Than gratefully throw in your mite?
Can they for debts make satisfaction,
Should they dispose their realm by auction,
And sell off Britain's goods and land all
To France and Spain by inch of candle?
Shall good King George, with want opprest,
Insert his name in bankrupt list,

And shut up shop, like failing merchant,
That fears the bailiffs should make search in't;
With poverty shall princes strive,

And nobles lack whereon to live?

Have they not rack'd their whole inventions,
To feed their brats on posts and pensions,
Made ev'n Scotch friends with taxes groan,
And pick'd poor Ireland to the bone;
Yet have on hand as well deserving,
Ten thousand bastards left for starving?
And can you now with conscience clear,
Refuse them an asylum here,

Or not maintain in manner fitting
These genuine sons of mother Britain?
T' evade these crimes of blackest grain,
You prate of liberty in vain,

And strive to hide your vile designs
With terms abstruse, like school-divines.

"Your boasted patriotism is scarce,
And country's love is but a farce;
And after all the proofs you bring,
We Tories know there's no such thing.
Our English writers of great fame
Prove public virtue but a name.
Hath not Dalrymple show'd in print,
And Johnson too, there's nothing in't?
Produc'd you demonstration ample
From others' and their own example,
That self is still, in either faction,
The only principle of action;
The loadstone, whose attracting tether
Keeps the politic world together:
And spite of all your double-dealing,
We Tories know 'tis so, by feeling.

"Who heeds your babbling of transmitting
Freedom to brats of your begetting,

Or will proceed as though there were a tie
Or obligation to posterity?

We get 'em, bear 'em, breed and nurse;
What has poster'ty done for us,

That we, lest they their rights should lose,
Should trust our necks to gripe of noose?"

MCFINGAL'S VISION OF AMERICA'S FUTURE.

IN the third canto McFingal was tarred and feathered, but in the fourth, which was written after the Revolutionary War, he is represented as recovering from his disgraceful plight and relating to his friends the wonderful vision he has seen of the various events of that strife and the future greatness of America.

And see, (sight hateful and tormenting!)
This rebel Empire, proud and vaunting,
From anarchy shall change her crasis,*
And fix her power on firmer basis;
To glory, wealth and fame ascend,
Her commerce wake, her realms extend;
Where now the panther guards his den,
Her desert forests swarm with men;
Gay cities, towers and columns rise,
And dazzling temples meet the skies:
Her pines, descending to the main,
In triumph spread the watery plain,
Ride inland seas with fav'ring gales,
And crowd her port with whitening sails:
Till to the skirts of western day,

The peopied regions own her sway.

* Old medical term for "constitutional temperament."

AMONG the illustrious sons of Phila

delphia Francis Hopkinson (1737-1791) is

prominent as a judge, a member of the Continental Congress, and a signer of the Declaration of Independence. He was also notable as one of the Revolutionary satirists, being the author of "The Battle of the Kegs," "The New Roof," and "A Pretty Story." He was the first graduate of the college which has now become the University of Pennsylvania. He was also an amateur painter and musician, and experimented in physics. He indited little poems on love and fox-hunting, and was pronounced by John Adams a "pretty little, curious ingenious man," with a head "not bigger than a large apple."

Francis Hopkinson's "Battle of the Kegs" was a mockery of the alarm of the British troops in Philadelphia in 1778 caused by some kegs which the patriots had sent floating down the Delaware to insure the shipping at the wharves. "The New Roof" was an argument in favor of the adoption of the Federal Constitution. Professor Tyler praises most highly his "Pretty Story," published under the disguise of "Peter Grievous, Esq." (1774). It is a playful allegory on the events that led up to the first Continental Congress. It discusses the spirit and method of the masters of the Old Farm (England) in their dealing with the settlers of the New Farm (America). The critic renders this verdict on the satirists of the Revolution: "The political satire of Freneau and of Trumbull is, in general, grim, bitter, vehement, unrelenting. Hopkinson's satire is as keen as theirs, but its characteristic note is one of playfulness. He accomplished his effects without bitterness or violence."

THE BATTLE OF THE KEGS.

THIS ballad relates to an incident of the British occupation of Philadelphia in 1778. Certain machines, in the form of kegs, charged with gunpowder, were sent down the Delaware River to annoy the British shipping. The danger of these machines being discovered, the British manned the wharves, and discharged their small arms and cannons at everything they saw floating in the river.

Gallants, attend and hear a friend,

Trill forth harmonious ditty;

Strange things I'll tell, which late befel
In Philadelphia city.

"Twas early day, as poets say,
Just when the sun was rising,
A soldier stood on a log of wood
And saw a thing surprising.

As in amaze he stood to gaze,

The truth can't be denied, sir,
He spied a score of kegs or more
Come floating down the tide, sir.

A sailor too in jerkin blue,

This strange appearance viewing,
First damned his eyes, in great surprise,
Then said, "Some mischief's brewing.

"These kegs, I'm told, the rebels hold,
Packed up like pickled herring;
And they're come down t' attack the town,
In this new way of ferrying."

The soldier flew, the sailor too,

And scared almost to death, sir,

Wore out their shoes, to spread the news,
And ran till out of breath, sir.

Now up and down throughout the town,
Most frantic scenes were acted;

And some ran here, and others there,
Like men almost distracted.

66

Some fire cry'd, which some denied,
But said the earth had quaked;
And girls and boys, with hideous noise,
Ran thro' the streets half naked.

Sir William he, snug as a flea,

Lay all this time a snoring,

Nor dreamed of harm, as he lay warm In bed with Mrs. Loring.

Now in a fright, he starts upright,
Awaked by such a clatter;

He rubs both eyes, and boldly cries,
For God's sake, what's the matter?

At his bedside he then espied,
Sir Erskine at command, sir,
Upon one foot he had one boot,

And th' other in his hand, sir.

‘Arise, arise,” Sir Erskine cries, "The rebels-more's the pity, Without a boat are all afloat,

And ranged before the city.

"The motley crew, in vessels new,
With Satan for their guide, sir,
Packed up in bags, or wooden kegs,
Come driving down the tide, sir.

"Therefore prepare for bloody war,
These kegs must all be routed,
Or surely we despised shall be,
And British courage doubted."

The royal band now ready stand
All ranged in dread array, sir,
With stomach stout to see it out,
And make a bloody day, sir.

The cannons roar from shore to shore,
The small arms make a rattle;

Since wars began I'm sure no man

E'er saw so strange a battle.