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THE LOVER. A SONG. Some few years ago, Mv poor brother Joe, Got m love with a damsel as tat as a plover, And ever si me then, Most certain I've been, That Nature ne’er could, In most frolicksome mood, Make a comic’lcr thing than a lover. CHORUS. “What a whimsical dog is a lover Flames and darts Broken hearts, Sudden starts, Fearful eyes, Sobs and sighs, Grunts—groans, Skin and bones ; O ! what a queer dog; is a lover. To think of his vapours, And comical capers, By my sold I have laughed lull a hun dred times over; The tievi I u bit Could we get him to eat, He’d whimper and whine, lie’ll mope, and he’d pine And look full as sad Asa dog running mad, t) what a sad fellow’s a lover. CHORUS. ’What an ill-looking dog is a lovCr, llis eyes dull and red, And sunk in his bead If is face thin and pale, His pace like a snail ; 0 blood, fire and thunder, What is there l wonder, In the world that looks worse than a lover. O ne’er was poor wight, In such terrible plight, Doctor Squab swore by Galen he’d ne ver recover, He’d rip ami he’d tear, And he’d foam like a bear And he’d swear that in nature, There was not a creature,* So charming as Tabitha Rover. CRORUS. 0 what a blind <log is a.lover ; Girl [dump and fat, Or poor as a rat— Hale looking', Pale looking, Clear ey'd, Blear ey'd Long spliced, Strong spiced, This—that; No matter what; Ah ! such a blind dog is a lover. Full well I remember, Ojir in TVccemUPr, 1 wish'd that the devil had Tabitha Ro ver— For while I was sleeping Ami Joe vigils keeping He kick'd oil'the t lothes, And the. frost bit my toes ; Ne'er again will I sleep with a lover. CHORUS. O zounds,who would sleep with a lover, With his mutt'ring and mumbling, llis tossing and umbling, His bouncing and burning, His flouncing and turning, By the squirt of ohl Chiron ! What perils environ The poor devil that sleeps with a lover. But its all o\er now, For two years ago * Brother Joe pop'd the question to Ta bitha Rover, Sweet Tabby, says be, Will you marry me ( Her bosom turn'd red, She hung down her head, And suuk in the arms of her lover. CHORUS. What a changeable dog is a lover : Sobbing —sighing, Groaning —'lying, M oping—-pining, \Y niinp'ring—whining, Sheep's eyes—glances killing, Pops the question—-very willing, Pretty Misses —hugs, kisses, Raptures —blisses : Then the wedding, Then t*ie bedding, Honey moon, Over soon, And then, good bye to the lover. See hew the flowretblushes in the moPn, A thousand colours o'er its bosom play; But soon these hues, that nature's robe adorn, Rent by the winds, are scatter'd far away. •’Tis thus with beauty,lovely, transient flower— How soon, alas ! its maiden sweetness flies ; How soon it fades in life's declining hour, And in the di s* a withering rose-bud lie?. ma o'jwwlawt* Remarks upon the American Publica tion, entitled “ Ji Sketch of Old En gland hr/ a England-Alan copied from the Edinburgh Scotsman o f January 22, 1823. Men are seldom losers in tlu> end by fair conduct, or gainers by cal umny and abuse. For many years English travellers and English re viewers nave found it either pleas ant or profitable to let out their ilii beralitv and petulance upon the peo ple of the United States. Honest John Bull received the effusions of these persons whh satisfaction, because they gratified, his self-love, and furnished him with reasons for despising those whom he was rath er inclined to dread. But these re peated injuries and insults have roused a New-England Man to look a little more closely into John’s character and pretensions, and the result is the two volumes row be fore us, on the character, manners, literature, and institutions ot Eng land, written something in the spi rit ot the lex tcilioiiis. W c cannot say that he returns “ measure tor measure,” for, in vigour ot intel lect and talent as a writer,, he is a grant among the pigmies who have teased and goaded him by their im- pertinence into this act of retributive justice. He has shown, that how ever low our vanity may rate the acquirements of the Americans, they have at least literature enough to repel insults. Her men ot lettei s, like her seamen, begin apparently to think that the time for taking kicks is past, and that there might possi bly be some small clanks in her adversaries’mail through which home thrust could be made. In truth, nobody has been so much ad dicted to mistake his own character and that of his neighbor's—to cry himself up for qualities he wanted, and to cry down others for failings with which he was himself chavge- able, as John Bull. Certainly it is not his interest to provoke a cen sorious spirit, for he has his full share of the vices as well as the virtues, the shame as well as the glory, of civilization ; and wluit is wrong in his character it is not easy to conceal. — Fo say nothing of more serious charges, such as our bloody criminal code, our swarms of bankrupts arul convicts, our two millions of paupers —how much ood for ridicule would an Ameri can find, in the fopperies of our ners —in the forms, powers and pre tensions of