which the various fubjects connected with the duties of tradesmen are handled in the body of the work. The advice given is indeed good, and, if it be carefully followed, may make an honest and induftrious fhopkeeper; but the reward of fuch a character is not renown, or the pinnacle of fame.

Amufing Recreations; or a Collection of Charades and Riddles on political Characters, and various Subjects. Dedicated to Lady Onflow. By Mrs. Pilkington. 12mo. 1s. Vernor and Hood. 1798.

From the dedication of this collection, we learn that it obtained the approbation of lady Onflow, who is probably a better judge of fuch compofitions than the Critical Reviewers. The political conundrums, we apprehend, are beyond the capacity of the readers for whom the work is intended, but may fuit children of a larger growth.

Elements of Geography; containing a concife and comprehensive View of that ufeful Science as divided into Aftronomical, Phyfical, or Natural, and Political Geography, on a new Plan; adapted to the Capacities of Youth, and defigned for the Ufe of Schools, and private Families. By Jedidiah Morfe, D. D. Embellished with Maps. 12mo. 3s. 6d. Bound. Stockdale.

This is an useful school-book. The compiler had in view the improvement of his countrymen; and he is therefore particularly diffuse in his description of America; but, from the increasing importance of that part of the world, this cannot be confidered as a blemish in the work. The general accounts of the system, of the component parts of the earth, and of the political and religious state of mankind, are well adapted to the rifing generation.

Greenfield Hill: a Poem, in feven Parts. By Timothy Dwight, D. D. 8vo. 35. 6d. Button.

It is always with pleasure that we announce the fuccefs of the polite arts, wherever it occurs; and, when America difcovers an excellence in the literary walk, it is with an unfeigned fatisfaction that we make the communication to the public.

Greenfield Hill, a beautiful fpot in Connecticut, is the subject of the Trans-atlantic Mufe, who proves her powers in defcriptive poetry to be beyond the flight of a vulgar wing.

We shall select the beginning of the poem in fupport of our opinion.

From fouthern ifles, on winds of gentleft wing,
Sprinkled with morning dew, and rob'd in green,
Life in her eye, and mufic in her voice,
Lo fpring returns, and wakes the world to joy!
Forth creep the smiling herbs; expand the flowers;

New-loos'd, and burfting from their icy bonds,
The ftreams freth-warble, and through every mead
Convey reviving verdure; every bough,

Full-blown and lovely, teems with fweets and fongs;
And hills, and plains, and pastures feel the prime.
'As round me here I gaze, what prospects rise?
Etherial! matchlefs! fuch as Albion's fons,
Could Albion's ifle an equal prospect boaft,
In all the harmony of numerous fong,

Had tun'd to rapture, and o'er Cooper's hill,
And Windfor's beauteous foreft, high uprais'd,
And fent on fame's light wing to every clime.
Far inland, blended groves, and azure hills,
Skirting the broad horizon, lift their pride.
Beyond, a little chafm to view unfolds
Cerulean mountains, verging high on heaven,
In mifty grandeur. Stretch'd in nearer view,
Unnumber'd farms falute the cheerful eye;
Contracted there to little gardens; here outfpread
Spacious, with paftures, fields, and meadows rich;
Where the young wheat it's glowing green displays,
Or the dark foil befpeaks the recent plough,
Or flocks and herds along the lawn difport.
Fair is the landscape; but a fairer still

Shall foon inchant the foul-when harvest full
Waves wide its bending wealth. Delightful tafk!
To trace along the rich, enamell'd ground,
The sweetly varied hues; from India's corn,
Whofe black'ning verdure bodes a bounteous crop,
Through lighter grafs, and lighter still the flax,
The paler oats, the yellowish barley, wheat
In golden glow, and rye in brighter gold.

These foon the fight fhall blefs. Now other fcenes
The heart dilate, where round, in rural pride
The village fpreads its tidy, fnug retreats,

P. II.

That speak the industry of every hand.' Having no reason to doubt the veracity of the reverend bard we fhall exhibit a part of his prospect for the admiration of our readers.

• How blefs'd the fight of fuch a numerous train
In fuch small limits, tafting every good
Of competence, of independence, peace,
And liberty unmingled; every house
On its own ground, and every happy swain
Beholding no fuperior, but the laws,
And fuch as virtue, knowledge, useful life,
And zeal, exerted for the public good,

Have rais'd above the throng. For here, in truth,
Not in pretence, man is efteeem'd as man.
Not here how rich, of what peculiar blood,
Or office high; but of what genuine worth,
What talents bright and ufeful, what good deeds,
What piety to God, what love to man,
The question is. To this an anfwer fair
The general heart fecures. Full many a rich,
Vile knave, full many a blockhead, proud
Of ancient blood, these eyes have feen float down
Life's dirty kennel, trampled in the mud,
Stepp'd o'er unheeded, or pufh'd rudely on;
While merit, rifing from her humble skiff
To barks, of nobler, and still nobler size,

Sail'd down the expanding stream, in triumph gay,
By every fhip faluted.' P. 12.

As it is natural for every man to cherish in his heart the amor patria, we applaud the enthusiasm of the following apoftrophe.

Hail, O hail

My much-lov'd native land! New Albion hail !

