CHAP. I.

JOHN FARRAGO, was a man of about fifty-three years of age, of good natural sense, and considerable reading; but in some things whimsical, owing perhaps to his greater knowledge of books than of the world; but, in some degree, also, to his having never married, being what they call an old batchelor, a characteristic of which is, usually, singularity and whim. He had the advantage of having had in early life, an academic education; but having never applied himself to any of the learned pro­fessions, he had lived the greater part of his life on a small farm, which he cultivated with servants or hired hands, as he could conveniently supply himself with either. The servant that he had at this time, was an Irishman, whose name was Teague Oregan. I shall say nothing of the charac­ter of this man, because the very name im­ports what he was.

A strange idea came into the head of Captain Farrago about this time; for, by [Page 12] the bye, I had forgot to mention that hav­ing being chosen captain of a company of militia in the neighbourhood, he had gone by the name of Captain ever since; for the rule is, once a captain, and always a cap­tain; but, as I was observing, the idea had come into his head, to saddle an old horse that he had, and ride about the world a little, with his man Teague at his heels, to see how things were going on here and there, and to observe human nature. For it is a mistake to suppose, that a man can­not learn man by reading him in a corner, as well as on the widest space of transac­tion. At any rate, it may yield amuse­ment.

It was about a score of miles from his own house, that he fell in with what we call Races. The jockeys seeing him advance, with Teague by his side, whom they took for his groom, conceived him to be some person who had brought his horse to enter for the purse. Coming up and accosting him, said they, You seem to be for the races, Sir; and have a horse to enter. Not at all, said the captain; this is but a com­mon palfrey, and by no means remarkable for speed or bottom; he is a common plough horse which I have used on my farm [Page 13] for several years, and can scarce go beyond a trot; much less match himself with your blooded horses that are going to take the field on this occasion.

The jockeys were of opinion, from the speech, that the horse was what they call a bite, and that under the appearance of lean­ness and stiffness, there was concealed some hidden quality of swiftness uncom­mon. For they had heard of instances, where the most knowing had been taken in by mean looking horses; so that having laid two, or more, to one, they were never­theless bit by the bet; and the mean looking nags, proved to be horses of a more than common speed and bottom. So that there is no trusting appearances. Such was the reasoning of the jockeys. For they could have no idea, that a man could come there in so singular a manner, with a groom at his foot, unless he had some great object of making money by the ad­venture. Under this idea, they began to interrogate him with respect to the blood and pedigree of his horse: whether he was of the dove, or the bay mare that took the purse; and was imported by such a one at such a time? whether his sire was Tamerlane or Bajazet?

[Page 14]The Captain was irritated at the ques­tions, and could not avoid answering.— Gentlemen, said he, it is a strange thing that you should suppose that it is of any consequence what may be the pedigree of a horse. For even in men it is of no avail. Do we not find that sages have had block­heads for their sons; and that blockheads have had sages? It is remarkable, that as estates have seldom lasted three genera­tions, so understanding and ability have seldom been transmitted to the second. There never was a greater man, take him as an orator and philosopher, than Cicero: and never was there a person who had greater opportunities than his son Marcus; and yet he proved of no account or re­putation. This is an old instance, but there are a thousand others. Chesterfield and his son are mentioned. It is true, Philip and Alexander may be said to be exceptions: Philip of the strongest possi­ble mind; capable of almost every thing we can conceive; the deepest policy and the most determined valour; his son Alex­ander not deficient in the first, and before him in the last; if it is possible to be be­fore a man than whom you can suppose nothing greater. It is possible, in modern [Page 15] times, that Tippo Saib may be equal to his father Hyder Ali. Some talk of the two Pitts. I have no idea that the son is, in any respect, equal to old Sir William. The one is a laboured artificial minister: the other spoke with the thunder, and acted with the lightning of the gods. I will venture to say, that when the present John Adamses, and Lees, and Jeffersons, and Jays, and Henrys, and other great men, who fi­gure upon the stage at this time, have gone to sleep with their fathers, it is an hundred to one if there is any of their descendents who can fill their places. Was I to lay a bet for a great man, I would sooner pick up the brat of a tinker, than go into the great houses to chuse a piece of stuff for a man of genius. Even with respect to personal appearance, which is more in the power of natural production, we do not see that beauty always produces beauty; but on the contrary, the homliest persons have oftentimes the best favoured offspring; so that there is no rule or reason in these things. With respect to this horse, there­fore, it can be of no moment whether he is blooded or studed, or what he is. He is a good old horse, used to the plough, and car­ries my weight very well; and I have never [Page 16] yet made enquiry with respect to his an­cestors, or affronted him so much as to cast up to him the defect of parentage. I bought him some years ago from Niel Thomas, who had him from a colt. As far as I can understand, he was of a brown mare that John M'Neis had; but of what horse I know no more than the horse him­self. His gaits are good enough, as to riding a short journey of seven or eight miles, or the like; but he is rather a pacer than a troter; and though his bottom may be good enough in carrying a bag to the mill, or going in the plough, or the sled, or the harrow, &c. yet his wind is not so good, nor his speed, as to be fit for the heats.

The jockeys thought the man a fool, and gave themselves no more trouble about him.

The horses were now entered, and about to start for the purse. There was Black and all Black, and Snip, John Duncan's Barbary Slim, and several others. The riders had been weighed, and when mount­ed, the word was given. It is needless to describe a race; every body knows the circumstances of it. It is sufficient to say, that from the bets that were laid, there was much anxiety, and some passion in [Page 17] the minds of those concerned: So, that as two of the horses, Black and all Black, and Slim, came out near together; there was dispute and confusion. It came to kicking and cuffing in some places. The Captain was a good deal hurt with such in­decency amongst gentlemen, and advanc­ing, addressed them in the following man­ner: Gentleman, this is an unequal and unfair proceeding. It is unbecoming mo­dern manners, or even the ancient. For at the Olympic games of Greece, where were celebrated horse and chariot races, there was no such hurry scurry as this; and in times of chivalry itself, where men ate, drank, and slept on horse-back, though there was a great deal of pell-meling, yet no such disorderly work as this. If men had a difference, they couched their lances, and ran full tilt at one another; but no such indecent expressions, as villain, scoun­drel, liar, ever came out of their mouths. There was the most perfect courtesy in those days of heroism and honour; and this your horse-racing, which is a germ of the amusement of those times, ought to be conducted on the same principles of deco­rum, and good breeding.

As he was speaking, he was jostled by [Page 18] some one in the croud, and thrown from his horse; and had it not been for Teague, who was at hand, and helped him on a­gain, he would have suffered damage. As it was, he received a contusion in his head, of which he complained much; and hav­ing left the race-ground, and coming to a small cottage, he stopped a little, to alight and dress the wound. An old woman who was there, thought they ought to take a lit­tle of his water, and see how it was with him; but the Captain having no faith in telling disorders by the urine, thought proper to send for a surgeon who was hard by, to examine the bruise, and apply ban­dages. The surgeon attended, and exa­mining the part, pronounced it a contusion of the cerebrum. But as there appeared but little laceration, and no fracture, sim­ple or compound, the pia mater could not be injured; nor even could there be more than a slight impression on the dura mater. So that trepaning did not at all appear ne­cessary. A most fortunate circumstance; for a wound in the head, is of all places the most dangerous; because there can be no amputation to save life. There being but one head to a man, and that being the re­sidence of the five senses, it is impossible [Page 19] to live without it. Nevertheless, as the present case was highly dangerous, as it might lead to a subsultus tendinum, or lock-jaw, it was necessary to apply cata­plasms, in order to reduce inflammation, and bring about a sanative disposition of the parts. Perhaps it might not be amiss, to take an anodyne as a refrigerant. Ma­ny patients had been lost by the ignorance of empirics prescribing bracers; whereas, in the first stage of a contusion, relaxing and antifebrile medicines are proper. A little phlebotomy was no doubt necessary, to prevent the bursting of the blood vessels.

The Captain hearing so many hard words, and bad accounts of this case, was much alarmed. Nevertheless he did not think it could be absolutely so dangerous. For it seemed to him that he was not sick at heart, or under any mortal pain. The surgeon observed, that in this case he could not himself be a judge. For the very part was affected by which he was to judge, viz. the head; that it was no uncommon thing for men in the extremest cases to imagine themselves out of danger; whereas in re­ality, they were in the greatest possible: that notwithstanding the symptoms were mild, yet from the contusion, a mortifica­tion [Page 20] might ensue. Hypocrates, who might be stiled an elementary physician, and has a treatise on this very subject, is of opi­nion, that the most dangerous symptom, is a topical insensibility; but among the moderns, Sydenham considers it in ano­ther point of view, and thinks that where there is no pain, there is as great reason to suppose that there is no hurt, as that there is a mortal one. Be this as it may, antiseptic medicines might be very proper.

The Captain hearing so much jargon, and conscious to himself that he was by no means in so bad a state as this son of Escalapius would represent, broke out into some passion. It is, said he, the craft of your profession to make the case worse than it is, in order to increase the perquisites. But if there is any faith in you, make the same demand, and let me know your real judgment. The surgeon was irritated with his distrust, and took it into his head to fix some apprehension in the mind of his patient, if possible, that his case was not without danger. Looking stedfastly at him for some time, and feeling his pulse, there is, said he, an evident delirium ap­proaching. This argues an affection of the brain, but it will be necessary, after [Page 21] some soporiferous draughts, to put the patient to sleep. Said the Captain, If you will give me about a pint of whiskey and water, I will try to go to sleep myself. A­deleterious mixture, in this case, said the surgeon, cannot be proper; especially a distillation of that quality. The Captain would hear no more; but requesting the man of the cabin, to let him have the spirits proposed, drank a pint or two of grog, and having bound up his head with a handkerchief, went to bed.

CHAP. II. Containing some general Reflections.

THE first reflection that arises, is, the good sense of the Captain; who was unwilling to impose his horse for a racer; not being qualified for the course. Be­cause, as an old lean beast, attempting a trot, he was respectable enough; but go­ing out of his nature, and affecting speed, he would have been contemptible. The great secret of preserving respect, is the cultivating and shewing to the best advan­tage the powers that we possess, and the not going beyond them. Every thing in its ele­ment is good, and in their proper sphere all natures and capacities are excellent. This thought might be turned into a thousand different shapes, and cloathed with various expressions; but after all, it comes to the old proverb at last, Ne sutor ultra crepidam, Let the cobler stick to his last; a sentiment we are about more to illustrate in the sequel of this work.

[Page 23]The second reflection that arises, is, the simplicity of the Captain; who was so unac­quainted with the world, as to imagine that jockeys and men of the turf could be com­posed by reason and good sense; whereas there are no people who are by education of a less philosophic turn of mind. The company of horses is by no means favour­able to good taste and genius. The rubbing and currying them, but little enlarges the faculties, or improves the mind; and even riding, by which a man is carried swiftly through the air, though it contributes to health, yet stores the mind with few or no ideas; and as men naturally consimilate with their company, so it is observable that your jockeys are a class of people not greatly removed from the sagacity of a good horse. Hence most probably the fable of the centaur, among the ancients; by which they held out the moral of the jockey and the horse being one beast.

A third reflection is, that which he exprest; viz. the professional art of the sur­geon to make the most of the case, and the technical terms used by him. I have to declare, that it is with no attempt at wit, that the terms are set down, or the art of the surgeon hinted at; because it is so [Page 24] common place a thing to ridicule the pe­culiarities of a profession, that it savours of mean parts to indulge it. For a man of real genius will never walk in the beaten track, because his object is what is new and uncommon. This surgeon does not appear to have been a man of very great ability; but the Captain was certainly wrong in declining his prescriptions; for the maxim is, Unicuique in arte, sua perito, credendum est; every one is to be trusted in his profession.

CHAP. III.

THE Captain rising early next morn­ing, and setting out on his way, had now arrived at a place where a number of people were convened, for the purpose of electing persons to represent them in the legislature of the state. There was a wea­ver who was a candidate for this appoint­ment, and seemed to have a good deal of interest among the people. But another, who was a man of education, was his com­petitor. Relying on some talent of speak­ing which he thought he possessed, he ad­dressed the multitude.

Said he, Fellow citizens, I pretend not to any great abilities; but am conscious to myself that I have the best good will to serve you. But it is very astonishing to me, that this weaver should conceive him­self qualified for the trust. For though my acquirements are not great, yet his are still less. The mechanical business which he pursues, must necessarily take up so much of his time, that he cannot apply himself [Page 26] to political studies. I should therefore think it would be more answerable to your dignity, and conducive to your interest, to be represented by a man at least of some letters, than by an illiterate handi­craftsman like this. It will be more ho­nourable for himself, to remain at his loom and knot threads, than to come for­ward in a legislative capacity: because, in the one case, he is in the sphere where God and nature has placed him; in the other, he is like a fish out of water, and must struggle for breath in a new element.

Is it possible he can understand the af­fairs of government, whose mind▪ has been concentered to the small object of weaving webs; to the price by the yard, the grist of the thread, and such like matters as concern a manufacturer of cloths? The feet of him who weaves, are more occu­pied than the head, or at least as much; and therefore the whole man must be, at least, but in half accustomed to exercise his mental powers. For these reasons, all other things set aside, the chance is in my favour, with respect to information. How­ever, you will decide, and give your suf­frages to him or to me, as you shall judge expedient.

[Page 27]The Captain hearing these observations, and looking at the weaver, could not help advancing, and undertaking to subjoin something in support of what had been just said. Said he, I have no prejudice against a weaver more than another man. Nor do I know any harm in the trade; save that from the sedentary life in a damp place, there is usually a paleness of the counte­nance: but this is a physical, not a moral evil. Such usually occupy subterranean apartments; not for the purpose, like Demosthenes, of shaving their heads, and writing over eight times the history of Thucydides, and perfecting a stile of ora­tory; but rather to keep the thread moist; or because this is considered but as an in­glorious sort of trade, and is frequently thrust away into cellars, and damp out­houses, which are not occupied for a better use.

