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THOMAS PAINE.

temple of science, and asks not who sits beside him." Literature, he calls "the tongue of the world." "War," he says in the Rights of Man, "is the Pharo table of governments, and nations It was this word and a the dupes of the game." blow, this powerful expression in ordinary symbols, which gained Paine the ear of the public His phrases put during the Revolutionary war. American resistance in an incontrovertible form. Paine's slight claims as a poet depend upon a few showy pieces, more remarkable for their collocation of fine words than just thought or expression. He had fancy, but wanted poetic feeling.

In another light the study of Paine's character may be of importance to the world, in showing that a certain degree of ready tact and ability, and a certain amount of benevolence, may consist with the utter absence of the higher philosophical and moral qualities. Paine had a great deal of wit and sagacity, but their exercise was confined to a narrow field. When he undertook his attack upon the Christian religion, it was without the learning, the thought, or the feeling requisite for its study. It is much to ask us to believe that he was sustained by any better motive than vanity. Notwithstanding his experience of the French Revolution in the cell of the Luxembourg, he could not relinquish the egotism and self-sufficiency productive of the excesses which had placed him there. Suffering from lawlessness, he was vain and empty enough to seek to inflict that curse upon the world in its most important relations. The Age of Reason is justly treated with contempt, but it points a most significant moral of the worthlessness of the shallow powers of the understanding divorced from the control of the "It must soon sink higher faculties of the soul. into infamy," said William Linn, from the pulpit, who had commended Paine's political writings in the same place, and "carry his own name along with it. There is nothing new in the perforInmance, save the bold and indecent manner. deed it is provoking to see the Christian religion, after having withstood the roarings of the lion, inThe prosulted by the brayings of the ass." phecy has been verified, and under the odium into which he cast himself few readers of the present day are familiar with the brilliant qualities which once excited our forefathers.

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ODE, ON THE DEATH OF GENERAL WOLFE.

In a mouldering cave where the wretched retreat,
BRITANNIA sat wasted with care;

She mourn'd for her WOLFE, and exclaim'd against
fate,

And gave herself to despair.
up
The walls of her cell she had sculptured around
With the feats of her favorite son;
And even the dust, as it lay on the ground,

Was engraved with the deeds he had done.

The sire of the Gods from his crystalline throne
Beheld the discousolate dame,

And moved with her tears he sent MERCURY down,
And these were the tidings that came.

* Linn's Discourse, Fall of Antichrist. Series "Signs of the Times." 1794. An Epigrammatist wrote:

Here lies Tom Paine, who wrote in liberty's defence,
But in his "Age of Reason" lost his "Common Sense."

BRITANNIA forbear, not a sigh nor a tear
For thy WOLFE so deservedly loved,
Your tears shall be changed into triumphs of joy,
For thy WOLFE is not dead but removed.

The sons of the East, the proud giants of old,
Have crept from their darksome abodes,
And this is the news as in heaven it was told,
They were marching to war with the Gods;
A council was held in the chambers of Jove,
And this was their final decree,

That WOLFE should be called to the armies above,
And the charge was entrusted to me.

To the plains of QUEBEC with the orders I flew,
He begg'd for a moment's delay;

He cry'd, Oh! forbear, let me victory hear,
And then thy command I'll obey.

With a darksome thick film I encompass'd his eyes,
And bore him away in an urn,

Lest the fondness he bore to his own native shore,
Should induce him again to return.

REFLECTIONS ON THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LORD CLIVE.

Ah! the tale is told-the scene is ended-and the curtain falls. As an emblem of the vanity of all earthly pomp, let his monument be a globe, but, be that globe a bubble; let his effigy be a man walking round it in his sleep; and let Fame, in the character of a shadow, inscribe his honors on the air.