our civil and judicial unctionaries and our old corpora tions—in our close burghs, where the representative elects his consti tuents —in our large salaries for small duties, or no duties at all—in all those matters where we have thrown sense and reason behind us, in deference to “the wisdom of our ancestors?” The New Eng land Man has not neglected his advantages. He has drawn a por trait of John Bull, in which his false pretension, follies, and absur dities, are brought out with every advantage of light and shade. Wc do not mean, however, that he vis ited England on purpose to misrep resent the character of the people, but the falsehoods and calumnies so zealously propagated by English writers against America, had evi dently given him a bad impression, • both of the people who found grati fication in them, and of the literary artizatu who pandered to the de praved appetite of the public by manufacturing them. He has not done us justice in some things, un less we give that name to the retalia- tion of injustice, lie has made some mistakes in facts and circumstan ces ; yet we believe he is infinitely more accurate and better informed than those English travellers who pass for authorities in every thing relating to America. Where he does err, there is so much truth mixed up with his errors, and so much reason with his wrong judg ments, that the worst othis pictures have still veri-similitude enough to wound our national vanity. But he finds much in England to commend, and his praise has the merit of dis crimination. He seems, too to de scribe our faults and vices fully as much in pity and sorrow as in 3corn or anger. He is honest cnougti in deed to tell his brother, to whom the letters are addresaed, that he had been much beset by the blue devils boih in England and on the Continent, and warns him todeduct three per cent, from his descrip tions of life and manners. About one third of the book consists of the narrative of our author s pil grimage through England and Wales, and the other two thirds of a critical description of our manners, morals, customs, laws, judicial and civil establishments elections, taxes, charities, arts, drama and literature. He takes a wicked pleasure in draw ing parallels between our Parlia ment and the Congress of the Uni ted States, our king and their presi dent, our taxes and their nc-taxes, our starving farmers and their well fed laborers; and though he is bom an American and a republican,con trives to be singularly clever, witty , and amusing. He not only savs that there is more honesty and dil igence in Congress than in our 1 ai liament, which we would place to the account of American igno rance ; but after witnessing many debates, he maintains there is more eloquence, dignity and order. He has a respectable knowledge ot our history and antiquities, yet such is the force of American prejudice, that he cannot discover the beauty and virtue of rotten burghs, sine cures, tithes and standing armies, which, according to some modern authorities, lie at the root of all that is excellent in the constitution. He is infinitely sportive upon the superlatives “ vast,” and w grand,” and “ stupendous” bestowed by English tourists on such hillocks as Snowden, such creeks as the Severn, or little garden cascades fifty feet ligh. He complains bitterly of the our or five different tongues spo ;en in England which rendered his English useless to him, and forced him to hire an interpreter, whom he calls a professor ot languages.— He is irreverently merry upon the Coronation, at which he was pres ent, and has something very piquant upon the happiness of a nation where the Minister of Finance, de clares taxes to be a blessing. He is so ungenerous as to judge of the spirit of our government from the Manchester tragedy, the six bills, Oliver’s plot, Hone and Car lisle’s prosecutions, the Queen’s funeral, and various other small acts at home and abroad. His in dignation is provoked by the vanal ity of our Reviews, and he describes with great force the delusions prac tised on the public by booksellers, who employ innumerable arts to puff off an author and procure him a run for the season . The book is written with great talent. The au thor has the accuteness of Simond without his fastidiousness with a greater grasp of intellect and greater boldness and decision of charicter. His stvle is clear, nerv ous, abounding in figures artel allu sions, full of vivacity, but easy, flowing, and unlabored. He cannot be long unknown, and when he comes forth, will be entitled to take his place among the most powerful writers of the clay in either continent In the United States the work can not fail to become prodigiously po pular. He has avenged the inju ries of England in a stylo which must turn the laugh against us in America, and would probe John Bull’s sdlf-love to the quick if it could reach him. We neither adopt nor commend all the author’s opin ions—far from it—but we think it j would be Well to put the book into j John’s hand, for the correction of j that inordinate national pride,which blinds him to his own