Thus 'tis with life-it is not dubious hope In early youth-'tis joy-joy unalloy'd; Joy blooms within, all objects take the tint, And glowing colours paint the vista's length. Not long, life dances on the plastic scene, Care's haggard form invades each flow'ry path; Disease, with pallid hue, leads on her train, And Sorrow sheds her tears in wasting showers! But Pain and Grief pass on, and harrowing Care Awhile puts on some pleasing, treacherous shape; Then hope revives, health blooms! love smilesAnd wealth and honours crown the distant day. How long? Envenom'd ills collect all 'round, And while short-sighted man his fragile schemes Pursues not grasps-blow after blow fall swift, Fall reckless-and he sinks beneath their weight! To rise no more? Like yon triumphant Moon, That "walks in brightness" now, beyond the clouds, Through patient suffering, man shall surely rise To dwell above that orb, in light ineffable, Where pain-where sin-where sorrows, never come! As human nature is said to be the same in every age and country, it is reasonable to expect that our infant stage should successively exhibit every character that has flourished in maturer regions. The antiquary, one might imagine, could find no food in our new world to regale his appetite. Yet even antiquaries are starting up amongst us; and our ancients are called upon to ransack their memories, and recite the tales of days long past. It is said to be the spirit of the times to neglect the aged, and give all honour to the young. Old men, and old women, will then be gratified by this unexpected summons, and will, very probably, bring out all their stores. America has no Druidical altars; no incomprehensible Stonehenge; no circle of Dendara, to elicit her lore. Every thing with us is young; all is within the memory or the attainment of her citizens. Some ancient monuments have indeed been discovered in our western states, and their origin and design have hitherto baffled the investigations of our philosophers. We have then, no subjects of inquiry but the gradual progress of our settlements, and the ever-changing manners of their inhabitants; and if man be the proper study of man, these topics may not be without interest to the curious. There are yet living in Philadelphia, many who can tell of incredible revolutions since they played in her streets. They well remember when this wide-spread metropolis was comparatively a village, and had the simple manners of a village. The impressions of childhood are too deep to be effaced. The language of that day, when they said of a person who was about to make a voyage to England, that he was going home, seems to them but of yesterday; and the peal of Christ church bells, for the king's birth-day, or the discovery of the gunpowder plot, still rings in their ears. The revolution made a change in all these matters of homage to the mother-country, not more remarkable than that which it quickly produced upon the appearance of the city and the manners of the people. Previous to the occupation of Philadelphia, by the British troops, in 1777, Water, Front, and Third, were the only streets, parallel with the Delaware river, that were closely built. Many houses in these days, which are not now thought sufficiently genteel or convenient for a secondrate tradesman, were then inhabited by the rich and honourable of the land. The cross streets, from Pine to Vine, extended from the river to Fourth street. A large double house in Market street,* between Fifth and Sixth, stood alone, and was considered out of town. It was afterwards successively occupied by the two Presidents, Washington, and Adams. The house now tenanted by the Schuylkill Bank, is the only one besides, recollected in * Built by William Masters, Esq. whose eldest daughter was the lady of the governor, Richard Penn. this quarter. This belonged to Joseph Galloway, Esq. and was confiscated, in consequence of his adherence to the king in the revolutionary war. The state house, a jail, a court house, an hospital, and almshouse,* and a city library, and about a dozen churches, constituted the amount of our public buildings. The jail, and library, have been long since removed. The former, together with its yard, (enclosed by a stone wall,) and the jailer's house, occupied about one-third of the west side of Third, from the corner of Market street: and the latter, a mean one story tenement of stone, stood in a muddy lane-which is now Fifth street-and near to the corner of Chestnut-a spot now ornamented by our state-house square. The markethouse extended from Front to Third streets, and at this last extremity-convenient to its parent, the jail, stood a pillory and whipping post, where felons were usually exhibited on market days. Still, Philadelphia, at this early day, was not without many spacious mansions; but they were distributed in all parts of the city. We could boast of none of those splendid rows which now challenge a comparison with the edifices of any other metropolis. Carriages, or coaches, and chariots, as they were then respectively called, were yet more scarce, than large dwellings. Our progenitors did not deem a carriage a necessary appendage of wealth and respectability. Many merchants and professional gentlemen kept a one-horse chair, *Then called the bettering house. † A few years more, and it will be forgotten that we owe this embellishment and convenience, to the taste and exertions of the father of our worthy fellow citizen, John Vaughan, Esq. but every man's coach was known by every body. There were not more, perhaps, than ten or twelve in the city. A hack had not been heard of. There was one public stage to New York, and there may have been stages to Baltimore and Lancaster, but they are not recollected;—indeed, there was so little intercourse between our city and these towns, that their names were scarcely known until the war brought them into notice. Let it not however be supposed that we were without refinement: we were polite, though frugal. We had a theatre and a dancing assembly. The latter was held once a fortnight, and managed by six married gentlemen, of the most respectable rank and character. This association, it must be confessed, partook of the aristocratic feeling infused into our community by a monarchical government. The families of mechanics, however wealthy, were not admitted. The subscription was 31. 158. and admitted the master and the females of his family. Young men never appeared there under the age of twenty-one, and then they paid for their own tickets. Young ladies could not be introduced under eighteen. Supper at the assembly consisted of tea, chocolate, and rusk-a simple cake, now never seen amidst the profusion of confectionary that inundates our entertainments. We had at that time no spice of French in our institutions; consequently, we did not know how to romp in cotillions, but moved with grave dignity in minuets, and sober gaiety in country dances. Every thing was conducted by rule and order: places were distributed by lot, and partners were engaged for the evening; and neither could be changed, |