But to rise from the cellar to the senate house, would be an unnatural hoist. To come from counting threads, and adjust­ing them to the splits of a reed, to regu­late the finances of a government, would be preposterous; there being no congrui­ty in the case. There is no analogy be­tween knotting threads and framing laws. [Page 28] It would be a reversion of the order of things. Not that a manufacturer of linen or woolen, or other stuff, is an inferior character, but a different one, from that which ought to be employed in affairs of state. It is unnecessary to enlarge on this subject; for you must all be convinced of the truth and propriety of what I say. But if you will give me leave to take the ma­nufacturer aside a little, I think I can ex­plain to him my ideas on the subject; and very probably prevail with him to with­draw his pretensions. The people seeming to acquiesce, and beckoning to the wea­ver, they drew aside, and the Captain ad­dressed him in the following words:

Mr. Traddle, said he, for that was the name of the manufacturer, I have not the smallest idea of wounding your sensibility; but it would seem to me, it would be more your interest to pursue your occupation, than to launch out into that of which you have no knowledge. When you go to the senate house, the application to you will not be to warp a web; but to make laws for the commonwealth. Now, sup­pose that the making these laws, requires a knowledge of commerce, or of the inte­rests of agriculture, or those principles up­on [Page 29] which the different manufactures de­pend, what service could you render. It is possible you might think justly enough; but could you speak? You are not in the habit of public speaking. You are not furnished with those common place ideas, with which even very ignorant men can pass for knowing something. There is nothing makes a man so ridiculous as to attempt what is above his sphere. You are no tumbler for instance; yet should you give out that you could vault upon a man's back; or turn head over heels, like the wheel of a cart; the stiffness of your joints would encumber you; and you would fall upon your backside to the ground. Such a squash as that would do you damage. The getting up to ride on the state is an unsafe thing to those who are not accustomed to such horsemanship. It is a disagreeable thing for a man to be laughed at, and there is no way of keep­ing ones self from it but by avoiding all af­fectation.

While they were thus discoursing, a bustle had taken place among the croud. Teague hearing so much about elections, and serving the government, took it into his head, that he could be a legislator him­self. [Page 30] The thing was not displeasing to the people, who seemed to favour his preten­sions; owing, in some degree, to there being several of his countrymen among the crowd; but more especially to the fluc­tuation of the popular mind, and a dispo­sition to what is new and ignoble. For though the weaver was not the most ele­vated object of choice, yet he was still pre­ferable to this tatter-demalion, who was but a menial servant, and had so much of what is called the brogue on his tongue, as to fall far short of an elegant speaker.

The Captain coming up, and finding what was on the carpet, was greatly chag­rined at not having been able to give the multitude a better idea of the importance of a legislative trust; alarmed also, from an apprehension of the loss of his servant. Under these impressions he resumed his address to the multitude. Said he, This is making the matter still worse, gentlemen: this servant of mine is but a bog-trotter; who can scarcely speak the dialect in which your laws ought to be written; but cer­tainly has never read a single treatise on any political subject; for the truth is, he cannot read at all. The young people of the lower class, in Ireland, have seldom [Page 31] the advantage of a good education; espe­cially the descendants of the ancient Irish, who have most of them a great assurance of countenance, but little information, or literature. This young man, whose fa­mily name is Oregan, has been my ser­vant for several years. And, except a too great fondness for women, which now and then brings him into scrapes, he has demeaned himself in a manner tolerable enough. But he is totally ignorant of the great principles of legislation; and more especially, the particular interests of the government. A free government is a no­ble possession to a people: and this free­dom consists in an equal right to make laws, and to have the benefit of the laws when made. Though doubtless, in such a government, the lowest citizen may be­come chief magistrate; yet it is sufficient to possess the right; not absolutely neces­sary to exercise it. Or even if you should think proper, now and then, to shew your privilege, and exert, in a signal manner, the democratic prerogative, yet is it not descending too low to filch away from me a hireling, which I cannot well spare, to serve your purposes? You are surely car­rying the matter too far, in thinking to [Page 32] make a senator of this hostler; to take him away from an employment to which he has been bred, and put him to another, to which he has served no apprenticeship: to set those hands which have been lately employed in currying my horse, to the draughting-bills, and preparing business for the house.

The people were tenacious of their choice, and insisted on giving Teague their suffrages; and by the frown upon their brows, seemed to indicate resentment at what had been said; as indirectly charg­ing them with want of judgment; or call­ing in question their privilege to do what they thought proper. It is a very strange thing, said one of them, who was a speak­er for the rest, that after having conquer­ed Burgoyne and Cornwallis, and got a government of our own, we cannot put in it whom we please. This young man may be your servant, or another man's servant; but if we chuse to make him a delegate, what is that to you. He may not be yet skilled in the matter, but there is a good day a-coming. We will im­power him; and it is better to trust a plain man like him, than one of your [Page 33] high flyers, that will make laws to suit their own purposes.

Said the Captain, I had much rather you would send the weaver, though I thought that improper, than to invade my household, and thus detract from me the very person that I have about me to brush my boots, and clean my spurs. The prolocutor of the people gave him to understand that his surmises were useless, for the people had determined on the choice, and Teague they would have for a representative.

Finding it answered no end to expostu­late with the multitude, he requested to speak a word with Teague by himself. Stepping aside, he said to him, composing his voice, and addressing him in a soft man­ner; Teague, you are quite wrong in this matter they have put into your head. Do you know what it is to be a member of a deliberative body? What qualifications are necessary? Do you understand any thing of geography? If a question should be, to make a law to dig a canal in some part of the state, can you describe the bearing of the mountains, and the course of the rivers? Or if commerce is to be pushed to some new quarter, by the force of regulations, are you competent to decide in such a case? There [Page 34] will be questions of law, and astronomy on the carpet. How you must gape and stare like a fool, when you come to be asked your opinion on these subjects? Are you acquainted with the abstract principles of finance; with the funding public secu­rities; the ways and means of raising the revenue; providing for the discharge of the public debts, and all other things which respect the economy of the govern­ment? Even if you had knowledge, have you a facility of speaking. I would suppose you would have too much pride to go to the house just to say, Ay, or No. This is not the fault of your nature, but of your education; having been accustomed to dig turf in your early years, rather than in­structing yourself in the classics, or com­mon school books.

When a man becomes a member of a pub­lic body, he is like a racoon, or other beast that climbs up the fork of a tree; the boys pushing at him with pitch-forks, or throw­ing stones, or shooting at him with an ar­row, the dogs barking in the mean time. One will find fault with your not speaking; another with your speaking, if you speak at all. They will have you in the news pa­pers, and ridicule you as a perfect beast. [Page 35] There is what they call the caricatura; that is, representing you with a dog's head, or a cat's claw. As you have a red head, they will very probably make a fox of you, or a sorrel horse, or a brindled cow, or the like. It is the devil in hell to be ex­posed to the squibs and crackers of the ga­zette wits and publications. You know no more about these matters than a goose; and yet you would undertake rashly, with­out advice, to enter on the office; nay, contrary to advice. For I would not for a thousand guineas, though I have not the half of it to spare, that the breed of the Oregans should come to this; bringing on them a worse stain than stealing sheep; to which they are addicted. You have no­thing but your character, Teague, in a new country to depend upon. Let it never be said, that you quitted an honest liveli­hood, the taking care of my horse, to fol­low the new fangled whims of the times; and to be a statesman.

Teague was moved chiefly with the last part of the address, and consented to give up the object.

The Captain, glad of this, took him back to the people, and announced his [Page 36] disposition to decline the honour which they had intended him.

Teague acknowledged that he had chang­ed his mind, and was willing to remain in a private station.

The people did not seem well pleased with the Captain; but as nothing more could be said about the matter, they turn­ed their attention to the weaver, and gave him their suffrages.

CHAP. IV.

CAPTAIN FARRAGO leaving this place, proceeded on his way; and at the distance of a mile or two, met a man with a bridle in his hand; who had lost a horse, and had been at a conjurer's to make enquiry, and recover his property.

It struck the mind of the Captain to go to this conjuring person, and make a de­mand of him, what was the cause that the multitude were so disposed to elevate the low to the highest station. He had rode but about a mile, when the habitation of the conjurer, by the direction and descrip­tion of the man who had lost the horse had given, began to be in view. Coming up to the door, and enquiring if that was not where conjurer Kolt lived, they were an­swered Yes. Accordingly alighting, and entering the domicile, all those things took place which usually happen, or are de­scribed in cases of this nature, viz. there was the conjurer's assistant, who gave the Captain to understand that master had [Page 38] withdrawn a little, but would be in short­ly.

In the mean time, the assistant endea­voured to draw from him some account of the occasion of his journey; which the other readily communicated; and the con­jurer, who was listening through a crack in the partition, overheard. Finding it was not a horse or a cow, or a piece of linen that was lost, but an abstract question of political philosophy which was to be put, he came from his lurking place, and en­tered, as if not knowing that any person had been waiting for him.

After mutual salutations, the Captain gave him to understand the object which he had in view by calling on him.

Said the conjurer, This lies not at all in my way. If it had been a dozen of spoons, or a stolen watch, that you had to look for, I could very readily, by the assistance of my art, have assisted you in the reco­very; but as to this matter of men's ima­ginations and attachments in political af­fairs, I have no more understanding than another man.

It is very strange, said the Captain, that you who can tell by what means a thing is stolen, and the place where it is deposited, [Page 39] though at a thousand miles distance, should know so little of what is going on in the breast of man, as not to be able to deve­lope his secret thoughts, and the motives of his actions.

It is not of our business, said the other; but should we undertake it, I do not see that it would be very difficult to explain all that puzzles you at present. There is no need of a conjurer to tell why it is that the common people are more disposed to trust one of their own class, than those who may affect to be superior. Besides, there is a certain pride in man, which leads him to elevate the low, and pull down the high. There is a kind of creating power exerted in making a senator of an unqua­lified person; which when the author has done, he exults over the work, and, like the Creator himself when he made the world, sees that "it is very good." More­over, there is in every government a pa­trician class, against whom the spirit of the multitude naturally militates: And hence a perpetual war; the aristocrats endea­vouring to detrude the people, and the people contending to obtrude themselves. And it is right it should be so; for by this [Page 40] fermentation, the spirit of democracy is kept alive.

The Captain, thanking him for his in­formation, asked him what was to pay; at the same time pulling out half a crown from a green silk purse which he had in his breeches pocket. The conjurer gave him to understand, that as the solution of these difficulties was not within his pro­vince, he took nothing for it. The Cap­tain expressing his sense of his disinterested service, bade him adieu.

CHAP. V. Containing Reflections.

A Democracy is beyond all question the freest government: because under this, every man is equally protected by the laws, and has equally a voice in mak­ing them. But I do not say an equal voice; because some men have stronger lungs than others, and can express more forcibly their opinions of public affairs. Others, though they may not speak very loud, yet have a faculty of saying more in a short time, and even in the case of others, who speak little or none at all, yet what they do say containing good sense, comes with greater weight; so that all things consider­ed, every citizen, has not, in this sense of the word, an equal voice. But the right being equal what great harm i [...] it is une­qually exercised? is it necessary that every man should become a statesman? No more than that every man should become a poet or a painter. The sciences, are open to all; [Page 42] but let him only who has taste and genius pursue them. If any man covets the office of a bishop, says St. Paul, he [...] a good work. But again, he adds this cau­tion, Ordain not a novice, lest being lift­ed up with pride, he falls into the condem­nation of the devil. It is indeed making a devil of a man to lift him up to a state to which he is not suited. A ditcher is a respectable character, with his over-alls on, and a spade in his hand; but put the same man to those offices which require the head, whereas he has been accustomed to impress with his foot, and there appears a contrast between the man and the occupa­tion.

There are individuals in society, who prefer honour to wealth; or cultivate po­litical studies as a branch of literary pur­suits; and offer themselves to serve public bodies, in order to have an opportunity of discovering their knowledge, and exercising their judgment. It must be chagrining to these, and hurtful to the public, to see those who have no talent this way, and ought to have no taste, preposterously obtrude themselves upon the government. It is the same as if a brick-layer should usurp the of­fice of a taylor, and come with his square [Page 43] and perpendicular, to take the measure of a pair of breeches.

It is proper that those who cultivate ora­tory, should go to the house of orators. But for an Ay and No man to be ambitious of that place, is to sacrifice his credit to his vanity.

I would not mean to insinuate that legis­lators are to be selected from the more wealthy of the citizens, yet a man's cir­cumstances ought to be such as afford him leisure for study and reflection. There is often wealth without taste or talent. I have no idea, that because a man lives in a great house, and has a cluster of bricks or stones about his backside, that he is therefore fit for a legislator. There is so much pride and arrogance with those who consider themselves the first in a government, that it deserves to be checked by the populace, and the evil most usually commences on this side. Men associate with their own persons, the adventitious circumstances of birth and fortune: So that a fellow blowing with fat and repletion, conceives himself superior to the poor lean man, that lodges in an inferior mansion. But as in all cases, so in this, there is a medium. Genius and virtue are independent of rank and for­tune; [Page 44] and it is neither the opulent, nor the indigent, but the man of ability and inte­grity that ought to be called forth to serve his country: and while, on the one hand, the aristocratic part of the government, arrogates a right to represent; on the other hand, the democratic contends the point; and from this conjunction and opposition of forces, there is produced a compound resolution, which carries the object in an intermediate direction. When we see therefore, a Teague Oregan lifted up, the philosopher will reflect, that it is to balance some purse-proud fellow, equally as igno­rant, that comes down from the sphere of the aristocratic interest.

But every man ought to consider for himself, whether it is his use to be this draw-back, on either side. For as when good liquor is to be distilled, you throw in some material useless in itself to correct the effervescence of the spirit; so it may be his part to act as a sedative. For though we commend the effect, yet still the ma­terial retains but its original value.

But as the nature of things is such, let no man, who means well to the common­wealth, and offers to serve it, be hurt in his [...] when some one of meaner talents [Page 45] is preferred. The people are a sovereign, and greatly despotic; but, in the main, just.