The happiest realm, that, round his circling courfe,

The all-fearching fun beholds. What though the breath
Of Zembla's winter fhuts thy lucid ftreams,

And hardens into brafs thy generous foil;

Though, with one white, and cheerlefs robe, thy hills,
Invested, rife a long and joylefs waste;

Leaflefs the grove, and dumb the lonely spray,
And every pasture mute, what though with clear
And fervid blaze, thy fummer rolls his car,
And drives the languid herd, and fainting flock
To feek the fhrouding umbrage of the dale;
While mani, relax'd and feeble, anxious waits
The dewy eve, to flake his thirsty frame :
What though thy furface, rocky, rough, and rude,
Scoop'd into vales, or heav'd in lofty hills,

Or cloud-embofom'd mountains, dares the plough,
And threatens toil intense to every swain:
What though foul calumny, with voice malign,
Thy generous fons, with every virtue grac'd,
Accus'd of every crime, and still rolls down
The kennell'd stream of impudent abuse:
Yet to high heaven my ardent praises rife,
That in thy lightfome vales he gave me birth,
All-gracious, and allows me still to live.'

P. 13.

From these specimens of American poetry, the reader, we think, will derive pleasure; and, when we inform him that they are not the only meritorious paffages in the poem, he will probably be derous of perusing the whole.

Epifle in Rhyme, to M. G.
Monk, Cafle Spectre, &c.
Hand. 8vo. 15. Lunn.

Lewis, Efq. M. P. Author of the With other Verfes. By the fame 1798.

The author of this epiftle undertakes to vindicate the morality of the Monk, and lavishes praise upon the Caftle Spectre. To us Mr. Lewis's romance appears the vigorous production of a depraved imagination; and his play we deem excellent only in pantomimic ftage effect. The prefent writer, however, muft not be confidered as indifferent to the morals of the public; for he pretends to have difcovered a dangerous tendency in The Stranger. This is extraordinary in one who appears as the apologist for descriptions of grofs lewdnefs; but he has accounted for it by faying that the Stranger contains French morality.

The poetry of the epiftle poffeffes great merit. will fhow the author's powers.

Our extract

Say, oft as night and filence o'er the earth
Draw their clofe veil, and give reflection birth,
Is not a fpirit, good or ill, confeft,
In ev'ry virtuous, ev'ry guilty breast ?
Does not a voice, that will be heard, pervade
The inmoft foul in deep retirement's shade?
Does it not calm of innocence the fear?
Does it not yell to profp'rous vice, "Defpair!"
Why then forbid the poet's art to give
Corporeal shape to what all feel who live?
No mind fo firm but oft recurs in thought,
To all the priest and all the nurse have taught;
Mem'ry acknowledges the forms of air,
And ev'ry goblin finds acquaintance there.
Not fo the monstrous brood that shock belief,
Palm'd on the town by Morton and O'Keeffe ;
Who, ftill with nature and good sense at strife,
Profanely ftile their figures drawn from life:
Ev'n Boaden's ghoft is furely full as good
As Holcroft's characters of flesh and blood,
To which, throughout the year, no day goes by,
But gives in ev'ry lineament the lie.

Soon fhall fome wag, to fet opinions right,
Defcribe the nymphs of Billingfgate-polite,
Soft fentiment from lips of butchers roll,
Or with a tender turnkey melt the foul!
Since valiant taylors, on the stage let loose,
Roufe all the lion rampant-in the goose !
And gen'rous Jews unfparingly difpenfe
Pure chriftianity and vital pence!' P. 6.

Poems on various Subjects. By Mary Ann Chantrell, of Newington Simmons. 1798.

Butts. 8vo.

2s. 6d.

There is nothing better in this volume than the Address to the Subscribers.

When Fancy to me her affistance first lent,

To amufe my own thoughts was my only intent;
The wifh of a few partial friends have prevail'd,
O'er the vanity their foothing flattery affail'd;
Yet, ere I confented in print to appear,
'Twas requifite courage fhould teach me to bear
The laugh of the critic, the fneer of contempt,
With ridicule's fmile at the foolish attempt.
Arm'd with resolution, at length I prefume,
To publifh these trifles, nor figh at their doom.
But let me ferious, nor longer provoke,

The contempt of my friends by attempts at a joke.' r. v.

We may also observe, that there is nothing worse.

The Warning, a poetical Addrefs to Britons. To which is added, a Report of the Proceedings of the Whig Club, at their Meeting, May 1ft, 1798, in a poetical Epiftle from Henry Bumpkin, in Town, to his Brother in the Country. 8vo. Is. 6d. Hatchard. 1798.

Of this very dull and very loyal piece a fhort fpecimen will be fufficient.

• What are the bleffings, Britons, we can boast,
That tempt the av'rice of the Gallic hoft?
For think not they will bring you freedom here,
But death and robb'ry they import elsewhere:
Indeed thofe tools, the cannon and the fsword,
To freedom rarely better times afford;

'Tis not their aim, your wealth, your homes, and land,
Will be requir'd, to glut the hungry band;

Nor is this all, where'er they plant the foot,

The Egotift: or, Sacred Scroll. A familiar Dialogue between the Author of the Pursuits of Literature and Octavius. 8vo. Is. Od. Murray and Highley. 1798.

This is an attempt to ridicule a malignant work'; but it displays little ability.

DRAM A.

Cambro-Britons, an Hiftorical Play, in Three Acts. First 'performed at the Theatre Royal, Haymarket, on Saturday, July 21, 1798. With a Preface. Written by James Boaden, Efq. Author of Fontainville Foreft, Italian Monk, &c. &c. 8vo. Robinsons. 1798.

25.

The march of troops up the mountains, the bards curfing them