'Midst wastes and snows, and silent, lifeless trees,
Or the more silent ground-that 'twas not death,
But nature's sleep and rest, her kind repair ;-
That Thou, albeit unseen, did'st bear with him
The winter's night, and, patient of the day,
And cheered by hope, (instinct divine in Thee,)
Waitedst return of summer.

More Thou said'st,

Thou Priest of Nature, Priest of God, to man!
Thou spok'st of Faith, (than instinct no less sure,)
Of Spirits near him, though he saw them not:
Thou bad'st him ope his intellectual eye,

And see his solitude all populous:

Thou show'dst him Paradise, and deathless flowers; And did'st him pray to listen to the flow

Of living waters.

Preacher to man's spirit! Emblem of Hope! Companion! Comforter!

Thou faithful one! is this thine end? "Twas Thou, When summer birds were gone, and no form seen In the void air, who cam'st, living and strong,

On thy broad, balanced pennons, through the winds.
And of thy long enduring, this the close!

Thy kingly strength brought down, of storms
Thou Conqueror !

The year's mild, cheering dawn. Upon thee shone a momentary light.

The gales of spring upbore thee for a day,
And then forsook thee. Thou art fallen now;
And liest amongst thy hopes and promises;
Beautiful flowers, and freshly springing blades,
Gasping thy life out.-Here for Thee the grass
Tenderly makes a bed; and the young buds
In silence open their fair, painted folds-
To ease thy pain, the one-to cheer thee, these.
But thou art restless; and thy once keen eye
Is dull and sightless now. New blooming boughs,
Needlessly kind, have spread a tent for thee.
Thy mate is calling to the white, piled clouds,
And asks for thee. No answer give they back.
As I look up to their bright angel faces,
Intelligent and capable of voice

They seem to me.

Their silence to my soul Comes ominous. The same to thee, doom'd bird, Silence or sound. For thee there is no sound,

No silence :-near thee stands the shadow, Death,

And now he slowly draws his sable veil

Over thine eyes. Thy senses soft he lulls
Into unconscious slumbers. The airy call

Thou'lt hear no longer. Neath sun-lighted clouds,
With beating wing, or steady poise aslant,
Thou'lt sail no more. Around thy trembling claws
Droop thy wings' parting feathers. Spasms of death
Are on Thee.

Laid thus low by age? Or is't
All-grudging man has brought thee to this end?
Perhaps the slender hair, so subtly wound
Around the grain God gives thee for thy food
Has proved thy snare, and makes thy inward pain!
I needs must mourn for thee. For I, who have
No fields, nor gather into garners-I

Bear Thee both thanks and love, not fear nor hate.
And, now, farewell! The falling leaves ere long
Will give Thee decent covering.
Till then,

Thine own black plumage, which will now no more
Glance to the sun, nor flash upon my eyes

Like armor of steeled knight of Palestine-
Must be thy pall. Nor will it moult so soon

As sorrowing thoughts on those borne from him fade
In living man.

Who scoffs these sympathies,

Makes mock of the divinity within;

Nor feels he gently breathing through his soul
The universal spirit.-Hear it cry,

"How does thy pride abase thee, man, vain man!

How deaden thee to universal love,

And joy of kindred, with all humble things,-
God's creatures all!"

And surely it is so.

He who the lily clothes in simple glory,
He who doth hear the ravens cry for food,
Hath on our hearts, with hand invisible,
In signs mysterious, written what alone

Our hearts may read.-Death bring thee rest, poor Bird.

A SONG OF PITCAIRN'S ISLAND.

Come, take our boy, and we will go
Before our cabin door;

The winds shall bring us, as they blow,
The murmurs of the shore;

And we will kiss his young blue eyes,
And I will sing him, as he lies,

Songs that were made of yore:
I'll sing, in his delighted ear,
The island lays thou lov'st to hear.

And thou, while stammering I repeat,

Thy country's tongue shalt teach;
"Tis not so soft, but far more sweet,
Than my own native speech.
For thou no other tongue did'st know,
When, scarcely twenty moons ago,
Upon Tahete's beach,

Y.

Thou cam'st to woo me to be thine,
With many a speaking look and sign.

I knew thy meaning-thou didst praise
My eyes, my locks of jet;

Ah! well for me they won thy gaze,-
But thine were fairer yet!
I'm glad to see my infant wear
Thy soft blue eyes and sunny hair,
And when my sight is met

By his white brow and blooming cheek,
I feel a joy I cannot speak.