I have a great mind, in order to ele­vate the composition, to make quotations from the Greek and Roman history. And I am conscious to myself, that I have read over the writers on the government of I­taly and Greece, in ancient, as well as modern times. But I have drawn a great deal more from reflection on the nature of things, than from all the writings I have ever read. Nay, the history of the election, which I have just given, will af­ford a better lesson to the American mind, than all that is to be found in other ex­amples. We have seen here, a weaver a favoured candidate, and in the next in­stance, a bog-trotter superseding him. Now it may be said, that this is fiction; but fic­tion, or no fiction, the nature of the thing will make it a reality. But I return to the adventures of the Captain, whom I have upon my hands; and who, as far as I can yet discover, is a good honest man; and means what is benevolent and useful; though his ideas may not comport with the ordinary manner of thinking, in every particular.

CHAP. I.

THERE was, in a certain great city, a society who called themselves Phi­losophers. They had published books, they called Transactions. These contain­ed dissertations on the nature and causes of things; from the stars of the heaven to the fire-flies of the earth; and from the sea-crab to the woodland buffaloe. Such disquisitions, are doubtless useful and en­tertaining to an inquisitive mind.

There is no question, but there were in this body some very great men; whose investigations of the arcana of nature, de­serve attention. But so it was, there had been introduced, by some means, many individuals, who were no philosophers at [Page 47] all. This is no unusual thing with insti­tutions of this nature; though, by the bye, it is a very great fault. For it les­sens the incentives of honour, to have the access made so easy, that every one may obtain admission. It has been a reproach to some colleges, that a diploma could be purchased for half a crown. This society were still more moderate; for the bare scratching the backside of a member has been known to procure a fellowship. At least, there have been those admitted who appeared capable of nothing else.

Nevertheless, it was necessary, even in these cases, for the candidates to procure some token of a philosophical turn of mind; such as the skin of a dead cat, or some odd kind of a mouse trap, or the like▪ or have some phrases in their mouths▪ about minerals and petrifactions; so as just to support some idea of natural knowledge, and pass muster. There was one who had got in by finding, accidentally, the tail of a rabbit, which had been taken off in a boy's trap. Another by means of a squirrel's scalp, which he had taken care to stretch and dry on a bit of osier, bend­ed in the form of a hoop. The beard of an old fox, taken off and dried in the sun, [Page 48] was the means of introducing one whom I knew very well: Or rather, as I have already hinted, it was beforehand intend­ed he should be introduced; and these exuviae, or spoils of the animal kingdom, were but the tokens and apologies for ad­mission.

It happened, as the Captain was riding this day, and Teague trotting after him, he saw a large owl, that had been shot by some body, and was placed in the crotch of a tree, about the height of a man's head from the ground, for those that passed by to look at. The Captain being struck with it, as somewhat larger than such birds usually are, desired Teague to reach it to him; and tying it to the hinder part of his sad­dle, rode along.

Passing by the house of one who belong­ed to the society, the bird was noticed at the saddle-skirts, and the philosopher com­ing out, made enquiry of the genus and nature of the fowl. Said the Captain, I know nothing more about it, than that it is nearly as long as a turkey buzzard. It is doubtless, said the other, the great Ca­nada owl, that comes from the Lakes; and if your honour will give me leave, I will take it and submit it to the society, and [Page 49] have yourself made a member. As to the first, the Captain consented; but as to the last, the being a member, he chose rather to decline it; conceiving himself unquali­fied for a place in such a body. The other assured him that he was under a very great mistake; for there were persons there who scarcely knew a B from a bull's foot. That may be, said the Captain; but if others chuse to degrade themselves, by suffering their names to be used in so preposterous a way as that, it was no reason he should.

The other gave him to understand, that the society would certainly wish to express their sense of his merit, and shew them­selves not inattentive to a virtuoso; that as he declined the honour himself, he pro­bably might not be averse to let his ser­vant take a seat among them.

Said the Captain, He is but a simple Irishman, and of a low education; his language being that spoken by the abori­gines of his country. And if he speaks a little English, it is with the brogue on his tongue; which would be unbecoming in a member of your body. It would seem to me, that a philosopher ought to know how to write, or at least to read. But Teague can neither write nor read. He [Page 50] can sing a song, or whistle an Irish tune; but is totally illiterate in all things else. I question much if he could tell you how many new moons there are in the year; or any the most common thing that you could ask him. He is a long-legged fel­low, it is true; and might be of service in clambering over rocks, or going to the shores of rivers, to gather curiosities. But could you not get persons to do this, with­out making them members? I have more respect for science, than to suffer this bog-trotter to be so advanced at its expence.

In these American states, there is a wide field for philosophic search; and these re­searches may be of great use in agricul­ture, mechanics, and astronomy. There is but little immediate profit attending these pursuits; but if there can be induce­ments of honour, these may supply the place. What more alluring to a young man, than the prospect of being, one day, received into a society of men truly learn­ed; the admission being a test and a proof of distinguished knowledge. But the foun­tain of honour, thus contaminated by a sediment foreign from its nature, who would wish to drink of it?

Said the philosopher, At the first insti­tution [Page 51] of the society by Dr. Franklin and others, it was put upon a narrow basis, and only men of science were considered proper to compose it; and this might be a necessary policy at that time, when the in­stitution was in its infancy, and could not bear much draw-back of ignorance. But it has not been judged so necessary of late years. The matter stands now on a broad and catholic bottom; and, like the gospel itself, it is our orders to go out into the high-ways and hedges, and compel them to come in. There are hundreds, whose names you may see on our list, who are not more instructed than this lad of yours.

They must be a sad set indeed then, said the Captain. Sad or no sad, said the other, it is the case; and if you will let Teague go, I will engage him a membership.

I take it very ill of you, Mr. Philoso­pher, said the Captain, to put this nonsense in his head. If you knew what trouble I have lately had with a parcel of people that were for sending him to Congress, you would be unwilling to draw him from me for the purpose of making him a philoso­pher. It is not an easy matter to get hire­lings now-a-days; and when you do get one, it is a mere chance, whether he is [Page 52] faithful, and will suit your purpose. It would be a very great loss to me, to have him taken off at this time, when I have equipped myself for a journey.

Teague was a good deal incensed at this refusal of his master, and insisted that he would be a philosopher. You are an ig­noramus, said the Captain. It is not the being among philosophers will make you one.

Teague insisted that he had a right to make the best of his fortune: and as there was a door open to his advancement, he did not see why he might not make use of it.

The Captain finding that it answered no end to dispute the matter with him, by words of sense and reason, took a contra­ry way to manage him.

Teague, said he, I have a regard for you, and would wish to see you do well. But before you take this step, I would wish to speak a word or two in private. If you will go, I may perhaps suggest some things that may be of service to you, for your future conduct in that body.

Teague consenting, they stepped aside; and the Captain addressed him in the fol­lowing manner:

[Page 53]Teague, said he, do you know what you are about? It is a fine thing, at first sight, to be a philosopher, and get into this bo­dy. And indeed, if you are a real philo­sopher, it might be some honour, and also safe, to take that leap. But do you think it is to make a philosopher of you that they want you? Far from it. It is their great study to find curiosities; and be­cause this man saw you coming after me, with a red head, trotting like an E­squimaux Indian, it has struck his mind to pick you up, and pass you for one. Nay, it is possible, they may intend worse; and when they have examined you awhile, take the skin off you, and pass you for an over-grown otter, or a musk-rat; or some outlandish animal, for which they will, themselves, invent a name. If you were at the museum of one of these societies, to observe the quantity of skins and skeletons they have, you might be well assured they did not come by them honestly. I know so much of these people, that I am well per­suaded they would think no more of throwing you into a kettle of boiling wa­ter, than they would a tarapin; and hav­ing scraped you out to a shell, present you as the relics of an animal they had pro­cured, at an immense price, from some [Page 54] Guinea merchant. Or if they should not at once turn you to this use, how, in the mean time, will they dispose of you? They will have you away through the bogs and marshes, catching flies and mire-snipes; or send you to the woods for a pole-cat; or oblige you to descend into draw-wells for fog, and phlogistic air, and the Lord knows what. You must go into wolves dens, and catch bears by the tail; run over mountains like an opossum, and dig the earth like a ground hog. You will have to climb upon trees, and get yourself bit by flying squirrels. There will be no end to the musketoes you will have to dissect. What is all this to diving into mill-dams and rivers, to get craw-fish. Or if you go to the ocean, there are alliga­tors to devour you like a cat-fish. Who knows but it may come your turn, in a windy night, to go aloft to the heavens, to rub down the stars, and give the goats and rams, that are there, fodder. The keeping the stars clean, is a laborious work; a great deal worse than scouring and irons, or brass kettles. There is a bull there would think no more of tossing you on his horns than he would a puppy dog. If the crab should get you in his [Page 55] claws he would squeeze you like a lobster. But what is all that to your having no place to stand on? How would you like to be up at the moon, and to fall down when you had missed your hold, like a boy from the top-mast of a ship, and have your brains beat out upon the top of some great mountain; where the devil might take your skeleton and give it to the tur­key-buzzards?

Or if they should, in the mean time, excuse from such out of door services, they will rack and torture you with hard ques­tions. You must tell them how long the rays of light are coming from the sun; how many drops of rain fall in a thunder gust; what makes the grasshopper chirp when the sun is hot; how muscle shells get up to the top of the mountains; how the Indians got over to America. You will have to prove absolutely that the ne­groes were once white; and that their flat noses came by some cause in the com­pass of human means to produce. These are puzzling questions; and yet you must solve them all. Take my advice, and stay where you are. Many men have ruined themselves by their ambition, and made bad worse. There is another kind of [Page 56] philosophy, which lies more within your sphere; that is moral philosophy. Every hostler or hireling can study this, and you have the most excellent opportunity of acquiring this knowledge in our tra­verses through the country; or commu­nications at the different taverns or vil­lages, where we may happen to sojourn.

Teague had long ago given up all thoughts of philosophy, and would not for the world have any more to do with it; and therefore, without bidding the philosopher adieu, they pursued their route as usual.

CHAP. II. Containing Observations.

THE institution of the American Phi­losophical Society, does great honour to the founders; and what has been pub­lished by that body, comes not behind what has appeared from societies of the same nature elsewhere. But of late years, it has ceased to be presumptive evidence, at least what the lawyers call violent pre­sumption, of philosophical attainments, to be a member; owing to the spurious brood of illiterate persons that have been admitted indiscriminately with the informed; this again, owing to a political dispute in the government where this society exists. For when there are parties in a commonwealth, they naturally subdivide themselves, and are found even in the retreats of the muses. It has become the question with this soci­ety, not whether a man is a philosopher or not, but what part he had taken in some question on the carpet. The body conceiv­ed [Page 58] itself to pay a compliment to the person admitted, as if it could be any honour to a man to be announced what he is not. The contrary is the case here. For as honour is the acknowledgement which the world makes of a man's respectability, there can be no honour here; for it has become a mere matter of moon-shine to be a mem­ber. To be or not be, that is the question; but so trifling, that it is scarcely ever made. The way to remedy this, would be to have an over hauling of the house, and derange at least three parts in four. As in the case of Tarquin, and the three remaining books of the Sybiles, you would receive as much for the fourth part of that body, should you set them up at market, as for the whole at present.

I have often reflected with myself, what an honour it must be, to be one of the so­ciety of the French acadamy; forty, of twenty-four millions of people, are there selected in consequence of literary charac­ters already established.

I recollect the time when I had high i­deas of philosophical membership in Ame­rica. But it does not appear to me now to be the highest thing that a man could wish, since even a common Teague Oregan, [Page 59] trotting on the high way, has been solicited to take a seat. It may be said, that this is an exaggeration of the facts; and can be considered only as burlesque. I profess it is not intended as such, but as a fair pic­ture of what has taken place. Should it be considered in the light of burlesque, it must be a very lame one; because where there is no excess there can be no carica­tura. But omitting all apologies and expla­nations, let the matter rest where it is.

CHAP. I.

IT was somewhat late when the Captain arrived at an inn this evening. There was there before him, a young clergy­man, who had been preaching that day in a neighbouring congregation; but had not as usual, gone home with an elder; but had come thus far on his way towards ano­ther place, where he was to preach the next day.

The Captain entering into conversation with the clergyman, sat up pretty late. The subject was what might be expected; viz. the affairs of religion and the church. The clergyman was a good young man; but inclining to fanaticism, and being righ­teous over much: The Captain on the o­ther [Page 61] hand, somewhat sceptical in his no­tions of religion: Hence, a considerable opposition of sentiment between the two. But at length, drowziness seizing both, candles were called for, and they went to bed.

It was about an hour or two after, when an uproar was heard in a small chamber to the left of the stair-case which led to the floor on which they slept. It was Teague, who had got to bed to the girl of the house. For as they would neither let him go to Congress, nor be a philosopher, he must be doing something. The girl not being apprized, or not chusing his em­braces, made a great outcry and lamenta­tion. The clergyman, who slept in an ad­joining chamber, and hearing this, out of the zeal of his benevolence and humanity, leaped out of bed in his shirt, and ran in to see what was the cause of the disturb­ance. The Captain also jumping up, fol­lowed soon after, and was scarcely in the chamber before the landlord coming up with a candle, found them all together.

The maid gave this account of the mat­ter, viz. That between sleeping and wak­ing she felt a man's hand lifting up the bed-clothes; upon which she shouted out [Page 62] murder. But whether it was any body there present, or some one else, she could not tell.

Teague, whose natural parts were not bad, and presence of mind considerable, instantly took the resolution to throw the matter on the clergyman. By shaint Pa­trick, said he, I was aslape in my own bed as sound as the shates that were about me, when I heard the sound of this young crature's voice crying out like a shape in a pasture; and when after I had heard, aslape as I was, and come here, I found this praste, who was so wholy, and prach­ing all night, upon the top of the bed, with his arms round this young crature's neck; and if I had not given him a twitch by the nose, and bid him ly over, dear honey, he would have ravished her virgi­nity, and murdered her, save her soul, and the paple of the house not the wiser for it.

The clergyman stared with his mouth open; for the palpable nature of the fals­hood, had shocked him beyond the power of speech.

But the landlady, who in the mean time was come up, and had heard what Teague had said, was enraged, could supply speech [Page 63] for them both. Hey, said she, this comes of your preaching and praying, Mr. Mini­ster. I have lodged many a gentleman; but have never had such doings here before. It is a pretty story that a minister of the gos­pel should be the first to bring a scandal upon the house.

