of the tree. He thought with Alexander Pope, that vice to be hated need but to
be seen. There was truth in this too; though it was not all truth.

There are such writers as deify lust, exalt harlotry into queenly poesy, anu, as
we may say, sing the devil's tunes with such bursts of God's music between whiles,
that our nicest ears shall hardly tell which is from above, or which from beneath.

But I think no good fair critic will place Mr. Lippard in the list of these writers.
He never speaks praisingly of any lust; but far otherwise. There is indeed an un-
relenting bitterness, nay, an almost savage ferociousness in his manner of strip-
ping vice to its bare bones. Of all his writings, however, I believe the "Quaker
City is the only book of his that has fallen under this ban of being immoral. For
one I could never see into the strict justice of the charge. Undoubtedly it is a
book to be censured by men of cold and chastised fancy, who dwell only in the
little harmless abstractions of artificial life. They will blame the character of
"Devil Bug;" and so do we: but the real question with the just and wise critic
is, whether society has Devil Bugs in it; and has our author drawn such a
character truly to the life? I must hold him a sad kind of a critic who expects a ..
devil bug, in a place like Monk Hall, to talk like the amiable St. John in his Isle
of Patmos. Was it not Lord Byron who said he could not, for the life of him,
make the devil talk like a clergyman? I think, perhaps, the noble lord may have
paid the profession an undeserved compliment; but the critic, notwithstanding,
may get a morsel from his civility. The novelist's task, with this Quaker City,
was not to show what it ought to be, but rather what it is. He came not to lie
-to praise a skulking servility, an insane worship of wealth, to christianize our
wine-buts, and call universal libertinism by the genteeler name of gallantry; but
rather with a thunderous no against all quackeries, pretensions, and sins in high
places. Why should the novelist be held down with an obligation to truckle to
tithe mongers? What is all pious mummery to him, who sees that the white-
washed worshippers are sordid and selfish, and mean-hard and strong upon the
weak, exacting the uttermest farthing of hopeless penury-clutching with avarici-
ous insanity at the little metal dollar while the immortal man is left, with bloody
muscles, and a broken heart, to die like a dog upon his straw! What is all the
tragi-comic face acting to him, upon whose soul already flash the hot fever-
flames, from the depraved and groaning heart of humanity? What has he to do
with all these conventional lies, but to hurry them off to death and doom, under
the tread and crash of his most truthful exposure? It were as just to hold the"
health officer, who advertises a neighborhood as infected with contagion, responsi-
ble for the ravages of death there, as to blame the novelist for his faithful exposure
of the secret heart of society. Nor has society or true religion any thing to fear
from the truthful portraiture of a bad character in a romance. No preacher, in
this Philadelphia, can by any anathemas from his pulpit, make Devil Bugs appear
half so odious, as they already appear in the pages of the "Quaker City." Let

LEGENDS

OF THE

AMERICAN REVOLUTION;

OR,

Washington and his Generals.

BY GEORGE LIPPARD.

AUTHOR OF "THE QUAKER CITY; OR, THE MONKS OF MONK HALL ́“BLANCHE OF BRANDY
WINE," "PAUL ARDENHEIM, THE MONK OF WISSAHICKON," "THE NAZARENE; OR
THE LAST OF THE WASHINGTONS," "LEGENDS OF MEXICO," ETC., ETC.

WITH A BIOGRAPHY OF THE AUTHOR'S LIFE,

BY REV. C. CHAUNCEY BURR.

Philadelphia:

T. B. PETERSON AND BROTHERS,

306 CHESTNUT STREET.

ENTERED according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847, by

GEORGE LIPPARD,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.

AzLow me, sir, to inscribe with your name, this book of Washington and his Generals, as illustrated in the Legends of the Revolution.

To you, as Editor and Proprietor of the first literary journal in the country-a journał which numbering its readers by hundreds of thousands, has hitherto stoon alone in its proud devotion to the American Past-do I with sincere feelings o respect for your heart and intellect, dedicate these Legends of the camp, the council, and the field.

I am induced to make this Dedication, by a feeling of simple justice to myself and you. Your paper has always been, not only the family paper of the Union, but the Journal of Revolutionary Romance and History. As the Editor, you have ever been untiring in your efforts, to preserve in its columns, the legends of our battlefields, the chronicles of our early struggles for freedom, the memories of our illus trious dead.

Your name therefore, by a sincere impulse of justice, I inscribe at the head of these traditions, trusting that you will excuse the liberty I have taken, on account of the feeling by which it is dictated.

There are other reasons which enter into the Spirit of this Dedication, Last summer, when my good name as a citizen, my honor as an author, was attacked in the most licentious manner, by a band of obscene libellers-some of whom have since made their humble and fawning apologies to me you did not count the cost, nor falter for a moment, but came out for me like a Man, and in the columns of your paper, whipped the whole pack into their native obscurity to forgo

This is strong language. The occasion demands it. The men who have made me the object of their slander, ever since I published a line, are no less merciless in their dealings with the unfortunate, than they are servile and truckling to the rich and powerful. They would stab you in the back to-day, and lick the dust from your shoes to-morrow.

Now, that I have surmounted their accumulated falsehoods as much by your honestly rendered aid, as by the voice of the Press throughout the land—I scorn the humbly offered friendship of these men, as much as I ever scorned their petty animosity. My earnest prayer will ever be-let creatures like these, born of the atmosphere of malignity, and nurtured by the breath of falsehood, always remain my enemies. When they become my friends, I will confess myself utterly unworthy the respect of one honest man.

This work entitled, "Washington and his Generals, as illustrated in the Legends of the Revoluion," may be described in one word, as an earnest attempt to embody the scenes of the Past, in a series of Historical pictures. It is now four