOTHER's Gift.The BROTHER's Gift.The SISTER's Gift.Nurſe Truelove's NEW-YEAR's GIFT.Death and Burial of COCK-ROBIN.The ROYAL ALPHABET.The HERMIT of the Foreſt, and the Wandering Infants.Salem Mercury.

A great Variety of

Children's Books

Neatly printed, and adorned with elegant Cuts, are ſold byT.C. CUSHING, at the Printing-Office in Salem—viz.

LittleROBIN RED-BREAST.Memoirs of a PEGTOP.The SUGAR-PLUMB; or, ſweet Amuſement for leiſure hours.The JUVENILE BIOGRAPHER, containing the Lives of little Maſters and Miſſes.Be MERRY and WISE; or, the Cream of the Jeſts, and the Marrow of Maxims, for the Conduct of Life.The HOLY BIBLE abridged.Hiſtory of little KING PIPPIN.Hiſtory of GILES GINGERBREAD.Hiſtory of TOM JONES.Hiſtory of Maſter JACKEY and Miſs HARRIOT.Hiſtory of CHARLES CAREFUL and HARRY HEEDLESS.Mother GOOSE's Melody.The Exhibition of TOM THUMB.Tom Thumb's SONG BOOK.The FATHER's Gift.The MOTHER's Gift.The BROTHER's Gift.The SISTER's Gift.Nurſe Truelove's NEW-YEAR's GIFT.Death and Burial of COCK-ROBIN.The ROYAL ALPHABET.The HERMIT of the Foreſt, and the Wandering Infants.

Salem Mercury.

A new way to cure insanity.

A CURIOUS IDEA.Knowledgeis attained with the greateſt difficulty; we have it not by intuition, but acquire it by many unſucceſsful trials and long experience. One gives a hint, and the other improves it; but prejudice and ignorance too often ſtand in the way: "That cannot be," or "I cannot believe that," has cruſhed many an uſeful project. How incredible did the recovery of drowned perſons appear at firſt! When the report reached England, that many abroad had been brought again to life, after laying under water ſome time, who gave it credit? But experience has ſince convinced us of its poſſibility.Now, from the great ſucceſs attending the recovery of drowned perſons, I would offer a hint to the public, and leave it to be improved by them, reſpecting the recovery of thoſe who are mad, and given up as incurable.When madneſs breaks forth, the firſt care of the phyſician is to reduce and keep his patient low, in order to check the velocity and whirl of his thoughts; and if poſſible to procure ſleep, by quieting the internal turbulency. If all his ſkill and efforts fail, ſuch a perſon is as much loſt to ſociety as if he were dead. Now if ſuch an one were plunged into water, and there kept until he was apparently dead, and was then recovered by the uſual methods (and of which recovery we have now a moral certainty) I am apt to believe we ſhould behold a perfect cure. There is, I own, ſomething ſhocking to nature in the experiment; but if the patient be already loſt, and dead to ſociety, why ſhould we heſitate a moment to make the trial, when the probability of ſucceeding is ſo flattering?Salem Gazette, July 12, 1791.

A CURIOUS IDEA.

Knowledgeis attained with the greateſt difficulty; we have it not by intuition, but acquire it by many unſucceſsful trials and long experience. One gives a hint, and the other improves it; but prejudice and ignorance too often ſtand in the way: "That cannot be," or "I cannot believe that," has cruſhed many an uſeful project. How incredible did the recovery of drowned perſons appear at firſt! When the report reached England, that many abroad had been brought again to life, after laying under water ſome time, who gave it credit? But experience has ſince convinced us of its poſſibility.

Now, from the great ſucceſs attending the recovery of drowned perſons, I would offer a hint to the public, and leave it to be improved by them, reſpecting the recovery of thoſe who are mad, and given up as incurable.

When madneſs breaks forth, the firſt care of the phyſician is to reduce and keep his patient low, in order to check the velocity and whirl of his thoughts; and if poſſible to procure ſleep, by quieting the internal turbulency. If all his ſkill and efforts fail, ſuch a perſon is as much loſt to ſociety as if he were dead. Now if ſuch an one were plunged into water, and there kept until he was apparently dead, and was then recovered by the uſual methods (and of which recovery we have now a moral certainty) I am apt to believe we ſhould behold a perfect cure. There is, I own, ſomething ſhocking to nature in the experiment; but if the patient be already loſt, and dead to ſociety, why ſhould we heſitate a moment to make the trial, when the probability of ſucceeding is ſo flattering?

Salem Gazette, July 12, 1791.

It would be interesting to see the punch-bowl out of which the members of Congress drank in 1811, on the day succeeding the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Pearson.

At Washington, Hon.Joseph Pearson, Esq. (Federal Representativefrom N. Carolina), to MissEleanor Brent, daughter of Robt. Brent, Esq., Mayor of the city.— ☞The greater part of the members, the next day, left the business of the nation to attend the punch drinking, so that the House adj'd at an early hour.Dec. 13, 1811.

Dec. 13, 1811.

As the following lines have the indorsement of a Hartford paper, we venture to reproduce them:—

From the New-York Daily Advertiſer, May 10.DESCRIPTION of CONNECTICUT.HERE fond remembrance ſtampt her much lov'd names,Here boaſts the ſoil itsLondonand itsThames;Throughout her ſhores commodious ports abound,Clear flow the waters of the varying ground;Cold nipping winds a lengthen'd winter bring,Late riſe the products of the tardy ſpring.The broken ſoil a labouring race requires;Each barren hill its generous crops admires,Where nature meanly did her gifts impart,Yet, ſmiling, owns how much ſhe owes to art.But keen as winds that guide the wintry reign,All bow to lucre, all are bent on gain;As chance decreed, their various lots are thrown;Its houſe each acre, every mile its town;With gilded ſpire the frequent church is ſeen,Sacred to him that taught them to be keen;Eternal ſquabblings greaſe the lawyer's paw,All have their ſuits, and all have ſtudied law;With tongue that art and nature taught to ſpeak,Some rave in Latin, ſome diſpute in Greek;Proud of their books, in ancient lore they ſhine,And one month's ſtudy makes a learn'd divine;Fond to converſe, with deep deſigning views,They pump the travelling ſtranger of his news;Fond of his wit, but fonder to be paid,Each houſe a tavern, claims a tavern's trade;While he that comes, as ſurely hears them praiſeThe hoſpitality of modern days.Yet brave in arms, of enterpriſing ſoul,They tempt old Neptune to the fartheſt pole;In learning's walks explore the mazy way(For genius here has ſhed his golden ray);In war's bold arts thro' various conteſts try'd,True to themſelves, they took their country's ſide,And, party feuds diſmiſs'd, join to agreeThat ſcepter only juſt that left them free.Connecticut Courant, July 14, 1790.

From the New-York Daily Advertiſer, May 10.

DESCRIPTION of CONNECTICUT.