I view him but as yesterday on the burning plains of Plassey, doubtful of life, health, or victory. I see him in the instant when "To be, or not to be," were equal chances to a human eye. To be a lord or a slave, to return loaded with the spoils, or remain Did necessity mingled with the dust of India.

always justify the severity of a conqueror, the rude tongue of censure would be silent, and however painfully he might look back on scenes of horror, the pensive reflection would not alarm him. Though his feelings suffered, his conscience would be acquitted. The sad remembrance would move serenely, and leave the mind without a wound. But, oh, India! thou loud proclaimer of European cruelties, thou bloody monument of unnecessary deaths, be tender in the day of enquiry, and shew a Christian world thou canst suffer and forgive.

Departed from India, and loaded with the plunder, I see him doubling the Cape and looking wistfully to Eurore. I see him contemplating on years of pleasure, ad gratifying his ambition with exI see his arrival pompously anpected honours. nounced in every newspaper, his eager eye rambling through the crowd in quest of homage, and his ear listening lest an applause should escape him. Happily for him he arrived before his fame, and the short interval was a time of rest. From the crowd

follow him to the court, I see him enveloped in the sunshine of popular favour, rivalling the great in honours, the proud in splendour, and the rich in wealth. From the court I trace him to the country, his equipage moves like a camp; every village bell proclaims his coming; the wandering peasants. admire his pomp, and his heart runs over with joy.

But, alas! not satisfied with uncountable thousands, I accompany him again to India. I mark the variety of countenances which appear at his landing. Confusion spreads the news. Every passion seems alarmed. The wailing widow, the crying orphan, and the childless parent remember and lament; the rival nabobs court his favour; the rich dread his power and the poor his severity. Fear and terror march like pioneers before his camp, murder and rapine accompany it, famine and wretchedness follow in the rear.

Resolved on accumulating an unbounded fortune, he enters into all the schemes of war, treaty, and intrigue. The British sword is set up for sale; the heads of contending nabobs are offered at a price, and the bribe taken from both sides. Thousands of men or money are trifles in an Indian bargain. The field is an empire, and the treasure almost without end. The wretched inhabitants are glad to compound for offences never committed, and to purchase at any rate the privilege to breathe, while he, the sole lord of their lives and fortunes, disposes of either as he pleases, and prepares for Europe.

Uncommon fortunes require an uncommon date of life to enjoy them in. The usual period is spent in preparing to live: and unless nature prolongs the time, fortune bestows her excess of favours in vain.

The conqueror of the East having nothing more to expect from the one, has all his court to make to the other. Anxiety for wealth gives place to anxiety for life; and wisely recollecting that the sea is no respecter of persons, resolves on taking his route to Europe by land. Little beings move unseen, or unobserved, but he engrosses whole kingdoms in his march, and is gazed at like a comet. The burning desert, the pathless mountains, and the fertile valleys, are in their turns explored and passed over. No material accident distresses his progress, and England once more receives the spoiler.

How sweet is rest to the weary traveller; the retrospect heightens the enjoyment; and if the future prospect be serene, the days of case and happiness are arrived. An uninquiring observer might have been inclined to consider Lord Clive, under all these agreeable circumstances: one, whose every care was over, and who had nothing to do but to sit down and say, soul, take thine ease, thou hast goods laid up in store for many years.

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The reception which he met with on his second arrival was in every instance equal, and in many, it exceeded, the honours of the first. 'Tis the peculiar temper of the English to applaud before they think. Generous of their praise, they frequently bestow it unworthily; but when once the truth arrives, the torrent stops, and rushes back again with the same violence. Scarcely had the echo of applause ceased upon the ear, than the rude tongue of censure took up the tale. The newspapers, fatal enemies to illgotten wealth, began to buzz a general suspicion of his conduct, and the inquisitive public soon refined it into particulars. Every post gave a stab to fame - wound to his peace, and a nail to his coffin. Like spectres from the grave they haunted him in every company, and whispered murder in his ear. A life chequered with uncommon varieties is seldom a long one. Action and care will, in time, wear down the strongest frame, but guilt and melancholy are poisons of quick dispatch.

Say, cool deliberate reflection, was the prize, though abstracted from the guilt, worthy of the pains? Ah! no. Fatigued with victory, he sat down to rest, and while he was recovering breath he lost it. A conqueror more fatal than himself beset him, and revenged the injuries done to India.

