serious with you. Your airy young gentleman, in my opinion, is a very insipid character; far beneath my ambition. A few materials from behind the counter, the tailor's needle and shears, the barber's puff and pomatum, a little sheep-skin modified by the shoe-maker, and what is the most insignificant of all, a little supple, puny machine, that in plain English, I should call a naked fool; to strui about the streets with all this finery; carry it to the theatre, or dancing school; and teach it to say a few pretty things by rote; these make the gentlemen of your sort. Mine is composed of quite different materials.

Har. Pray let me know what they are homespun, I dare say. I am superfine, you see, from head

to foot.

Edw. Yes, Harry, you have blundered into one just observation. In the first place, I would lay up a good store of knowledge, home-spun from my own reflections, reading and observation; not the secondhanded smattering of the most ignorant of all beings who use a tongue. The tailor's, barber's, and dancingmaster's bill should not show an inventory of all I possessed. They may make my clothes, dress my hair, and teach me how to bow; but there must be something more to command the bow of respect from people of sense, the judges of real merit. In short, I would be a gentleman farmer; too well informed to be influenced by your railing newspaper politics'; too much delighted with the bleating and playing of the flocks in my own pasture, to read the head of Theatricals, or be amused with any drove of stage-players, that have infested our country from Charleston to Portsmouth. And I should be much more proud of raising one likely calf, than as many of the most insipid of all animals, called Tippies, as could stand in every shop in Cornhill.

DAVID AND GOLIATH.

Goliath. Wes
THERE is the mighty man of war, who
WHERE is the

dares

Accept the challenge of Philistia's chief?
What victor king, what gen'ral drench'd in blood,
Claims this high privilege? What are his rights?
What proud credentials does the boaster bring,
To prove his claim? What cities laid in ashes,
What ruin'd provinces, what slaughter'd realms,
What heads of heroes, and what hearts of kings,
In battle kill'd, or at his altars slain,
Has he to boast? Is his bright armoury

Thick set with spears, and swords, and coats of mail,
Of vanquish'd nations, by his single arm
Subdu'd? Where is the mortal man so bold,
So much a wretch, so out of love with life,
To dare the weight of this uplifted spear,
Which never fell innoxious? Yet I swear,
I grudge the glory to his parting soul

To fall by this right hand. "Twill sweeten death,
To know he had the honor to contend

With the dread son of Anak.

Latest time

From blank oblivion shall retrieve his name,

Who dar'd to perish in unequal fight

With Gath's triumphant champion. Come, advance ! Philistia's gods to Israel's. Sound, my herald,

Sound for the battle straight!

Dav. Behold thy foe!

Gol. I see him not.

Dav. Behold him here!

Gol. Say, where !

Direct my sight. I do not war with boys.

Dav. I stand prepar'd; thy single arm to mine. Gol. Why, this is mockery, minion! it may chance To cost thee dear. Sport not with things above thee: But tell me who, of all this num'rous host,

Expects

Expects his death from me? Which is the man,
Whom Israel sends to meet my bold defiance?

Dav. Th' election of my sov'reign falls on me. Gol. On thee! on thee! by Dagon, 'tis too much! Thou curled minion! thou a nation's champion! "Twould move my mirth at any other time; But trifling's out of tune. Begone, light boy!

And tempt me not too far.
Dav. I do defy thee,

Thou foul idolater! Hast thou not scorn'd
The armies of the living God. I serve?

By me he will avenge upon thy head

Thy nation's sins and thine. Arm'd with his name, Unshrinking, I dare meet the stoutest, foe

That ever bath'd his hostile spear in blood.