The Captain interrupted her, and told her there was no harm done. The maid was not actually ravished; and if there was no noise made about it, all matters might be set right.

The clergyman had by this time recov­ered himself so much as to have the use of his tongue; and began by protesting his in­nocence, and that it was no more him that made the attack upon the maid, than the angel Gabriel.

The Captain, interrupting him, and wishing to save his feelings, began by ex­cusing or extenuating the offence. It is no great affair, said he, after all that is said or done. The love of women is a natural sin, and the holiest men in all ages have been propense to this indulgence. There was Abraham that got to bed to his maid Hagar, and had a bastard by her, whom he named Ishmael. Joshua, who took Jericho by the sound of ram's horns, [Page 64] saved a likely slut of the name of Rahab, under a pretence that she had been civil to the spies he had sent out, but in reality be­cause he himself took a fancy for her. I need say nothing about David, who wrote the Psalms, and set them to music; and yet in his old days had a girl to sleep with him. Human nature is human nature still; and it is not all the preaching and praying on earth can extinguish it.

The clergyman averred his innocence, and that it was that red-headed gentleman himself, meaning Teague, who was in the room first, and had been guilty of the out­rage. Teague was beginning to make the sign of the cross, and to put himself into an attitude of swearing, when the Captain thinking it of no consequence who was the person, put an end to the matter, by or­dering Teague to bed, and himself bid­ding the company good night.

The clergyman finding no better could be made of it, took the advice of the land­lord, and retired also. The landlady seem­ed disposed to hush the matter up, and the maid went to sleep as usual.

CHAP. II.

IT is not the nature of the female tongue to be silent. The landlady could not avoid informing her gossips, and even some of her guests, of what had happened the preceding evening in her house. The re­port, so unfavourable to the clergyman, had therefore got out; and coming to the ears of the consistory, was the occasion of calling him before them, to answer to the accusation. The clergyman much alarm­ed, though conscious of innocence, be­thought himself of applying to the Cap­tain, to extort from his waiting man a confession of the truth, and relieve his character. Accordingly having set out on a bay horse that he had, he found the Captain, and addressed him in the follow­ing manner:

Captain, said he, the affair of that night at the tavern, is like to be of serious con­sequence to me. For though I am inno­cent as the child unborn, yet the presump­tion is against me, and I am likely to fall [Page 66] under church censure. It may be sport to you, but it is a matter of moment to me. Now, as sure as God is in heaven, I am innocent; and it must have been the devil, or that red headed Irishman of yours, that made the disturbance.

The Captain gave him the comfort of assuring him that he might make himself easy; for be the matter as it might, he would take care that Teague should as­sume it, and bear the blame. The cler­gyman politely thanked him; declaring, at the same time, that he would not for­get him in his prayers, Sunday or Satur­day, while he had an hour to live. The Captain, not so much from any merce­nary motive of benefit, by his spiritual solicitations, as from a real love of huma­nity and justice, had determined to do him essential service in this affair. According­ly, when the clergyman had retired, call­ing Teague before him, he began in this manner: Teague, said he, from what I know of your disposition, I have no more doubt than I have of my existence, that it was yourself who made that uproar with the girl at the tavern where we lodged; though I could not but give you credit for your presence of mind in throwing it [Page 67] upon the clergyman. But whether the matter lies with you or him, is of no consequence. You can take it upon you, and lay up treasure in heaven. It will be doing a good work; and these people, you may be assured, have a considerable influ­ence in the other world. This clergyman can speak a good word for you when you come there, and let you into half the be­nefit of all the prayers he has said on earth. It will be no harm to you, for your cha­racter in this respect is as bad as it can well be.

Teague said he did not care much; but thought the priest ought to pay a little smart money; for it was a thankless mat­ter to do these things for nothing. Said the Captain, these people are not the most plenty of money; but I will advance half a crown towards the accommodation. Teague was satisfied, and ready to acknow­ledge whatever was demanded of him.

Accordingly having come before the presbytery on the day appointed for the trial. Teague made confession of the truth; viz. That being in the kitchen with the girl, and observing her to be a good look­ing hussy—

But suppose we give the speech in his [Page 68] own dialect. Master prastes, said he, I persave you are all prastes of the gosple, and can prach as asily as I can take a chaw of tobacco. Now the trut of de story is dis; I was slaping in my bed, and I tought vid myself it was a shame amonst christian paple that a young crature should slape by herself, and have no one to take care of her. So I tought vid myself, to go and slape vid her. But as she was aslape, she made exclamation, and dis praste that is here before you, came in to save her shoul from the devil; and as the captain my mas­ter, might take offence, and the devil, I am shartain that it was no better person, put it into my head, to lay it on the praste This is the trut master prastes, as I hope for shalvation in the kingdom of purgato­ry, shentlemen.

On this confession, the clergyman was absolved, to the great joy of the presbyte­ry, who considered it as a particular pro­vidence that the truth was brought to light.

CHAP. III. Containing Reflections.

IT must appear from the incident at the public house, with what caution pre­sumptive testimony is to be admitted. Our criminal law admits it, but lays it down as a rule, that it be admitted with caution. There is what is called violent presump­tion; that is, where such circumstances exist, as usually attend the fact. Presump­tive proof of this nature is held sufficient to convict. I doubt much, whether rea­son or experience approve the doctrine. Reason tells us, that there may be all the circumstances that usually attend the fact, and yet without the fact itself. Experi­ence evinces that it has been the case; for we have heard of persons convicted of a capital offence; and yet with their last breath asserting innocence. Nay, in the case of some who have been convicted of homicide, the persons who have been sup­posed [Page 70] to have been murdered, have after­wards been found alive.

But on abstract principles, a conclusion of certainty cannot be drawn from pre­sumptive proof. Because in cases of the most violent presumption, there is still a possibility of innocence; and where there is a possibility, there must be a doubt; and will you hang man, woman, or child, where there is a doubt.

In all cases there ought to be complete proof; because the convicted person is to be completely punished; and the jury, pre­vious to this, must make complete oath of the guilt.

It is the ground of the doctrine of pre­sumptive proof, that where you cannot help suspecting, you ought to be positive; whereas the just conclusion would be, that where you cannot help suspecting, there you ought to suspect still, but no more.

It would be a curious question in arith­metic how many uncertainties make a cer­tainty? In mathematics, the three an­gles of a triangle, are equal to a right an­gle. But these are all angles, that are put together; that is, they are things of the same kind, but the greatest angle, and the longest side will never make a triangle, be­cause [Page 71] there is no inclusion of space. There must be a number of things of the same kind to make an aggregate whole; so that ten thousand possibilities, probabilities, and violent presumptions, can never constitute a certainty.

Presumptive proof is of the nature of the semi plena probatio of the Roman law; going but half-way towards proof, it can never amount to proof at all. For, as the saying is, a miss is as good as a mile. I would, therefore, recommend to all jurors, to take care that unless the witnesses swear positively to the fact, they do not find a verdict, guilty; because, as the current cannot rise higher than the source, so the verdict of the juror ought not to be more absolute than the oath of the witness. In all cases, therefore, short of positive tes­timony, acquit.

These hints may also be of service to young attornies, and weak judges; so that honest people may not lose their lives, or be rendered infamous, without full proof of the offence. It is hard enough to suf­fer when there is full proof, but to be in the power of a juror's or a judge's ima­gination, comparing and construing cir­cumstances, and weighing possibilities, con­tingencies, [Page 72] and what might have been, or what might not have been, as the humour, caprice, wheel, or whim of the brain may suggest, is inconsistent with that fair trial which, in a free government, ought to be enjoyed. Was I a judge or juror, no one would I condemn without positive tes­timony of the fact. For it would not be in my power to restore that same or life which I took away from the innocent. And if a guilty person should escape, it was none of my look out; but the busi­ness of Providence to furnish proof, if it was intended that man should punish; and if proof is not furnished, let Providence take the matter on himself, and punish the cul­prit either in this life or in a future state. Invisible things belong to the Omniscient; and it would seem great arrogance in man to take upon him to decide in cases of un­certainty. I hope, therefore, yet to see the doctrine of presumptive proof, in criminal cases, wholly, in courts of justice, dis­countenanced. I can declare, that in the course of my experience at the bar, I have had one hung, and several others within an ace of it, who were innocent; and this on the doctrine of presumption and probability. The one that was hung was [Page 73] a tory case, where the popular clamour was against the man; and light presump­tion became violent, under such a charge.

I shall say no more on this subject; because it seems to me that I have been af­fecting to speak sense, whereas my busi­ness is to speak nonsense; this being the only way to keep out of the reach of cri­ticism; because critics can say no more than you yourself allow; so that a charge of nonsense cannot hurt. It is thus that persons who have a long nose, or dispro­portion of some other feature, take the laugh upon themselves first, and so escape ridicule. The truth is, I will not give my­self the trouble to write sense long. For I would as soon please fools as wise men; because the fools are the most numerous, and every prudent man will go with the majority. I shall return to the adventures of the Captain.

CHAP. IV.

THE Presbytery sat a day or two at this place, on church affairs, and the Captain delaying with them, lodged at the same house. Teague, in the mean time, having an opportunity of ingratiating him­self with the clergymen, by rubing down their horses, and other menial services. For it is the national character of the abo­riginal Irish, to give fair words; and Teague was not deficient in this address. What with master Prasting, and giving a great deal of what is called Blarney, he insinuated himself into their good graces; and by affecting, now and then, to be seen at prayers by himself, and to have a sor­rowful countenance, he induced them to believe that he was in the first stage of con­viction, and likely to become a pious man. Having made this progress in their good opinion, he ventured to suggest what was the ultimate object of his ambition; viz. the being a candidate for holy orders. The Presbytery, to whom the matter was re­presented [Page 75] by the individuals more particu­larly acquainted with him, thought favour­ably of the proposition. For though his common attainments might not be great, yet if the grace of God had wrought upon him, he might become a valuable man.

The Captain having got a hint of this, took the first opportunity of addressing the Presbytery. Gentlemen, said he, you are deceived in this ragamuffin. For, notwith­standing all the pretensions he may lately have to religion, you may be well assured that it is all hypocrisy, and that he has no more religion than my horse.

The Presbytery suspecting the Captain to be a carnal man, and regardless of the ministry, gave little heed to what he said, and seemed disposed to take Teague upon trials.

The Captain finding the case to stand thus, and that in spite of all he could do, he was likely to lose his servant, took his usual method of addressing the hopes and fears of Teague himself.

Taking him aside, he began, with all possible art, to impress such fears and ap­prehensions, as the nature of the case sug­gested. Teague, said he, do you know what you are about? You have got into [Page 76] your vagaries once more. You want to preach, do you? Are you apprised of the difficulty of this work? The first thing you will have to do, is to take a text; and when that is done, you have to split it into parts. There are what are called heads; and these you must divide into firstlys, and secondlys, and thirdlys, and fourthlys, and so on, till you come to twentiethlys, perhaps. Are you furnished with a con­cordance? or do you know what a con­cordance is? Can you find a text to suit your purpose when you want it? Can you explain the scriptures; the meaning of Daniel's ram and the he-goat, or the seven trumpets in the Revelations? You are mistaken if you think your Irish will pass for Hebrew.

You think it a great honour to preach now-a days. It was an honour once; but the thing is now become so common, that it is of little consequence to preach or not.

But do you know how it will behove you to conduct yourself, if you take this of­fice upon you. You will have to compose the muscles of your face to greater serious­ness than your disposition can afford. You must quit whoring. How will you like that, Teague. It would look very ill after [Page 77] sermon to be catched in bed with a girl at a tavern.

But do you know why these men are so anxious to have you of their mess? The truth of the matter is, they carry on a war with the devil, and they wish to recruit you for the service. Do they give you any bounty-money. Take my word, there will be but little of this going. Take my advice then, and let them settle their own quarrels. It is a silly thing to be drawn in­to a party, when there is but little to be got by it: Nay, worse than little: For it will be all on the other side. Think you the devil will forget the mischief you do him in this world, and not resent it when he comes across you in a future state? When you are preaching and praying, do you think he will not hear all that you throw out against him. You may rely upon it, there will be enough to give him information; and as a story never loses in the telling, it is ten to one they will make the matter worse than it was. Take my advice, therefore, and make no enemies while you can help it. Steer through life as smoothly as possible. Keep a good tongue in your mouth, and let those who chuse to dispute with Belzebub, dispute. I [Page 78] never knew any good come of broils and quarrels, especially with low characters. And, to say the truth of it, this Satan, as they call him, is very little of the gen­tleman. Even where he is well disposed, he will do but little good to one; but a most dangerous creature where he takes a dislike. When you go to hell, as, one day, you must, you can expect but little quarter, after abusing him in this world. He will make you squeel like a pig; take you by the throat, and kick you like a cat. His very scullions will piss upon you, and give you no better life than a dog a­mong their feet; while these very clergy­men, that put you forward to blackguard for them, will stand by laughing in their sleeves that you could be such a fool.

The representation had the desired ef­fect upon Teague, and he thought no more of the matter.

CHAP. V. The Conclusion, with Observations.

THE overtures made by Teague, to be admitted to the ministry, and the sim­plicity of the ecclesiastics in listening to his pretensions, made a great noise through the neighbourhood; in as much as the young man laboured under a want of edu­cation, and was not qualified by theologi­cal reading. But I do not see, why it should be thought blamable; provided the matter was not too much hurried and hastily brought forward. For give him a little time, and he might have been instructed to preach as well as some that I myself have heard. Especially if at first setting out, he had confined himself to historical passa­ges of scripture; such as the history of Sampson, and Gideon, and Barak, and the like: Only he must have taken care that in pronouncing Barak, with the brogue upon his tongue, he did not make it Burke; for that is a patronimic name of his coun­try, [Page 80] and he might inadvertently have fal­len into this pronunciation.

I acknowledge, that in the regular churches, such as that of the Presbyteri­ans, there is still kept up some opinion of the necessity of literature. But do we not see that with other denominations; such as the Quakers, the Methodists, and Ana­baptists, it is totally disregarded and thrown out? Because when human gifts or acquire­ments are absent, that which is supernatu­ral more evidently appears.

