"You do not inquire, then," said I, "after your dear friend, Madame Helvetius; yet she loves you exceedingly; I was in her company not more than an hour ago." "Ah," said he, "you make me recur to my past happiness, which ought to be forgotten in order to be happy here. For many years I could think of nothing but her, though at length I am consoled. I have taken another wife, the most like her that I could find; she is not indeed altogether so handsome, but she has a great fund of wit and good sense; and her whole study is to please me. She is at this moment gone to fetch the best nectar and ambrosia to regale me; stay here awhile and you will see her." "I perceive," said I, “that your former friend is more faithful to you than you are to her; she has had several good offers, but has refused them all. I will confess to you that I loved her extremely; but she was cruel to me, and rejected me peremptorily for your sake." "I pity you sincerely," said he, "for she is an excellent woman, handsome and amiable. But do not the Abbé de la R and the Abbé M- visit her?" Certainly they do; not one of your friends has dropped her acquaintance." "If you had gained the Abbé M- with a bribe of good coffee and cream, perhaps you would have succeeded; for he is as deep a reasoner as Duns Scotus or St. Thomas; he arranges and methodizes his arguments in such a manner that they are almost irresistible. Or, if by a fine edition of some old classic, you had gained the Abbé de la R to speak against you, that would have been still better; as I always observed, that when he recommended anything to her, she had a great inclination to do directly the contrary." As he finished these words the new Madame Helvetius entered with the nectar, and I recognized her immediately as my former American friend, Mrs. Franklin! I reclaimed her, but she answered me coldly; "I was a good wife to you for forty-nine years and four months, nearly half a century; let that content you. I have formed a new connection here, which will last to eternity."

Indignant at this refusal of my Eurydice, I immediately resolved to quit those ungrateful shades, and return to this good world again, to behold the sun and you! Here I am; let us avenge ourselves!

JOHN TRUMBULL.

JOHN TRUMBULL (1750-1831), born at Waterbury, Conn., was one of the three Whig satirists of the American Revolution. The first two cantos of his burlesque epic poem, "McFingal," appeared in January, 1776, and served as one of the inspiring forces of that struggle of national birth. Professor Moses Coit Tyler styles this epic "one of the world's masterpieces in political badinage," and remarks of it: "The verse of 'McFingal' is obviously the verse which since Butler's time has been called Hudibrastic; that is, the rhymed iambic tetrameters of the earlier English poets, depraved to the droll uses of burlesque by the Butlerian peculiarities, to wit: the clipping of words, the suppression of syllables, colloquial jargon, a certain rapid, ridiculous, jig-like movement and the jingle of unexpected, fantastic, and often imperfect rhymes. Furthermore, in many places Trumbull has so perfectly caught the manner of Butler that he easily passes for him in quotation. . . . Beyond these aspects of resemblance, it is doubtful whether the relation of 'McFingal' to 'Hudibras' be not rather one of contrast than of imitation. The hero of the one poem is a pedantic Puritan radical of the time of Oliver Cromwell; the hero of the other is a garrulous and preposterous High-Church Scottish-American Conservative of the time of George the Third." Professor Tyler sees a much closer intellectual kinship existing between Trumbull and Charles Churchill, his English contemporary, than between Trumbull and Butler.

Trumbull was an infant prodigy, and had passed his Greek and Latin examinations for Yale College at the age of seven. He early displayed a gift for ridicule and satire, and in

"The Owl and the Sparrow" (1772), a fable after Butler, he first used that Hudibrastic verse which afterwards became his favorite weapon. Professor Tyler pronounces his "Ode to Sleep" (1773), to have been "a nearer approach to genuine poetry than had then been achieved by any American, excepting Freneau.

In August, 1775, Trumbull penned a burlesque on General Gage's proclamation. Much of this sarcasm concerning the rhetorical general survives in "McFingal." The first canto of the mock epic describes a typical New England townmeeting, held by excited citizens just after the massacres of Lexington and Concord. Honorius (in whom Trumbull portrayed John Adams, in whose office he was studying law) makes an impassioned patriotic speech, whereupon Squire McFingal interrupts him with a bigoted Tory harangue, in which he shows that the Tories are after titles and other rewards of self-interest in their allegiance to Parliament and the King. Honorius, however, denounces Gage as "the bailiff and the hangman," the Tories finally try to down him by hoots and catcalls, and the mob outside at last break in to the utter rout of the town-meeting.

