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have concurred to give their enemies extraordinary advantages over them. The practitioners in the Art of Sinking, in Prose, having, in the ardour and afsiduity with which they cultivated their art, discovered, that it was peculiarly adapted for the propagation of falsehood, irreligion, and atheism; and hoping to crown both their art and themselves with immortal honour, if they fhould, by it, accomplish the overthrow of social order, and the abolition of religious establishments; in this hope, and with these views, they, in one united effort, exerted all their energy, and all their fkill, to effectuate their purposes. Their success was wonderfully beyond what we could have conceived to be pofsible, had not our eyes beheld it. Amazed and dismayed as we were, we stood earnestly forward to oppose them. The virtuous indignation, and the religious horror of the people of Great Britain, seconded our endeavours. Desperate was the conflict; but, through the powerful aid of our allies, the victory at last was ours. No sooner, however, was it gained, than, with unexampled perfidy and art, our vanquished foes detached a great part of their forces, with orders to betray, by pretending to join us. Under various pretences, they have now insinuated themselves' in such multitudes among us, and our few friends, that we are no longer more than an handful in the midst of them. Thus beset, and betrayed, we are reduced to a state of hopeless humiliation and misery. Our enemies arrogate to themselves the honours which we have earned. They have seduced from us every heart

they have occcupied every ear; not a soul but they have persuaded to learn a fashionable smattering of their art; they exult, that although we fought for ourselves, and for the good people of Great Britain, we have conquered only for them. Our pretended allies have conspired to dismifs us from the field; or to degrade us to the meannest subaltern situations.

We know not well whither to flee! or from whom to seek protection and aid! We should be sure of redress, if we could find our way into the College of Justice. But, alas! the stripling barristers, with a crowd of agents and clerks, have combined, and would compel the macers to exclude us even from the Outer House. The practitioners in the art of medicine, are well known to have long regarded us with the same abhorence as pure air, or clean streets. Our respect for religion forbids us to declare how much we have suffered from the unprovoked enmity of some of the * * * And as to the legislative afsembly of the state, we have been long so cruelly maltreated by them, that we can expect no support from that quarter. We are cut off from every resource! we have become the objects of general hostility!

In these circumstances, and dejected by this accumulated opprefsion and distress, your petitioners would humbly intreat all the worthy inhabitants of Great Britain, to think of their merits, and pity their sufferings. If your petitioners might haply prevail with you to desist, for their sakes, from that political contention of which they have been the only victims; their enemies might pofsibly sink into

Feb. 27. their original unimportance. If you would, every one, mind only his own businefs, and no longer give ear to the wranglings of our enemies, they would be soon forced to hide their heads. Every new set of resolutions, and associations for political purposes, under whatever name it be known; every political pamphlet, or letter, or paragraph in the newspapers, is a new stroke, desperately aimed, either at our heads, or at our hearts.

May it therefore please you, to take under your serious consideration, the case of your petitioners; and, in commiseration of their distrefs, to remove their enemies from your counsels ; and to cease from those unhappy and needlefs contentions of which they have taken advantage.

And your petitioners shall ever pray, &c.

ANECDOTE.

A STRONG healthy girl having accused an old physician with having deforced her, and demanded that he should either be ordered to espouse her, or pay her a considerable sum of money. "How, (said the judge,) could such a strong healthy wench as you are, allow yourself to be overcome by him? Had you not strength to defend yourself?"O! Sir, (said fhe,) I am very strong when I quarrel, but I am not so at all when I laugh.'

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In the close of a serene and beautiful winter evening, I was musing near the root of an old decayed fantastic chesnut, more beautiful in its ruins than ever was feigned by the pencil of Rosa.

It was in the placid garden of Corycius.

Around its noble gigantic trunk, now dead and saplefs, and all around its branches, the ivy that had clung to it while living, continued to adhere, and to live, and to flourish.

"Beautiful, magnificent, and tender image (said I,) of that friendship which survives the grave!

"Oh! excellent Eugenius! thou art now the chesnut, and I am thy slender ivy that measures thy former greatness, and mantles o'er thy memory!"

And now the sun, which had but lately descended behind a lofty mountain, tinged the leaflefs trees with a bloody hue, and struck me with awe and with astonishment *.

Wonderful nature! thou exhibitest to thy lovers what none but they are destined to behold and to enjoy! And this scenery which I now see, no painter durst commit to canvas with impunity!

*This is a phenomenon very rarely to be observed, and which in the course of thirty years constant attention to all the colouring of landscape, and the atmosphere, I never observed but one.

It happens, when, after a mirky thaw, a frost immediately succeeds on the setting of the sun, whereby the red rays are separated, and concen trated upon the tangent of the prospect.

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The shades of night now prefsed upon the landscape. The young moon appeared in sober majesty, and with the sweet glittering star of evening, conspired to adorn and animate the wintry heaven.

And now, ever and anon, I saw the moon flashing through the dark foliage of the solitary yew tree, as it yielded to a briskning gale.

"Ort in the lone churchyard at night I've seen,
By glimpse of moonshine cheq'ring thro' the trees,
The school boy with his satchel in his hand,
Whistling aloud to bear his courage up ;.
And lightly tripping o'er the long flat stones,
With nettles fkirted, and with mofs o'ergrown,
'That tell in homely phrase who lie below;
Sudden he starts and hears, or thinks he hears,
The sound of something purring at his heels.
Full fast he flies, and dares not look behind him,
Till, out of breath, he overtakes his fellows;
Who gather round, and wonder at the tale
Of horrid apparition, tall and ghastly,

That walks at dead of night, or takes his stand
O'er some new open'd grave; and, strange to tell!
Evanishes at crowing of the cock *.

See yonder hallow'd fane! the pious work

Of names once fam'd, now dubious or forgot;

And buried, midst the wrecks of things that were,
There lie interr'd the more illustrious dead.

The wind is up.-Hark how it howls! methinks
Till now I never heard a sound so dreary!

Doors creak, and windows clap, and night's foul bird,
Rock'd in the tow'r, screams loud! the gloomy aisles,
Black plaister'd, and hung round with fhreds of scutcheons
And tatter'd coats of arms, send back the sound,
Laden with heavier airs from the low vaults,

The mansions of the dead.

Again the screech owl fhrieks! ungracious sound!
I'll hear no more. It makes my blood run chill.

From the Grave, a beautiful poem by Robert Blair, an episcopal minister of Scotland, too little known and celebrated; though, in my opinion, in this very poem alone, far superior to the celebrated Gray.

It was Pinkerton who had the merit of first calling the attention of the public to this authentic poet.

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