some one reading this performance to Mr Dove on its first appearance, with the mischievous design of amusing himself at his expence, as he knew what the book contained, he (Dove) bore testimony to the truth of the contents, with which, he said, he was perfectly acquainted, exclaiming, as the reader went along, True, true as the gospel! But when the part was reached, in which he himself is introduced in a situation somewhat ridiculous, he cried out, It was a lie, a most abominable lie, and that there was not a syllable of truth in the story. At any rate, Dove was a humorist, and a person not unlikely to be engaged in ludicrous scenes. It was his practice in his school to substitute disgrace for corporal punishment. His birch was rarely used in canonical method, but was generally stuck into the back part of the collar of the unfortunate culprit, who, with this badge of disgrace towering from his nape like a broom at the mast-head of a vessel for sale, was compelled to take his stand upon the top of the form for such a period of time as his offence was thought to deserve. He had another contriv. ance for boys who were late in their morning attendance. This was to dispatch a committee of five or six scholars for them, with a bell and lighted lantern, and in this "odd equipage," in broad day-light, the bell all the while tingling, were they escorted through the streets to school. As Dove affected a strict regard to justice in his dispensations of punishment, and always professed a wil

Johnson, and who, though sprightly, was, according to the Doctor, an instance how far impudence could carry ignorance. He challenged me once to talk Latin with him, says the Doctor. I quoted some of Horace, which he took to be my own speech. He said a few words well enough.

lingness to have an equal measure of it meted out to himself, in case of his transgressing, the boys took him at his word; and one morning, when he had overstaid his time, either through laziness, inattention, or design, he found himself waited on in the usual form. He im. mediately admitted the justice of the procedure, and putting himself behind the lantern and bell, marched with great solemnity to school, to the no small gratification of the boys, and entertainment of the spectators. But this incident took place before I became a scholar. It was once my lot to be attended in this manner, but what had been sport to my tutor, was to me a serious punish

ment.

The school was, at this time, kept in Videll's Alley, which opened into Second, a little below Chesnut Street. It counted a number of scholars of both sexes, though chiefly boys; and the assistant, or writing-master, was John Reily, a very expert penman and conveyancer, a man of some note, who, in his gayer moods, affected a pompous and technical phraseology, as he is characterised under the name of Parchment, in a farce written some forty years ago, and which, having at least the merit of novelty and personality, was a very popular drama, though never brought upon the stage. Some years afterwards, Dove removed to Germantown, where he erected a large stone building, in the view of establishing an academy upon a large scale; but I believe his success was not answerable to his expectations. I know not what my progress was under the auspices of Mr Dove; but having never, in my early years, been smitten with the love of learning, I have reason to conclude it did not pass mediocrity. I recollect a circumstance, however, which one afternoon took place at my grandfather's, to

the no small entertainment of the old gentleman, who often adverted to it afterwards. Dove was there, and in endeavouring to correct my utterance, as I had an ill habit of speaking with my teeth closed, as if indifferent whether I spoke or not, he bawled out, in one of his highest tones, "Why don't you speak louder? open your mouth like a Dutchman-say yaw."

Being now, probably, about eight years of age, it was deemed expedient to enter me at the academy, then, as it now continues to be, under the name of a university, the principal seminary in Pennsylvania; and I was accordingly introduced by my father to Mr Kinnersley, the teacher of English and professor of oratory. He was an Anabaptist clergyman, a large venerable looking man, of no great general erudition, though a considerable proficient in electricity; and who, whether truly or not, has been said to have had a share in certain discoveries in that science, of which Dr Franklin received the whole credit. The task of the younger boys, at least, consisted in learning to read and to write their mother tongue grammatically; and one day in the week (I think Friday) was set apart for the recitation of select passages in poetry and prose. For this purpose, each scholar, in his turn, ascended the stage, and said his speech, as the phrase was. This speech was carefully taught him by his master, both with respect to its pronunciation, and the action deemed suitable to its several parts. Two of these specimens of infantile oratory, to the disturbance of my repose, I had been qualified to exhibit: Family partiality, no doubt, overrated their merit; and hence, my declaiming powers were in a state of such constant requisition, that my orations, like worn-out ditties, became vapid and fatiguing to me, and, consequently, impaired my

relish for that kind of acquirement. More profit attended my reading. After Esop's Fables, and an abridgment of the Roman History, Telemachus was put into our hands; and if it be admitted that the human heart may be bettered by instruction, mine, I may aver was benefited by this work of the virtuous Fenelon. While the mild wisdom of Mentor called forth my veneration, the noble ardour of the youthful hero excited my sympathy and emulation. I took part, like a second friend, in the vicissitudes of his fortune,-I participated in his toils,-1 warmed with his exploits, I wept where he wept, and exulted where he triumphed.

As my lot has been cast in a turbulent period, in a season of civil war and revolution, succeeded by scenes of domestic discord and fury, in all of which I have been compelled to take a part, I deem it of consequence to myself to bespeak toleration for the detail of a schoolboy incident, that may in some degree serve to develope my character. It may equally tend to throw some light on the little world upon whose stage I had now entered. A few days after I had been put under the care of Mr Kinnersley, I was told by my class-mates that it was necessary for me to fight a battle with some one, in order to establish my claim to the honour of being an academy boy; that this could not be dispensed with, and that they would select for me a suitable antagonist, one of my match, whom after school I must fight, or be looked upon as a coward. I must confess that I did not at all relish the proposal. Though possessing a sufficient degree of spirit, or at least irascibility, to defend myself when assaulted, I had never been a boxer. Being of a light and slender make, I was not calculated for the business, nor had I ever been ambitious of being the cock

B

of a school. Besides, by the laws of the institution I was now a subject of, fighting was a capital crime; a sort of felony deprived of clergy, whose punishment was not to be averted by the most scholar-like reading. For these reasons, both of which had sufficient weight with me, and the last not the least, as I had never been a wilful transgressor of rules, or callous to the consequences of an infraction of them, I absolutely declined the proposal; although I had too much of that feeling about me which some might call false honour, to represent the case to the master, which would at once have extricated me from my difficulty, and brought down condign punishment on its imposers. Matters thus went on until school was out, when I found that the lists were appointed, and that a certain John Appowen, a lad who, though not quite so tall, yet better set and older than myself, was pitted against me. With increased pertinacity I again refused the combat, and insisted on being permitted to go home unmolested. On quickening my pace for this purpose, my persecutors, with Appowen at their head, followed close at my heels. Upon this I moved faster and faster, until my retreat became a flight too unequivocal and inglorious for a man to relate of himself, had not Homer furnished some apology for the procedure, in making the heroic Hector thrice encircle the walls of Troy, before he could find courage to encounter the implacable Achilles. To cut the story short, my spirit could no longer brook an oppression so intolerable, and, stung to the quick at the term coward which was lavished upon me, I made a halt and faced my pursuers. A combat immediately ensued between Appowen and myself, which for some time was maintained on each side with equal vigour and