Do not Quakers, and Methodists, and Baptists, preach very well? At any rate, they do a great deal of good, and that is the first object of preaching. Whether such sermonists, avail themselves most of sense or sound, I will not say; but so it is they do good; and that without the aid of any hu­man learning whatever.

It is very true, that formerly in the in­fancy of the church, a knowledge of lan­guages and sciences, might be requisite. But the case is quite altered now. The Scripture has been well explained, and frequently preached over; every text and context examined, and passages illustrated. The Hebrew roots, so to speak, have been all dug up; and there is scarcely a new [Page 81] etymology to be made. Are there any new doctrines to discover? I should think it im­possible. At any rate, I should conceive it unnecessary. There are enough in all conscience: The inventing more, would be like bringing timber to a wood, or coals to Newcastle.

This being the case, I feel myself dis­posed to agree with those who reject hu­man learning in religious matters altoge­ther. More especially as science is really not the fashion at the present time. For as has been before seen, even in the very province of science itself, it is dispensed with; that of natural philosophy, for in­stance. In state affairs, ignorance does very well, and why not in church? I am for having all things of a piece; ignorant statesmen, ignorant philosophers, and ig­norant ecclesiastics. On this principle, Teague might have done very well as a preacher. But the selfishness of the Cap­tain prevailed, and obstructed his advance­ment.

CHAP. I. Containing preliminary Observations.

I AM very happy in the composition of this work; for though but of a trifling nature as to sentiment; yet, in what I do write, no one can attribute to me the least tincture of satire, or ridicule of individuals or public bodies. This is what I very much dislike in others, and would be far from indulging in myself. I acknowledge, in­deed, that in my earlier years, and in the course of my academical studies, I had contracted some taste, and even habit, this way; owing to my reading the dialogues of Lucian, in the original Greek. Had I read them in a translation, they might have [Page 83] made less impression. But by means of a difficult language, studying them slowly, the turn of thought became more deeply impressed upon my mind. Moreover, af­terwards, when I came to have some ac­quaintance with the modern wits, such as Cervantes, Le Sage, and especially Swift, I found myself still more inclined to an iro­nical, ludicrous way of thinking and wri­ting. But finding the bad effects of this, in many respects, leading me into broils with individuals, and rendering me ob­noxious to public bodies, I saw the indis­cretion, and bad policy of such indulgence; and have for several years past, carefully avoided every thing of this kind. It is in­deed acting but a poor part in life, to make a business of laughing at the follies of o­thers. It is injurious to one's self; for there is a great deal more to be gained by sooth­ing and praising what men do, than by finding fault with them. It may be said of satire, what was said of anger by some philosopher, It never pays the service it re­quires. It is your scratching, rump-tick­ling people, that get into place and power. I never knew any good come of wit and humour yet. They are talents which keep the owner poor. For this reason, I have [Page 84] taken care to repress all propensity to this vice; and I believe I can say it with truth, that since I have come to the years of a man's understanding, I have carefully a­voided every thing of this nature. Had it not been for this prudence, I should not have been in a fair way, as I now am, to be a member of Congress, or a judge on the bench, or governor of a common­wealth, or secretary of state, or any thing that I may have in view. Had I remained an admirer of Rabelais, or Sterne, or o­ther biting, jeering writers, that I at first met with, I might at this day have been con­sidered as a wit only, without the least ad­vancement in state affairs. But I would sooner see your Juniuses, and your Peter Pindars, libelling kings and ministers, at hell, than sacrifice my interest to my pas­sion, or my vanity, by strokes of wit, which is but another name for ill-nature.

In this treatise, which is simply a rela­tion of the adventures of an individual, I have nothing to do with strictures upon particular persons, or the affairs of men in general, and so have no temptation to the folly I have just mentioned. The reader, if any body ever reads it, will find no­thing [Page 85] here but philanthropic and benevo­lent ideas.

Indeed, as it has been known that I was engaged in writing something, per­sons who either took, or pretended to take, some interest in my affairs, have urged me very much to depart a little from my u­sual way, and make use of a little irony, by way of seasoning to the composition; for, in this case, it would be received better, and procure more readers; mankind be­ing naturally delighted with ridicule. But the truth was, I could see nothing to be ironical about; owing, perhaps, to my not being in the habit of looking for the ridiculous, and so having lost the talent of discovering it. But my resolution that I had taken would have fully preserved me from such a lapse, however numerous the objects of ridicule might be, that presented themselves. This will serve as an apolo­gy to those who have solicited me on this head, and relieve me from such solicita­tions for the future.

CHAP. II.

DETAINING some time in a vil­lage, there was a great deal said a­bout a certain Miss Fog, who was the belle of the place. Her father had made a fortune by the purchuse of public secu­rities A garrison having been at this place, and troops quartered here, he had been employed as an issuing commissary! When the commissioners sat to adjust un­liquidated claims, he had a good deal in his power, by vouching for the accounts of the butcher, and baker, and wood-cut­ter, and water-drawer, and waggoner, and all others of all occupations whatsoever, whose claims were purchased by himself, in the mean time, and when the certifi­cates issued in their names, they were to his use. The butcher and baker, no doubt, long before had been paid out of the flesh killed, or bread baked; because it is a good maxim, and a scriptural expression, "Muzzle not the ox that treadeth out the corn." But the public has a broad [Page 87] back, and a little vouching, by a person interested, is not greatly felt. These certificates, though at first of little va­lue, and issued by the commissioners with the liberality of those who give what is of little worth, yet by the funding acts of the government, having become in value, e­qual to gold and silver, the commissary had a great estate thrown upon him; so that, from low beginnings, he had become a man of fortune and consequence. His family, and especially the eldest daughter, shared the advantage; for she had become the object of almost all wooers. The Cap­tain, though an old bachelor, as we have said, had not wholly lost the idea of matri­mony. Happening to be in a circle, one evening, where Miss Fog was, he took a liking to her, in all respects save one, which was, that she seemed, on her part, to have taken a liking to a certain Mr. Jacko, who was there present; and to whose attention she discovered a facility of acquiescence. The Captain behaved, for the present, as if he did not observe the preference; but the following day, waiting on the young lady at her father's house, he drew her into conversation, and [Page 88] began to reason with her, in the following manner:

Miss Fog, said he, you are a young lady of great beauty, great sense, and fortune still greater than either.—This was a sad blunder in a man of gallantry, but the lady not being of the greatest sensibility of nerve, did not perceive it.—On my part, said he, I am a man of years, but a man of some reflection; and it would be much more adviseable in you to trust my experience, and the mellowness of my disposition in a state of matrimony, than the vanity and petulence of this young fop Jacko, for whom you shew a partiality. The colour coming into the young lady's face at this expression, she withdrew, and left him by himself. The Captain struck with the rudeness, withdrew also, and, calling Teague from the kitchen, mounted his horse and set off.

The next morning shortly after he had got out of bed, and had just come down stairs at his lodging, and was buttoning the knees of his breeches, a light airy looking young man, with much bowing and civi­lity, entered the hall of the public house, and enquiring if this was not Captain Far­rago to whom he had the honour to ad­dress [Page 89] himself, delivered him a paper. On the perusal, it was found to be a challenge from Mr. Jacko.

The fact was, that Miss Fog, in order the more to recommend herself to her suitor, had informed him of the language of the Captain. The young man, though he had no great stomach for the matter, yet accord­ing to the custom of these times, could do no less than challenge. The bearer was was what is called his second.

The Captain having read the paper, and pausing a while, said, Mr. Second, for that I take to be your stile and character, is it consistent with reason or common sense, to be the aider or abettor of another man's folly; perhaps the prompter: for it is no uncommon thing with persons to inflame the passions of their frends, rather than allay them. This young woman, for I shall not call her lady, from vanity, or ill-nature, or both, has become a tale-bearer to her lover, who, I will venture to say, thanks her but little for it; as she has thereby rendered it necessary for him to take this step. You, in the mean time, are not blameless, as it became you to have declined the office, and thereby furnished an excuse to your friend for not comply­ing [Page 90] with the custom. For it would have been a sufficient apology with the lady to have said, although he was disposed to fight, yet he could get no one to be his ar­mour-bearer or assistant. It could have been put upon the footing, that all had such regard for his life, that no one would countenance him in risking it. You would have saved him by this means, all that un­easiness which he feels at present, least I should accept his challenge. I am not so unacquainted with human nature, as not to know how disagreeable it must be to think of having a pistol ball lodged in the groin or the left breast, or, to make the best of it, the pan of the knee broke, or the nose cut off, or some wound less than mortal given; disagreeable, especially to to a man in the bloom of life, and on the point of marriage with a woman to whose person or fortune he has no exception. I would venture to say, therefore, there will be no great difficulty in appeasing this Or­lando Furioso, that has sent me the chal­lenge. Did you know the state of his mind, you would find him at prayers this moment, that I would ease his fears, and make some apology. A very slight one would suffice. I dare say, his resent­ment [Page 91] against Miss Fog is not slight, and that he would renounce her person and fortune both, to get quit of the duel. But the opinion of the world is against him, and he must fight. Do you think he has any great gratitude to you for your ser­vices on this occasion. He had much ra­ther you had, in the freedom of friendship, given him a kick on the backside, when he made application to you; and told him, that it did not become him to quarrel a­bout a woman, who had, probably, con­sulted but her own vanity, in giving him the information. In that case, he would have been more pleased with you a month hence, than he is at present. I do not know that he has an overstock of sense; nevertheless, he cannot be just such a fool, as not to consider, that you, yourself, may have pretensions to this belle, and be disposed to have him out of the way before you. He must be a fool, indeed, if he does not reflect, that you had much rather see us fight than not; from the very same principle that we take delight in see­ing a cock-match, or a horse-race. The spectacle is new, and produces a brisk cur­rent of thought through the mind; which [Page 92] is a constituent of pleasure, the absence of all movement giving none at all.

What do you suppose I must think of you, Mr. Second; I, who have read books, and thought a little on the subject; have made up my mind in these matters, and account the squires that bring challenges from knights, as people of but very small desert. Thinking men have condemned the duel, and laws have prohibited it; but these miscreants still keep it up, by being the conductors of the fluid. My indignation, therefore, falls on such, and I have long ago fixed on the mode of treating them. It is this: a stout athletic man calls upon [...] with a challenge in his hand, I knock him down, if I can, without saying a word▪ If the natural arm be not sufficient for this purpose, I avail myself of any stone, wooden, or iron instrument that I cast my eye upon, not just to take away his life, if I can help it; but to hit the line as exactly as possible, between ac­tual homicide, and a very bad wound. For in this case, I should conceive, a battery could be justifiable, or at least excuseable, and the sine not very great; the bearing a challenge being a breach of the peace, in the first instance. This would be my [Page 93] conduct with a stout athletic man, whom I might think it dangerous to encounter with fair warning, and on equal terms. But in the present case, where—(Here the second began to shew signs of fear, raising himself, and inclining backwards, opening his eyes wider, and casting a look towards the door)—where, continued the Captain, I have to do with a person of your slender make, I do not adopt that surprise, or use an artificial weapon; but with these fists, which have been used in early life to agricultural employments, I shall very deliberately impress a blow. The second rising to his feet, began to recede a little. Be under no apprehensions, said the Captain; I shall use no unfair method of biting, gouging, or wounding the pri­vate parts. Nay, as you appear to be a young man of a delicate constitution, I shall only choak a little. You will give me leave to take you by the throat in as easy a manner as possible.

In the mean time, the second had been withdrawing towards the door, and the Captain with outstretched arms, in a side­way direction, proceeding to intercept him. In an instant, he was seized by the neck, and the exclamation of murder which he [Page 94] made at the first grasp, began to die away in hoarse guttural murmurs of one nearly strangled, and labouring for breath. The Captain meaning that he should be more alarmed than hurt, dismissed him with a sa­lutation of his foot on the backside, as a claude ostium, as he went out. You may be, said he, a gentleman in the opinion of the world; but you are a low person in mine; and so shall it be done to every one who shall come upon such an errand.

CHAP. III.

HAVING thus dismissed the seconda­ry man, he called in his servant Teague, and accosted him as follows: Teague, said he, you have heretofore dis­covered an ambition to be employed in some way that would advance your reputa­tion. There is now a case fallen out, to which you are fully competent. It is not a matter that requires the head to contrive, but the hand to execute. The greatest fool is as fit for it as a wise man. It is in­deed your greatest blockheads that chiefly undertake it. The knowledge of law, phy­sic, or divinity is out of the question. Li­terature, and political understanding is useless. Nothing more is necessary than a little resolution of the heart. Yet it is an undertaking which is of much estimation with the rabble, and has a great many on its side to approve and praise it. The fe­males of the world, especially admire the act, and call it valour. I know you wish to stand well with the ladies. Here is an [Page 96] opportunity of advancing your credit. I have had what is called a challenge sent me this morning. It is from a certain Jacko, who is a suitor to a Miss Fog, and has ta­ken offence at an expression of mine, re­specting him to this female. I wish you to accept the challenge, and fight him for me.

At this proposition, Teague looked wild, and made apology that he was not much used to boxing. Boxing, said the Cap­tain; you are to fight what is called a duel. You are to encounter him with pistol, and put a bullet through him if you can. It is true, he will have the chance of putting one through you; but in that consists the honour; for where there is no danger, there is no glory. You will provide your­self a second. There is an hostler here at the public house, that is a brave fellow, and will answer the purpose. Being fur­nished with a second, you will provide yourself with a pair of pistols, powder and ball of course: In the mean time, your adversary notified of your intentions, will do the like. Thus apparalelled, you will advance to the place agreed upon. The ground will be measured out; ten, seven, or five steps; back to back, and coming round to your place, fire. Or taking your [Page 97] ground, stand still and fire; or it may be▪ advance and fire as you meet, at what dis­tance you think proper. The rules in this respect are not fixed, but as the parties can agree or the seconds point out. When you come to fire, be sure you keep a steady hand, and take good aim. Remember that the pistol barrel being short, the pow­der is apt to throw the bullet up. Your sight therefore, ought to be about the waist-band of his breeches, so that you have the whole length of his body, and his head into the bargain, to come and go up­on. It is true, he in the mean time, will take the same advantages of you. He may hit you about the groin, or the belly. I have known some shot in the thigh, or the leg, or the private parts. The throat also, and the head are in themselves vulnerable. It is no uncommon thing to have an arm broke, or a splinter struck off the nose, or an eye shot out; but as in that case, the ball mostly passes through the brain, and the man being dead at any rate, the loss of sight is not greatly felt.