1

Gol. Indeed! 'tis wondrous well! Now, by my gods,
The stripling plays the orator! Vain boy!
Keep close to that same bloodless war of words,
And thou shalt still be safe. Tongue-valiant warrior!
Where is thy sylvan crook, with garlands hung,
Of idle field-flowers? Where thy wanton harp,
Thou dainty-finger'd hero? Better strike
Its note lascivious, or the lulling lute

Touch softly, than provoke the trumpet's rage.
I will not stain the honor of my spear

With thy inglorious blood. Shall that fair cheek
Be scarr'd with wounds unseemly? Rather go,
And hold fond dalliance with the Syrian maids;
To wanton measures dance; and let them braid
The bright luxuriance of thy golden hair;
They, for their lost Adonis, may mistake
Thy dainty form.

Peace, thou unhallow'd railer!
O tell it not in Gath, nor let the sound
Reach Askelon, how once your slaughter'd lords,
Ry mighty Samson found one common grave:
When his broad shoulder the firm pillars heav'd,
And to its base the tott'ring fabric shook.

Gol.

Gol. Insulting boy; perhaps thou hast not heard The infamy of that inglorious day,

When your weak hosts at Eben-ezer pitch'd

Their quick-abandon'd tents. Then, when your ark,
Your talisman, your charm, your boasted pledge
Of safety and success, was tamely lost!
And yet not tamely, since by me 'twas won.
When with this good right arm, I thinn'd your ranks,
And bravely crush'd, beneath a single blow,
The chosen guardians of this vaunted shrine,
Hophni and Phineas. The fam'd ark itself,
I bore to Ashdod.

Dav. I remember too,

Since thou provok'st th' unwelcome truth, how all
Your blushing priests beheld their idol's shame
When prostrate Dagon fell before the ark,

And your frail god was shiver'd.

Then Philistia,
Idolatrous Philistia flew for succour

To Israel's help, and all her smitten nobles
Confess'd the Lord was God, and the blest ark,
Gladly, with reverential awe restor❜d!

Gal. By Ashdod's fane thou ly'st. Now will I meet thee,

Thou insect warrior! since thou dar'st me thus!
Already I behold thy mangled limbs,

Dissever'd each from each, ere long to feed

The fierce, blood-snuffing vulture. Mark me well!
Around my spear I'll twist thy shining locks,
And toss in air thy head all gash'd with wounds;
Thy lips, yet quiv'ring with the dire convulsion
Of recent death! Art thou not terrified ?

Dav. No.

True courage is not mov'd by breath of words;
But the rash bravery of boiling blood,
Impetuous, knows no settled principle.
A feverish tide, it has its ebbs and flows,
As spirits rise or fall, as wine inflames,
Or circumstances change. But inborn courage,
The gen'rous child of Fortitude and Faith,

Holds

Holds its firm empire in the constant soul;
And, like the stedfast pole-star, never once
From the same fix'd and faithful point declines.
Gol. The curses of Philistia's gods be on thee!
This fine-drawn speech is meant to lengthen out
That little life thy words pretend to scorn.

Dav. Ha! says't thou so? Come on then! Mark us well.

Thou com'st to me with sword, and spear, and shield!
In the dread name of Israel's God, I come;

The living Lord of Hosts, whom thou defys't!
Yet though no shield I bring; no arms, except
These five smooth stones I gathered from the brook,
With such a simple sling as shepherds use;
Yet all expos'd, defenceless as I am,
The God I serve shall give thee up a prey
To my victorious arm. This day I mean

To make th' uncircumcised tribes confess
There is a God in Israel. I will give thee,
Spite of thy vaunted strength and giant bulk,
To glut the carrion kites. Nor thee alone
The mangled carcases of your thick hosts
Shall spread the plains of Elah; till Philistia,
Through her trembling tents and flying bands,
Shall own that Judah's God is God indeed!
I dare thee to the trial!

Gol. Follow me.

In this good spear I trust.

Dav. I trust in Heaven!

The God of battles stimulates my arm,
And fires my soul with ardour, not its own.

AN ORATION ON THE POWERS OF ELOQUENCE, WRITTEN FOR AN EXHIBITION OF A SCHOOL IN BOSTON, 1794.

Aobjects in this assembly, should the speaker be able

MIDST the profusion of interesting and brilliant

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to