He

As a cure for avarice and ambition, let us take a view of him in his latter years. Hah! what gloomy Being wanders yonder? How visibly is the melancholy heart delineated on his countenance. mourns no common care-his very steps are timed to sorrow-he trembles with a kind of mental palsy. Perhaps 'tis some broken-hearted parent, some David mourning for his Absalom, or some Heraclitus weep ing for the world. I hear him utter something about wealth-perhaps he is poor and hath not

wherewithal to hide his head. Some debtor started from his sleepless pillow, to ruminate on poverty, and ponder on the horrors of a jail; poor man, I'll to him and relieve him. Hah! 'tis Lord Clive himself! Bless me, what a change! He makes, I see, for yonder cypress shade-fit scene for melancholy hearts! I'll watch him there, and listen to his story.

Lord Clive. Can I but suffer when a beggar pities me? Ere while I heard a ragged wretch, who every mark of poverty had on, say to a sooty sweep, “Ah, poor Lord Clive!" while he, the negro-colored vagrant, more mercifully cruel, curst me in my hearing.

There was a time when fortune, like a yielding mistress, courted me with smiles. She never waited to be told my wishes, but studied to discover them; and seemed not happy to herself, but when she had some favour to bestow. Ah, little did I think the fair enchantress would desert me thus, and after lavishing her smiles upon me, turn my reproacher, and publish me in folio to the world. Volumes of morality are dull and spiritless compared to me. Lord Clive is himself a treatise upon vanity, printed on a golden type. The most unlettered clown writes explanatory notes thereon, and reads them to his children. Yet I could bear these insults could I but bear myself. A strange unwelcome something hangs about me. In company I seem no company at all. The festive board appears to me a stage, the crimson-colored port resembles blood. Each glass is strangely metamorphosed to a man in armour, and every bowl appears a nabob. The joyous toast is like the sound of murder, and the loud laugh are groans of dying men. The scenes of India are all rehearsed, and no one sees the tragedy but myself. Ah! I discover things which are not, and hear unuttered sounds.

Oh, peace! thou sweet companion of the calm and innocent! whither art thou fled? Here, take my gold, and all the world calls mine, and come thou in exchange. Or thou, thou noisy sweep, who mix thy food with soot and relish it, who canst descend from lofty heights and walk the humble earth again, without repining at the change, come, teach that mystery to me. Or thou, thou ragged wandering beggar, who, when thou canst not beg successfully, will pilfer from the hound, and eat the dirty morsel sweetly-be thou Lord Clive, and I will beg, so I may laugh like thee.

Could I unlearn what I've already learned-unact what I've already acted-or would some sacred power convey me back to youth and innocence, I'd act another part-I'd keep within the vale of humble life, nor wish for what the world calls pomp.

-But since this cannot be.

And only a few days and sad remain for me, I'll haste to quit the scene; for what is life When ev'ry passion of the soul's at strife.

THE AMERICAN CRISIS-NUMBER ONE.

These are the times that try men's souls: The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it Now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly-Tis dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to set a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed, if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be

* Some time before his death, he became very melancholysubject to strange imaginations--and was found dead at last.Author's Note,

highly rated. Britain, with an army to enforce her tyranny, has declared, that she has a right (not only to TAX, but)" to BIND us in ALL CASES WHATSOEVER,' and if being bound in that manner is not slavery, then is there not such a thing as slavery upon earth. Even the expression is impious, for so unlimited a power can belong only to GOD.

Whether the Independence of the Continent was declared too soon, or delayed too long, I will not now enter into as an argument; my own simple opinion is, that had it been eight months earlier, it would have been much better. We did not make a proper use of last winter, neither could we, while we were in a dependent state. However, the fault, if it were one, was all our own; we have none to blame but ourselves. But no great deal is lost yet; all that Howe has been doing for this month past is rather a ravage than a conquest, which the spirit of the Jersies a year ago would have quickly repulsed, and which time and a little resolution will

soon recover.

