was first battered down. It was truly a war of ex termination, as the vanquished were always cut off to a man. Both my grandfather and grandmother, as well as my aunts, were pleased with my exhibiti ons; and it became a matter of doubt in the family, whether my genius most inclined me to the profession of a limner or a general. Music too, was an art for which I had discovered a propensity, and had already the enthusiasm of an amateur. From the drums and fifes of Otway's regiment, which every morning passed our door, I had, among other tunes, learnt the grenadier's. march; and I remember one day being on a visit to my father, who then resided in the country at a place of doctor Denormandie's, as I was whistling it with great devotion, and marching to it in proper time, he was delighted with the truth of my ear and the correctness of my performance: For he was much of a musical man, and played upon the violin, though, as I have been informed by one of his old friends, with more of science than execution. Another circumstance of some affinity to the topic, I cannot withhold, since it is an evidence of my coincidence in taste with the celebrated Mr. Addi-son. I have somewhere seen it mentioned, that he was a warm admirer of the ballad of Sally of the alLey. I once, when very young, heard my mother sing it over a cradle, and was so enraptured with its simple pathos, that I was continually importuning her to repeat it. Whether it was the composition or the melody which had charmed me, I know not, butto my infant heart it appeared inimitably tender and affecting. The only verse I recollect of it is the following: Of all the days within the week, And that's the day that comes between Though an old ballad, it is possible that it may be yet so well known as to render this recital unnecessary, if not to give it an appearance of triteness. At any rate, I should hardly have ventured to notice it had it not been dignified by the approbation of a respectable name. X It was sometime before my entering into the Latin school, that I had the misfortune to lose my father. This was in March, 1761. He had just finished a country house on a favorite spot, sufficiently elevated to overlook the adjacent district for some miles round, and to command a view of the town of Bristol, distant not quite a mile, as well as that of Burlington, together with an extensive intervening tract of meadow ground, stretching to the shore of the Delaware, whose bright expanse was also subjected to the eye. He had long been improving the scite before he began to build; had planted it with the best fruits in every kind, and given to it the style of embellishment, both with respect to the disposition of the grounds and the trees, which was at that time in fashion. But this residence, at once so cherished and delightful, he was permitted to enjoy not quite a year. The blow was desolating to my mother, "whose heart was apt to feel ;" and who, in addition to the calamity of being bereaved of one with whom her union had been happiness uninterrupted, found herself at about the age of two and thirty, solely involved in the cares of a young family of four children, of whom I, about to complete my ninth year, was the eldest. To me, who was at home when the event took place, it was rather a shock than a matter of poignant grief. It was the first death that had been brought home to me; and the deep distress of the family, together with the dismal apparatus of coffins and hearses, could not fail to overwhelm me in the general gloom. The next day I was sent to Philadelphia, whither the remains of my father, attended by his faithful and dejected friend Joseph Church, were conveyed for interment. As funeral honors upon these occasions, are the only solace of the afflicted, they were here bestowed with an unspairing hand. Much pomp was shewn, and much expense incurred, both of which would have been saved had the will of the deceased, which enjoined a plain and œconomical burial, been previously opened. The pall, sustained by six of his old city friends, I followed as chief mourner, and saw the body deposited in the grave yard of Market street meeting-house, in or near the tomb wherein his first wife had been laid. My father, as already mentioned, came to this country a married man, and was about twenty years older than my mother. Though he died possessed of a large and valuable landed property in the neighborhood of Bristol, consisting of an equal part of one thousand acres, purchased in conjunction with Mr. M'Ilvaine in the year 1752 of William Whitaker of London, it was encumbered; and the provision, made necessary by a settlement on his first marriage, for two children, who were the issue of it, rendered the residue inadequate to the support of his widow and her children. Hence, a removal of the family to Philadelphia became expedient, and was resolved on as soon as the requisite arrangements could be made; and it accordingly took place in the course of the year. I have said that I was about to enter the Latin school. The person whose pupil I was consequent ly to become, was Mr. John Beveridge, a native of Scotland, who retained the smack of his vernacula tongue in its primitive purity. His acquaintance with the language he taught, was I believe, justly deemed to be very accurate and profound. But as to his other acquirements, after excepting the game of backgammon, in which he was said to excel truth will not warrant me in saying a great deal. He was, however, diligent and laborious in his attention to his school; and had he possessed the faculty of making himself beloved by the scholars, and of exciting their emulation and exertion, noth ing would have been wanting in him to an entire qualification for his office. But unfortunately, he had no dignity of character, and was no less destitute of the art of making himself respected than beloved. Though not perhaps to be complained of as intolerably severe, he yet made a pretty free use of the ratan and the ferule, but to very little purpose. He was in short no disciplinarian, and consequently, very unequal to the management of seventy or eighty boys, many of whom were superlatively pickle and unruly. He was assisted, indeed, by two ushers, who eased him in the burden of teaching, but who, in matters of discipline, seemed disinclined to interfere, and disposed to consider themselves rather as subjects than rulers. I have seen them slyly slip out of the way when the principal was entering upon the job of capitally punishing a boy, who from his size, would be likely to make resistance. For this had become nearly a matter of course; and poor Beveridge, who was diminutive in his stature and neither young nor vigorous, after exhausting himself in the vain attempt to denude the delinquent, was generally glad to compound fort few strokes over his clothes, on any part that was accessible. He - had, indeed, so frequently been foiled, that his birch at length was rarely brought forth, and might truly be said to have lost its terrors-it was tanquam gla dium in vagina repositum. He indemnified himself however, by a redoubled use of his ratan. So entire was the want of respect towards him, and so liable was he to be imposed upon, that one of the larger boys, for a wager, once pulled off his wig, which he effected by suddenly twitching it from his head under pretence of brushing from it a spider; and the unequivocal insult was only resented by the peevish exclamation of hoot mon ! Various were the rogueries that were played upon him; but the most audacious of all was the following. At the hour of convening in the afternoon, that being found the most convenient, from the circumstance of Mr. Beveridge being usually a little beyond the time; the bell having rung, the ushers being at their posts, and the scholars arranged in their classes, three or four of the conspirators conceal themselves without, for the purpose of observing the motions of their victim. He arrives, enters the school, and is permitted to proceed until he is supposed to have nearly reached his chair at the upper end of the room, when instantly the door and every window-shutter is closed. Now, shrouded in utter darkness, the most hideous yells that can be conceived, are sent forth from at least three score of throats; and Ovids, and Virgils, and Horaces, together with the more heavy metal of dictionaries, whether of Cole, of Young, or of Ainsworth, are hurled without remorse at the head of the astonished preceptor, who, on his side, groping and crawling under cover of the forms, makes the best of his way to the door. When attained, and light restored, a death-like silence ensues. Every boy is at his les son: no one has had a hand or a voice in the recent atrocity: what then is to be done, and who shall be chastised. Savit atrox Volscens, nec teli conspicit usquam |