Come, talk of Europe's maids, with me,
Whose necks and cheeks, they tell,
Outshine the beauty of the sea,
White foam and crimson shell.
I'll shape like theirs my simple dress,
And bind like them each jetty tress,
A sight to please thee well;
And for my dusky brow will braid
A bonnet, like an English maid.

Come, for the soft, low sunlight calls,
We lose the pleasant hours;
"Tis lovelier than these cottage walls,-
That seat among the flowers.
And I will learn of thee a prayer,
To Him, who gave a home so fair,

A lot so blest as ours

The God who made, for thee and me,
This sweet lone isle amid the sea.

Gentlemen,

I regret to be obliged to resume the subject of your review of the late "spurious" edition, as you term it, of Alexander Hamilton's Report on Manufactures. The task is unpleasant, but justice to myself requires it-and I have too much reliance on your honor to doubt your willingness to let the public hear the accused, as well as the accusers. Any other supposition would be an impeachment of your candor and impartiality.

I did hope that I had placed the matter in such a point of view, as would have induced you to retract your accusations. But I have been mistaken. They are repeated, and urged in stronger form. As editor of the edition in question, I am expressly charged with an attempt at imposition, by

"Leaving the reader falsely to suppose, that the order [for printing this edition] issued from the Congress of 1823—4."

This, gentlemen, is a heavy charge, and ought not to have been lightly made. The proofs ought to be clear and unequivocal, so that "he that runs may read." It implies a conduct of which I should scorn to be guilty, and I hope to prove that it is wholly unfounded.

I quote your last number, page 387, wherein, as I have stated, the charge is repeated.

"In the original, the title-page, after setting forth the name, &c. adds, "Printed by order of the House of Representatives.

"The present edition reads

1792.

"[Printed by order of the House of Representatives.]"

1823.

This, and "no more, is the very head and front of my offending;" and on this foundation rests the strong charge of "falsely" leading the public astray.

It is to be regretted that these quotations are both materially wrong. Neither of them gives the printer's name; and both have the dates so placed as to refer to the order for printing, whereas the reference clearly is to the time of publication. This is a most vital error.

I now present you with the title-pages of two editions of this work, one printed at Washington, sixteen years ago, by order of the then House of Representatives, and the other that which has called forth the severity of your animadversions.

"Report of the Secretary of the Treasury on the subject of Manufactures, made the 5th of Decr. 1791.

"Dec. 7, 1809.

"Printed by order of the House of Representatives.

The other runs thus, and is very materially different from your statement of it :

"Report of the Secretary of the Treasury [Alexander Hamilton] on the subject of Manufactures, made the 5th of Decr. 1791.

"Printed by order of the House of Representatives.

Philadelphia.

"Printed by Joseph R. A. Skenel.

Jan. 1, 1824."

Now, gentlemen, I appeal to you as men of honor, whether this title-page warrants the aspersion you have cast on me? Is there the slightest possible connexion between "the order for printing," and the date, Jan. 1, 1824 ?

But what temptation could there have been to the alleged literary fraud? Was a system matured by the full exercise of the splendid talents of Alexander Hamilton, one of the greatest statesmen that ever flourished in this country, in want of the imprimatur of the late House of Representatives? Could the alleged simulation of the order for printing add an iota to the force of the arguments? Surely not.

On this point I have said enough. Two of the other charges, which make a conspicuous figure in the indictment, those respecting capitals and notes of exclamation, you have abandoned, as wholly unwarranted.

On the subject of italic and indexes, I appeal to an enlightened public, whether an edition of a work can, with any appearance of propriety, be termed "spurious," when the text is preserved immaculate, without alteration, suppression, or interpolation, merely because various powerful passages, shedding strong light on a vital topic, in which the country is deeply interested, are italicized, and six of peculiar importance are marked by indexes? I throw myself on their good sense and candor for a favorable verdict.

Two other charges remain-" the INTERPOLATION of a silly dialogue," (which, by the way, is not an "interpolation,"—it is given in the form of an "appendix,") and the conversion of a few words printed in italics, into the Roman character. With respect to the first, I have only to observe, that it does not affect the text-does not, of course, impart the character of spuriousness to the edition, and stands or falls on its own merits. When the original work was set up, it was found that there were twelve pages vacant, and, as the dialogue bore strongly on the subject, it was introduced to fill the void. And with respect to the other, there is not one change that affects the grand question at issue in the United States, as to the protection of manufactures. The one you have selected goes to a question of comparatively little importance, whether manufacturing industry is or is not more profitable than agriculture. Had we adequate markets for all our agricultural productions, we might then discuss this VOL. I.

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