As the Captain spoke, Teague seemed to feel in himself, every wound which was described, the ball hitting him, now in one part, and now in another. At the last [Page 98] words, it seemed to pass through his head▪ and he was half dead, in imagination. Making a shift to express himself, he gave the Captain to understand, that he could by no means undertake the office. What! said the Captain; you whom nothing would serve, some time ago, but to be a legisla­tor, or philosopher, or preacher, in order to gain fame, will now detract a business for which you are qualified. This requires no knowledge of finances, no reading of natural history, or any study of the fathers. You have nothing more to do than to keep a steady hand and a good eye.

In the early practice of this exercise; I mean the combat of the duel, it was cu­stomary to exact an oath of [...] combat­ants, before they entered the [...], that they had no enchantments, or power of witchcraft, about them. Whether you should think it necessary to put him to his voir dire, on this point, I shall not say; but I am persuaded, that on your part, you have too much honour, to make use of spells, or undue means, to take away his life, or save your own. You will leave all to the chance of fair shooting. One thing you will observe, and which is allowable in this battle, you will take care not [Page 99] to present yourself to him with a full breast, but angularly, and your head turn­ed round over the left shoulder, like a wea­ther cock. For thus a smaller surface be­ing presented to an adversary, he will be less likely to hit you. You must throw your legs into lines parallel, and keep them one directly behind the other. Thus you will stand like a sail hauled close to the wind. Keep a good countenance, a sharp eye, and a sour look; and if you feel any thing like a cholic or a palpitation of the heart, make no noise about it. If the ball should take you in the gills, or the giz­zard, fall down as decently as you can, and die like a man of honour.

It was of no use to urge the matter; the Irishman was but the more opposed to the proposition, and utterly refused to be after fighting in any such manner. The Cap­tain finding this to be the case, dismissed him to clean his boots and spurs, and rub down his horse in the stable.

CHAP. IV.

ON reflection, it seemed adviseable to the Captain to write an answer to the card which Colonel, or Major Jacko, or whatever his title may have been, had sent him this morning. It was as follows:

CHAP. V. Containing Reflections.

CAPTAIN Farrago was a good man, but unacquainted with the world. His ideas were drawn chiefly from what may be called the old school; the Greek and Roman notions of things. The com­bat of the duel was to them unknown. Though it seems strange, that a people who were famous for almost all arts and scien­ces, should have remained ignorant of its use. I do not conceive how, as a people, they could exist without it. But so it was, they actually were without the knowledge of it. For we do not find any trace of this custom in the poets or historians of all antiquity.

I do not know at what period, precisely, the custom was introduced; or to whom it was owing; but omitting this disquisi­tion, we content ourselves with observing, that it has produced as great improvement in manners, as the discovery of the load­stone, [Page 103] and mariner's compass, has at navi­gation. Not that I mean to descant, at full length, on the valuable effects of it; but simply to observe, that it is a greater aid to government than the alliance of church and state itself. If Dr. Warburton had had leisure, I could wish he had written a treatise upon it. Some affect to ridicule it, as carrying to a greater length small differences, than the aggravation may jus­tify. As for instance, a man is angry e­nough with you to give you a slap in the face; but the custom says, he must shoot you through the head. I think the smaller the aggravation, the nicer the sense of ho­nour. The heaviest mind will resent a gross affront; but to kill a man where there is no affront at all, shews a great sensibility. It is immaterial whether there is or is not an injury, provided the world thinks there is; for it is the opinion of mankind we are to consult. It is a duty which we owe them to provide for their amusement. Non nasscimur nobis ipsis; we are not born for ourselves, but for others. Decorum pro patria mori; it is a becoming thing to die for one's country; and shall it not also be accounted honourable to throw one's life away for the entertain­ment [Page 104] of a few particular neighbours and acquaintances. It is true, the tears that will be shed upon your grave, will not make the grass grow; but you will have the consolation, when you leave the world, to have fallen in the bed of honour.

It is certainly a very noble institution, that of the duel; and it has been carried to very great perfection, in some respects. Nevertheless, I would submit it to the pub­lic, whether still further improvement might not be made in the laws and regu­tions of it. For instance, could it not be reduced nearer to an equality of chances, by proportioning the caliber, or bore of the pistol; the length of the barrel, also, to the size of the duellist who holds it; or by fixing the ratio of distance in proportion to the bulk of combatants. To explain myself: When I am to fight a man of a small size, I ought to have a longer pistol than my adversary, because my mark is smaller; or I ought to be per­mitted to come nearer to him. For it is altogether unfair that men of unequal bulk should fire at equal distances, and with equal calibers. The smaller size multipli­ed by the larger space, or larger pistol, would equal the larger size multiplied by [Page 105] the smaller space or smaller pistol. If this amendment of the duel laws should be ap­proved by men of honour, let it be added to the code.

CHAP. I.

NOT long after this, being at a cer­tain place, the Captain-was accosted by a stranger in the following manner: Captain Farrago, said he, I have heard of a young man in your service who talks Irish. Now, Sir, my business is that of an Indian treaty-maker; and am on my way with a party of kings, and half kings to the commissioners, to hold a treaty. My king of the Kickapoos, who was a Welch blacksmith, took sick by the way, and is dead. I have heard of this lad of yours, and could wish to have him a while to supply his place. The treaty will not last longer than a couple of weeks; and as the government will probably allow three or four thousand dollars for the trea­ty, [Page 107] it will be in our power to make it worth your while, to spare him for that time. Your king of the Kickapoos, said the Cap­tain; what does that mean? Said the stran­ger, it is just this: You have heard of the Indian nations to the westward, that occa­sionally make war upon the frontier settle­ments. It has been a policy of govern­ment, to treat with these, and distribute goods. Commissioners are appointed for that purpose. Now you are not to suppose that it is always an easy matter to catch a real chief, and bring him from the woods; or if at some expence one was brought, the goods would go to his use; whereas, it is much more profitable to hire substi­tutes and make chiefs of our own: And as some unknown gibberish is necessary, to pass for an Indian language, we gene­rally make use of Welch, or Low Dutch, or Irish; or pick up an ingenious fellow here and there, who can imitate a lan­guage by sounds of his own, in his mouth, and throat. But we prefer one who can speak a real tongue, and give more for him. We cannot afford you a great deal at this time for the use of your man; be­cause it is not a general treaty where 20,000, or 30,000, dollars are appropriated [Page 108] for the purpose of holding it; but an oc­casional, or what we call a running treaty, by way of brightening the chain, and hold­ing fast friendship. The commissioners will doubtless be glad to see us, and pro­cure from government an allowance for the treaty. For the more treaties, the more use for commissioners. The business must be kept up, and treaties made if there are none of themselves. My Pianksha, and Choctaw chiefs, are very good fellows; the one of them a Scotch pedlar that talks the Erse; the other has been some time in Canada, and has a little broken Indian, God knows what language; but has been of great service in assisting to teach the rest some Indian custom and manners. I have had the whole of them for a fortnight past under my tuition, teaching them war songs and dances, and to make responses at the treaty. If your man is tractable, I can make him a Kickapoo in about nine days. A breech-clout and leggins, that I took off the blacksmith that died, I have ready to put on him. He must have part of his head shaved, and painted, with fea­thers on his crown; but the paint will rub off, and the hair grow in a short time, so that he can go about with you again.

[Page 109]It is a very strange affair, said the Cap­tain. Is it possible that such deception can be practised in a new country. It a­stonishes me, that the government does not detect such imposition. The govern­ment, said the Indian treaty-man, is at a great distance. It knows no more of Indians than a cow does of Greek. The legislature, hears of wars and rumours of wars, and supports the executive in forming treaties. How is it possible for men who live remote from the scene of action, to have adequate ideas of the na­ture of Indians, or the transactions that are carried on in their behalf. Do you think the one half of those savages that come to treat, are real representatives of the nation. Many of them are not savages at all; but weavers, and pedlars, as I have told you, picked up to make kings and chiefs. I speak of those particularly that come trading down to inland towns, or the metropolis. I would not commu­nicate these mysteries of our trade, were it not that I confide in your good sense, and have occasion for your servant.

It is a mystery of iniquity, said the Captain. Do you suppose that I would countenance such a fraud upon the pub­lic? [Page 110] I do not know, said the other; it is a very common thing for men to speculate, now a-days. If you will not, another will. An 100 dollars might as well be in your pocket as another man's. I will give you that for the use of your servant, for a week or two, and say no more about it. It is an idea new to me entirely, said the Captain, that Indian princes, whom I have seen escorted down as such, were no more than trumpery, disguised, as you men­tion; that such should be introduced to polite assemblies, and have the honour to salute the fair ladies with a kiss, the great­est beauties thinking themselves honoured by having the salutation of a sovereign? It is so, said the other; I had a red head­ed bricklayer once, whom I passed for a Chippawaw; and who has dined with clubs, and sat next the President. He was blind of an eye, and was called blind Sam by the traders. I had given it out that he was a great warrior, and had lost his eye by an arrow, in a contest with a rival nation. These things are now re­duced to a system; and it is so well known to those who are engaged in the traffic, that we think nothing of it.

How the devil, said the Captain, do [Page 111] you get speeches made, and interpret them so as to pass for truth. That is an easy matter, said the other; Indian speeches are nearly all alike. You have only to talk of burying hatchets under large trees, kindling fires, brightening chains; with a demand, at the latter end, of blankets for the backside, and rum to get drunk with.

I much doubt, said the Captain, whe­ther treaties that are carried on in earnest, are of any great use. Of none at all, said the other; especially as the practice of giving goods prevails; because this is an inducement to a fresh war. This being the case, it can be no harm to make a farce of the whole matter; or rather a profit of it; by such means as I propose to you, and have pursued myself.

After all, said the Captain, I cannot but consider it as a kind of contraband and illicit traffic; and I must be excused from having any hand in it. I shall not betray your secret, but I shall not favour it. It would ill become me, whose object in riding about in this manner, is to give just ideas on subjects, to take part in such ill-gotten gain.

The Indian-treaty man finding it in vain to say more, withdrew.

CHAP. II.

THE Captain apprehending that he might not yet drop his designs upon the Irishman, but be tampering with him out of doors, should he come across him, sent for Teague. For he well knew, that should the Indian treaty man get the first word of him, the idea of making him a king, would turn his head, and it would be impossible to prevent his going with him.

Teague coming in, said the Captain to him; Teague, I have discovered in you, for some time past, a great spirit of ambi­tion, which is, doubtless, commendable in a young person; and I have checked it only in cases where there was real danger, or apparent mischief. There is now an opportunity of advancing yourself, not so much in the way of honour as profit. But profit brings honour, and is, indeed, the most substantial support of it. There has been a man here with me, that carries on a trade with the Indians, and tells me that red-headed scalps are in great demand with [Page 113] them. If you could spare yours, he would give a good price for it. I do not well know what use they make of this article, but so it is the traders find their account in it. Probably they dress it with the hairy side out, and make tobacco pouches for the chiefs, when they meet in council. It saves dyeing, and besides, the natural red hair of a man, may, in their estimation, be superior to any colour they can give by art. The taking off the scalp will not give much pain, it is so dextrously done by them with a crooked knife they have for that purpose. The mode of taking off the scalp is this; you lie down upon your back; a warrior puts his feet upon your shoul­ders, collects your hair in his left hand, and drawing a circle with the knife in his right, makes the incision, and, with a sud­den pull, separates it from the head, giv­ing, in the mean time, what is called the scalp yell. The thing is done in such an instant, that the pain is scarcely felt. He offered me an 100 dollars, if I would have it taken off for his use, giving me direc­tions, in the mean time, how to stretch it and dry it on a hoop. I told him, No; it was a perquisite of your own, and you might dispose of it as you thought proper. [Page 114] If you chose to dispose of it, I had no ob­jections; but the bargain should be of your own making, and the price such as should please yourself. I have sent for you, to give you a hint of this chapman, that you may have a knowledge of his wish to possess the property, and ask accordingly. It is probable you may bring him up to a half Johannes more, by holding out a lit­tle. But I do not think it would be ad­viseable to lose the bargain. An hundred dollars for a little hairy flesh, is a great deal. You will trot a long time before you make that with me. He will be with you probably to propose the purchase. You will know when you see him. He is a tall looking man, with leggins on, and has se­veral Indians with him going to a treaty. He talked to me something of making you a king of the Kickapoos, after the scalp is off; but I would not count on that so much; because words are but wind, and promises are easily broken. I would ad­vise you to make sure of the money in the first place, and take chance for the rest.

I have seen among the prints of Hogarth, some such expression of countenance as that of Teague at this instant; who, as [Page 115] soon as he could speak, but with a double brogue on his tongue, began to intimate his disinclination to the traffic. The hair of his scalp itself, in the mean time had risen in opposition to it. Dear master, vid you trow me into ridicule, and the blessed shalvation of my life, and all dat I have in the vorld, to be trown like a dog to de savages, and have my flesh tarn of my head to give to dese vild bastes to make a nap­sack to carry their parates and tings in, for an 100 dollars or the like. It shall never be said that the hair of the Oregans made mackeseens for a vild Indian to trat upon. I would sooner trow my own head hair and all in de fire, dan give it to dese paple to smoke wid, out of deir long pipes.

If this be your determination, said the Captain, it will behove you to keep your­self somewhat close; and while we remain at this public house, avoid any conversa­tion with the chapman or his agents, should they come to tamper with you. For it is not improbable, while they are keeping you in talk, proposing to make you a Kickapoo chief, and the like, they may snatch the scalp of your head, and you not be the wiser for it.

