state of bondage under them. Let us then in the name of all that is sacred, and in defence of all that is dear to us, resolve to exert ourselves, if not for glory, at least for safety; if not in vindication of British honor, at least in defence of our lives.

But, after all, who are these mighty Romans? Are they Gods; or mortal men, like ourselves? Do we not see that they fall into the same errors and weaknesses, as others? Does not peace effeminate them? Does not abundance debauch them? Does not wantonness enervate them? Do they not even go to excess in the most unmanly vices? And can you imagine that they who are remarkable for their vices are likewise remarkable for their valor? What then do we dread? Shall I tell you the truth, my fellow-soldiers? It is by means of our intestine divisions, that the Romans have gained such great advantage over us. They turn the misconduct of their enemies to their own praise. They boast of what they have done, and say nothing of what we might have done, had we been so wise, as to unite against them.

What is this formidable Roman army? Is it not composed of a mixture of people from different countries; some more, some less capable of bearing fatigue and hardship? They keep together while they are successful. Attack them with vigor: distress them: you will see them more disunited than we are now. Can any one imagine, that Gauls, Germans, and with shame I must add, Britons, who basely lend their limbs and lives, to build up a foreign tyranny; can one imagine that these will be longer enemies than slaves? or that such an army is held together by sentiments of fidelity or affection? No: the only bond of union among them is fear. And whenever terror ceases to work upon the minds of that mixed multitude, they who now fear, will then hate their tyrannical masters.

On our side there is every possible incitement to valour. The Roman courage is not, as ours, inflamed by the thoughts of wives and children in danger of

falling into the hands of the enemy. The Romans have not parents, as we have, to reproach them if they should desert their infirm old age. They have no country here to fight for. They are a motley collection of foreigners, in a land wholly unknown to them; cut off from their native country, hemmed in by the surrounding ocean; and given, I hope, a prey into our hands, without any possibility of escape. Let not the sound of the Roman name affright your ears, nor let the glare of gold or silver, upon their armour, dazzle your eyes. It is not by gold or silver, that men are either wounded or defended; though they are rendered a richer prey to the conquerors. Let us boldly attack this disunited rabble. We shall find among themselves a reinforcement to our army.

And what will there be then to fear? A few half garrisoned forts; a few municipal towns, inhabited by worn-out old men; discord universally prevailing, occasioned by tyranny in those who command, and obstinacy in those who should obey. On our side, an army united in the cause of their country, their wives, their children, their aged parents, their lives. At the head of this army, I hope I do not offend against modesty in saying, there is a General ready to exert all his abilities such as they are, and to hazard his life, in leading you to victory, and to freedom.

I conclude, my countrymen and fellow-soldiers, with putting you in mind, that on your behaviour this day depends your future enjoyment of peace and liberty, or your subjection to a tyrannical enemy, with all its grievous consequences. When, therefore, you come to engage, think of your ancestors and think of your posterity.

MODERN EDUCATION.

DIALOGUE BETWEEN A PRECEPTOR OF AN ACADEMY AND PARENT OF AN OFFERED PUPIL.

Preceptor. AM heartily sick of this modern mode [Solus.] of education. Nothing but trash will suit the taste of people at this day. I am perplexed beyond all endurance with these frequent solicitations of parents, to give their children graceful airs, polite accomplishments, and a smattering of what they call the fine arts; while nothing is said about teaching them the substantial branches of literature. If they can but dance a little, fiddle a little, flute a little, and make a handsome bow and courtesy, that is sufficient to make them famous in this enlightened age. Three-fourths of the teachers of those arts, which once were esteemed most valuable, will soon be out of employment at this rate. For my part, I am convinced, that, if I had been a dancing master, music master, stage player, or mountebank, I should have been much more respected, and much better supported, than I am at present.

Enter PARENT.

Parent. Your humble servant, Sir, are you the principal of this Academy?

Precep. I am, at your service, Sir.

Par. I have heard much of the fame of your institution, and am desirous of putting a son, of about twelve years of age, under your tuition. I suppose you have masters who teach the various branches of the polite arts.

Precep. We are not inattentive to those arts, Sir; but the fame of our Academy does not rest upon them. Useful learning is our grand object. What studies do you wish to put your son upon?

Par. I wish him to be perfected in music, dancing, drawing, &c. and as he possesses a promising genius for poetry, I would by all means have that cultivateds

Precep. These are not all the branches, I trust, in which he is to be instructed. You mention nothing of reading, writing, arithmetic, language, &c. Are these to be wholly neglected?

Par. Why, as to these every-day branches, I cannot say I feel very anxious about them. The boy reads well now; writes a decent hand; is acquainted with the ground rules of arithmetic, and pronounces the English language genteelly. He has been a long time under the care of Mr. Honestus, our town schoolmaster, who has taught him all these things suffi ciently. So that I think any more time devoted to them would be wasted.

Precep. If he is such an adept that there is no room for his progressing in those arts; yet I think at least there is need of practice, les, at his age, he should forget what he has learned.

Par. That I shall leave to your discretion. But there is one branch, of great importance, which I have not yet mentioned, and to which I would have particular attention paid; I mean the art of speaking. You will find him not deficient in that respect; though perhaps it requires as much practice to make one perfect in that, as in any art whatever. He has already learned by heart a great number of pieces, and has acted a part in several comedies and tragedies with much applause. It has been the custom of our master to have an exhibition at least once a quarter; and my son has always been considered as one of his best performers. He lately took the part of Jemmy Jumps, in the farce called The Farmer; and acted it to universal acceptation.

Precep. I must confess, Sir, that your account of your son does not appear to me to be very flattering. Par. Why so, pray? have you not an ear for eloquence?

Precep. Indeed I have, Sir. No man is more charmed than I am with its enrapturing sounds. No music rests sweeter on my ear than the melodious notes, proceeding from the mouth of a judicious,

well-instructed and powerful orator. But I must tell you plainly, that I am by no means pleased to see parents take so much pains to transform their children into monkeys instead of men. What signs of oratory do you imagine you can discern in a boy, rigged out in a fantastical dress, skipping about the stage like a baboon, in the character of Jemmy Jumps, Betty Jumps, or any other jumper?

Par. Do you not approve of exhibitions then?

Precep. Not much I confess, in the way they are generally conducted. A master who has four in a year, must necessarily rob his pupils of one quarter of that time, which in my opinion, might be much better employed in attending to what would be useful for them in life.

Par. What can be more useful for a child, under such a government as ours than to be able to speak before an audience with a graceful ease, and a manful dignity? My son, for ought I know, may be a member of Congress before he dies.

Precep. For that very reason I would educate him differently. I would lay the foundation of his future fame on the firm basis of the solid sciences; that he might be able in time to do something more than a mere parrot, or an ape, who are capable only of speaking the words, and mimicking the actions of others. He should first be taught to read. He should likewise be taught to compose for himself; and I would not be wanting in my endeavours to make him a speaker.

Par. Surely, Mr. Pi ceptor, you must be very wrong in your notions. I have ever pursued a different plan with my children; and there are none in the country, though I say it myself, who are more universally caressed. I have a daughter that has seen but fourteen years, who is capable of gracing the politest circles. It is allowed that she can enter, and leave a room, with as much ease and dignity as any lady of quality whatever. And this is evidently owing altogether to her polite education. I boarded her a year