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• Captain,' said he, you must let me fight that man; he will whip


• It takes a very good man to do that,' replied the captain.

I do n't dispute that,' replied the youth ; but I noticed that fellow while you were talking with him, and am satisfied that there is not a man in the company who can handle him but myself. It will take the best kind of a man to do it.'

You have a high opinion of yourself, young man.'

• That's my business,' said the youth, sharply; but what I may think of myself, is neither here nor there. I do n't want to see you whipped, nor to lose the wagon ; but depend upon it, if you fight that man, he will

use you up in short order; he will beat you to a jelly in a minute. Turn him over to me, and the team shall be ours.'

Crawford was struck by the confidence of the young man ; but he was not willing to appear to draw back, especially as one of the men had just remarked in his hearing that the teamster was of the right breed of dogs, sure enough.' To which another responded :

• He is barking up the wrong tree this time. There is no back out in the captain, no how. They can't banter him off the track, no way they can fix it.'

But the youth insisted, that to have the captain beaten, which would certainly be the case if he persisted in fighting, would be discreditable to the company; and moreover that he was the only man present who could fight the wagoner with a fair chance of success. This confidence, and a something about him that inspired confidence in others, enabled him to carry his point. The captain had probably but little relish for a gentle passage of arms of this description, in which there would be hard knocks without honor, and having done all that policy required, in accepting the challenge, prudently suffered himself to be persuaded by his men to let the young stranger take his place.

The combatants were soon stripped, and ready for the fight; seconds were chosen for them, a ring was formed upon the smooth level, and the terms of the battle proclaimed. It was a curious scene. A few minutes before, the whole of that company were reposing from the fatigues of the march; around them were the shadows of the forest, and a silence deep as that of the grave. The fairies, if such gentry there were in a wilderness so far from the haunts of civilized men, were probably frisking around, prepared to practice their jests upon the band, so soon as the drowsy god should have sealed their eyes in slumber. The autumn sun was sinking to the horizon, and the mellow hues of the landscape were rendered still more delicious by the repose, and the agreeable temperature of the air. Suddenly the unruly passions are unloosed; eagerness and excitement pervade the rude assembly; coarse voices, loud shouts, and heavy peals of laughter, awaken the echoes. The lone teamster is no longer a friendless being, whose rights were to be trampled upon by a military despot. He has appealed to a court of honor, and stands upon a level with his opponent. His spirit has elevated him into a hero; the loungers of the camp have pressed about him, to catch a glimpse of his features, and several have recognised an acquaintance. The name of a bully, familiar as the victor in many a brawl, is passing through the busy throng. Stout men have gathered round him, to advocate his cause, and insure him a fair trial, according to the ancient form of battle. The band is divided into two parties, animated by a mutual sense of justice, and a common desire for victory.

As they stood in the ring, ready for the onset, a great disparity was visible in the appearance of the combatants, the advantage being decidedly on the part of the wagoner. He was in the vigor of life ; big, muscular, hardened by labor and exposure, and experienced in this mode of warfare. Calm and self-possessed, he contemplated his adversary without dread, and looked for an easy victory. The youth, who in his hunting shirt-seemed slender, and by no means athletic, now showed himself a young giant, when his broad chest, his huge limbs, and strong joints, were exposed. He was only about eighteen or twenty years


age; his frame was large, but had not yet acquired the fulness, the compactness, and the vigor, of ripe manhood, which it afterward possessed in so eminent a degree : his limbs seemed to be loosely hung together, but the bones and muscles were enormous, and the eye full of courage.

The battle was severe, but brief; and even in that country where pugilism ranks among the amusements of the refined circles, would have been esteemed a pretty specimen of that art. It is true there was not much science, for boxing has never been publicly countenanced in this country, and one of the competitors was a person who would not have condescended to cultivate the art as a source either of amusement or reputation. But there was a spirit, a life, an earnestness about this combat, which, to such as could witness with pleasure a spectacle so revolting, gave it an intense interest. The wagoner was completely and terribly beaten. His antagonist sprang upon him with the ferocity of an enraged panther, and after a few blows the battle ceased to be doubtful. The tremendous fist of the young Virginian broke down all the guards of his practised opponent: the athletic teamster, who had been the leader in many a brawl, now met with one greater than himself, and in a few minutes he was stretched exhausted at the feet of his vanquisher, who was but little hurt.