It was not until 1782, after the surrender of Cornwallis, that Trumbull finished this epic by its extension to four cantos -about fifteen hundred lines in all. In the added cantos, McFingal, the bold Tory squire, is tarred and feathered and glued to a liberty-pole, after being baited by the mob. He escapes to his cellar, where he and his fellow-tories hold a clandestine council of war. The crestfallen McFingal, in one of his characteristic fits of prophecy, predicts the woe that is to come to the Tories, and he has hardly finished when a battalion of Whigs is heard approaching. The desperate Tories hide in every ridiculous place, but McFingal makes good his escape through the cellar-window to Boston and his beloved Gage. The wit and vigor of this latter portion excels that of the original canto of the town-meeting. As an instance of Trumbull's Hudibrastic vein may be quoted the following couplet often improperly accredited:

"No man e'er felt the halter draw,

With good opinion of the law."

Trumbull distinguished himself as a lawyer, and rose to the distinction of judgeship. "McFingal" is a monument to his varied learning as well as to his wit.

THE TOWN-MEETING, P. M.

(From "M'Fingal," Canto II.)

THE Sun, who never stops to dine,
Two hours had pass'd the midway line,
And driving at his usual rate,
Lash'd on his downward car of state.
And now expired the short vacation,
And dinner done in epic fashion;
While all the crew beneath the trees
Eat pocket-pies, or bread and cheese;
Nor shall we, like old Homer, care
To versify their bill of fare.

For now each party, feasted well,
Throng'd in, like sheep, at sound of bell,
With equal spirit took their places;
And meeting oped with three Oh-yesses;
When first the daring Whigs t' oppose,
Again the great M'Fingal rose,
Stretch'd magisterial arm amain,
And thus assum'd th' accusing strain :-

"Ye Whigs, attend, and hear affrighted
The crimes whereof ye stand indicted,
The sins and follies past all compass,
That prove you guilty or non compos.
I leave the verdict to your senses,

And jury of your consciences;

Which, tho' they're neither good nor true,
Must yet convict you and your crew.
Ungrateful sons! a factious band,
That rise against your parent-land!

Ye viper'd race, that burst in strife.

The welcome womb that gave your life,
Tear with sharp fangs and forked tongue
Th' indulgent bowels, whence you sprung;

And scorn the debt of obligation

You justly owe the British nation,

Which since you cannot pay, your crew
Affect to swear 'twas never due.

Did not the deeds of England's Primate
First drive your fathers to this climate,
Whom jails and fines and ev'ry ill
Forc'd to their good against their will?
Ye owe to their obliging temper
The peopling your new-fangled empire,
While ev'ry British rule and canon
Stood forth your causa sine qua non.
Did they not send you charters o'er,
And give you lands you own'd before,
Permit you all to spill your blood,
And drive out heathen where you could,
On these mild terms, that, conquest won,
The realm you gain'd should be their own.
Or when of late attack'd by those,
Whom her connection made your foes,
Did they not then, distrest in war,
Send Gen'rals to your help from far,

Whose aid you own'd in terms less haughty
And thankfully o'erpaid your quota?
Say, at what period did they grudge

To send you Governor or Judge,
With all their missionary crew,
To teach you law and gospel too?
Brought o'er all felons in the nation,
To help you on in population;
Propos'd their Bishops to surrender,
And made their Priests a legal tender,
Who only ask'd, in surplice clad,
The simple tythe of all you had :
And now to keep all knaves in awe,
Have sent their troops t' establish law,
And with gunpowder, fire and ball,
Reform your people, one and all.

Yet when their insolence and pride
Have anger'd all the world beside,
When fear and want at once invade,
Can you refuse to lend them aid;
And rather risque your heads in fight,