Here give your sorrows; o'er the ashes weep
Of these sad lovers, lock'd in death's cold sleep.

Sunk are those hearts that once with vivid glow,
Melted in mutual tenderness of woe;

Clos'd are those eyes that, bright with living fire,
Spoke the sweet eloquence of soft desire:
Mute are those lips, that oft-times would disclose
The moving story of impending woes:

Now lifeless rest, yet bleeding from the wound,
This hapless pair beneath the mould'ring ground.
Ah! cruel brother of a charge too good,

'Twas you who caus'd this pair to shed their blood,
To seek an end to weight of human woe,
To plunge despairing in the vale below,
To court a death that weeping crouds lament,
Ah! could not beauty make thy soul relent?
Could not the plaints of love once reach thy heart?
Could not the weeping eye a grief impart ?
Could not ELIZA's voice thy pity move;

But, must her choice thy furious lips reprove?

Oh! when thy eyes death's horrid form shall meet, And when thy hearse moves slowly through the street, May not a tear thy memory demand,

But call reproaches from this gen'rous land!

A land, where love's inflicting power extends,
Where the proud youth at beauty's altar bends;
Where the muse smiles, when Barlow strikes the lyre,
In bold sublimity of epic fire.

Yet shall each muse her tuneful tribute bring,
Sweep the sad harp, and mournful touch the string;
Rehearse the woes that mingled with their love,

And ev'ry heart to tears of sorrow move.

Ye swains and nymphs, with health and beauty crown'd, Scarce let your footsteps press the hallow'd ground, When the loud bell, slow-echoing from the walls, Your minds to worship of to prayer calls; But, treading lightly o'er the lover's grave, Drop the sad tear their mem'ries from you crave.

My occupations at New-York, however agreeable, did not repress my desire to explore the continent before me; and I thought it best to travel while I had some crowns left in my purse. I felt regret at the thought of separating from the Doctor, whom I was attached to from habit; but the Doctor soon relieved me by saying, he would accompany me whithersoever I went; that no man loved travelling better than he, and that he would convert his medicines into money to defray his expences on the road.

But tell me, said the Doctor, are you fond of walking? I assured him no person could be more so. Then, resumed he, let us each provide ourselves with a good cudgel, and begin our journey on foot. I will put a case of instruments into my pocket, and you can slip into your's the campaign of Buonaparte in Italy.

But whither, replied I, do you propose to go; and what, I beseech you, is the object of your travelling? To see the world, assuredly, said he; to eat, drink, and laugh away care on the road. How Doctor, said I, would you approve of a walk to Philadelphia? I should like it of all things, said the Doctor. In our way to it we should go through the place of my birth; you have heard, I guess, of Hackinsac; and at Philadelphia I could get somebody to introduce me to the great Doctor Rush. All we have to do is to send on our trunks in the coach, and trudge after them on foot.

C4

Our resolution was no sooner taken than ́executed. The Doctor got an apothecary, who lived opposite, to purchase what few drugs were contained in his painted drawers; and having dispatched our trunks forward by the coach, we began our journey to Philadelphia.

Having crossed the Hudson, which separates York-Island from the shore of the Jerseys, we were landed at a Tavern* delightfully situated on the bank of the river, The Doctor having once reduced a fractured leg for the landlord, proposed dining at the Tavern: he will certainly charge us nothing, said he, for I once reduced his leg, when the Tibia and Fibula were both badly fractured. It was a nice case, and I will put him in mind of it.

But you charged him! Doctor! did you not, said I. No matter for that, replied he. I should have been expelled from the College of Whigs, had I not put in my claim.

I represented to the Doctor that no man who respected himself would become an eleemosynary guest at the table of another, when he had money to defray his wants. That to remind another of past services discovered a want of humanity; and that a mean action, though it may not torment the mind at the moment it was done, never fails afterwards to bring compunction: for

*Every public-house in the United States, however contemptible, is dignified by the name of Tavern.

the remembrance of it will present itself like a spectre to the imagination.

The landlord of the tavern was a portly man, who in the middle of the day was dressed in a loose night-gown and mocossins ;* he recognised the Doctor, whom he shook heartily by the hand, and turning to a man in company said, "they may talk of Doctor Rush, Doctor Mitchell, or Doctor Devil, but I maintain Doctor De Bow is the greatest Doctor of them all.”

It was difficult to refrain from laughing aloud; but the speech of the landlord inspired the Doctor with very different emotions: he made an inclination of his head, adjusted his spectacles, and assumed a profound look that assented to the justness of the remark.

What, gentlemen, said the landlord, would you chuse for your dinner? It is now the hottest part of the day, and if you are walking to Newark, you will find the evening more pleasant. How comes on trade, Doctor, at New-York? I warrant you have got your share.

Why, Mr. Clinch, replied the Doctor, I cannot complain. There have been several cases of fever to which I was called. And the patients were right, said Mr. Clinch, for they could not have called a better Doctor had they sent over the four quarters of the globe for him. Well, it is true, God sends this country fevers, but he also sends us Doctors who are able to cure them. It is like

* Mocossins are Indian shoes, made of deer-skin,

the State I was born in: Virginia is infested with snakes, but it abounds with roots to cure their bite. Come walk in, gentlemen, walk in. I will get dinner ready directly.

Our dinner was a miserable one; but the landlord seasoned his dishes with flattery, and the Doctor found it very palatable. We went forward in the cool; nor did my friend hesitate to pay his club towards two dollars for our repast : it was high, the Doctor whispered, but continued he, when a man's consequence is known at a tavern it always inflames the bill.

It was our original design to have gone through Hackinsack, a little village that claimed the honor of my companion's nativity; but it was getting late; the road to it was circuitous, and we wished much that night to travel to Elizabeth Town. The Doctor consoled himself for not visiting his family by observing that no man was a prophet at home.

We did not stop long at Newark, but prosecuted our walk, after taking shelter from a shower of rain in one of its sylvan habitations.* The

trees.

* The houses at Newark are generally shaded by clusters of One of our modern Tourists would devote probably a dozen pages to the description of Newark, which is famed for the richest cider, and the largest cobler's stall in the United States of America. It supplies also an old house on a hill, which, unworthy of repair, is mouldering to dust; but which has enough of the walls remaining to furnish an English Tourist with an admirable plate. To such Tourists I consign Newark, and other places on the road, which the Traveller beholds and dismisses from his mind with frigid indifference.