That youth was DANIEL MORGAN, who had now for the first time taken the field, against the enemies of his country, as a volunteer soldier. A few years afterward, when the war for independence called out the patriotism and chivalry of the land, he became known to fame as the daring and sagacious leader of a regiment of riflemen, whose exploits were among the most brilliant of a contest fruitful in noble deeds. It was a favorite corps of Washington, who always bestowed his confidence with judgment. Morgan rose to the rank of Major-General, often led our armies to victory, and was said to have been more frequently engaged in battle than any other officer. He was as celebrated for his activity, strength, and personal courage, as for his military talents; and the above is one of the numerous incidents of his eventful life, which attest his almost incredible bodily powers.

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P = 0 + M 10 M. Ye varied forests that with graceful sweep Wave io the storms that vex the Atlantic deep! Ye rocks of adamant, whose brows defy The thunder's rage, the lightnings' as they fly! Ye saw the day that led the sons of Maine In hostile fury on the trembling plain; Ye saw each zig zag rank, each motley line, As thorns upon an angry porcupine Bristling their rusty bayonets : bere and there A solitary shot disturbs the air, While groups are heard discussing martial law, Like crows contending on a stack of straw. The Muse inquires not why these 'braves' in arms Pour forth from town and field in hostile swarms; She asks not why the ' border' warriors stand, Death in their looks -- but critics understand. One deed alone, of these immortal ranks, She snatches from the verge of Lethe's banks, Crams it unwilling in the trump of Fame, And bids the blustering goddess blow the same!

TAE TARGET, "T was on that morn, blest be the welcome day! When Erin's sons their annual tribute pay To Patrick's worth, the patron`of the isle, Where summer blooms with an unceasing smile; Whence snakes and toads in sad disorder fly, Or if they linger, linger but to die: ’T was on that inorn, our heroes might be seen Bearing a portrait of Britannia's QUEEN, Tied 10 a Patrick's cross of ample size: Around th' unconscious wood the canvass flies, And sweet in beauty's mien and youthful smiles, Beams the fair picture of the 'Queen of Isles.' 'Halt!' cried the captain of this martial band, You will keep moving, when I bid you stand: Halt! dress! attention ! move not long nor shorter, While I explain your duty as I or'ter!"


HERE, gentle reader, as in faint relief,
The Muse attempts an outline of her chief:
Nor yet the man she subjects to her rule,
Heaven makes the man, but habit makes the fool.
The great ram-beaver which our hero wore,
Somewhat the worse for wear, turned up before
Its wide expansive leaf, and from behind
It gave a faded ribbon to the wind;
A gift his wife had lent this son of Mars,
What time he left her for the border wars;'
Nor did her spouse esteem the favor less,
That it had been the girule of her dress,
Till for its length her years had made the dame
Somewhat too large in amplitude of frame.
A coat that once was bright, now somewhat pale,
Its skirts descending like a swallow's tail,
Which long had done its owner service true,
And named by all his men 'the long-tailed blue,'

Around the 'border chief its shelter cast,
In proud defiance of the northern blast;
And parıly hid a vest which well could vie
In colors with the gaudiest butterfly:
Shreds from an old kilmannock night-cap tied, *
Like Dido's thongs, a sash supplied :
Of a late package it had formed a part,
Extracted from John Bull by Yankee art;
Its price the wily trader meant to pay,
What time the powers' should meet in bloody fray.
Last, on his feet the ponderous boots he wore,
By fashion's ulira hand turned up before;
And when he marched, it seemed full sure his toes
Could ne'er refrain from contact with his nose.
That morn, while dressing for the glorious day,
The moose skin belt thal bound his sword, gave way;
Ill-fated weapon ! laid aside in haste,
The blood of foernen thou shalt never taste;
A poker turned, thou load'st the wench's arm,
And fire and sword' shall keep her kitchen warm!