HERE fond remembrance ſtampt her much lov'd names,Here boaſts the ſoil itsLondonand itsThames;Throughout her ſhores commodious ports abound,Clear flow the waters of the varying ground;Cold nipping winds a lengthen'd winter bring,Late riſe the products of the tardy ſpring.The broken ſoil a labouring race requires;Each barren hill its generous crops admires,Where nature meanly did her gifts impart,Yet, ſmiling, owns how much ſhe owes to art.But keen as winds that guide the wintry reign,All bow to lucre, all are bent on gain;As chance decreed, their various lots are thrown;Its houſe each acre, every mile its town;With gilded ſpire the frequent church is ſeen,Sacred to him that taught them to be keen;Eternal ſquabblings greaſe the lawyer's paw,All have their ſuits, and all have ſtudied law;With tongue that art and nature taught to ſpeak,Some rave in Latin, ſome diſpute in Greek;Proud of their books, in ancient lore they ſhine,And one month's ſtudy makes a learn'd divine;Fond to converſe, with deep deſigning views,They pump the travelling ſtranger of his news;Fond of his wit, but fonder to be paid,Each houſe a tavern, claims a tavern's trade;While he that comes, as ſurely hears them praiſeThe hoſpitality of modern days.Yet brave in arms, of enterpriſing ſoul,They tempt old Neptune to the fartheſt pole;In learning's walks explore the mazy way(For genius here has ſhed his golden ray);In war's bold arts thro' various conteſts try'd,True to themſelves, they took their country's ſide,And, party feuds diſmiſs'd, join to agreeThat ſcepter only juſt that left them free.

But keen as winds that guide the wintry reign,All bow to lucre, all are bent on gain;As chance decreed, their various lots are thrown;Its houſe each acre, every mile its town;With gilded ſpire the frequent church is ſeen,Sacred to him that taught them to be keen;Eternal ſquabblings greaſe the lawyer's paw,All have their ſuits, and all have ſtudied law;With tongue that art and nature taught to ſpeak,Some rave in Latin, ſome diſpute in Greek;Proud of their books, in ancient lore they ſhine,And one month's ſtudy makes a learn'd divine;Fond to converſe, with deep deſigning views,They pump the travelling ſtranger of his news;Fond of his wit, but fonder to be paid,Each houſe a tavern, claims a tavern's trade;While he that comes, as ſurely hears them praiſeThe hoſpitality of modern days.

Yet brave in arms, of enterpriſing ſoul,They tempt old Neptune to the fartheſt pole;In learning's walks explore the mazy way(For genius here has ſhed his golden ray);In war's bold arts thro' various conteſts try'd,True to themſelves, they took their country's ſide,And, party feuds diſmiſs'd, join to agreeThat ſcepter only juſt that left them free.

Connecticut Courant, July 14, 1790.

Errors of the press.

The following paragraphs will shew how completely the sense is altered by the omission of a single letter of the word in Italics.

"The conflict was dreadful, and the enemy was repulsed with considerablelaughter.""Robert Jones was yesterday brought before the sitting Magistrate, on a charge of having spokenreasonat the Barleymow public-house.""In consequence of the numerous accidents occasioned by skaiting on the Serpentine River, measures are taking to put atopto it.""When Miss Leserve, late of Covent Garden Theatre, visited the 'Hecla,' she was politely drawn up the ship's side by means of ahair.""At the Guildhall dinner, none of the poultry was eatable except theowls.""A gentleman was yesterday brought up to answer a charge of havingeatena hackney-coachman for having demanded more than his fare; and another was accused of having stolen a smalloxout of the Bath mail; the stolen property was found in his waistcoat pocket."Salem Register, 1827.

"The conflict was dreadful, and the enemy was repulsed with considerablelaughter."

"Robert Jones was yesterday brought before the sitting Magistrate, on a charge of having spokenreasonat the Barleymow public-house."

"In consequence of the numerous accidents occasioned by skaiting on the Serpentine River, measures are taking to put atopto it."

"When Miss Leserve, late of Covent Garden Theatre, visited the 'Hecla,' she was politely drawn up the ship's side by means of ahair."

"At the Guildhall dinner, none of the poultry was eatable except theowls."

"A gentleman was yesterday brought up to answer a charge of havingeatena hackney-coachman for having demanded more than his fare; and another was accused of having stolen a smalloxout of the Bath mail; the stolen property was found in his waistcoat pocket."

Salem Register, 1827.

A CURIOSITY."We have often heard of the Lord's Prayer being written in the compaſs of a ſhilling, but have lately ſeen a piece of paper of that dimenſion, which contains, in manuſcript, the Lord's Prayer, the Creed, the Ten Commandments, Pſalms 117, 120, 127, 131, 132, 134, and 150; 9th chapter of Proverbs, Prayer of St. Chryſoſtom, two Collects, Prayer for the Royal Family,Nobility, Clergy, &c., &c., the Bleſſing, and Junior, 1702, the name of the writer. This curioſity is in the poſſeſſion of Mr. John Reeder, of Brighton, who being an auctioneer at a ſale where it was lately ſold, purchaſed it on very eaſy terms. It is not legible without a good glaſs."Columbian Centinel, June 5, 1790.Eng. pap.

A CURIOSITY.

"We have often heard of the Lord's Prayer being written in the compaſs of a ſhilling, but have lately ſeen a piece of paper of that dimenſion, which contains, in manuſcript, the Lord's Prayer, the Creed, the Ten Commandments, Pſalms 117, 120, 127, 131, 132, 134, and 150; 9th chapter of Proverbs, Prayer of St. Chryſoſtom, two Collects, Prayer for the Royal Family,Nobility, Clergy, &c., &c., the Bleſſing, and Junior, 1702, the name of the writer. This curioſity is in the poſſeſſion of Mr. John Reeder, of Brighton, who being an auctioneer at a ſale where it was lately ſold, purchaſed it on very eaſy terms. It is not legible without a good glaſs."

Columbian Centinel, June 5, 1790.Eng. pap.

In an old Salem paper we find the following:

☞ We understand the number of deaths in this town the past year was 234, of which 15 died abroad.

This reminds us of the curious jumble made in the first edition of Morse's "American Gazetteer," published in Boston in 1797. In the description of Albany, N.Y., it says: "This city and suburbs, by enumeration in 1797, contained 1,263 buildings, of which 863 were dwelling-houses and 6,021 inhabitants. Many of them are in the Gothic style with the gable end to the street, which custom the first settlers brought from Holland."

The earliest American writer of whom we have any information was Peter Bulkley, who was born in England in 1583 and died in 1659 in Massachusetts, and wrote Latin Poetry and Sermons. Theearliest poetic volume written in this country was by Anne Bradstreet, of Boston, born 1612, died 1672.Salem Observer, 1834.

Salem Observer, 1834.

The author of these lines must have been one of the old school.

[The following was paid for as an Advertiſement.]The folloing lines were Presented to A lat ſkull miſtres in this town by 4 of her ſkolers the morning after her maregMAY all Joiy and happineſs VaitTo attend your nuptal ſtatyou our inſtructer and the Guidof our early youth beſideas you Quit the plaswich you fild with euery Gras.Our Grateful Thanks are ſure your due.Except them thearfor from us fue.Whos ſhur to you that pras is due.Muſt euery ſorro euery Cear be yournForbid it Heauin and let it turnto peas and Joiys next to diuinRiſe Gloriouſ euery futer Sunand Blesſ your days with Joiys as this has dunlet ſorrows ſese and Joiys tak plasto briten euery futer day with equil Grasand wen your cald from hence abovemay you inioy your ſouors Louewee ever ſhall regrat our losand yet with you wee all reioyſsEssex Gazette, May 14, 1771.