*

I have as little superstition in me as any man living, but my secret opinion has ever been, and still is, that God Almighty will not give up a people to military destruction, or leave them unsupportedly to perish, who had so earnestly and so repeatedly sought to avoid the calamities of war, by every decent method which wisdom could invent. Neither have I so much of the infidel in me, as to suppose, that He has relinquished the government of the world, and given us up to the care of devils; and as I do not, I cannot see on what grounds the king of Britain can look up to heaven for help against us: A common murderer, a highwayman, or a housebreaker, has as good a pretence as he.

'Tis surprising to see how rapidly a panic will sometimes run through a country. All nations and ages have been subject to them: Britain has trembled like an ague at the report of a French fleet of flat bottomed boats; and in the fourteenth century the whole English army, after ravaging the kingdom of France, was driven back like men petrified with fear; and this brave exploit was performed by a few broken forces collected and headed by a woman, Joan of Arc. Would that Heaven might inspire some Jersey Maid to spirit up her countrymen, and save her fair fellow-sufferers from ravage and ravishment! Yet panics, in some cases, have their uses; they produce as much good as hurt. Their duration is always short; the mind soon grows thro' them, and acquires a firmer habit than before. But their peculiar advantage is, that they are the touchstones of sincerity and hypocrisy, and bring things and men to light, which might otherwise have lain for ever undiscovered. In fact, they have the same effect on secret traitors, which an imaginary apparition would upon a private murderer. They sift out the hidden thoughts of man, and hold them up in public to the world. Many a dignified Tory has lately shewn his head, that shall penitentially solemnize with curses the day on which Howe arrived upon the Delaware.

As I was with the troops at Fort Lee, and marched with them to the edge of Pennsylvania, I am well acquainted with many circumstances, which those, who lived at a distance, know but little or nothing of. Our situation there was exceedingly cramped, the place being on a narrow neck of land between

"The present winter" (meaning the last) "is worth an age, if rightly employed, but if lost, or neglected, the whole Continent will partake of the evil; and there is no punishment that man does not deserve, be he who, or what, or where he will, that may be the means of sacrificing a season so precious and useful."—Author's Note.

the North River and the Hackensack. Our force was inconsiderable, being not one fourth so great as Howe could bring against us. We had no army at hand to have relieved the garrison, had we shut ourselves up and stood on the defence. Our ammunition, light artillery, and the best part of our stores, had been removed upon the apprehension that Howe would endeavour to penetrate the Jersies, in which case Fort Lee could be of no use to us; for it must occur to every thinking man, whether in the army or not, that these kind of field forts are only for temporary purposes, and last in use no longer, than the enemy directs his force against the particular object, which such forts are

raised to defend. Such was our situation and condition at Fort Lee on the morning of the 20th of November, when an officer arrived with information, that the enemy with 200 boats had landed about seven or eight miles above: Major-General Green, who commanded the garrison, immediately ordered them under arms, and sent express to his Excellency General Washington at the town of Hackensack, distant by the way of the ferry six miles. Our first object was to secure the bridge over the Hackensack, which laid up the river between the enemy and us, about six miles from us and three from them. General Washington arrived in about three quarters of an hour, and marched at the head of the troops towards the bridge, which place I expected we should have a brush for; however, they did not chuse to dispute it with us, and the greatest part of our troops went over the bridge, the rest over the ferry, except some which passed at a mill on a small creek, between the bridge and the ferry, and made their way through some marshy grounds up to the town of Hackensack, and there passed the river. We brought off as much baggage as the waggons could contain, the rest was lost. The simple object was to bring off the garrison, and to march them on till they could be strengthened by the Jersey or Pennsylvania militia, so as to be enabled to make a stand. We staid four days at Newark, collected in our out-posts, with some of the Jersey militia, and marched out twice to meet the enemy on information of their being advancing, though our numbers were greatly inferior to theirs. Howe, in my little opinion, committed a great error in generalship, in not throwing a body of forces off from Staatan Island through Amboy, by which means he might have seized all our stores at Brunswick, and intercepted our march into Pennsylvania: But, if we believe the power of hell to be limited, we must likewise believe that their agents are under some providential controul.

