is, in full vigour and while nothing "able most effectually to annoy has come to cloud its clearness, "the tyrants? By my pen, comAt this very moment that I am"bined with my other means. writing to you, it is not eight "How shall I qualify myself, to o'clock, and I have written thus, "use my pen with effect? By far before my breakfast, baying" knowing how to write correctly. employed, too, a quarter of an "How shall I get that knowhour in giving directions to my "ledge? By learning Grammar. Therefore I will learn Grammar."

men.

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Do this, and you will, at the end of the two years, be a great deal more formidable to the ruf fians than you were when they seized hold of you. Besides, you will find, in this study, a source of continual amusement and enr couragement. At every stage of your progress, you will feel yourselves more a match for your op pressors; and, long before the close of your studies, you will despise the ruffians even more than you hate them. You have long lives yet to live. You are placed aloft by your sufferings. You start from the most favourable point. And you may, if you will, become

All the plans for husbanding our time, are folly, without sobriety. Without sobriety we cannot be industrious; and, without industry, we are no terror to our tyrants. You see what embarrassment the villains are now in. You see how they are puzzled to invent new lies, in order to hide the fact of their irrevokable insolvency. They are at their wit's end. And, what a satisfaction is it to me to reflect, that it is I who have, more than all other men put together, brought them into this state! Very few days of my life have been unhappy; but, if I were not to be happy now, how could I ever be happy? All this I owe to my sobriety; and, therefore, let me ex-men, famous in the annals of Enghort you to be sober. You are, I hope; but I am sure you will excuse me for pressing on you the necessity of sobriety.

A jail is as good a place for study as any other. To study a man must be confined in some place. It matters little where we are, if we have health and leisure, It is in this case, the mind that works, and not the body. Now is the time for you to become grammarians. In your place I should reason thus: "How shall I be

land. But, without literary talent, you will be able to do little. Mr. Johnson's pistol was a good thing; but a pen is a great deal better; and the pen you cannot use with effect, without acquired knowledge,

To repine, to revile, to storm, are of no real use. Sailors, in a gale, do not curse the winds and the waves. They mount the yards, reef the sails, lower the masts, and patiently wait the moment when they dare rehoist and un

B

furl. This must be your way of proceeding, if you mean to arrive hond safe at the end of your voyage. To execrate the tyrants is right and fitting; but, without exertion against them, execration is folly in the extreme. Say little, think much, and be constantly at work cultivating your minds, that you may be able to inflict vengeance on the oppressors of your country. I, who am old enough, probably, to be the father of you, never ou despair. Nothing that does not my hands, or take my health from me, can make me slacken my efforts in the war against our villains. The difficulties that have had to struggle with, in order to carry on this war, are hot to be w described. But, they have never disheartened me for one single moment. I have often been in a state to make it a question with me whether, or not, it was probable that I should end my days in the capacity of a gardener, or common labourer; for, under such an infernal system no man can count upon any thing as a "as a provision for age or sickness. But, never did it occur to me to desist from the strife, in order to insure even bread to eat. My hatred of the Borough villains, and my anxious desire to assist in the in

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sphere of exertion. Before they
imprisoned me, I was now and
then tempted to drink wine and
spirits and water. I, after the im-
prisonment, sometimes drank ale'
and porter. But, since their dun-
geon Bill, milk-and-water, or
water alone, has been my drink.
When I rise in the morning, while
others lie snoring; when I per-
ceive how much younger I look,
how much stronger I am, and how
much nimbler I move, than men
in general who are many years
younger than I; when I think of
my ability to encounter labour in
the fields, and of the sound sleep
which I enjoy on a bed and pillow"
of straw; when I see others, and
young men too, detained at home
by foul weather, or muffled up in
order to venture out in it, while I'
care for neither heat, wet, nor
cold: when under any of these
circumstances, I always bear in
mind, that this happy habit and
this iron constitution have been,
in a greater measure, the effects
of my anxious desire to inflict
vengeance on our country's foes.
I have, lately, met with an acci-
dent from fire. The house, in.
which I lived, was burnt down.
This threw me out for a month.
I should have gone to New York,
and remained there till the time

fliction of vengeance on them, of my departure for England.

have made me more and more But, when I considered the interrigid as to sobriety and abstemious-ruptions which such a removal ness. At every stage of their op. pressions I have become more and niore careful to avoid any thing that might tend to narrow my

would occasion, and when I thought of the injury that these and the air of a city might be to my literary labours; I resolved.

TIERNEY. I gave him some bacon, and cabbage and dumplin; and we toasted The Debt in milkand-water.

cannot go out of your prison, and I never want to stir from my tent. Resolve to study; resolve to become able to obtain revenge; and revenge you will obtain.

on making a sort of thatched tent, in which I might enjoy tranquillity and in which I might labour without intermission. From this tent, made of poles, thatch, and Eng- Now, it appears to me, that you lish news-papers, I now have the are nearly as well situated as I honour to address you. Happiness am for mental exertion. You never depends upon mere place. It depends little more on food or raiment. My diet all comes from my own fields, and my cow is my vintner and brewer. I am asleep on my straw by nine o'clock, and I am in my orchard before four o'clock. Yet, who can be hap-gallows foot, ought to envy. In pier? My mind is, for the far greater part of my time, in England. And I have the infinite satisfaction to see, that I have, from this distance, stricken blows which have made the tyrants half distracted.