[The following was paid for as an Advertiſement.]

The folloing lines were Presented to A lat ſkull miſtres in this town by 4 of her ſkolers the morning after her mareg

MAY all Joiy and happineſs VaitTo attend your nuptal ſtatyou our inſtructer and the Guidof our early youth beſideas you Quit the plaswich you fild with euery Gras.Our Grateful Thanks are ſure your due.Except them thearfor from us fue.Whos ſhur to you that pras is due.Muſt euery ſorro euery Cear be yournForbid it Heauin and let it turnto peas and Joiys next to diuinRiſe Gloriouſ euery futer Sunand Blesſ your days with Joiys as this has dunlet ſorrows ſese and Joiys tak plasto briten euery futer day with equil Grasand wen your cald from hence abovemay you inioy your ſouors Louewee ever ſhall regrat our losand yet with you wee all reioyſs

Essex Gazette, May 14, 1771.

Boston school-books in 1790.

The School Committee in Boſton have ordered that the following Books be uſed in the Reading Schools of that town, viz.The HOLY BIBLE;WEBSTER's SPELLING-BOOK;The Young Ladies' ACCIDENCE;Webſter's American SELECTION of Leſſons in Reading and Speaking;The CHILDREN'S FRIEND;MORSE's GEOGRAPHY abridged; andThe NEWSPAPERS, occaſionally.Salem Gazette.

The School Committee in Boſton have ordered that the following Books be uſed in the Reading Schools of that town, viz.

The HOLY BIBLE;WEBSTER's SPELLING-BOOK;The Young Ladies' ACCIDENCE;Webſter's American SELECTION of Leſſons in Reading and Speaking;The CHILDREN'S FRIEND;MORSE's GEOGRAPHY abridged; andThe NEWSPAPERS, occaſionally.

Salem Gazette.

ANECDOTE.WhenOliver Cromwell firſt coined his money, an old cavalier looking upon one of the new pieces, read this inſcription on one ſide,God with us; on the other ſide,The Commonwealth of England. I ſee, ſaid he,God and the Commonwealth are on different ſides.Salem Mercury, June 26, 1787.

ANECDOTE.

WhenOliver Cromwell firſt coined his money, an old cavalier looking upon one of the new pieces, read this inſcription on one ſide,God with us; on the other ſide,The Commonwealth of England. I ſee, ſaid he,God and the Commonwealth are on different ſides.

Salem Mercury, June 26, 1787.

Two different ways of telling a story.

Anecdote. A CLERGYMAN, who in the Matrimonial Lottery had drawn much worſe than ablank, and, without the patience of Socrates, had to encounter the turbulent ſpirit of Xantippe, was interrupted in the middle of aCurtain Lecture, by the arrival of a pair, requeſting his aſſiſtance to introduce them to thebleſſedſtate of Wedlock. The poor Prieſt, actuated at the moment by his own feelings and particularexperience, rather than a ſenſe of canonical duty, opened the book, and began: "Man, that is born of a Woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of trouble, &c., &c.," repeating theburialſervice. The aſtoniſhed Bridegroom exclaimed, "Sir! Sir! you miſtake, I came here to bemarried, notburied!" "Well (replied the Clergyman), if you inſiſt on it, I amobligedto marry you—but believe me, my friend, you hadbetterbeburied."Columbian Centinel, March 12, 1791.Anecdote.It is doubtless recollected that Dean Swift, though a great favorite among the ladies, was (no doubt for good and substantial reasons) nevertheless a bachelor. His opinion of the married state seemed to be not very much exalted. On one occasion, he had been called upon to marry a couple, and after getting them properly arranged, commenced as follows: "Man, thatis born of a woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery," &c. "My dear sir," interrupted the bridegroom, "you are reading the burial service, instead of the matrimonial." "Never mind, friend," whispered the Dean, "you had better be buried than married."Salem Observer, 1834.

Columbian Centinel, March 12, 1791.

Anecdote.It is doubtless recollected that Dean Swift, though a great favorite among the ladies, was (no doubt for good and substantial reasons) nevertheless a bachelor. His opinion of the married state seemed to be not very much exalted. On one occasion, he had been called upon to marry a couple, and after getting them properly arranged, commenced as follows: "Man, thatis born of a woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery," &c. "My dear sir," interrupted the bridegroom, "you are reading the burial service, instead of the matrimonial." "Never mind, friend," whispered the Dean, "you had better be buried than married."

Salem Observer, 1834.

AN OPPOSITION.Dryden and Otway lived oppoſite to each other in Queen-ſtreet. Otway coming one night from the tavern, chalked upon Dryden's door,Here lives John Dryden, he is a wit. Dryden knew his hand writing, and next day chalked on Otway's door,Here lives Tom Otway, he is oppo-ſite.Essex Register, 1802.

AN OPPOSITION.

Dryden and Otway lived oppoſite to each other in Queen-ſtreet. Otway coming one night from the tavern, chalked upon Dryden's door,Here lives John Dryden, he is a wit. Dryden knew his hand writing, and next day chalked on Otway's door,Here lives Tom Otway, he is oppo-ſite.

Essex Register, 1802.

Specimens of old time newspaper poetry.

To aLADYwho admired dancing.MAY I presume in humble lays,My dancing fair, thy steps to praise?While this grand maxim I advance,That all the world is but a dance,That human-kind, both man and woman,Dodanceis evident and common.David himself, that God-like king,We know coulddance,as well assing.Folks who at court would keep their ground,Must dance the year attendance round.All nature is oneball,we find:The water dances to the wind;The sea itself at night and noonRises and capers to the moon;The moon around the earth does treadA Cheshire round in buxom red;The earth and planets round the sunDance,nor will theirdancebe done'Till nature in one mass is blended;Then we may say theballis ended.Salem Mercury, July 29, 1788.

To aLADYwho admired dancing.

MAY I presume in humble lays,My dancing fair, thy steps to praise?While this grand maxim I advance,That all the world is but a dance,That human-kind, both man and woman,Dodanceis evident and common.David himself, that God-like king,We know coulddance,as well assing.Folks who at court would keep their ground,Must dance the year attendance round.All nature is oneball,we find:The water dances to the wind;The sea itself at night and noonRises and capers to the moon;The moon around the earth does treadA Cheshire round in buxom red;The earth and planets round the sunDance,nor will theirdancebe done'Till nature in one mass is blended;Then we may say theballis ended.

Salem Mercury, July 29, 1788.

THE FOUNT.☞ THE following—from the pen of a fair correspondent—cannot be read withoutPLEASUREandIMPROVEMENT.LINES for a SCREEN.TO BE WRITTEN BENEATH THE FIGURE OF "MINERVA HOLDING A CROWN OF OLIVE."AH! lovely Ladies—while with careYe guard from harm yourFACESfair;While spreads the airyPARASOLTo shield you from the beams of SOL;And many aFANandVEILandBLINDProtect from each intrusive wind:—And whilst ye deign to interveneTwixt you and fire, the humbleSCREEN!—Oh! strive alike to guard yourheartsFrom VICE, and all her wily arts.Your parasol let VIRTUEprove,To ward th' attacks oflawlesslove—Prudence will prove ascreento thee,And let thyVEILbe MODESTY.Attend my words, ye Fair, for know,ThisCrownshall grace the worthiest brow.ORA.Columbian Centinel, July 27, 1814.