defects, and makes him so insufferable to for eigners. This, however, is not likely to happen, for without a spe-j cial license from the Attorney Gen-j eral, no printer would put his name; td the work. To have our whole! system, with all its ancient and gro tesque accompanyments, anatomi sed by a most sagacious, able, anil thorough republican, who writes without the fear of prosecution be fore his eyes; to have all the sut lime parts of our constitution teste 1 by the hard and rigid rule of denu cratic utility, is evidently a species of political torture, altogether it variance with the modern rules cf civilized disputation. The Amer icans are hardy enough to reprint all the libels we manufacture upon their national character and govern ment. But this is a rule it does not suit us to follow. Cutting out, however,a few passages about King, Lords, and Commons in which the author has visibly indulged his pre judices, rather than exercised hi3 judgment, the book might be reprint ted in London, and have some good effect. The following extracts will give r.n idea of the author s manner. <• \ .r,, (H I taste in the relish lor ura-j rrnitic exhibitions, is, beyond doubt, one <weat criterion of the state ol mo-1 rals Jam! whenever I sec the stage cun-. verted into a bear-garden for drunk anls, wild leasts, puppet ahowa, an.l pantomimes I take it lor granted the audience must be pretty much on a pa. with the exhibition. Above all, wncu people, called well .educated and po lite are find of seeing murders, mad men, and extiavagant caricatures of every hunan passion represented on the stags. it ‘ s il surc S ‘Js ! ’ 1 lt,r tasto approximates to that of the mob, who are most outrageously addicted to run nin,r uftw executions and funerals. f used often to go to the theatres here, u itil 1 grew tired of their abom ination-. —The dramatic art is certain ly at the lowest ebb in this country, owing to a variety of causes. The first is the ind ifference of the fashion able world, who, one and all, prefer to go to deep at the Italian opera, to sit ting /but one of Shakspeare’s best plays; the second cause l apprehend to be lie bigotrv of a considerable por tion ts that class, which furnished a vast if any spectators to the theatres: 1 meat the respectable middling class, many of whom will nut go to the play because they are told that it is immo ral ; afd many for no other reason, than because it is no longer fashionable. It actual v smacks of radicalism, to : 3 o of ten tolthe theatre. “ Fu- these, and other reasons of less extensive operation, it happens, that except! when anew well bepuftim actor —a u|dl bepuffed play, by some well bepufrd author, the king, the queen, the effphant, or some other monster at tracts them, the theatres are but little visiter by fashionable people. The drain!is uo longer a fashionable topic of conversation ; and the man who ven tured, to introduce the name of Shak speart into the best society, would, beyond doubt, be voted a great bore by the Corinthians and the young ladies of tonj. Fhe theatres are consequent ly in possession of the vulgar, who can relist/nothing but spectacles or broad caricatures; country gentry that come to ton, and are taken thither by their fashionable friends, because it is a sort of oitt-of-the-way-place, where their awkwardness and old-fashioned dress es cannot disgrace them ; and strangers driven thither by the desperate fiend, Ennui, which is a native of London, though baptized in French, and hovers niglit and day over this cave ot spleen. These last, whatever they may think or say, on the subject, can have little or no influence in correcting the taste of the town. * The result is as mightbe expected. Tile taste of the mob must be consult ed, as by the mob the theatres are principally supported. Every species off monster, moral, and intellectual, twfo-legged and four-legged, riots, on tii! stage. Horses, dogs, cossacks, el ephants, camels and dromedaries are tlye heroes of the drama, so that 1 have oijten been tempted to cry out with the excellent mayor of Qninborough,— “ Give me a play without a beast 1 charge yon.” “ These exhibitions of quadrupeds tike precedence over all others, and command the most outrageous plaudits of the discriminating audience. The next hi public attention is the melo drama, where the passions are expres sed by the fullers, and the author is saved the trouble of. attending to such jjovv matters. All he lias to do is to produce striking situations, at all haz ards, at every risk of probability, and n defiance of common sense. After these comes the legitimate comedy, as ihe excellent critics call it, which owes jail its effect to a drunken Irishman or sailor, two or three non-descript and original monsters not to be found on earth nor in the waters under the earth ; a smart hero compounded of opposite extremes of harem scarem impudence aud profound sentiment, together with a sentimental young la ; cly, always ready to make a fool of her ! parents. The dialogue must consist in cant phrases, gross slang, offensive | double-entendre, and inflated