Pilche Funcan Would more substantial joys afford, More real bliss impart Than all the wealth that misers hoard, Than vanquish'd worlds, or worlds restor❜d Mere cankers of the heart! From "The Pictures of Columbus." Columbus in Chains Are these the honours they reserve for me, Rest here, my swelling heart! O kings, O queens, Authors of wrong, and slaves to fortune merely! Honour'd, caress'd like some first peer of Spain. From honour's summit to the sink of scandal! Which they call Fame, that should induce the brave, Then chains, and prisons, and disgrace like mine! The Wild Honey Suckle Fair flower, that dost so comely grow, No roving foot shall find thee here, By Nature's self in white array'd, Smit with those charms that must decay, Thou, stranger, that shalt come this way, Here still a lofty rock remains, On which the curious eye may trace Here still an aged elm aspires, There oft a restless Indian queen By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews, And long, shall timorous fancy see CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN OF PHILADELPHIA 1771-1810 It is easy to criticise the older writers, to find fault with their repetitions, their erratic punctuation, their loose sentences, and especially a certain primness and stiffness of style. One almost feels as if they were not fully accustomed to the use of the pen, or as if they stood in some little awe of the printed page, and thought they must maintain an air of distance and dignity. All the more praise to an author who, in spite of these handicaps, can succeed in painting a scene as vividly as Brown has done in the following description of the fever-stricken city. news. From "Arthur Mervyn," Chap. XV. Philadelphia, 1799. Philadelphia in Time of Yellow Fever In proportion as I drew near the city, the tokens of its calamitous condition became more apparent. Every farmhouse was filled with supernumerary tenants; fugitives from home; and haunting the skirts of the road, eager to detain every passenger with inquiries after The passengers were numerous; for the tide of emigration was by no means exhausted. Some were on foot, bearing in their countenances the tokens of their recent terror, and filled with mournful reflections on the forlornness of their state. Few had secured to themselves an asylum; some were without the means of paying for victuals or lodging for the coming night; others, who C. B. Brown were not thus destitute, yet knew not whither to apply for entertainment, every house being already over-stocked with inhabitants, or barring its inhospitable doors at their approach. Families of weeping mothers, and dismayed children, attended with a few pieces of indispensable furniture, were |