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 4 O God! when thou makest inquisition for blood, upon whom wilt thou lay the guilt of those torrents of blood, that have been shed for no earthly purpose whatever, but to gratify the detestable and insolent ambition of a few poor puny creatures like ourselves. At the conclusion of a spirited and long contested war, there is scarcely a cottage to be met with that does not bear visible marks of its fruits. In one miserable hut you may behold, seated at their scanty meal, a mother and her tribe of half-starved children; but father you will find none; death met him in the field of battle, and in a moment, made his children fatherless, and his wife a widow. Here you view an aged couple, bent double with infirmities and years, and God knows! but little capable to sustain a protracted journey through the winter of life, yet hoping still to see better days, when the war is ended, and their children returned. Time, that at length brings all things to bear, finishes the war; but time does not bring back their children. To the artifical advantages of war, I oppose with confidence, the real losses of mankind : To the pomp and splendour of martial heroism, I oppose the orphan's tears, and the widow's cry:. And to the vain and idle boast of the victor, the sad and untime. ly fate of the vanquished. When the glories of a battle are the theme of conversation, how seldom are those remembered who fought and fell in it! Twenty thousand of what are called common soldiers, might perish, and no one concern himself to enquire how they died, or where they were buried; but let inhu- man and insolent pride be told, that every one of those poor men, who thus fell neglected and forgotten, were as true to their king as faithful to their country, had dispositions as good, and hearts as brave and honest, and souls as dear, as the greatest and noblest warrior among them. How often are the common soldiers doomed to " Beg bitter bread," while to