Whoe'er thou art-ne'er may thy Patriot fire,
Unfed by praise or patronage, expire!

Forbid it, Taste!-with Compensation large,
Patrician hands thy labours shall o'ercharge!

B-DF-RD and WH-TBR-D shall vast sums advance,
The Land and Malt of Jacobin Finance!

Whoe'er thou art!-before thy feet we lay,
With lowly suit, OUR NUMBER OF TO-DAY!
Spurn not our Offering with averted eyes!
Let thy pure breath revive th'extinguish'd Lres!
MISTAKES, MIS-STATEMENTS, now so oft o'erthrown,
Re-build, and prop with Nonsense of thy own!
Pervert our meaning, and mis-quote our Text-
And FURNISH US A MOTTO FOR THE NEXT!

To the Editor of the Anti-Jacobin.

Hicksey-Grove, near Dunstable, Feb. 12, 1798.

SIR,

I am a Gentleman of easy fortune, retired into the Country; where the greatest part of my business, as

But this does not satisfy our Author. He determines to retort Mr. BURKE's own words upon him; and unfortunately, “reaching at a Metaphor," where Mr. BURKE only intended a Fact, he falls into the little mistake above-mentioned, and by a stroke of his pen, transmutes the illustrious HEAD of the House of RUSSELL, into a metal, to which it is not for us to say how near, or how remote his affinity may possibly have been. He writes thus-" If Mr. BURKE bad been content with a dead Russell, and bewing HIM (observe - Himself— the dead Russell himself) into Grape and Canister, to

UNPLUMBING

"but HIM

not bis coffin,

"sweep down the whole Generation of bis Descendants," &c. &c. The thing is scarcely credible: but IT is so. We write with the Book open before us.

Query Surcharge?

well

well as my amusement, lies, in the education of two sons; both promising lads- whom I am endeavouring to bring up in such a manner as may enable them to bustle through the world with some credit. For this purpose, as things now go, I do not think the ordinary course of Classical Education by any means sufficient. The most accurate acquaintance with the Ancient Poets, Historians, or Philosophers, appears to me to be of little value, except it is improved by a constant application of the facts, or the morals to be collected from them, to what is passing in the age in which we live. It is my object, therefore, to teach my young men things as they are, at the same moment that they acquire a knowledge of what they were two thousand years ago. And I never suffer a remakable passage in LIVY, or a striking Ode of HORACE, to pass by in the lessons of the day, without calling upon one of them for an illustration of it, by a reference to something that has occurred in the Public History of our own times or Country. HORACE is at present our favourite study.

The following adaption of the beautiful Ode to BARINE (the 8th of the 2d Book) to the character and circumstances of the Noble Lord who has afforded so much entertainment to the Public here, and is now going to exhibit in his native country, will, I ope, be no unacceptable present to your Readers. It is by my second boy, JASPER. If I find that it gives the world as much satisfaction as it has done to his Father, I shall be happy to furnish you from time to time with any other exercises of this sort that I may think worthy your notice: and I do not despair of seeing other fathers of families, and masters of seminaries, adopt the same method of mixing modern improvement with ancient learning, and convert

ing, by degrees, the whole of HORACE'S Odes into Addresses to other characters equally distinguished for their amusing qualities.

I am, Sir,

Your humble Servant,

ADOLPHUS HICKS.

ODE TO LORD M-RA.

I.

If on your head (1) some vengeance fell,
M-RA for every Tale you tell

The listening Lords to cozen;
If but one Whisker lost its hue

Chang'd (like MOLL. COGGIN's tail) to blue,
I'd hear them by the dozen,

II,

But still, howe'er you draw your bow,

(2)

Your charms improve, your triumphs grow,
New grace adorns your figure;

More stiff your Boots, more black your Stock,
Your Hat assumes a prouder cock,
Like PISTOL'S (if 'twere bigger.)

III.

Tell then your Stories, strange and new,

Your Father's Fame (3) shall vouch them true;

So shall the Dublin Papers:

Swear by the Stars (4) that saw the sight,

That infant thousands die each night,
While Troops blow out their tapers.

IV.

SH-BR-H (5) shall cheer you with a smile,
M-CPH-RS-N (6) simpering all the while,
With B-ST-ID (6) and with BRUIN : (6)
And fierce N-CH-LL, (7) who wields at will
Th'emphatic stick, or powerful quill,
To prove his Country's ruin.

Each day new Followers (8) crowd your board, And lean Expectants hail my Lord

With adoration fervent:

Old TH-RL-W, (9) tho' he swore by G-
No more to own a Master's Nod,

Is still your humble Servant,

.VI.

Old P-LT-N-Y(10) too your influence feels,

And asks from you th'Exchequer Seals,

To tax and save the Nation:

T-KE trembles*, lest your potent charms
Should lure C-s F-x (11) from bis fond arms,
TO YOUR Administration.

FOREIGN INTELLIGENCE.

MANY unfounded reports having been in circulation last week respecting HAMBURGH, we think it right to state, for the information of our Readers, that the Packet (the Prince of Orange) which arrived on Tuesday last, left Cuxhaven on the 11th of this month, but brought no intelligence nor Mail from HAMBURGH, the communication between that City and the Left Bank of the ELBE being impeded by the great accumulation of ice in the river.

It is difficult to trace the rumours in question to any other source than an Unofficial Article in one of the latest French Newspapers, mentioning that LEONARD BOURDON had been dispatched on a special Mission to HAMBURGH. Any Public Mission from the present Rulers of France to an unoffending City, which has not the means of protecting itself, is naturally pre-supposed

The trepidation of Mr. T-KE, though natural, was not necessary; as it appeared from the ever-memorable "LETTER to Mr. MAC MAHON," (which was published about this time in the Morning Chro nicle, and threw the whole town into paroxysms of laughter) that in the Administration which HIS LORDSHIP was so gravely employed in forming, Mr. Fox was to have no place!

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