Teague thought the caution good, and [Page 116] resolving to abide by it, retired to the kit­chen. The maid at this time, happening to want a log of wood, requested Teague to cut it for her. Taking the ax accord­ingly, and going out, he was busy chop­ping, with his head down; while, in the mean time, the Indian treaty-man had re­turned with one in Indian dress, who was the chief of the Killinoos, or at least passed for such; and whom he brought as hav­ing some recruiting talents, and might prevail with Teague to elope, and join the company. I presume, said the Indian treaty-man, you are the waiter of the Captain who lodges here at present. Teague hearing a man speak, and lifting up his head, saw the leggins on the one, and the Indian dress on the other; and with a kind of involuntary effort, threw the ax directly from him at the Killinoo. It missed him but about an inch, and fell be­hind. Teague, in the mean time, raising a shout of desperation, was fixed on the spot, and his locomotive faculties suspended; so that he could neither retreat nor advance, but stood still, like one enchained or en­chanted for a moment; the king of the Killinoos, in the mean time, drawing his tomahawk, and preparing for battle.

[Page 117]The Captain, who was reading at a front window, hearing the shout, looked about, and saw what going on at the wood­pile. Stop villain, said he, to the king of the Killinoos; you are not to take that scalp yet, however much you may value it. He will not take an 100 dollars for it, nor 500, though you make him king of the Kickapoos, or any thing else. It is no trifling matter to have the ears slit in tat­ters, and the nose run through with a bod­kin, and a goose quill stuck a cross; so that you may go about your business; you will get no king of the Kickapoos here. Under cover of this address of the Captain, Teague had retired to the kitchen, and ensconced himself behind the rampart of the maid. The Indian treaty-man, and the Killinoo chief, finding the measure hopeless, withdrew, and turned their at­tention, it is to be supposed, to some o­ther quarter, to find a king of the Kicka­poos.

CHAP. III. Containing Observations.

THE Captain was certainly to be com­mended in declining to countenance the imposition of making Teague a Kic­kapoo chief. Had he been disposed to ad­venture in a contraband trade of this kind, he might have undertaken it as a principal, and not as furnishing an assist­ant only. He could have passed Teague for a chief, and himself for an interpreter. He might pretend to have conducted this prince from a very distant nation, and that he had been several moons in travelling, and wanted, the Lord knows how much, goods for his people, that otherwise would come to war. By this means, the Cap­tain would have taken the whole emolu­ment of the treaty, and not have been put off with a small share of the profit which another made by it.

I should like to have seen Teague in an Indian dress, come to treat with the [Page 119] commissioners. It would be necessary for him only to talk Irish, which he might pass for the Shawanee, or other language. The Captain could have interpreted in the u­sual words on these occasions.

The policy of treating with the Indians is very good; because it takes off a great deal of loose merchandize, that might o­therwise lie upon our hands, and cuts away superfluities from the finances of the government; at the same time, as e­very fresh treaty lays the foundation of a new war, it will serve to check the too ra­pid growth of the settlements. The ex­tremities of a government, like the arm or ancle of an individual, are the parts at which blood is to be let.

Struck with the good effects of treating with the savages, and that our wise men who conduct affairs, pursue the policy, I have been led to wonder, that the agri­cultural societies, have not proposed trea­ties with the wolves and bears, that they might not clandestinely invade our sheep and pig folds. This might be done by sending messages to the several ursine and vulpine nations, and calling them to a coun­cil fire, to which four or five hundred wag­gon load of beef should be sent, and distri­buted. [Page 120] If it should be said, that this would restrain them no longer from their prey than while they continued to be satiated, the same might be said of the Potawata­mies, or other Indian nations; and yet we see that those at the head of our affairs think it prudent to negotiate with them.

A bear and wolf treaty might seem an odd thing at first; but we should soon come to be accustomed to it. I should be sorry abuses should prevail, by treaty-making men passing rough water-dogs for bears, or mastiffs for wolves, upon our secretaries at war, or subordinate commissioners; which might be done as in the case of the savages, where it is pretended that some tribe that had not been at the general trea­ty, now sends a chief to represent them and to get goods.

If our traders go amongst the wolves in consequence of a treaty, I could wish they could check themselves in the introduction of spirituous liquors. A drunk wolf, or bear, would be a dangerous animal. It may be thought, that a bear or wolf chief would not get drunk, as it would be set­ting a bad example to their people; but I have seen Indian kings lying on the earth drunk, and exposing their nakedness, like [Page 121] Noah to Shem, Ham, and Japheth; and if Indians that are a sort of human crea­ture, act thus, what might we not expect from a poor brute wolf or bear.

If treaties with the wolves and bears should be found to succeed, it might not be amiss to institute them also with the foxes. This is a sagacious animal, and particu­larly destructive to ducks and other fowls. It would be a great matter to settle a treaty with them, which might be done at the ex­pence of nine of ten thousand dollars laid out in goods.

CHAP. I.

MEANING to remain some time in a certain town to which he came, the Captain had his horse put out to pas­ture, and took private lodgings. The first day at dinner, he was struck with the ap­pearance of a young man who sat at table, but could not be said to dine with them; for except a little water, and a bit of bread, he ate or drank nothing; and though some­times addressed, he made no answer. There was a settled melancholy in his coun­tenance, and he often sighed deeply. He had been in this house six weeks, and had behaved uniformly in the same manner. In the evening he would walk by himself till midnight. Whence he came, or what [Page 123] was his object, no one knew. He had bespoke a back room, and wished to have one where there was but little light; also, that a little water, and a bit of bread might be sent when he should require it. The landlady not chusing to have a person in the house who was unwilling to be seen, declined the circumstance of sending in provisions to his room; but thought it proper he should come to table. He did so; but entered into no conversation, tho' much pains was taken to engage him. He had paid his boarding regularly, and did not seem to be in want of money. This was the account given by the family, when the young man retired from dinner.

The Captain's curiosity was much ex­cited; for being a philanthropic man, he found himself interested in the history of this person. Taking an opportunity that very evening, when the young man was walk­ing in the back porch, he joined him, and with the bluntness of a plain man, insisted to converse with him. Sir, said he, it is from no motive of vain curiosity, that I thus solicit. It is from a disposition to know and alleviate your griefs. For it is evident to me that something hangs hea­vy on your mind. I am a man, as you [Page 124] see, advanced in life, and have had some experience. It is possible it might be in my power to say or do something that might serve you; at least, it is my dispo­sition to soothe your melancholy. If it should be an unfortunate murder, the guilt of which lies upon your mind, you will find no accuser in me; I shall pre­serve a secret obtained in this manner. Pro­bably it might have been a duel, and with such alleviating circumstances, that though the law would take hold of it, humanity will excuse.

The young man finding the charge of murder, or suspicion of it, ready to be fixed upon him, spoke. Said he, I am no murderer, but a murdered man myself. I am in love with a young woman of the most celestial beauty, but of a cruel heart.

The beauty may be more in your brain than in her face, said the Captain; for, as the poet says, ‘There are three, the children of imagination, the madman, the lover, and the poet. The madman sees more devils than vast hell can hold; the lover, all as frantic, sees Helen's beau­ty in a brow of Egypt.’ I am not un­acquainted with the nature of this passion; and have seen a gypsey myself, in my time, [Page 125] that have had dominion over me. Perhaps I may have been carried to as much extra­vagance as other people; and therefore am a proper person to advise against it. A principal source of my extravagance, was an opinion that the jade who had hold of my affections at the time, would pity me when she heard of the pain which her beauty gave me; that she would be afraid I would hang myself for her sake; that she would come to soothe and caress me, in order to prevent it. Far from it. My un­easiness was the proof of her power to wound; and the more distress I felt, the greater credit to her beauty. She would not have lost a sigh which she caused me for any consideration. My lamentations were as agreeable to her, as the groans of the damned are to the devil. And so it must be with every woman; because self love induces it. Hanging is the last thing they would be at. If they could get the lover brought to this, they are then at the height of fame. It falls but to the lot of one here and there to have a man drown himself for her; and when it does happen, it makes such a noise that all covet it.

I would venture to say, that this female whom you fast and pray about so much, [Page 126] would be very unwilling to breathe the soul into you, were it once out. Instead of fasting, she is eating; and while you sigh in the night, she snores.

You have an opinion, perhaps, that you may bend her by your perseverance. That is a mistake. A man that once comes to this state of sighing, and dying, has but little chance; because he has surren­dered himself; and there is nothing more to be won. Were there any possibility of succeeding, it would be by first conquer­ing yourself; dismissing all idea of her par­tiality for you; for it is owing to this se­cret vanity, and self-flattery, that you still pursue. Absolute despair is the first step towards the cure of love. It is either drown­ing or curing, with you at present. As you have not drowned yourself, you are in a fair way to be cured.

I know very well how you missed the matter with this hussy. You appear to be a young man of great sensibility of feeling; and I presume made your addresses with great refinement of thought and manners. You talked to her of flames and darts, and flowers and roses; read poetry in the mean time, and thought a great deal of Phillis, and Amaryllis; and entertained her with [Page 127] names and incidents in romances, and sung and recited soft love songs about Aman­da, and Phebe, and Colin; whereas your way was to have talked careless nonsense, and sung such songs as Pady Kelly, and Tristram Shandy-O; and told her stories of girls that had run off with pedlars, or gone a campaigning with the soldiers. These ideas are light and frolicsome, and co-natural to springing love. Hence it is that men of but loose and irregular educa­tion, succeed better with the fair, than scholars that are learned in the classics.

But to bring the matter to a point, the true way is to get another mistress; and pro­fit by your experience with the first. No more of sighing and dying in the case; but singing, and laughing, and jumping like a young fox. Hint a little with re­spect to certain matters that are between the sexes; but let it be done in so delicate a manner, that, though she understands you, she is not obliged to do it. What I mean, is to make her think you would rather debauch her than marry her. Bring her to this suspicion, and I warrant you. Her whole study will be to entrap you in­to matrimony. For it is natural for the human mind, when it observes a great [Page 128] security and confidence in another, to imagine there must be some ground for it. It will argue a consciousness, on your part, of having as good or better in your power. It will impress her with the same idea; and imagination governs the world.

When the mind is bent upon any ob­ject, it is relieved by the conversation of those who understand it, and, as it were, dissolve with them in the same ideas. The young man was pleased with the con­versation of the Captain, and seemed cheared; agreed to join the family, and be a little sociable. By degrees he became so; and what by the conversation of the Captain, sometimes explaining and some­times ridiculing the passion of love; and the young ladies of the family, in the mean time, rallying him on his weakness, he came a little to his senses, (for love is a phrenzy), and began to behave like a common man. For it having come out now, that love was the cause of his dis­tress and singularity of conduct, some pitied him, and others rallied it with good humour and philanthropy. It had, how­ever, become the general topic in the fa­mily, and was carried down to the kitch­en among the servants.

[Page 129]Teague hearing of it took it into his head that he must be in love too; and counterfeiting a demure look, and ab­sence of mind, and walking by himself, and living on spare diet, as he had heard the young man that was in love did, he wished to have it understood that his mind was under the dominion of the same passion. This being observed, was repre­sented to the Captain; who being at a [...] to know what was the matter, called Teague, and began to interrogate him. The bog-trotter, with some seeming re­luctance, acknowledged that it was love. Said the Captain, You in love, you great bear; with whom are you in love? That dear cratur, said the Irishman, that has the black hair, and the fair face, and her name is Mrs. Sally, in the house there. She is a fair as the wool or the snow, and gives me the cholic, and the heart-burn, every time I look at her fair eyes; God save her soul from damnation, but I love her as I do the very food that I ate, or the cloathes that I ware upon my back.

It appeared to be Miss Sally, a very pretty girl, the eldest daughter of the land­lady; who, by the bye, I mean the ladla­dy▪ was a widow, and had two daughters [Page 130] and a niece with her; the handsomest of whom was this Miss Sally, with whom Teague had become enamoured. For sim­ple and ignorant nature will fasten on beauty, as well as the most instructed in the principles of taste.

The Captain having been a good deal troubled, heretofore, with the pretensions of this valet, in wishing to be a member of the legislature, a philosopher, a preach­er, and now a lover, thought he had now a good opportunity of repressing his pre­sumption for the future. There was a young man, a brother in the family, who had been some time in the service, as a lieutenant, and had leave of absence at this time on a visit to his mother and sisters. The Captain well knew, that be­ing in the pride and heat of youth, he would consider Teague's advances to his sister as an insult on the family, and chas­tise him accordingly. With this view, counterfeiting every possible disposition to serve the bog-trotter, the Captain recom­mended to him to make a confident of the brother, and endeavour to gain his in­terest with the sister.

Accordingly, one morning when the officer was in his chamber, Teague made [Page 131] his approach; and composing his woe be­gone countenance as well as he could, and explaining the cause of it, solicited his in­terest with the lady.

There was a whip in a corner of the room, with which the lieutenant had been riding; seizing this hastily, he made an attack upon the person of the lover, in a manner far beyond what was decent or moderate. The valet retreating with con­siderable outcries, made complaint to the Captain; who gave him to understand, that as this outrage was committed by his intended brother-in-law, it must be con­sidered in the nature of a family quarrel, and he could not interfere.

The advances of Teague became the subject of conversation in the family, and of much mirth and laughter. The young man who had been in the state of melan­choly before described, and had been cheered a little, was now in a great de­gree cured by the imitation of the valet. For ridicule is a better cure for love than passion. It is better to make the patient laugh than think.

Having now a disposition to pursue his travels, the Captain sent for his horse, and set out.

CHAP. III. Containing Observations.

THE observations which we make when the narration of the fact is ended, are something like the sentiments delivered by the chorus in the ancient plays; a kind of moral on what was said; or like the moral as it is called to a fable. In this view there­fore; we shall endeavour to say something.

The young man that we have seen so deeply in love, was of a handsome person­al appearance, and of an eye and physiog­nomy that indicated sensibility and under­standing; and yet it is probable the female of whom he was so much enamoured, may have been both homely, and destitute of good mental qualities. Whence could a repulse in this case happen. From a thou­sand causes. We will specify some of them. The very circumstance of his being beyond her first hopes, may have put him beyond her last wishes. A female wooed by a man her superior, may be led to think [Page 133] she has still a chance for better; and that there must be diamonds in her hair, or some hidden advantages on her part, of which she was herself ignorant▪ otherwise such advances would not be made to her; or she may apprehend some defect on the part of the lover, of which he is conscious; otherwise, he would not stoop beneath his natural expectations.