senti ment on the part of the young lady— as also her lover, whenever he has time to he iii love. A fourth class of plays, very much approved of by John Bull at present, are those not abso lutely written by any body. They consist of the united labours of the scene-painters, the mechanics, the scene shifters, and the “ Great Un known,” whose works are regularly dramatised by an industrious journey man playwright. They are made up of all the most striking incidents of the novel or poem, crowded as thick as hops and jumbled together pretty much at random. The whole ma chinery of these faragoes is held to gether by the fiddlers, who whenever the playwright is at his wits’ ends, or on the verge of absurdity or impassi bility, flourish their bows, ami thunder away in the very nick of time, while the lucky wight escapes under their cover to the next incongruity. The audience, which in London always goes to sleep while the music is pfty ‘lng, forgets what came last, a l l I next scene commences with .all 1 ! advantages of an utr oblivion of;, I i past. The nice taste of the in •:> ~ I ! thus perfectly satisfied, in witsie sia I a quick succession of sinking iiici. I j dents, without the necessity ol i i O . I i fatiguing efforts to make them ap u*, ; I probable, that have thrown such oi ,; a . cles in the way of many dramatic an. thors. “ But the most popular of all tin .o inspired writers, who have lately ~ts. sisted at the resurrection of irag ( .fl is Mr. Maturin, an Irish who is ia the region of fiction, whai Counsellor Phillips is in that of l aw _ There is certainly some of the sniokc of genius in this writer, and where r.hero is smoke, they say, there must. lui lire. But it seems to be a sort <>; clumsy, unpuroosed and discriminate facility, engendered in horrors, and nestled in the same cradle with the g.-eat “ law head and bloody hones” of ihe nursery. It seems always labour ing with some mighty godhead, and ytff produces nothing but shapele-* m (fosters. Devoted to a mere am. m illation of horror upon horror, extra voigance upon extravagance, his efforts seem those of the Cyclops, Polyphe mus. the result of energy and blind ness combined. His genius appears, in fact, entirely devoted to the saluta ry purpose of exciting a people, like tiie citizens of London, the gcntecU* portion of whom are so used to I:x\n*r ‘ matches, and the lower classes to ex ecutions, that their blunted syinpr, thies can only be awakened on the. stage bv the most disgusting exhibi tions of extravagant horrors.” The . following anecdote, (says the Norwich, N. York, paper,) is said to be a fact. A member of the legislature, whose observations upon the city man ners and customs were rather limited, put up at one of the most fashionable taverns in Albany. After dinner, as was his usual practice, be sat regaling himself with his pipe and tobacco.— ‘Fhe room was well carpeted and near him stood a spit box. The waiter ob serving him to make no use of so ne cessary an appendage,moved it nearer; but the legislator pushed it aside with liis foot, and continued to spit upon the carpet as before. Again rhe ser vant replaced it, and again it was re moved by the representative. Once more the servant offered to replace it when the wise man exclaimed, “If you don't take that thing out of the way, I vow I‘ll spit in it.” Ueovi’m-- - Monroe. € o\\ v\t\ o * • In \Munroe Superior Coujrt, March Term, lß23. Jonathan Parrish, Informer,') vs. , V Sci. Fa.. Berry lledd. J “W T appearing to the Court by the: 1 Sheriff's return in this case, that die defendant is not to he found : On motion of the plaintiff’s attorney, it is thereupon ordered that service be per fected by publication in one of the public gazettes of this state, that the. defendant appear at the Superior court to be held in said county, on the fourth Monday in September next,and make his defence, and that this rule lie published monthly for three months, previous to said court, according to* law. A true copy from the minutes. W ATKINS HUNT, Clerk. 26th March, 1823. ir.Sm—B •Volute. NINE months after date, applica tion will be made to the honorable Inferior Court of Jefferson county, when sitting for ordinary purposes, for leave to sell one tract of land con taining two hundred acres, more or less, lying in the county of Burke, adjoining lands of John Pierce and others, it the real estate of Isaac Harris, fide of said county, deceased, and tope sold for the bene fit of tlfe heirs and creditors of said deceascm-r^”'^ Amifeyi Bryan,"} Dunfer Green, V adm’rs. John Shly, J September 4, 1822, m9m We ave authorised la announce Capt. Charles Bul lock a candidate to represent this County in the Senatorial branch of the next Legislature of this State. We are authorised to announce Timothy Matthews esq. a candidate to represent this county in the Senatorial branch of the next Legislature of this State. Stephen Williams is a candidate to represent this county in the next Legislature of this State. We are requested to sa\j that Charles Ingram Jun’r. is a candidate for the office of Captain of this district.