THE FOUNT.

☞ THE following—from the pen of a fair correspondent—cannot be read withoutPLEASUREandIMPROVEMENT.

LINES for a SCREEN.

TO BE WRITTEN BENEATH THE FIGURE OF "MINERVA HOLDING A CROWN OF OLIVE."

AH! lovely Ladies—while with careYe guard from harm yourFACESfair;While spreads the airyPARASOLTo shield you from the beams of SOL;And many aFANandVEILandBLINDProtect from each intrusive wind:—And whilst ye deign to interveneTwixt you and fire, the humbleSCREEN!—Oh! strive alike to guard yourheartsFrom VICE, and all her wily arts.Your parasol let VIRTUEprove,To ward th' attacks oflawlesslove—Prudence will prove ascreento thee,And let thyVEILbe MODESTY.Attend my words, ye Fair, for know,ThisCrownshall grace the worthiest brow.

ORA.

Columbian Centinel, July 27, 1814.

From theGazetteof theU. States.IMPROMPTU.On ſeeing a young Lady darning Stockings.ALONG the ſtocking's foot, with eaſe and graceYour fingers, lovely Mira, when you move,On them with eye admiring I will gaze,And drink deep draughts of all reſiſtleſs love.Aſſume thy gloves, my moſt enchanting fair,When next your ſtockings you begin to mend,For though full white the hoſe, they yet appearAs ſaffron yellow, near thy lily hand.As conſtant as your all obedient threadDoes thy bright needle's devious path purſue,So does each thought of my poor brainleſs headFor ever dwell, divineſt nymph, on you.Oft as thy needles pierce the yielding hoſe,So oft thy beauties pierce my yielding breaſt:Oh then compaſſionate my deep felt woes,And bid awhile the poliſh'd needle reſt.Or if one idle minute you diſdain,On me be exerciſ'd your mending art,Yes, lovely maid, to eaſe of my pain,Come, darn the hole that rankles in my heart.Salem Gazette, August 26, 1800.

From theGazetteof theU. States.

IMPROMPTU.

On ſeeing a young Lady darning Stockings.

ALONG the ſtocking's foot, with eaſe and graceYour fingers, lovely Mira, when you move,On them with eye admiring I will gaze,And drink deep draughts of all reſiſtleſs love.Aſſume thy gloves, my moſt enchanting fair,When next your ſtockings you begin to mend,For though full white the hoſe, they yet appearAs ſaffron yellow, near thy lily hand.As conſtant as your all obedient threadDoes thy bright needle's devious path purſue,So does each thought of my poor brainleſs headFor ever dwell, divineſt nymph, on you.Oft as thy needles pierce the yielding hoſe,So oft thy beauties pierce my yielding breaſt:Oh then compaſſionate my deep felt woes,And bid awhile the poliſh'd needle reſt.Or if one idle minute you diſdain,On me be exerciſ'd your mending art,Yes, lovely maid, to eaſe of my pain,Come, darn the hole that rankles in my heart.

ALONG the ſtocking's foot, with eaſe and graceYour fingers, lovely Mira, when you move,On them with eye admiring I will gaze,And drink deep draughts of all reſiſtleſs love.

Aſſume thy gloves, my moſt enchanting fair,When next your ſtockings you begin to mend,For though full white the hoſe, they yet appearAs ſaffron yellow, near thy lily hand.

As conſtant as your all obedient threadDoes thy bright needle's devious path purſue,So does each thought of my poor brainleſs headFor ever dwell, divineſt nymph, on you.

Oft as thy needles pierce the yielding hoſe,So oft thy beauties pierce my yielding breaſt:Oh then compaſſionate my deep felt woes,And bid awhile the poliſh'd needle reſt.

Or if one idle minute you diſdain,On me be exerciſ'd your mending art,Yes, lovely maid, to eaſe of my pain,Come, darn the hole that rankles in my heart.

Salem Gazette, August 26, 1800.

THE WHITE CLOVER.BY A LADY OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.THERE is a little perfum'd flower,It well might grace the lovliest bower,Yet poet never deign'd to singOf such a humble, rustic thing.Nor is it strange, for it can showScarcely one tint of Iris' bow:Nature, perchance, in careless hour,With pencil dry, might paint the flower;Yet instant blush'd, her fault to see,So gave a double fragrancy;Rich recompence for aught denied!Who would not homely garb abide,If gentlest soul were breathing there,Blessings through all its little sphere?Sweet flower! the lesson thou hast taught,Shall check each proud, ambitious thought,Teach me internal worth to prize,Though found in lowliest, rudest guise.Salem Gazette, June 27, 1815.

THE WHITE CLOVER.

BY A LADY OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.

THERE is a little perfum'd flower,It well might grace the lovliest bower,Yet poet never deign'd to singOf such a humble, rustic thing.Nor is it strange, for it can showScarcely one tint of Iris' bow:Nature, perchance, in careless hour,With pencil dry, might paint the flower;Yet instant blush'd, her fault to see,So gave a double fragrancy;Rich recompence for aught denied!Who would not homely garb abide,If gentlest soul were breathing there,Blessings through all its little sphere?Sweet flower! the lesson thou hast taught,Shall check each proud, ambitious thought,Teach me internal worth to prize,Though found in lowliest, rudest guise.

Salem Gazette, June 27, 1815.

CASTALIAN FOUNT,AMERICAN POETRY.A FRAGMENT.The following beautiful lines were written on the death of a young lady in Pennsylvania, whose dissolution was occasioned by her mistaking a poisonous mineral for the flower of sulphur, and swallowing a spoonfull:THUS, o'er the tomb of what ſhe held moſt dear,The weeping muſe no common ſorrow pours;No common anguiſh prompts the falling tear—No common virtues thoſe ſhe now deplores.Dear hapleſs girl, was there no ſaving power?Where was your guardian angel—where your friend?Could nought prevent the fatal deſtin'd hour?Nor pitying Heaven would hear or ſuccour lend.Then, if nor Heavenwouldhear—nor friendscouldſave,Be ſtill, my heart, nor breathe another ſigh;Drop the laſt tear upon her early grave,And let it teach you—thatthe beſt muſt die.☞A few original favours from our poetick friends would be very acceptable.Massachusetts Centinel, March 28, 1789.

CASTALIAN FOUNT,AMERICAN POETRY.

A FRAGMENT.

The following beautiful lines were written on the death of a young lady in Pennsylvania, whose dissolution was occasioned by her mistaking a poisonous mineral for the flower of sulphur, and swallowing a spoonfull:

THUS, o'er the tomb of what ſhe held moſt dear,The weeping muſe no common ſorrow pours;No common anguiſh prompts the falling tear—No common virtues thoſe ſhe now deplores.Dear hapleſs girl, was there no ſaving power?Where was your guardian angel—where your friend?Could nought prevent the fatal deſtin'd hour?Nor pitying Heaven would hear or ſuccour lend.Then, if nor Heavenwouldhear—nor friendscouldſave,Be ſtill, my heart, nor breathe another ſigh;Drop the laſt tear upon her early grave,And let it teach you—thatthe beſt muſt die.