It is possible the Amanda may not have been of the same class and quality with himself. This would of itself account for the repulse. Should the eagle come from the firmament, and make his advances to the pheasant, he would find himself unsuc­cessful; for the brown bird would prefer a lover of her own species: or, should the rein deer, which is a most beautiful creature, woo a frog, the croaking ani­mal would recede into the marsh, and so­lace itself with a paramour of its own chusing. When, therefore, unexperien­ced young persons place their affections on an object, and do not find a suitable return, they ought to save their pride, and make the inference, that they had descend­ed from their element, and fastened on an animal unworthy of their notice.

These observations, in addition to those [Page 134] made by the Captain to the young man, may be of use to unfortunate lovers; and if so, it will be a recompence for the trou­ble we have given ourselves in making them.

CHAP. I.

IT was about an hour before sunset, that the Captain fell in company with one who had the Cincinnati eagle at his breast, and riding on together, put up at the inn.

The landlady and the servants, having never seen the badge before, were a good deal struck with the effigy of the eagle, and the ribband at which it was pendant. In­terrogating Teague, who had come in company, and whom they took to be a common servant to both, or at least ac­quainted with the affairs of either, what was the meaning of that bird, or what bird it was, that the gentleman had at his breast? Teague knew as little about it as they did; but unwilling to be thought ignorant, took [Page 136] upon him to inform them. It is, said he, a goose; and the maining is, that the shentleman would ate a goose, if your a­nours would get one roasted this avening, for his anour to ate with the Captain, who is my master; for we have ate nothing all day long, and a roasted goose with a shoul­der of mutton, a pace of poark, and bafe and cabbage, and the like, would be a very good slake for a fasting stomach. So, God save your soul, dear honey, and make haste, and get a goose knocked down and put to the fire, to keep their anours from starving, and to go to bed in a good hu­mour, when they have drank a cup of ale or a mug of cyder after the goose; and, bless your soul, dear honey, let it be a good large fat goose, that there may be a rib or a wing left, that a poor servant may have something to ate, at the same time. The shentleman was very right to hold out a token, like the sign of a tavern-keeper, with a goose, or a pigeon, or a turkey, that paple may know what he wants, and not be after the trouble of asking whether he would chuse roast bafe and parates, or pork and parsnips, may it plase your a­nour.

The landlady was a good deal distressed, [Page 137] having no goose about the house. But sending out to her neighbours, she made shift to collect a couple of ducks, which Teague acknowledged would be a very good substitute. Supper being ordered, these were served up, with an apology from the landlady, that she had not been able to procure a goose; which she hoped the gentleman with the ribbon would ex­cuse, as she was informed that a roasted goose was so much to his taste. A roasted goose to my taste! said the officer; what reason have you to think that a roasted goose is so much my choice? Surely ma­dam you cannot mean wit, or to insinuate that I myself am a goose? for one animal preys not upon another; the maxim is, dog will not eat dog. I cannot therefore be a goose if I eat one.

Here the landlady explained her mean­ing, giving the information she had receiv­ed from the servant. The Captain was greatly irritated, and would have called him in and chastised him instantly, had not the officer interfered; declaring that though it was an eagle, not a goose that he wore at his breast, yet he was not dissatisfied at the mistake, in as much as it had brought [Page 138] a couple of good ducks to the table, a fowl of which he was particularly fond.

This incident, in itself laughable, led the officer to relate the trouble he had had with a clergyman who had made a worse mistake than this, taking the eagle for a graven image, contrary to the injunction of the decalogue, which prohibits the mak­ing any such representation for the pur­pose of worship, as he alledged this to be. In answer to the clergyman, he had alledg­ed the improbability that he who had been in the service so many years, at a distance from church, or church worship, except when a deistical chaplain came the way, should think so much of religion, as to have any worship at all; much less to have become superstitious, and to wear an i­mage at his bosom. The truth was, that he worshipped any god, true or false, very little; at least, said few or no prayers, on such occasions; and was very far from be­ing an idolater, and paying adoration to a gold or silver image; that this was no­thing more than a hieroglyphic, being the effigies of a bald eagle, which is a native of America, and designates the cause for which her soldiery had fought; in the same manner as the eagle was the standard [Page 139] of the Roman legion; or the lion and the unicorn are the arms of England, or the thistle that of Scotland; that the emblem of the American bald eagle had, on these principles, been chosen by the Cincinnati for their badge; of which society he was a member, and wore this device, not ve­nerating it as the image of any bird or beast whatsoever.

The clergyman admitted, that, in strict­ness, this symbol might not be a graven image, as the term would intend engrav­ing on wood or metal, with the point of an instrument; and under this mental re­servation, the wearer might save himself in saying that it was not a graven image: but it was at least a molten one, which comes within the meaning of the prohibi­tion; being the representation of a fowl, and doubtless for the purpose of idolatry. For what else could be the use or meaning of it. It was not a common broach, used as a ligament to the shirt or coat; and it was unworthy of a man to suppose it could be worn merely for ornament; boys and petit maitres delighting in these things, but no one else. It could not be any sort of time-piece, worn for the purpose of as­certaining distance. In fact, it was the [Page 140] portrait of a bird, the signal of some hea­then deity; as the cock was sacred to Es­calapius, the owl to Minerva, the peacock to Juno, and the dove to Venus. The ea­gle was sacred to Jupiter; and it was most probable, that it was in honour of this false god, that the image was worn.

It answered no end to reason with the ecclesiastic; for he grew but the more en­raged, and insisted that it was an idol; shewing from some texts of scripture, that in the last times idolaters were to spring up; and that this society, which the Cin­cinnati instituted, might be the Gog and Magog spoken of in the Apocalypse.

Said the Captain, It was natural enough for the clergyman to make this deduction; as in maintaining the cause of truth against Pagans, he is led to dwell much on the subject of idolatry. But for my part, the principal objection that lies with me a­gainst your institution, is that which lies against all partial institutions whatsoever; they cut men from the common mass, and alienate their affections from the whole, concentring their attachments to a parti­cular point and interest. A circumstance of this kind is unfavourable to general philanthropy, giving a temporary and ar­tificial [Page 141] credit to those who are of the bo­dy, amongst themselves; so that while some lend character, others borrow; and the individuals do not stand on the natural ba­sis of their own merit. On this principle, I do not much approve of clubs and soci­eties, unless in the case of some humane or charitable institution; or for the pur­pose of carrying on some beneficial work or improvement. I do not know that in your conveening annually together, you have any object in view of this nature. I have not heard of any bridges you have built, or any canals dug, or locks made for the purpose of facilitating navigation. I do not see of what use your institution is; unless it be, that your pronouncing an ora­tion now and then, may be favourable to e­loquence. But of this I much doubt, as such abstract discourses usually degenerate into common place. The great object of an orator is, to persuade the judgment, or affect the passions. In this case, the judg­ment is already persuaded, the affections already gained. Having therefore, no ob­ject, what exertion can the mind make? Be the cause what it may, certain it is that such compositions are seldom or ever found to be models of eloquence; more especi­ally [Page 142] where the subject is of an extensive nature, as the revolution of America, and the struggles of its heroes. For here so wide a canvass is spread, that it is difficult to fill it up; and to take a particular part would seem to be a dereliction of the rest; for which dereliction no special reason could be given. You could not embrace all the characters who have figured or have fallen, or catch at particular [...] of the illustrious. Confining yourself, therefore, to general observations▪ you make no particular impression, and your orations become frigid to the hearers.

I have felt the truth of all this, said the Cincinnati gentleman, and the difficulty of composing an oration to satisfy my own wishes. For being appointed by the so­ciety to pronounce one at our next meet­ing, to which I am now on my way, I have been trying my hand at it, and find it as you say, very difficult; but have at­tributed this, not to the nature of the composition; but to the inferiority of my powers. Not so, said the Captain; for in the hands of the greatest masters, this kind of composition labours. We do not find that even the oration of Isocrates, on the Lacedemonian war, which he was ten [Page 143] years in composing, has obtained such ce­lebrity among the ancients, as such great labour would bespeak. I have read the panegyric of Trajan, by Pliny; and find it but a cold composition. Plato's oration in honour of those who had fallen in the battles of Marathon and Platea, is the best of this kind that antiquity can produce, and doubtless has great excellence of sim­plicity of painting. The touches are deli­cate and fine, and I do not know but we may place it among the most beautiful produc­tions. It amuses with magic wildness of fancy, at the same time, restrained and guided by an exquisite judgment. But it is rather a poem than an harangue. For though the composition is in prose, yet it breathes the soul of a bard, and is inchant­ing by the flow of the words, and the ele­vation of the images. In modern times, the best thing we have of this nature, is the panegyric of Cromwell, supposed to be written by the great Milton, but not deli­vered. The ingenuity discovered in the mode of praising him, deserves every pos­sible commendation. But the greater part of addresses that I have seen to great men now-a-days, or orations on public occa­sions, [Page 144] are turgid, or jejune, or little worth our notice.

After this, said the Cincinnati gentle­man, I shall hesitate to show you the essay I have made towards a composition of this nature, as you appear to be so good a judge in this respect, and to know the deficiencies that may appear in any effort of this kind.

Nay, rather, said the Captain, you ought to be the more confident in so doing; for knowing the difficulty of the work, I shall be the more ready to excuse what comes short of perfection.

I shall then take the liberty, said the Cincinnati gentleman, to read you a few paragraphs. I shall be happy to hear it, said the Captain. The Cincinnati gen­tleman read as follows:

Compatriots—I wish to say those things that never have been said, and that never will be said again. Because, in this case, there will be the characteristics of novelty and singularity; the two great constituents of pleasure in all intellectual entertainments. But what can I say new? Has not the whole world resounded with the justness of the cause in which we have been engaged; with the greatness of the attempt to withstand the power of Britain? [Page 145] And have not we, ourselves, felt, seen, and known the great variety and change of good or bad fortune? What will it con­tribute to our immediate enjoyment to go over such scenes, unless the particular a­chievements of each officer can be enume­rated, which decency forbids, and which indeed, cannot be done in the limits of one harangue. Leaving, therefore, our­selves, and these scenes, wholly out of the question, let us speak a little of those whom we left behind. But why need we speak; for all time will speak of them. The bards that shall live, will draw hence their choicest allusions. Consider them, indeed, as more happy than you, because they ascended from among the group of their companions, who were at that time instant witnesses of their achievments. The warriors who fall in battle, are the most glorious subjects of panegyric. Hector and Achilles, form the most splendid part of the song of Homer, and in a great degree, be­cause their bodies were interred in the pre­sence of the two armies. Oh what a noble object! an army mourning a brave officer, and tears drawn even from the foe, struck with the sublime of his personal prowess, and excellent knowledge of the military art. [Page 146] Much unlike, and far above those who lan­guish with sickness on a bed in calm life, where relations standing round, wish the departure of the shade, and gape for the possession which he leaves behind. But the fame of a soldier none but himself can enjoy, there can be no heir or devisee of his property. It is his own, and it mounts with him. His blood only remains to bless the earth, from which flowers and roses spring, and clothe the woods and groves with enchantment and delight. For here the song of poesy is awakened, and at morn, and noon, and at still eve, they are heard who rehearse where the brave fell, and where they sleep. Sublime spirits! whether you inhabit the Pagan elysium or the Christian heaven, you are happy; and listen to those immortal lyres which are strung to the deeds of heroes.

So much for the exordium of the ora­tion; it was all he had yet written. The evening passed away in hilarity; and the conversation turned again on the Cincinnati order; but particularly what may be cal­led the arms of the institution, viz. Bri­tannia represented as a fine woman, with her bosom bare, affrighted; and Cincin­natus, an accoutred knight, attacking her [Page 147] thus unarmed, as St. George did the dra­gon; the eagle, the bird of Jove, in the mean time grasping the lightning in his claws, an image that would seem unnatu­ral: Whereas the eagle might be repre­sented in the clouds near Jove, where the lightning might be left to work its forked course, without the handing of the eagle; and in the other figure, Cincinnatus might raise his lance against the lion that supports the crown, not against the goddess of the island.

From these strictures which the Captain, without pretending to be a connoisseur, made, the transition was easy to a cri­ticism on the motto of the badge; viz. Omnia reliquit, servare, rempublicam. The infinitive is here used instead of the ge­rund, with the preposition, ad servandam; as if it was intended to express his motion, or change of place, and not the object. But in fact, the motto does not at all ex­press that in which the merit of Cincinna­tus did consist. It was not in his leaving every thing to accept the commission of the Roman senate; but in resigning his commission, and, the work done, going to his plough again. His praise would have been expressed better by the phrase of, [Page 148] Victor ad aratrum redit. In fact, it can­not apply well to our army; most of our officers not having much to leave when they accepted their commissions; but dis­covered a Cincinnati-like disposition, in re­turning after war to the employments of civil life. It is true, there would have been less tinsel, and more bullion, in the patriotism of retiring without a badge, as Cincinnatus did: But it is a thing that can do little harm, and it is pleasing to indulge a whim.

It may doubtless be said, that there were officers that left the plough, and fought, and returned to it, as well as those who are within the limitations of the institu­tion, and entitled to a badge; that, troops who had served a short enlistment, and militia persons, at least those who fought a little, were not wholly destitute of some claim to the badge of merit. Even those who lost property might be said to suffer, and advance pretensions to the reward of honour. Not that all of them should claim gold medals, or even silver; but some brass, some copper, pewter, a bit of tin, or pot metal, just as the specific value of their services might entitle them. Per­haps while some wore it at the breast, o­thers [Page 149] might be enjoined to wear it at the breeches pocket, and thus, as well by the point from which appendant, as by the bob itself, designate the proportion of their honour.

After this, some things were said on the subject of introducing honourary mem­bers; against which the Captain declared himself: That every thing ought to be preserved sui generis; as nature makes no honourary animals; but all are of the spe­cies, or take not the name: a bear is a real bear, a sheep is a sheep; and there is no commixture of name, where there is a difference of nature. But it did not ap­pear to be of any great consequence, one way or the other. For the order would never come to any great head, as there was no opposition given. For this is ne­cessary to keep alive attachment to what is arbitrary, and founded, not in utility, but caprice. For as the fire dies without air, so whim without contradiction.

The officer was a man of liberality and good sense, and acknowledged the truth of this. But the evening being now far spent, candles were called for, and they went to bed.