great attachment to the American cause. They took the precaution to keep him within doors during the night, but in the morning, so firm was their conviction of his honesty, they permitted him to go for his cows; when the old scoundrel hastened directly to the British camp and gave information. A party of Hessians were sent to capture our soldiers. The officer in command, from his chamber window, happened to see them descending a hill at a little distance in front of the house, and immediately ran down for the purpose of alarming the men, who lodged in the barn. When he came to the back door, through a crevice, he saw a stout Hessian, who must have approached in advance of his comrades, standing ready to cut off his retreat and discharge his piece as soon as the door should be opened. The officer had presence of mind enough to run to the window and call to his men to make their escape. This, it may well be imagined, they proceeded to do with no superfluous delay, with the exception of Sergeant John, who, catching sight of the stout Hessian trooper by the door, and deeming it his duty to deliver his brother officer, stole coolly up and made no bones of shooting the villain-that is, the Hessian-through the head; and they then succeeded, though not without some difficulty, in making their escape before the rest of the troop arrived. ADDRESS TO "ANTHONY'S NOSE." All hail, primeval Patriarch of Noses! Thou whom no time, no season e'er disposes To hide thy lofty, solitary beak, Or shelter from the weather's change to seck, From broiling sun, or sharply biting frost, From drenching rain, or wildly whistling wind, About that bed on which he lies reclined, * Mana-hattan, says Chalmer, was the original name of the Hudson river. VOL. V. NO. XIV-FEBRUARY, 1839. Or from Heaven's fire, which, through the scudding rack, Lights up the dark abyss o'er which, sublime, Thou art not like that fearful nose which cast For lo! there stands thy deathless monument. And generations vanished to repose, But thou art still the same as when first broke Some say thou art a thing of senseless stone, His wings abroad, and lashed these iron shores, How many a strange and passing wondrous sight Floating where listless flaps that idle sail; The red man roaming proud the forest through, In awe of none save the dread MANITOU, *For an account of this celebrated nose, see an extract from that famous author, Slawkenbergius, in Tristram Shandy. +"There were giants on the earth in those days." Genesis, chap. 7, v. 4. Acknowledging below nor lord nor law The white foot here, the cause of all his woe! Tell me, thou gnomon on fair Nature's face, Retain'st thou still of ancient times the smell, And passed, dream-like, beneath the Saxon's sway? Thou first receiv'dst thy christian prænomen, After a man who knowing, in this soil, That modest merit 's very apt to spoil, Wisely, like some we know in modern days, Blew his own trump and sounded his own praise. Monarch of noses! the Almighty hand Ne'er fashioned thee for a colonial slave,— To the Republic independence gave, Yet, if to thee the privilege was given, The hour to witness when a nation sprung Into existence, and indignant flung To earth the chains which had too long confined The noblest energies of her young mind, Thou witness'dst too the gloom which spread o'er heaven, "It must be known, then, that the nose of Anthony, the trumpeter, was of a very lusty size, strutting boldly from his countenance like a mountain of Golconda as a monument. Thereof, he (Stuyvesant) gave the name of ' Anthony's Nose' to a stout promontory in the neighbourhood, and it has continued to be called Anthony's Nose ever since that day.-Knickerbocker's New York, vol. 2, p. 93 When Treason, spawned by avarice and fraud, Turn we from these sad scenes to contemplate Her empire over the earth to vindicate,- Along its course, without or oar, or sail, Sublime proboscis! like the famous "tower Thou art of wondrous beauty, strength and power. Making departed days "as in a glass And once more peopling with the silent dead, Would it had fallen to abler hand to trace Thine annals, relic of a mightier race! For, like the unfledged bird which strives to spring My fancy sinks thy curve sublime before, And baffled, downward droops when proudly it should soar. E. B. O. ORIGINAL OF THE NATIONAL MELODY, "YANKEE DOODLE." BY PORSON JUNIOR. [The interesting discovery of our learned correspondent, as disclosed in the following communication, will equally delight the patriot and surprise the scholar. Wc are pleased to see literary zeal directed to such important and useful researches; and the name of our erudite and ingenious friend will, no doubt, be added to the illustrious catalogue which contains the names of Annius of Viterbo, William Henry Ireland, and George Psalmanaazaar.] IANKHE doule. To the United States Magazine and Democratic Review: The experience of every year more fully discloses the wonderful treasures of Grecian literature, and the comparative poverty of modern genius. Originality has long been extinct; the most celebrated literary productions of the present day consist of the wisdom and wit of antiquity, bedecked in the tinsel of modern languages. This age produces nothing which a little research may not find, already much better expressed in the golden pages of classic lore: "Nil novum, nil quod non semel audisse, sufficiat." It was remarked by Boileau, with equal wit and truth, that the ancients must, indeed, once have been moderns, though it is by no means equally certain that the moderns will ever be ancients. All the writers in the modern tongues appears to have done little else than remodel the thoughts of a former age, and they not unfrequently palm off, as original, that which is directly translated from the more rare productions of antiquity. Lauder professed to have discovered the original Latin poem from which Milton translated his "Paradise Lost." It is little to the purpose to reply, that Lauder was an impostor; the moderns are not candid judges in the premises; and a generation who have regarded with distrust the antiquarian labors of a McPherson and Chatterton may, it is not unlikely, look with incredulity on the discovery about to be disclosed in this communication. So late as 1794, Joseph Vella could not convince his invidious contemporaries of the genuineness of his copy of the seventeen lost books of Livy, (though he actually published one book, consisting, to be sure, of but two pages, and those had unluckily been stolen by Florus,)-and not only was his ancient Arabic |