THUS, o'er the tomb of what ſhe held moſt dear,The weeping muſe no common ſorrow pours;No common anguiſh prompts the falling tear—No common virtues thoſe ſhe now deplores.

Dear hapleſs girl, was there no ſaving power?Where was your guardian angel—where your friend?Could nought prevent the fatal deſtin'd hour?Nor pitying Heaven would hear or ſuccour lend.

Then, if nor Heavenwouldhear—nor friendscouldſave,Be ſtill, my heart, nor breathe another ſigh;Drop the laſt tear upon her early grave,And let it teach you—thatthe beſt muſt die.

☞A few original favours from our poetick friends would be very acceptable.

Massachusetts Centinel, March 28, 1789.

From the New York Daily Advertiſer.The Sailor Boy.DARK flew the ſcud along the wave,And echoing thunders rend the ſky;All hands aloft! to meet the ſtorm,At midnight was the boatſwain's cry.On deck flew every gallant tar,But one—bereft of ev'ry joy;Within a hammock's narrow bound,Lay ſtretch'd this hapleſs SAILOR BOY.Once, when the Boatſwain pip'd all hands,The firſt was he, of all the crew,On deck to ſpring—to trim the ſail—To ſteer—to reef—to furl or clue.Now fell diſeaſe had ſeiz'd a formWhich nature caſt in fineſt mould;The midwatch bell now ſmote his heart,His laſt, his dying knell it toll'd."O God!" he cried, and gaſp'd for breath,"Ere yet my ſoul ſhall cleave the ſkies,"Are there no parents—brethren—near,"To cloſe, in death, my weary eyes?"All hands aloft to brave the ſtorm,"I hear the wintry tempeſt roar;"He rais'd his head to view the ſcene,And backward fell, to riſe no more.The morning ſun in ſplendour roſe.The gale was huſh'd and ſtill'd the wave;The Sea-boy, far from all his friends,Was plung'd into a wat'ry grave.But He, who guards the Sea-boy's head,He, who can ſave or can deſtroy,Snatch'd up to Heav'n the pureſt ſoulThat e'er adorn'd a SAILOR BOY.Salem Gazette, Oct. 29, 1805.

From the New York Daily Advertiſer.

The Sailor Boy.

DARK flew the ſcud along the wave,And echoing thunders rend the ſky;All hands aloft! to meet the ſtorm,At midnight was the boatſwain's cry.On deck flew every gallant tar,But one—bereft of ev'ry joy;Within a hammock's narrow bound,Lay ſtretch'd this hapleſs SAILOR BOY.Once, when the Boatſwain pip'd all hands,The firſt was he, of all the crew,On deck to ſpring—to trim the ſail—To ſteer—to reef—to furl or clue.Now fell diſeaſe had ſeiz'd a formWhich nature caſt in fineſt mould;The midwatch bell now ſmote his heart,His laſt, his dying knell it toll'd."O God!" he cried, and gaſp'd for breath,"Ere yet my ſoul ſhall cleave the ſkies,"Are there no parents—brethren—near,"To cloſe, in death, my weary eyes?"All hands aloft to brave the ſtorm,"I hear the wintry tempeſt roar;"He rais'd his head to view the ſcene,And backward fell, to riſe no more.The morning ſun in ſplendour roſe.The gale was huſh'd and ſtill'd the wave;The Sea-boy, far from all his friends,Was plung'd into a wat'ry grave.But He, who guards the Sea-boy's head,He, who can ſave or can deſtroy,Snatch'd up to Heav'n the pureſt ſoulThat e'er adorn'd a SAILOR BOY.

DARK flew the ſcud along the wave,And echoing thunders rend the ſky;All hands aloft! to meet the ſtorm,At midnight was the boatſwain's cry.

On deck flew every gallant tar,But one—bereft of ev'ry joy;Within a hammock's narrow bound,Lay ſtretch'd this hapleſs SAILOR BOY.

Once, when the Boatſwain pip'd all hands,The firſt was he, of all the crew,On deck to ſpring—to trim the ſail—To ſteer—to reef—to furl or clue.

Now fell diſeaſe had ſeiz'd a formWhich nature caſt in fineſt mould;The midwatch bell now ſmote his heart,His laſt, his dying knell it toll'd.

"O God!" he cried, and gaſp'd for breath,"Ere yet my ſoul ſhall cleave the ſkies,"Are there no parents—brethren—near,"To cloſe, in death, my weary eyes?

"All hands aloft to brave the ſtorm,"I hear the wintry tempeſt roar;"He rais'd his head to view the ſcene,And backward fell, to riſe no more.

The morning ſun in ſplendour roſe.The gale was huſh'd and ſtill'd the wave;The Sea-boy, far from all his friends,Was plung'd into a wat'ry grave.

But He, who guards the Sea-boy's head,He, who can ſave or can deſtroy,Snatch'd up to Heav'n the pureſt ſoulThat e'er adorn'd a SAILOR BOY.

Salem Gazette, Oct. 29, 1805.

EARLY RISING.WIVES,awake! unveil your eyes;Sluggards, no more yawning;See the Delphick god arise,Bright Apollo dawning.Husbands, rouse at love's alarms,Drowsy slumbers scorning;Rovers, quit your favourite charms,Up! behold, 'tis morning.Virgins fair, have at your hearts;Hymen's torch is flaming;Cupid whets his pointed darts,And look! the rogue is aiming.Fair the bud of beauty blows,Mellow sweets are palling;Crown us with the virgin rose,And so prevent its falling.See the charms that nature yields;Whysleep away your duty?Arise! the fragrance of the fieldsIs friendly to your beauty.Lads, for shame! abed till now!Forsake them, and be wiser;There's health and pleasure, you'll allow,In being an early riser.Bound with ivy, bound with vines,Youth serenely passes;Bacchus round our temples twines,And sparkles in our glasses.No longer drown the mind in sleep;But breathe the vernal air!Our hours may thus improvement reap,And who has any t' spare?Salem Mercury, May 17, 1788.

EARLY RISING.

WIVES,awake! unveil your eyes;Sluggards, no more yawning;See the Delphick god arise,Bright Apollo dawning.Husbands, rouse at love's alarms,Drowsy slumbers scorning;Rovers, quit your favourite charms,Up! behold, 'tis morning.Virgins fair, have at your hearts;Hymen's torch is flaming;Cupid whets his pointed darts,And look! the rogue is aiming.Fair the bud of beauty blows,Mellow sweets are palling;Crown us with the virgin rose,And so prevent its falling.See the charms that nature yields;Whysleep away your duty?Arise! the fragrance of the fieldsIs friendly to your beauty.Lads, for shame! abed till now!Forsake them, and be wiser;There's health and pleasure, you'll allow,In being an early riser.Bound with ivy, bound with vines,Youth serenely passes;Bacchus round our temples twines,And sparkles in our glasses.No longer drown the mind in sleep;But breathe the vernal air!Our hours may thus improvement reap,And who has any t' spare?