I shall not now attempt to give all the particulars of our retreat to the Delaware; suffice it for the present to say, that both officers and men, though greatly harassed and fatigued, frequently without rest, covering, or provision, the inevitable consequences of a long retreat, bore it with a manly and a martial spirit. All their wishes were one, which was, that the country would turn out and he them to drive the enemy back. Voltaire has emarked, that King William never appeared to full advantage but in difficulties and in action; the same remark may be made on General Washington, for the character fits him. There is a natural firmness in some minds which cannot be unlocked by trifles, but which, when unlocked, discovers a cabinet of fortitude; and I reckon it among those kind of public blessings, which we do not immediately see, that God hath blest him with uninterrupted health, and given him a mind that can even flourish upon care. I shall conclude this paper with some miscellaneous remarks on the state of our affairs; and shall begin

with asking the following question, Why is it that the enemy hath left the New England provinces, and made these middle ones the seat of war? The answer is easy: New England is not infested with Tories, and we are. I have been tender in raising the cry against these men, and used numberless arguments to shew them their danger, but it will not do to sacrifice a world to either their folly or their baseness. The period is now arrived, in which either they or we must change our sentiments, or one or both must fall. And what is a Tory? Good GOD! what is he? I should not be afraid to go with a hundred Whigs against a thousand Tories, were they to attempt to get into arms. Every Tory is a coward, for a servile, slavish, self-interested fear is the foundation of Toryism; and a man under such influence, though he may be cruel, never can be brave.

But before the line of irrecoverable separation be drawn between us, let us reason the matter together: Your conduct is an invitation to the enemy, yet not one in a thousand of you has heart enough to join him. Howe is as much deceived by you as the American cause is injured by you. He expects you will all take up arms, and flock to his standard with muskets on your shoulders. Your opinions are of no use to him, unless you support him personally; for 'tis soldiers, and not Tories, that he wants.

I once felt all that kind of anger, which a man ought to feel, against the mean principles that are held by the Tories: A noted one, who kept a tavern at Amboy, was standing at his door, with as pretty a child in his hand, about eight or nine years old, as most I ever saw, and after speaking his mind as freely as he thought was prudent, finished with this unfatherly expression," Well! give me peace in my day." Not a man lives on the Continent but fully believes that a separation must some time or other finally take place, and a generous parent would have said," If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace;" and this single reflection, well applied, is sufficient to awaken every man to duty. Not a place upon earth might be so happy as America. Her situation is remote from all the wrangling world, and she has nothing to do but to trade with them. A man may easily distinguish in himself between temper and principle, and I am as confident, as I am that God governs the world, that America will never be happy till she gets clear of foreign dominion. Wars, without ceasing, will break out till that period arrives, and the Continent must in the end be conqueror; for, though the flame of liberty may sometimes cease to shine, the coal never can expire.

America did not, nor does not, want force; out she wanted a proper application of that force. Wisdom is not the purchase of a day, and it is no wonder that we should err at first setting off. From an excess of tenderness, we were unwilling to raise an army, and trusted our cause to the temporary defence of a well meaning militia. A summer's experience has now taught us better; yet with those troops, while they were collected, we were able to set bounds to the progress of the enemy, and thank Gop! they are again assembling. I always considered a militia as the best troops in the world for a sudden exertion, but they will not do for a long campaign. Howe, it is probable, will make an attempt on this city; should he fail on this side the Delaware, he is ruined; if he succeeds, our cause is not ruined. He stakes all on his side against a part on ours; admitting he succeeds, the consequence will be, that armies from both ends of the Continent will march to assist their suffering friends in the middle States: for he cannot go every where, it is

