FRANCIS HOPKINSON.

JUDGE HOPKINSON, was born in Philadelphia, in 1737. He was the son of Thomas Hopkinson, an English gentleman who filled a considerable office in the government of Pennsylvania. Thomas Hopkinson was a man of respectable attainments in science, and was associated with Franklin in his experiments upon electricity. He died early in life, and left his son at the age of fourteen to the direction of a very affectionate and attentive mother, who spared no exertion in the care of his morals and education. He was sent to the college of Philadelphia, after which he devoted himself to the study and practice of law. He visited England in 1765, where he remained above two years. At the commencement of the revolution he represented the state of New Jersey in Congress, a post which gave him the distinction of affixing his signature to the Declaration of Independence. He distinguished himself very early in the contest, by his writings against the designs of the British government, and possessing great powers of humor and command of language, his pieces were extensively circulated, and contributed not a little to the support of the cause which he had embraced. His judicious selection of topics, and his skill in handling them, procured his writings a ready acceptance with all classes of people. The versatility of his powers may be attested by the readiness with which he wielded the weapons of satire, wit, or argumentation, and drew upon every department of the human faculties for materials in the warfare; now declaiming against the encroachments of Britain with the skill and eloquence of a statesman, and now framing a satirical ballad, or quaint allegory, seasoned with the accompaniment of humor and sarcasm to the popular relish. The elegance and politeness which marked his writings had a considerable effect in improving the manner of most of the publications of the day. His satire was pointed at the follies and impertinences current among those with which he was familiar, as well as against the political enormities of his country's enemies, and

contributed equally to help the cause of public morals, promote good breeding in polite society, and soften the asperity of party rage.

Although drawn within the circle of politics at a period of great events, the course of his life is not marked with any remarkable vicissitude or striking incident. He held an appointment in the loan office for some years, and was afterwards made Judge of the Admiralty for the state of Pennsylvania. In 1790, he was appointed Judge of the District Court in Pennsylvania. He died on the 8th of May, 1791.

Hopkinson applied himself to the law with assiduity, and his acquirements in that branch of learning were such as to gain him a high reputation among his contemporaries. With general science too, he was well acquainted. His powers of wit and satire shine in various parts of his lighter performances, and notwithstanding the zest has in many instances evaporated by time, there are some in which the humor preserves all its original freshness. The Essay on Whitewashing is deservedly celebrated as a morceau of spirited pleasantry. His manners were the counterpart of his writings; polished, lively, and engaging, and without any stiffness or rigor, under the guidance of the strictest decorum.

His works embrace quite a miscellaneous collection, mostly of prose. They were published shortly after his death, in three volumes.

THE BATTLE OF THE KEGS.*

GALLANTS attend, and hear a friend,
Trill forth harmonious ditty,

Strange things I'll tell which late befell
In Philadelphia city.

This ballad was occasioned by a real incident. Certain machines, in the form of kegs, charged with gunpowder, were sent down the river to annoy the British shipping then at Philadelphia. The danger of these machines being discovered, the British manned the wharves and shipping, and discharged their small arms and cannons at everything they saw floating in the river, during the ebb

tide.

"T was early day, as poets say,
Just when the sun was rising,
A soldier stood on a log of wood,
And saw a thing surprising.

As in amaze he stood to gaze,
The truth can't be denied, sir,
He spied a score of kegs or more
Come floating down the tide, sir.

A sailor too, in jerkin blue,

This strange appearance viewing, First damn'd his eyes, in great surprise, Then said, "Some mischief's brewing.

"These kegs, I'm told, the rebels bold,
Pack'd up like pickled herring;
And they're come down t' attack the town,
In this new way of ferrying."

The soldier flew, the sailor too,
And scared almost to death, sir,

Wore out their shoes, to spread the news,
And ran till out of breath, sir.

Now up and down, throughout the town,
Most frantic scenes were acted;
And some ran here, and others there,
Like men almost distracted.

Some fire cried, which some denied,
But said the earth had quaked;

And girls and boys, with hideous noise,
Ran through the streets half naked.

Sir William he, snug as a flea,
Lay all this time a snoring,

Nor dream'd of harm, as he lay warm,
In bed with Mrs L.

-g.

Now in a fright he starts upright,
Awaked by such a clatter;

He rubs both eyes, and boldly cries,

"For God's sake, what's the matter?'

"Therefore prepare for bloody war,-
These kegs must all be routed,
Or surely we despised shall be,
And British courage doubted."

The royal band now ready stand,
All ranged in dread array, sir,
With stomach stout to see it out,
And make a bloody day, sir.

The cannons roar from shore to shore,
The small arms make a rattle;
Since wars began I'm sure no man
E'er saw so strange a battle.

The rebel dales, the rebel vales,
With rebel trees surrounded;
The distant wood, the hills and floods,
With rebel echoes sounded.

The fish below swam to and fro,
Attack'd from every quarter;
Why sure, thought they, the devil's to pay,
'Mongst folks above the water.

The kegs, 't is said, though strongly made,
Of rebel staves and hoops, sir,
Could not oppose their powerful foes,
The conquering British troops, sir.

From morn to night these men of might
Display'd amazing courage;
And when the sun was fairly down,
Retired to sup their porridge.

An hundred men with each a pen,
Or more, upon my word, sir.
It is most true, would be too few,
Their valor, to record, sir.

Such feats did they perform that day,
Against these wicked kegs, sir,
That years to come, if they get home,
They'll make their boasts and brags, sir.

VOL. I.

SONG.

Sort ideas love inspiring,
Every placid joy unite;
Every anxious thought retiring,
Fill my bosom with delight.

Soft ideas, gently flowing,

On your tide, so calm and still;
Bear me where sweet zeyphrs blowing,
Wave the pines on Borden's Hill.

Where the breezes odors bringing,
Fill the grove with murmuring sound;
Where shrill notes of birds, sweet singing,
Echo to the hills around.

To the pleasing gloom convey me,
Let my Delia too be there;
On her gentle bosom lay me,

On her bosom soft and fair.

Whilst I there, with rapture burning,
All my joy in her express,

Let her, love for love returning,
Me with fond caresses bless.

18