WIVES,awake! unveil your eyes;Sluggards, no more yawning;See the Delphick god arise,Bright Apollo dawning.

Husbands, rouse at love's alarms,Drowsy slumbers scorning;Rovers, quit your favourite charms,Up! behold, 'tis morning.

Virgins fair, have at your hearts;Hymen's torch is flaming;Cupid whets his pointed darts,And look! the rogue is aiming.

Fair the bud of beauty blows,Mellow sweets are palling;Crown us with the virgin rose,And so prevent its falling.

See the charms that nature yields;Whysleep away your duty?Arise! the fragrance of the fieldsIs friendly to your beauty.

Lads, for shame! abed till now!Forsake them, and be wiser;There's health and pleasure, you'll allow,In being an early riser.

Bound with ivy, bound with vines,Youth serenely passes;Bacchus round our temples twines,And sparkles in our glasses.

No longer drown the mind in sleep;But breathe the vernal air!Our hours may thus improvement reap,And who has any t' spare?

Salem Mercury, May 17, 1788.

From the New Monthly Magazine.On seeing a Tomb adorned with Angels weeping.Though sculptors, with mistaken art,Place weeping Angels round the tomb;Yet, when the good and great depart,These shout to bear their conquerors home.Glad they survey their labours o'er,And hail them to their native skies;Attend their passage to the shore,And with their mounting spirits rise.Britain may mourn her Patriot dead,And pour her sorrows o'er his dust:But streaming eyes, and drooping head,Ill suit those guardians of the just.Parents may shed a tender tear,And friends indulge a parting groan;If these in mimic form appear,Such pious grief becomes the stone.But if the wounded marble bearCelestial forms to grace the urn,Let triumph in their eyes appear,Nor dare to make an angel mourn.Salem Register, 1819.

From the New Monthly Magazine.

On seeing a Tomb adorned with Angels weeping.

Though sculptors, with mistaken art,Place weeping Angels round the tomb;Yet, when the good and great depart,These shout to bear their conquerors home.Glad they survey their labours o'er,And hail them to their native skies;Attend their passage to the shore,And with their mounting spirits rise.Britain may mourn her Patriot dead,And pour her sorrows o'er his dust:But streaming eyes, and drooping head,Ill suit those guardians of the just.Parents may shed a tender tear,And friends indulge a parting groan;If these in mimic form appear,Such pious grief becomes the stone.But if the wounded marble bearCelestial forms to grace the urn,Let triumph in their eyes appear,Nor dare to make an angel mourn.

Though sculptors, with mistaken art,Place weeping Angels round the tomb;Yet, when the good and great depart,These shout to bear their conquerors home.

Glad they survey their labours o'er,And hail them to their native skies;Attend their passage to the shore,And with their mounting spirits rise.

Britain may mourn her Patriot dead,And pour her sorrows o'er his dust:But streaming eyes, and drooping head,Ill suit those guardians of the just.

Parents may shed a tender tear,And friends indulge a parting groan;If these in mimic form appear,Such pious grief becomes the stone.

But if the wounded marble bearCelestial forms to grace the urn,Let triumph in their eyes appear,Nor dare to make an angel mourn.

Salem Register, 1819.

Varieties.Origin of the wordDun.—Dunny, in the provincial dialect of ſeveral countries, ſignifies deaf: to dun, then, perhaps may mean, to deafen with importunate demands. Some derive it from the worddonnez, which ſignifiesgive; but the true original meaning of the word owes its birth to one Joe Dun, a famous bailiff of the town of Lincoln, ſo extremely active and ſo dexterous in his buſineſs, that it became a proverb, when a man refuſed to pay, "Why do you notdunhim?" that is, Why do not you ſetDunto arreſt him?—Hence it became a cant-word, and is now as old as ſince the days of Henry VII. Dun was alſo the general name of hangman, before that of Jack-ketch.And preſently a halter got,Made of the beſt ſtrong hempen tear,And e'er a cat could lick her ear,Had tied it up with as much art,As Dun himſelf could do for 's heart.Cotton's Virgil Tra. Bookiv.It is curious to obſerve thatDun, who, as we ſaid before, wasfiniſher of the lawin the reign of Henry VII., had a ſon, who became a bailiff—This bailiff having ſcraped ſome money together, made his ſon an attorney, who changed the name ofDuntoDunning—the reſt of the genealogy are well known.Massachusetts Gazette, Aug. 29, 1786.

Varieties.

Origin of the wordDun.—Dunny, in the provincial dialect of ſeveral countries, ſignifies deaf: to dun, then, perhaps may mean, to deafen with importunate demands. Some derive it from the worddonnez, which ſignifiesgive; but the true original meaning of the word owes its birth to one Joe Dun, a famous bailiff of the town of Lincoln, ſo extremely active and ſo dexterous in his buſineſs, that it became a proverb, when a man refuſed to pay, "Why do you notdunhim?" that is, Why do not you ſetDunto arreſt him?—Hence it became a cant-word, and is now as old as ſince the days of Henry VII. Dun was alſo the general name of hangman, before that of Jack-ketch.

And preſently a halter got,Made of the beſt ſtrong hempen tear,And e'er a cat could lick her ear,Had tied it up with as much art,As Dun himſelf could do for 's heart.

Cotton's Virgil Tra. Bookiv.

It is curious to obſerve thatDun, who, as we ſaid before, wasfiniſher of the lawin the reign of Henry VII., had a ſon, who became a bailiff—This bailiff having ſcraped ſome money together, made his ſon an attorney, who changed the name ofDuntoDunning—the reſt of the genealogy are well known.

Massachusetts Gazette, Aug. 29, 1786.

Biographical Correctness.—As a specimen of the accurate way in which Biographical Dictionaries are made up, the Enquirer refers to Dr. Watkins' volume, in which he writes down that John Adams "died in 1803."—And yet for 23 years after this date, the old patriarch was living in health and happiness. A still more ludicrous blunder appeared a few years since in a French Biographical Dictionary, in which it was stated that the now venerable John Jay, who yet lives full of years and full of honors, was a Frenchman, who, after having framed the Constitution of the State of New-York, and witnessed the close of the American revolution, returned to France—became a member of the French Convention, and was finally brought to the guillotine!—N.Y. Com. Adv.Essex Register, Sept. 18, 1826.The works of John Paul Richter are almost unintelligible to any but Germans, and even to some of them. A worthy German, just before Richter's death, edited a complete edition of his works, in which one particular passage fairly puzzled him. Determined to have it explained at the source, he went to John Paul himself and asked him what was the meaning of the mysterious passage.—John Paul's reply was very German and characteristic: "My good friend," said he, "when I wrote that passage, God and I knew what it meant; it is possible that God knows it still; but as for me, I have totally forgotten."Essex Register, Oct. 9, 1826.

Essex Register, Sept. 18, 1826.