A young man, from England, who came, a few days ago, to ask my advice, and who had just arrived from England, exclaimed, upon seeing my gypsie-like habitation: "Only think of papers being written in this place, and at | "such a distance, to produce so "much effect upon the English "nation!" "Oh! said I, England "is just on the other side of that “Plain, there. A ship is always "ready to carry the papers. And "as to this tent, it is not the tent, "but my head, which produces "the papers, which you have "been so kind and partial as to "admire." I showed him the fine umbrageous Walnut tree, under which I wrote the letter, last summer, to the old battered hack,

The situation of our tyrants is now such as no one, not at the

spite of all the falsehoods, which their prime tools put forth, the distresses of their slaves go on regularly increasing. You are deceived if you suppose, that I want proofs of this. These proofs are the daily arrivals of farmers and labourers from England. Within the last twelve months, upwards of a hundred and fifty thousand have landed from England to settle here. My family consists of an English woman, an English girl, an English boy, and three young Englishmen. They are all excellent servants. The men receive each twelve dollars a month, with board, lodging, and washing found them. The same could not now obtain, in England, four dollars a month. And, as to living, my men have bacon, the best in this world; best wheaten bread; a fat sheep or lamb once a week, flinging the head and pluck to the dogs; good puddings and pies, fruit and other; a cherry orchard to go and eat what

men

cherries they please; and to drink the disappointment that emigrants

they have about four gallons of milk a day. Each of these young men has a good bag of dollars. The first of these men is THOMAS KNIGHT, from Chalton in Hampshire; the second is RICHARD HAINES from Shalford, in Berkshire; the third is CHARLES COBBETT, from Rumsey in Hampshire. Here they are engaged in the work of cultivating things, hardly ever cultivated in this island before. Here they are teaching the people some things, at least, that they did not know before. Here they are most admirable workmen, exerting all their skill and strength for the benefit of a foreign nation. Thousands upon thousands of such men are daily coming. And, come they will, until the tyranny be abated. So that, if we could suppose it possible for the barbarous system to last another ten years, the Borough villains would be left with nobody but the very paupers. There has recently arrived a man from Kent, with his wife and family, to whom the parish gave twenty pounds to bring him out! The scheme was wise for both parties; but, only think of the infernal system that could make it wise! Future ages will read of the Borough villains as of monsters unparralleled. It will be a subject of wonder how such monsters came to be suffered to live.

meet with. The best answer to all these lies is this fact relating to my men's wages. In short, here a good, sober, able labourer, has a dollar a day and no board all the year round. While the price of board and lodging in the same neighbourhood is one dollar and three quarters a week; so that here are forty-five pounds sterling to lay by, excepting what may be wanting for cloths. A labourer here earns, at this time, sixteen pounds of pork a day; for pork is but about six cents, or three pence English, a pound. The bread, very best, is not now two pence English a pound. So that, about twelve pounds of bread and twelve pounds of solid fat meat, is what each good labourer may earn every day of his life. Our labourers, in the house, drink tea, coffee, with eggs, fish, cheese, butter and dried savoury meat for breakfast and supper. This is the way that those who toil ought to live; and this is the way in which they would live in England, if the Borough-tyrants were deprived of their power.

The other morning a young Englishman, who had come to me for advice, as mentioned above, and whose name is ADAMS, and who comes from LYNN in Norfolk, wished me to take him to Flushing, eight miles off. started a little too late to get in by breakfast time; and, as I was The Borough-villains are con- not willing to breakfast at unseatinually putting forth accounts of sonable hours, I stopped at a farm

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in subduing this country. These excellent people are still a part of our countrymen; but, they have had the courage and the good luck to free themselves from the op pressions, that we are yet compelled to submit to; but which, I trust, we shall not be compelled to submit to long.

house, where I saw the farmers roughmongers have taken away (two brothers) at the door: "How all the means of hospitality. They "do you do, Mr. TITUS?" "Pret-have dried up all the sources of it. "ty well, thank thee." "Have you That abundance, out of which "breakfasted?" "No." Well, these plain, good people supplied "then, if you have no objection, us with a breakfast, the Borough"this young Englishman and I villains would have taken to "will breakfast with you." "Very themselves, if they had succeeded "much pleased with thy company "and with this young man's too." They called a boy to take care of my horse and in to the house we went. The mistress of the house received us very politely, and gave us a breakfast of tea of the best sort, fine lump sugar, smoaked beef, ham, butter fresh from her spring-house, and bread of the The hare fact of there being so finest flour, mixed up, not with many thousands of farmers and water, but with milk. Here could labourers fleeing from England, is be no preparation. We took her proof quite sufficient of the misery at a moment's warning. This that exists there. An old ermin was the first farm-house that felled-ruffian has lately, at Chester, in our way. I had never been at told his audience, that the people the house before; none of the fa- are rendered discontented by my mily had ever been at my house; publications and by others having a I had no sort of acquaintanceship the press that creates the misery? similar tendency. What! Is it with Messrs. TITUS; we had ex- Is it the press that drives people changed nods, once or twice, and out of the country? Is it the that was all. To be sure these press that makes the bankruptcies, are very hospitable people; but, the want of employment, and the I very believe, that there is hardly starvation? Why, the press is a single farm-house in this whole more free here, and yet it creates country, at which, under similar no such things. Just as if the circumstances, we should not have press could make a man believe met with the same sort of recep- that his belly was empty while he tion. This is real hospitality. But felt it full! Just as if the press this is now unknown in England, could make men believe that they whence Messrs. TITUS's grandfa- were slaves, if they felt themselves ther brought it. The rascally Bo-free! Then the old rack talked