no doubt that our right honourable philosopher found the journey nothing more than a pleasant morning ride; yet we think he might have spared himself the trouble of galloping over sea and land from Corsica across to Sardinia, and thence to Greece, and so tramp-tramp across the continent by way of Russia up to Siberia and Kamschatka, in search of this same venerable patriarchal Mouflon Musman, merely by turning to the fourth chapter of Genesis, (a very ancient record to say the least of it) where he might have found the sheep themselves quietly grazing under the care of Abel, never dreaming that in a few thousand years they would be struck out of the pedigree of their merino descen-, dants to make room for their horned relation. But an awkward fact of this kind seldom impedes the progress of a practised theoriser, more especially if he be at all of the Parisian school, and so on we go to deduce the whole social compact and civilization of the human race from this same Mons. Mouflon Musman, who is now left, Oh base ingratitude! to skip about unhonoured and unsung in his native mountains of Corsica and Kamschatka. The origin of society is one of those convenient common places upon which every fine writer conceives himself bound to write as finely as possible, and Mr. L. does not lose this opportunity of stitching another broad purple patch upon his homespun coat of merino wool.

"The horse, the bull, and the camel, were probably conquests subsequently made over the animal creation, because it required more strength and skill to tame and render them useful; but the young Mouflon was soon tamed; the female savage that followed her husband to the chase snatched it from its bleeding dam, pressed it to her bosom, and became its mother; it sported with her children, and taught them to love a race which they had hitherto pursued only to destroy. A slight ray of reason must have shown the savage how much less precarious his subsistence would be, if he could draw it from an animal that fed at the door of his hut, than if he was compelled to seek it in the chace. He would extend his flock; he would cease to trespass upon the hunting grounds of others; but he would appropriate a portion for the support of his flock; he would compound with his tribe; or the whole tribe, going into the same culture, would mark out limits which they would not suffer to be trespassed upon; they would unite for common defence; the rights of property would be known, and a nation be formed where before only wandering hordes had

existed. By what simple means does Providence produce the greatest good! That we are not at this moment fierce, savage, and brutal, little superior to the beasts that roam in the wilderness, and only employing that little superiority in their destruction, and in the destruction of each other, is probably owing to the domestication of graminivorous animals, and, first of all, to that of sheep. To them we are also indebted for some of the most pleasing, as well as for the most important and useful arts. The cradle of music and poetry was rocked by the shepherds of Arcadia; while the spindle and the distaff, the wheel and the loom, originated in the domestication of sheep. This little animal then, in losing its own wild nature, has not only converted the savage into the man, but has led him from one state of civilization to another; the fierce hunter it has changed into the mild shepherd, and the untutored shepherd into the enlightened manufacturer. The more sedentary men became, the greater were their wants, and dependence upon each other; and in those wants and that dependence originated civilization and polished societies.'

This tirade of false eloquence and moon-struck philosophy is followed by a brief review of the different varieties of sheep, ending with the natural and civil history of the merino, the whole written in a tolerably chastised and temperate style, although even here the author occasionally takes care to follow the advice of Dogberry, by letting his reading and writing be shown where there is no need of such vanity. After this he descends into a more humble walk, and fills nearly a hundred pages with good practical matter relative to the management of sheep, the comparative value of the different breeds, and the policy as well as private utility of woolen manufactures. There is so much useful detail in this part of the volume, that we earnestly wish Mr. L. before his next edition, would commit his essay to the hands of some puritan friend (puritanic we mean in matters of taste,) who like Jack in the Tale of a Tub, would tear away without mercy all the silver fringe and embroidery with which this piece of good sober stuff is so strangely encompassed. Annexed is an appendix on the maladies of sheep, in the main, plain and practical enough, but disgraced by the following most frigid and puny witticism:

'Dogs-This is one of the severest maladies under which our sheep labour; it generally attacks a whole flock suddenly, in which they run from each other in every direction; their wool and flesh appear to be torn to pieces; many, when the disorder is seated on the throat and neck, die suddenly; others appear to

be wounded in different parts of their bodies, and die in great torment. Some times the greater part of a flock are carried off by it in one night, and the expense and trouble incurred for years in raising a fine flock are instantaneously destroyed; for such is the nature of this complaint, that no attention on the part of the owner can prevent it. The remedy is good wholesome laws, steadi. ly persisted in-firmness in the magistracy in carrying them into effect-sufficient good sense in the people to aid in enforcing them, a readiness to respect the property of their neighbours, and to sacrifice boyish attachments to the general interest of the community.'