He now continued: ‘Friends, the hour of fate,
That claims our actual service for the state,
At length is come, and finds you on the field,
In danger's front, determined not to yield,
Till every son of Britain bides his head,
And fiies or falls before our steel or lead!
Said I each son of Britain ? — yes, and more,
Each hateful daughier of that hateful shore;
All, all must sink, when Maine's dread anger hurled,
Shall drive the 'speck of ocean' from the world!
To prove the metile of your Yankee stuff,
To prove your captain's words are more than puff,
Yon cross, by thousands loved with fond devotion,
Which bears upon its breast the Queen of Ocean,
Fixed as a target, for your aim shall stand,
To prove the truest eye, the boldest band :
Full fifty paces shall the distance be,
And the best shot shall have - a pound of tea !


Their guns were levelled and their shots let fly,
And far and near the echoes made reply;
But strange to tell, all guiltless of their aim,
Each thought his neighbor must have been to blame:
At least they said so; and their leader swore,
'Twas fearful waste of ammunition store,
And he, by long experience bold, must say,
’T was strange thai fifty bullets missed their way.
A second volley, with the same effect,
Showed there was strange misfortune or neglect.
All stood aghast, each blustering tongue was still,
To find the deed so adverse to the will;
The boldest deemed some sudden judgment near,
And Maine's brave champions hung their heads for fear.
But great events from causes small may grow,
A mouse's birth has caused a mountain wo:
And though the story springs from fiction's school,
We hold there's truth and reason in the rule;
The maxim's force the nervous warrior band
All gladly learned from Truth's corrective hand :
A sınothered laugh was borne upon the wind,
And loud out-bursts of fun were heard behind;
All eyes were turned to mark from whence it came,
Till fixed at length upon an ancient dame,
Known in the state -- MEG MUNSON was her name.

* A slouch cap worn by northern boatmen.

MEG'S HISTORY. FROM Scotia's land, full forty years before, Meg had been landed on New-England's shore; Some whispered for her crimes,' but yet in sooth 'Twas false; the Muse herself shall speak the truth. Near . Halket Head,' where blustering ocean flows With fiercest rage, her father's cot once rose; Its humble inmates lilled the sterile ground, With much of peace but less of plenty crowned ; Till one dark night, mid billows' loudest roar, A shattered bark was cast upon the shore. The peasants reached the spot in time to save One sole survivor irom a briny grave; Then fed and nursed him till Oh, cease the lay! He turned their eldest born, their child, away; And scarce a year was passed, ere Meg was thrown On foreign shores, forsaken and alone. Deep-rooted hate had now usurped the place Once the sweet seat of innocence and grace; And while her pride forbade her to return Where long her friends had ceased ber loss to mourn, She cared not yet with full contempt to view The race from which her early sorrows grew. Beside a straggling wood, meet place for cheer, Her little sign-board proinised "Cakes and Beer;' And there the 'braves' of our heroic lay Had spent the morn of that eventful day.

EXPLANATION. 'Your powder spare,' she cried, 'from such abuse, For MAXWELL's boys may show you yet its use; And if what every body says be true, They've dealt with harder-headed chaps than you ! Last night I learned by chance that you designed A crime against the nature of mankind ; One which your friends would hardly like to name, One which your foes will couple with your shame; One which, though guiltless of your precious lives, Would make you cheap at home among your wives: But if your bloodless swords you love to draw, You 'd better fight with some big man of straw, Than with a woman's picture! – such disgrace Through life shall stare you broadly in the face. Hear now the truth : while piled in yonder shed, I stule from every catridge-box its lead, And run them into weights of ounce and pound, Such as are needed for the country round, When starch, and soap, and pepper I arrange In just proportions, as they send the change; And if your sons the present race exceed, I vow to truth, they'll thank me for the deed !'



Just as the dame her bold harangue had screamed,
The sound of music, martial as it seemed,
Came booming on the air: their captain heard,
And listened long; 'Attention!' was the word;
And soon to prove they knew their chief's commands,
In tube-like order lifted both their hands,
And placed them to their ears; then touched the ground,
To catch the echoes of the dreadful sound :
It came again! O Mars ! in battle great,
Oft as it seems, thy voice alune is fate
Breathed through a trumpet, when thy fiery car
Lays heroes prostrate in the ranks of war!
Not even th' affrighted Trojans, when they fled,
And left the Greeks to bear away their dead,
What time the great Achilles, with his shout,
Put all their forces to a shameful rout;

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