impossible. I consider Howe as the greatest enemy the Tories have; he is bringing a war into their country, which, had it not been for him and partly for themselves, they had been clear of. Should he now be expelled, I wish, with all the devotion of a Christian, that the names of Whig and Tory may never more be mentioned; but should the Tories give him encouragement to come, or assistance if he come, I as sincerely wish that our next year's arms may expel them from the Continent, and the Congress appropriate their possessions to the relief of those who have suffered in well doing. A single successful battle next year will settle the whole. America could carry on a two years' war by the confiscation of the property of disaffected persons, and be made happy by their expulsion. Say not that this is revenge, call it rather the soft resentment of a suffering people, who. having no object in view but the GOOD of ALL, have staked their oWN ALL upon a seemingly doubtful event. Yet it is folly to argue against determined hardness; eloquence may strike the ear, and the language of sorrow draw forth the tear of compas sion, but nothing can reach the heart that is steeled with prejudice.

Quitting this class of men, I turn with the warm ardour of a friend to those who have nobly stood, and are yet determined to stand the matter out I call not upon a few, but upon all; not on THIS State OF THAT State, but on EVERY State, up and help us; lay your shoulders to the wheel, better have too much force than too little, when so great an object is at stake. Let it be told to the future world, that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive, that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet and to repulse it. Say not, that thousands are gone, turn out your tens of thousands; throw not the burthen of the day upon Providence, but," shew your faith by your works," that God may bless you. It matters not where you live, or what rank of life you hold, the evil or the blessing will reach you all. The far and the near, the home counties and the back, the rich and the poor, shall suffer or rejoice alike. The heart that feels not now, is dead: The blood of his children shall curse his cowardice, who shrinks back at a time when a little might have saved the whole, and made them happy. I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. "Tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death My own line of reasoning is to myself as strait and clear as a ray of light. Not all the treasures of the world, so far as I believe, could have induced me to support an offensive war, for I think it murder; but if a thief break into my house, burn and destroy my property, and kill or threaten to kill me, or those that are in it, and to "bind me in all cases whatsoever," to his absolute will, am I to suffer it? What signifies it to me, whether he who does it, is a king or a common man; my countryman or not my countryman? whether it is done by an individual v llain, or an army of them? If we reason to the root of things we shall find no difference; neither can any just cause be assigned why we should punish in the one case, and pardon in the other. let them call me rebel and welcome, I feel no conce:n from it; but I should suffer the misery of devils, were I to make a whore of my soul by swearing allegiance to one, whose character is that of a sottish, stupid, stubborn, worthless, brutish I conceive likewise a horrid idea in receiving mercy from a being, who at the last day shall be shrieking to the rocks and mountains to cover him,

man.

and fleeing with terror from the orphan, the widow, and the slain of America.

There are cases which cannot be overdone by language, and this is one. There are persons too who see not the full extent of the evil that threatens them; they solace themselves with hopes that the enemy, if they succeed, will be merciful. It is the madness of folly to expect mercy from those who have refused to do justice; and even mercy, where conquest is the object, is only a trick of war: The cunning of the fox is as murderous as the violence of the wolf; and we ought to guard equally against both. Howe's first object is partly by threats and partly by promises, to terrify or seduce the people to deliver up their arms, and receive mercy. The ministry recommended the same plan to Gage, and this is what the Tories call making their peace; "a peace which passeth all understanding," indeed! A peace which would be the immediate forerunner of a worse ruin than any we have yet thought of. Ye men of Pennsylvania, do reason upon those things! Were the back counties to give up their arms, they would fall an easy prey to the Indians, who are all armed: This perhaps is what some Tories would not be sorry for. Were the home counties to deliver up their arms, they would be exposed to the resentment of the back counties, who would then have it in their power to chastise their defection at pleasure. And were any one State to give up its arms, THAT State must be garrisoned by all Howe's army of Britons and Hessians to preserve it from the anger of the rest. Mutual fear is a principal link in the chain of mutual love, and woe be to that State that breaks the compact. Howe is mercifully inviting you to barbarous destruction, and men must be either rogues or fools that will not see it. I dwell not upon the vapours of imagination; I bring reason to your ears; and in language, as plain as A, B, C, hold up truth to your eyes.