The works of John Paul Richter are almost unintelligible to any but Germans, and even to some of them. A worthy German, just before Richter's death, edited a complete edition of his works, in which one particular passage fairly puzzled him. Determined to have it explained at the source, he went to John Paul himself and asked him what was the meaning of the mysterious passage.—John Paul's reply was very German and characteristic: "My good friend," said he, "when I wrote that passage, God and I knew what it meant; it is possible that God knows it still; but as for me, I have totally forgotten."

Essex Register, Oct. 9, 1826.

Origin of "Foolscap" Paper.It is known that Charles I. of England, granted numerous monopolies for the support of his government. Among others was the privilege of manufacturing paper. The water mark of the finest sort was the royal arms of England. The consumption of this article was great at this time, and large fortunes were made by those who had purchased the exclusive right to vend it. This, among other monopolies, was set aside by the parliament that brought Charles to the scaffold, and by way of showing their contempt for the king, they ordered the royal arms to be taken from the paper, and a fool, with his cap and bells, to be substituted. It is now morethan an hundred and seventy-five years since the fool's cap and bells were taken from the paper, but still, paper of the size which the Rump Parliament ordered for the journals bears the name of the water mark then ordered as an indignity to Charles.

A new version of "Yankee Doodle," from the "Salem Gazette," July, 1811.YANKEY SONG.[The following song was composed a few years since by a gentleman then one of the officers of the Salem regiment, to be sung at the military celebration of the 4th of July. Its wit and pleasantry continues it a favorite with the Yankies, and it was again sung by the Military at Lynn Hotel, and by the Federalists at Washington Hall, on the late anniversary.]I.Yankey Doodle is the tuneAmericans delight in;'Twill do to whiſtle, ſing, or play,And juſt the thing for fighting.CHORUS.Yankey Doodle, Boys; Huzza!Down outſide—up the middle—Yankey Doodle, fa, ſol, la,Trumpet, Drum, and Fiddle.II.Should Great Britain, Spain, or FranceWage war upon our ſhore, ſir,We'll lead them ſuch awoundydance,They'll find their toes are ſore, ſir.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.III.Should a haughty foe expectTo give our boys a caning,Wegueſsthey'll find our boys havelarntAlittle bitof training.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.IV.I'll wager now amug of flip,And bring it on the table,Put Yankey boys aboard a ſhip,To beat them they are able.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.V.Then if they go toargufy.Irather gueſsthey'll find, too,We've got a ſet oftonguey blades,T'out talk 'em, ifthey're mind to.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.VI.America's adandyplace;The people are all brothers;And when one's got apumpkin pye,He ſhares it with the others.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.VII.We work, and ſleep, and pray, in peace—By induſtry we thrive, ſir;And if a drone won't do his part,We'll ſcout him from the hive, ſir.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.VIII.And then, onIndependent Day,(And who's a better right to?)We eat and drink, and ſing and play,And have a dance at night, too.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.IX.Our girls are fair, our boys are tough,Our old folks wiſe and healthy;And when we've every thing we want,Wecountthat we are wealthy.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.X.We'rehappy,free, andwell to do,And cannot want for knowledge;For, almoſt ev'ry mile or two,You find aſchoolorcollege.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.XI.The land we till is all our own;Whate'er the price, we paid it;Therefore we'll fighttill all is blue,Should any dare invade it.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.XII.Since we're ſo bleſs'd, let's eat and drinkWith thankfulneſs and gladneſs:Should we kick o'er our cup of joy,It would beſartinmadneſs.CHORUS.Yankey Doodle, Boys; Huzza!Down outſide, up the middle—Yankey Doodle, fa, ſol, la,Trumpet, Drum, and Fiddle.

A new version of "Yankee Doodle," from the "Salem Gazette," July, 1811.

YANKEY SONG.

[The following song was composed a few years since by a gentleman then one of the officers of the Salem regiment, to be sung at the military celebration of the 4th of July. Its wit and pleasantry continues it a favorite with the Yankies, and it was again sung by the Military at Lynn Hotel, and by the Federalists at Washington Hall, on the late anniversary.]

I.Yankey Doodle is the tuneAmericans delight in;'Twill do to whiſtle, ſing, or play,And juſt the thing for fighting.CHORUS.Yankey Doodle, Boys; Huzza!Down outſide—up the middle—Yankey Doodle, fa, ſol, la,Trumpet, Drum, and Fiddle.II.Should Great Britain, Spain, or FranceWage war upon our ſhore, ſir,We'll lead them ſuch awoundydance,They'll find their toes are ſore, ſir.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.III.Should a haughty foe expectTo give our boys a caning,Wegueſsthey'll find our boys havelarntAlittle bitof training.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.IV.I'll wager now amug of flip,And bring it on the table,Put Yankey boys aboard a ſhip,To beat them they are able.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.V.Then if they go toargufy.Irather gueſsthey'll find, too,We've got a ſet oftonguey blades,T'out talk 'em, ifthey're mind to.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.VI.America's adandyplace;The people are all brothers;And when one's got apumpkin pye,He ſhares it with the others.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.VII.We work, and ſleep, and pray, in peace—By induſtry we thrive, ſir;And if a drone won't do his part,We'll ſcout him from the hive, ſir.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.VIII.And then, onIndependent Day,(And who's a better right to?)We eat and drink, and ſing and play,And have a dance at night, too.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.IX.Our girls are fair, our boys are tough,Our old folks wiſe and healthy;And when we've every thing we want,Wecountthat we are wealthy.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.X.We'rehappy,free, andwell to do,And cannot want for knowledge;For, almoſt ev'ry mile or two,You find aſchoolorcollege.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.XI.The land we till is all our own;Whate'er the price, we paid it;Therefore we'll fighttill all is blue,Should any dare invade it.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.XII.Since we're ſo bleſs'd, let's eat and drinkWith thankfulneſs and gladneſs:Should we kick o'er our cup of joy,It would beſartinmadneſs.CHORUS.Yankey Doodle, Boys; Huzza!Down outſide, up the middle—Yankey Doodle, fa, ſol, la,Trumpet, Drum, and Fiddle.

Yankey Doodle is the tuneAmericans delight in;'Twill do to whiſtle, ſing, or play,And juſt the thing for fighting.

CHORUS.

Yankey Doodle, Boys; Huzza!Down outſide—up the middle—Yankey Doodle, fa, ſol, la,Trumpet, Drum, and Fiddle.

II.

Should Great Britain, Spain, or FranceWage war upon our ſhore, ſir,We'll lead them ſuch awoundydance,They'll find their toes are ſore, ſir.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.

III.

Should a haughty foe expectTo give our boys a caning,Wegueſsthey'll find our boys havelarntAlittle bitof training.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.

IV.

I'll wager now amug of flip,And bring it on the table,Put Yankey boys aboard a ſhip,To beat them they are able.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.

Then if they go toargufy.Irather gueſsthey'll find, too,We've got a ſet oftonguey blades,T'out talk 'em, ifthey're mind to.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.

VI.

America's adandyplace;The people are all brothers;And when one's got apumpkin pye,He ſhares it with the others.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.

VII.

We work, and ſleep, and pray, in peace—By induſtry we thrive, ſir;And if a drone won't do his part,We'll ſcout him from the hive, ſir.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.

VIII.

And then, onIndependent Day,(And who's a better right to?)We eat and drink, and ſing and play,And have a dance at night, too.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.

