seem to think the world was made for them only. And yet, alas! these same stupid, slavish people, gape with admiration at the pompous parade, and apologize for the oppressive conduct of their tyrants ! One would think that such wretches, who kiss the foot that kicks them, deserve to be slaves; but I say they ought to be pitied, rather than reproached, because they are kept in gross ignorance from youth to age, and are amused and deluded by the tinsel of royalty, from their infancy. Were the people in any kingdom in Europe to be illuminated, as the good people of the United States happily are, the cap of liberty would soon surmount the bloody flag of despotism. They would then be convinced, that the cavalcades of aristocracy not only bereaved them of their natural rights, but insulted their understandings likewise ; or if you please, added insult to injury, by exhibiting their own insignificance, at the expence of their own industry. Alas!

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a false opinion, and a deleterious relish for. the blaze of equipage, the tinsel of royalty, and military glory, have been the harbinger of death and destruction to millions of the miserable and deluded sons of men.

There is another ridiculous assumption of aristocracy I would beg leave to hint at. I mean the privilege of primogenitureship, which establishes a petty despot in every noble family; it may be considered in miniature, what despotism is in magnitude. The eldest son is fixed upon the pinnacle of grandeur, and entitled “my lord,” while the remainder of his brothers, perhaps far his superiors in mental and moral excellency, are forced to seek a precarious support at the bar, in the pulpit, or the army. And what is this inversion of the laws of nature for? I answer, merely to support family pride. Is it any wonder then that man is degraded, when the rights of God are thus infringed, and the laws of nature violated ? Sach fellows therefore, generally

live like brutes, and yet require the adoration due only to God; and many wretches, who blinded by gold dust, or degraded by habitual servility, bow down with all lowliness and cringing adulation, at the approach of the duke, the count, the marquis, the earl, the lord, and the Lord knows what; and yet, at the same time, treat the true Lord of heaven and earth, with silent and sovereign neglect! What black ingratitude !! And it seems a just re-action of Providence for their idolatry and crinsing servility, when their tyrants out of inere wantonness, or to increase their riches, ala ready super-abundant, or to gratify their boundless ambition, or for a feather, if there is the appearance of honour attached to that feather, send them to murder and be murdered, to gratify the pride of aristocracy. O what madness! what folly! what weakness! what stupidity! that a whold people should suffer an individual villait, or a government of them, to led them to

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bles ;

the field of battle to be slaughtered, as a butcher leads a flock of sheep to the shamand

yet at the same time, be despised and hated by these same villains. One would suppose such men to be irrational, who would engage to murder the innocent for a morsel of bread, and at the command of a royal fool, or an imperial koave.

Even death cannot repress the insolence of aristocratical pride ; witness the exit of that lordly debauchee, the duke of Rutland; who, I believe, died in despair, cursing God with his last breath : Yet I saw his superb coffin exhibited in the parliament house, while thousands beheld with apparent reverential awe, the noble lump of clay. I saw his funeral, which appeared more like a farce ; upwards of one hundred and fifty thousand of the wondering, cheated multitude, attended the pompous procession through streets lined with soldiers. Let us follow him to Westminster Abbey,

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and we will recognize a thousand golden lies. The superb statues, the sculptured urns, the gaudy escutcheons, and the flattering eulogiums on each monumental stone, are all a practical comment on the words of Solomon, “ Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.” I will be bold to affirm, that there are the remains of more honourable, virtuous, and ingenuous individuals, in one corner of the poorest and most obscure church-yard in England, than in all Westminster Abbey! with all its pompous mausoleums, coats of arms, and magnificent sculpture, which too often compliments the memory

of the most wicked and worthless of mankind. Even Gray's “Elegy, written in a Country Church-Yard,” (which I scarcely ever read, without contrasting the state of the virtuous poor with that of the vicious rich, with a melancholy pleasure) will illustrate the above sentiment: “ The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,

The loying herd wind slowly o'er the lea,