I thank God that I fear not. I see no real cause for fear, I know our situation well, and can see the

way out of it. While our army was collected,

Howe dared not risk a battle, and it is no credit to him that he decamped from the White Plains, and waited a mean opportunity to ravage the defenceless Jersies; but it is great credit to us, that, with an handful of men, we sustained an orderly retreat for near an hundred miles, brought off our ammunition, all our fiell-pieces, the greatest part of our stores, and had four rivers to pass. None can say that our retreat was precipitate, for we were near three weeks in performing it, that the country might have time to come in. Twice we marched back to meet the enemy and remained out till dark. The sign of fear was not seen in our camp, and had not some of the cowardly and disaffected inhabitants spread false alarms thro' the country, the Jersies had never been ravaged. Once more we are again collected and collecting; our new army at both ends of the Continent is recruiting fast, and we shall be able to open the next campaign with sixty thousand men, well armed and cloathed. This is our situation, and who will may know it. By perseverance and fortitude we have the prospect of a glorious issue; by cowardice and submission, the sad choice of a variety of evils-a ravaged country- -a depopulated city-habitations without safety, and slavery without hope-our homes turned into barracks and bawdy-houses for Hessians, and a future race to provide for whose fathers we shall doubt of. Look on this picture, and weep over it!-and if there yet remains one thoughtless wretch who believes it not, let him suffer it unlamented.

Philadelphia, December 19, 1776.

LIBERTY TREE,

A Song, written early in the American Revolution.
TUNE- Gods of the Greeks."

In a chariot of light, from the regions of day,
The GODDESS of LIBERTY came,

Ten thousand celestials directed her way,
And hither conducted the dame.

A fair budding branch from the gardens above,
Where millions with millions agree,

She brought in her hand as a pledge of her love,
And the plant she named LIBERTY TREE.

The celestial exotic struck deep in the ground,
Like a native it flourish'd and bore:
The fume of its fruit drew the nations around,
To seek out this peaceable shore.
Unmindful of names or distinctions they came,
For freemen like brothers agree;

With one spirit endued, they one friendship pursued,

And their temple was LIBERTY TREE.

Beneath this fair tree, like the patriarchs of old,
Their bread in contentment they ate,
Unvexed with the troubles of silver or gold,
The cares of the grand and the great.
With timber and tar they Old England supplied,
And supported her power on the sea:
Her battles they fought, without getting a groat,
For the honour of LIBERTY TREE

But hear, O ye swains ('tis a tale most profane),
How all the tyrannical powers,

King, commons, and lords, are uniting amain,
To cut down this guardian of ours.

From the east to the west blow the trumpet to

arms,

Thro' the land let the sound of it flee:

Let the far and the near all unite with a cheer, In defence of our LIBERTY TREE.

FROM THE CASTLE IN THE AIR TO THE LITTLE CORNER OF THE WORLD.*

In the region of clouds, where the whirlwinds arise,

My CASTLE of FANCY was built;
The turrets reflected the blue of the skies,
And the windows with sunbeams were gilt.

The rainbow sometimes in its beautiful state,
Enamell'd the mansion around;

And the figures that fancy in clouds can create,
Supplied me with gardens and ground.

I had grottoes, and fountains, and orange-tree groves,

I had all that enchantment has told;

I had sweet shady walks, for the GoDs and their LOVES,

I had mountains of coral and gold.

But a storm that I felt not, had risen and roll'd,
While wrapp'd in a slumber I lay;
And when I look'd out in the morning, behold
My CASTLE was carried away.

Mr. Paine, while in prison at Paris, corresponded with a lady under the signature of "The Castle in the Air," while she addressed her letters from "The Little Corner of the World." For reasons which he knew not, their intercourse was suddenly suspended, and for some time he believed his fair friend to be in obscurity and distress. Many years afterwards, however, he met her unexpectedly at Paris, in affluent circumstances, and married to Sir Robert Smith. The following is a copy of one of these poetical effusions.-Note by Thos. Clio Rickman.

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