IX.

Our girls are fair, our boys are tough,Our old folks wiſe and healthy;And when we've every thing we want,Wecountthat we are wealthy.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.

We'rehappy,free, andwell to do,And cannot want for knowledge;For, almoſt ev'ry mile or two,You find aſchoolorcollege.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.

XI.

The land we till is all our own;Whate'er the price, we paid it;Therefore we'll fighttill all is blue,Should any dare invade it.CHORUS.—Yankey Doodle, &c.

XII.

Since we're ſo bleſs'd, let's eat and drinkWith thankfulneſs and gladneſs:Should we kick o'er our cup of joy,It would beſartinmadneſs.

CHORUS.

Yankey Doodle, Boys; Huzza!Down outſide, up the middle—Yankey Doodle, fa, ſol, la,Trumpet, Drum, and Fiddle.

"Going snacks."At the time of the plague in London, a noted body searcher lived whose name wasSnacks. His business increased so fast that, finding he could not compass it, he offered to any person who should join him in his hardened practice half the profits; thus, those who joined him were said to go withSnacks. Hence goingsnacks, or dividing the spoil.Salem Observer, 1823.A Word omitted by Webster. In a history of the second parish of Beverly, published not long since, a vote passed in 1776, to take measures to collect the "behindments" of certain persons in the parish, is noticed. "Behindments" meant arrearages.Salem Observer, 1837.

"Going snacks."

At the time of the plague in London, a noted body searcher lived whose name wasSnacks. His business increased so fast that, finding he could not compass it, he offered to any person who should join him in his hardened practice half the profits; thus, those who joined him were said to go withSnacks. Hence goingsnacks, or dividing the spoil.

Salem Observer, 1823.

A Word omitted by Webster. In a history of the second parish of Beverly, published not long since, a vote passed in 1776, to take measures to collect the "behindments" of certain persons in the parish, is noticed. "Behindments" meant arrearages.

Salem Observer, 1837.

The following curious collection belonged to Mr. Samuel McIntire, the architect of the South Meeting-House in Salem, whose spire is acknowledged to be one of the best proportioned and handsomest in New England:

FOR SALE,SundryArticles belonging to the Estate ofSamuel McIntire, deceased.—VIZ.1 elegant BARREL ORGAN, 6 feet high, 10 barrels; 1 Wind Chest of an Organ;ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANNICA, complete;Paladio's Architecture, best kind;1 Ware's do.; 1 Paine's do.;2 vols. French Architecture;1 large Book Antient Statues, excellent;Lock Hospital Collection of Music;Handel's Messiah, in score;Harmonia Sacra;Magdalen Hymns; Massachusetts Compiler;1 excellent toned SPINNET;1 excellent VIOLIN and Case;1 eight day CLOCK, Mahogany Case;12 Prints of the Seasons;1 book Drawings of Ships;1 large Head of Washington;Number of Busts of the Poets;2 Figures of Hercules, 2 feet high;1 Head of Franklin, and Pillar, for a Sign;Composition Ornaments;Number of Moulding Planes, and sundry other Articles. Apply toELIZABETH M'INTIRE,Adm'x.or to SAMUEL F. M'INTIRE,Att'y.N.B.—The Subscriber carries on CARVING as usual at the Shop of the deceased, in Summer-Street, where he will be glad to receive orders in that line. He returns thanks for past favors.April 30 [1811]. SAMUEL F. M'INTIRE.

FOR SALE,

SundryArticles belonging to the Estate ofSamuel McIntire, deceased.—VIZ.

1 elegant BARREL ORGAN, 6 feet high, 10 barrels; 1 Wind Chest of an Organ;ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANNICA, complete;Paladio's Architecture, best kind;1 Ware's do.; 1 Paine's do.;2 vols. French Architecture;1 large Book Antient Statues, excellent;Lock Hospital Collection of Music;Handel's Messiah, in score;Harmonia Sacra;Magdalen Hymns; Massachusetts Compiler;1 excellent toned SPINNET;1 excellent VIOLIN and Case;1 eight day CLOCK, Mahogany Case;12 Prints of the Seasons;1 book Drawings of Ships;1 large Head of Washington;Number of Busts of the Poets;2 Figures of Hercules, 2 feet high;1 Head of Franklin, and Pillar, for a Sign;Composition Ornaments;Number of Moulding Planes, and sundry other Articles. Apply to

ELIZABETH M'INTIRE,Adm'x.or to SAMUEL F. M'INTIRE,Att'y.

N.B.—The Subscriber carries on CARVING as usual at the Shop of the deceased, in Summer-Street, where he will be glad to receive orders in that line. He returns thanks for past favors.

April 30 [1811]. SAMUEL F. M'INTIRE.

Many years ago there was published in Boston a small volume entitled "Eliza Wharton, the Coquette. By a Lady of Massachusetts." It consisted of a series of letters said to be founded on fact. A young woman died at the Bell Tavern in Danvers in 1788, whose gravestone a few years ago might be seen in the old Danvers (now Peabody) burial-ground. We copyfrom the "Salem Mercury" of July 29, 1788, the following account:—

Laſt Friday, a female ſtranger died at the Bell Tavern, in Danvers; and on Sunday her remains were decently interred. The circumstances relative to this woman are ſuch as excite curioſity and intereſt our feelings. She was brought to the Bell in a chaiſe, from Watertown, as ſhe ſaid, by a young man whom ſhe had engaged for that purpoſe. After ſhe had alighted, and taken a trunk with her into the houſe, the chaiſe immediately drove off. She remained at this inn till her death, in expectation of the arrival of her huſband, whom ſhe expected to come for her, and appeared anxious at his delay. She was averſe to being interrogated concerning herſelf or connexions; and kept much retired to her chamber, employed in needle-work, writing, &c. She ſaid, however, that ſhe came from Weſtfield, in Connecticut; that her parents lived in that State; that ſhe had been married only a few months; and, that her huſband's name was Thomas Walker;—but always carefully concealed her family name. Her linen was all marked E.W. About a fortnight before her death, ſhe was brought to bed of a lifeleſs child. When thoſe who attended her apprehended her fate, they aſked her, whether ſhe did not wiſh to ſee her friends: She anſwered, that ſhe was very deſirous of ſeeing them. It was propoſed that ſhe ſhouldſend for them; to which ſhe objected, hoping in a ſhort time to be able to go to them. From what ſhe ſaid, and from other circumſtances, it appeared probable to thoſe who attended her, that ſhe belonged to ſome country town in Connecticut: Her converſation, her writings and her manners, beſpoke the advantage of a reſpectable family & good education. Her perſon was agreeable; her deportment, amiable & engaging; and, though in a ſtate of anxiety and ſuſpenſe, ſhe preſerved a cheerfulneſs, which ſeemed to be not the effect of inſenſibility, but of a firm and patient temper. She was ſuppoſed to be about 35 years old. Copies of letters, of her writing, dated at Hartford, Springfield, and other places, were left among her things.—This account is given by the family in which ſhe reſided; and it is hoped the publication of it will be a means of her friends' aſcertaining her fate.

Elizabeth Whitman was the real name of the stranger, and the following was the inscription on the stone:—

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