We must here repeat, that our business with Mr. L. is purely as a literary man-towards his agricultural or scientific fame we bear no enmity. Right gladly would we see his steam-boat paddle down the stream of time with favouring winds and tides, merinos at the prow, and fine arts at the helm. But we wish to show him, or rather the public, at his expense, (to which as a patriot he can have no possible objection) that fine feathers do not necessarily make fine birds, and that though he stick his merino's fleece with plumage of all the colours of the rain-bow, he can never succeed in transforming him into a peacock.— Parvis parva decent, proper words in proper places. Let us not make useful things ridiculous by any unnecessary pomp, either of language or of sentiment.

While we are upon this subject, we cannot dismiss this puffing, strutting little volume, without taking notice of a certain cant in which it seems greatly to delight. We mean the complimenting all the dealers and speculators in sheep for their exalted patriotism. If this were nothing more than harmless cant, it might pass, but in a government like ours it is dangerous to the general weal to suffer the praise of patriotism to become too cheap. This praise is the current coin in which republics are used to reward public services, and it is the interest of every citizen to see that this coin be not depreciated. Doubtless the inventors of useful arts and the professors of practical science should have their rank and estimation, and that a very high one, in society. But if we crown with the civic wreath every fortunate patentee of a steam engine or a carding 'ma. chine, every judicious speculator in merinos or Fezzan sheep,

what honours have we left for wisdom and virtue-what veneration yet in store for our Jay or Clinton-for the memories of our Washington or Hamilton?

AMERICAN SCENERY-FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

New-York, May 2, 1810.

MR. OLDSCHOOL,

I have seen with much pleasure that you have lately introduced into your Port Folio American Views.

Our own country certainly affords as beautiful scenery as can any where be met with-And to an American, such scenes cannot fail to be entertaining-while their beauties charm the eye, they will also often recal events which are dear to the mind. By presenting to us Views of our native land, feelings will also be awakened, which ought ever to be cherished.

I inclose to you a sketch which was taken by a young gentleman of this city, on a fishing excursion last Summer—It is a view of the East river or Sound from Riker's island. The reduced size of the view, to make it comport with the usual plates of your Magazine, prevented the artist from doing more justice to the real beauty of the scene; though to enjoy all its charms, it must be visited. After passing the troubled waters of the Hell-gate, the tranquil bosom of the Sound, which at this place forms a kind of bay, is extremely pleasing, and the highly cultivated grounds at the seat of Mr. Waddington, form an agreeable contrast with the rude scenery of the opposite shore.

M.

FOR THE PORT FOLIO-THE POLITE SCHOLAR.

Of the Bard of Venusium, the gay and gallant Horace, it has been remarked, with critical sagacity, that he is eminently the favourite poet in the estimation of gentlemen, courtiers and cavaliers. He is the chosen companion of literary men of the world; and no one can peruse and taste his beauties without improvement in urbanity of manners together with the knowledge of polite literature. For my part, ever since I have enjoyed the honour and advantage of his acquaintance, I have always considered him one of the finest gentlemen of antiquity.

Indeed, he, Julius Cæsar, Ovid, and Tibullus were courtiers as well as authors. They were the politest scholars of the Augustan age. Virgil was rustically shy and repeated his golden verses with all the bashfulness of a maiden. Terence and Phædrus still remembered that they had been slaves, Varro was an husbandman and Vitruvius a builder, Propertius was but a pedant, and Catullus a rakehell. But Horace, careless, inimitable Horace, was the very Mansfield, Chesterfield, and Bolingbroke of Rome. He is almost always courteous, bland, and smiling. Even when he lampoons the hated Rival or the perjured Mistress, his poetical vengeance is tempered with all the blandishments of sir Charles Hanbury Williams. Even when he satirises, it is with a pleasing grace, and with an unbended brow. But when invested, as is generally the case, in wedding garments, in his holiday suit, and courtly array, we are not only dazzled with the gorgeousness of his imperial purple, but delighted with the dignity of his port and the graces of his demeanour. He salutes us with the air of an Alcibiades and we admire; he reasons with the subtlety of Socrates and we approve. He allures us to the paths of pansies and rose-buds, the haunt of the nymphs, and proffers us the festive goblet, the delight of the swains. Minerva is usually before, him, and Bacchus, Venus and the Graces by his side. He alternately charms Mæcenas, and ravishes from Augustus all his applause. He passes the brumal eve in philosophical conversation with Messalla; and fleets the time carelessly on a vernal morn, in exhorting Sestius to wreath his frolic brow with myrtle. At one time, he triflcs gracefully with Lydia or Thaliarchus, and at another solicits Septimus, to share with him in Sylvan delight.