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O God above!
The cause of Truth and human weal,
5 Peace, Love! the cherubim that join
The heart alone can make divine
6 To incantations dost thou trust,
That men can bless one pile of dust
7 The ticking wood-worm mocks thee, man! Thy temples-creeds themselves grow wan! But there's a dome of nobler span,
A temple given
Thy faith, that bigots dare not ban-
Its roof star-pictured Nature's ceiling,
The harmonious spheres
Make music, though unheard their pealing
Fair stars! are not your beings pure?
10 And in your harmony sublime
I read the doom of distant time;
That man's regenerate soul from crime
And reason on his mortal clime
Ye must be Heavens that make us sure
What's hallowed ground? 'T is what gives birt
And your high priesthood shall make earth
IN those happy days, a well-regulated family always rose with the dawn, dined at eleven, and went to bed at sunset. Dinner was invariably a private meal, and the fat old burghers showed incontestable signs of disapproba5 tion and uneasiness at being surprised by a visit from a neighbor on such occasions. But though our worthy ancestors were thus singularly averse to giving dinners, yet they kept up the social bands of intimacy by occasional banquetings, called tea-parties.
These fashionable parties were generally confined to the higher classes, or noblesse, that is to say, such as kept their own cows, and drove their own wagons. The company commonly assembled at three o'clock, and went away
about six, unless it was in winter-time, when the fashionable hours were a little earlier, that the ladies might get home before dark. The tea-table was crowned with a huge earthen dish, well stored with slices of fat pork, 5 fried brown, cut up into morsels, and swimming in gravy. The company being seated round the genial board, and each furnished with a fork, evinced their dexterity in launching at the fattest pieces in this mighty dish-in much the same manner as sailors harpoon porpoises at sea, 10 or our Indians spear salmon in the lakes. Sometimes the table was graced with immense apple-pies, or saucers full of preserved peaches and pears; but it was always sure to boast an enormous dish of balls of sweetened dough, fried in hog's fat, and called doughnuts, or olykoeks-a deli15 cious kind of cake, at present scarce known in this city, except in genuine Dutch families.
The tea was served out of a majestic delft tea-pot, ornamented with paintings of fat little Dutch shepherds and shepherdesses tending pigs with boats sailing in the air, 20 and houses built in the clouds, and sundry other ingenious Dutch fantasies. The beaux distinguished themselves by their adroitness in replenishing this pot from a huge copper tea-kettle, which would have made the pigmy macaronics of these degenerate days sweat merely to look at it. 25 To sweeten the beverage, a lump of sugar was laid beside each cup-and the company alternately nibbled and sipped with great decorum, until an improvement was introduced by a shrewd and economic old lady, which was to suspend a large lump directly over the tea-table, by a 30 string from the ceiling, so that it could be swung from
mouth to mouth—an ingenious expedient, which is still kept up by some families in Albany; but which prevails without exception in Communipaw, Bergen, Flatbush, and all our uncontaminated Dutch villages.
At these primitive tea-parties the utmost propriety and dignity of deportment prevailed. No flirting nor coquet
ting-no gambling of old ladies nor hoiden chattering and romping of young ones-no self-satisfied struttings of wealthy gentlemen, with their brains in their pockets — nor amusing conceits, and monkey divertisements, of smart 5 young gentlemen, with no brains at all. On the contrary, the young ladies seated themselves demurely in their rushbottomed chairs, and knit their own woollen stockings; nor ever opened their lips, excepting to say yes or no, to any question that was asked them; behaving, in all things, 10 like decent, well-educated damsels. As to the gentlemen, each of them tranquilly smoked his pipe, and seemed lost in contemplation of the blue and white tiles with which the fireplaces were decorated; wherein sundry passages of Scripture were piously portrayed.
The parties broke up without noise and without confusion. They were carried home by their own carriages, that is to say, by the vehicles nature had provided them, excepting such of the wealthy as could afford to keep a wagon. The gentlemen gallantly attended their fair ones 20 to their respective abodes, and took leave of them with a hearty smack at the door: which, as it was an established piece of etiquette, done in perfect simplicity and honesty of heart, occasioned no scandal at that time, nor should it at the present—if our great-grandfathers approved of the 25 custom, it would argue a great want of reverence in their descendants to say a word against it.
LIV. - THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL.
[GEORGE BANCROFT was born in Worcester, Massachusetts, in 1800, and was graduated at Harvard College in 1817. In the following year he went to Europe, and remained there about four years, mostly in Germany. For some years after his return he was employed in the practical duties of a teacher, first in Harvard College, and afterwards as one of the principals of a seminary upon Round Hill, in Northampton. In 1838 he was appointed collector of the port of Boston, and in 1844 he took a seat in the cabinet of President Polk, as secretary of the navy; resigning that post in 1846, he was appointed minister plenipotentiary to the court of Great Britain, and continued in that station till Since that date, he has been a resident of the city of New York. His great work, "The History of the United States," has now reached eight volumes, the first having been published in 1834. It is a production of marked and peculiar merit, presenting the results of extensive and elaborate research in a condensed form, and showing an uncommon power of analysis and generalization. His style is vivid, animated, and picturesque; full of point and energy; but somewhat abrupt in its transitions, and rather wanting in simplicity and repose. His speculations are often acute and profound, but they occupy more of his pages than the taste of some of his readers approves; and the dispassionate seeker after truth is occasionally merged in the fervid and eloquent advocate.]
THE British advanced in line in good order, steadily and slowly, and with a confident imposing air, pausing on the march to let their artillery prepare the way, and firing with muskets as they advanced. But they fired too soon, 5 and too high, doing but little injury.
Encumbered with their knapsacks, they ascended the steep hill with difficulty, covered as it was with grass reaching to their knees, and intersected with walls and fences. Prescott waited till the enemy had approached 10 within eight rods as he afterwards thought, within ten or twelve rods as the committee of safety of Massachusetts wrote, when he gave the word: "Fire." At once from the redoubt, and breastwork, every gun was discharged. Nearly the whole front rank of the enemy fell, and the 15 rest, to whom this determined resistance was unexpected, were brought to a stand. For a few minutes, fifteen or ten, who can count such minutes! each one of the Americans, completely covered while he loaded his musket, exposed only while he stood upon the wooden platform or