the characteristics of all seasons, soils, and climates may be
blended together with much benefit to the author's fame as an
original genius. The cowslip of a civic poet is always in blossom,
his fern is always in full feather; he gathers the celandine, the
primrose, the heath-flower, the jasmine, and the chrysanthemum all
on the same day and from the same spot; his nightingale sings all
the year round, his moon is always full, his cygnet is as white as
his swan, his cedar is as tremulous as his aspen, and his poplar as
embowering as his beech. Thus all nature marches with the march of
mind; but among barbarians, instead of mead and wine, and the best
seat by the fire, the reward of such a genius would have been to be
summarily turned out of doors in the snow, to meditate on the
difference between day and night and between December and July. It
is an age of liberality, indeed, when not to know an oak from a
burdock is no disqualification for sylvan minstrelsy. I am for
truth and simplicity.

REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.--Let him who loves them read Greek: Greek,
Greek, Greek.

MR. MAC QUEDY.--If he can, sir.

REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.--Very true, sir; if he can. Here is the Captain
who can. But I think he must have finished his education at some
very rigid college, where a quotation or any other overt act
showing acquaintance with classical literature was visited with a
severe penalty. For my part, I make it my boast that I was not to
be so subdued. I could not be abated of a single quotation by all
the bumpers in which I was fined.