FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

THE SICK LION, THE FOX, AND THE WOLF.

-patrias tentasti lubricus artes,
Nec fraus te incolumen perferet. Virg.

Thy father's tricks, oh slippery knave,
Shall not thy guilty carcass save.

A lion bless'd one day with luck,

In hunting, caught a noble buck; The fat was choice! The blood was such, His kingship ate, and drank too much; And, like a fiend most diabolic, Roar'd all night after with the colic. Next morn, his subjects flock'd to bring Help and condolence to their king; The wolf the only absentee Still failed to greet his majesty. Then reynard rose, and in a speech, Of treason did the wolf impeach, And as a speaker did so well, The beasts applauded with a yell! But while he urged his reasons home 'Twas buzz'd about, "The wolf is come!" Arriv'd, the wolf with low obeisance, Mov'd forward to the royal presence. "My liege!" said he, "no sense of crime "Deterr'd my waiting in due time; "At dawn, I would have sought your face,

"But staid to ponder well your case.

"Of physic late, I've grown so fond,

1

"Each noted author I have conn'd?

"But none surpass old Boer haave "By simple means your life to save; "Some that were tutor'd here of late "Advise to bleed and salivate; "But for a colic with a spasm, "He doth prescribe a cataplasm:

The gallows, though they never stir,
To find a thief will seldom err.

A shepherd oft a watch did keep
To take a wolf that kill'd his sheep,
But guns and traps were set in vain
For such a thief as he in grain,
And though the pit was baited well,
This cunning knave the trick could smell.

Dan Æsop's fox to him in wit*

Was not to hold a candle fit,
Since all his cunning once did fail
When in a trap he lost his tail:
But e'en his enemies believ'd,
No trap the wolf had e'er deceiv'd.
One night, ere cocks the morning told,
This prowler broke into the fold,

*The American wolf has more sagacity than the American fox. The instinct of all brutes is improved by the greater the difficulty they have in obtaining their favourite food, and by their intercourse, or interference with man. Now the fox of this country obtains birds, which he delights in, with ease among our numerous wild fowl: but mutton the favourite morsel of the wolf, can only be wrested from man; hence the former becomes indolent and inert, the latter enterprising and sagacious.

The shepherd late a watch had kept,
But wearied now he soundly slept;
And thus the wolf was left at will,
As wolves delight, the blood to swill:
Without remorse, he doom'd to bleed
Lambs fine, as ever cropp'd the mead.
At length-quoth he, "I feed so light
"Ere noon I'll feel an appetite;
"This soup indeed is very fine!
"Yet on some mutton I must dine:"
So in the dark began to grope,
And there perchance he found a rope.
Once he had seen the shepherd tie
A lamb as he was sculking nigh;
And now he tied a wether too
Just as he saw the shepherd do.
Next, as a pedlar would his pack,
He flung the mutton on his back,
The body on his shoulders prest,
The feet projected at his breast.
But as he now progress'd from thence
All on his way to gain the fence!

The shepherd snored, his dog awoke,
And from the hut, loud barking broke;
His load to cast the prowler tried,
The knot too firmly he had tied!

To reach the fence next urg'd his speed,
His load the race did much impede;
He leap'd he gain'd the outer side!
His load alas! did inward slide:

So here, the sheep was balanc'd fair,
While there, the wolf was pois'd in air.
Doom'd thus to hang-with grief he hears
The shepherd shouting in his ears;
"In thy own toils, oh villain, caught!
"Thy cunning hath thy ruin wrought:
"Though long she halted in thy rear,
"No longer justice could forbear."

P. TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.

In the winter of 1801, the editor of the Port Folio commenced the publication of a politico literary paper. He then deemed it expedient to adopt a fictitious name, after the manner of my lord Bolingbroke, sir Richard Steele, Addison, and others. Having long since relinquished the management of a journal, devoted to party politics, the appellation of Oliver Oldschool, in the opinion of its foster-father, is no longer expedient or necessary. As the liberal conductor of a liberal work, dedicated to the Muses, the Sciences and the Graces, all mystery and artifice should be disdained. Hence the editor chooses to appear before the bar of the public in his proper person; and the high and anxious responsibility, which he now assumes, will, it is hoped, have this salutary effect, to make him, still more studiously than ever, solicitous for the reputation of his literary labours. He is now fairly pledged to his patrons, and it imports him seriously to be on the alert with respect to the invention, the selection, and the disposition of his materials. Nothing can surpass his solicitude to be useful and agreeable to his subscribers, and no enthusiasm can be more fervent than that by which he is impelled to rush forward in the Olympic game of literature. May that BENIGNANT POWER, to whom he is indebted for all his intellectual joys, continue graciously to grant him such a measure of corporeal and mental strength, that he may trace, without fainting or lassitude, all the paths of public utility.

It is earnestly requested by the editor, that every despatch, which has any relation to literature, science, or the arts, should in future be invariably directed to his address. Every communication, touching the pecuniary concerns of the Port Folio, must be directed to his publishers. On letters of every description the postage must be paid; and it is suggested to our confidential correspondents not to trust their papers to the simple safeguard of a wet wafer, but to seal them carefully with wax, that they may arrive in the mails safe and inviolate.

We most respectfully tender our thanks to Dr. Hosack for the second number of his valuable journal, and shall esteem it a signal favour, if that gentleman will not only transmit his own Repository, but likewise communications for ours. Such is our confidence in his talents and taste, we shall be happy to hear from him on any subject.

In this our newyear's number, we commence the publication of the SALAD, a periodical paper of great promise. We think that the skilful purveyor can garnish his salad so adroitly as to suit the most fastidious palates. Let him take care to mingle, in Epicurean proportions, the egg of Invention, the oil of blandishment, the vinegar of sarcasm, and the salt of Attica.

We hope that our January Port Folio will not be coldly received. We have taken much pains to please the public, but are still far from being satisfied with our exertions. Our February Journal it is determined shall totally eclipse its predecessor. The festivities of Christmas, the hurry of despatch, and the habitual indisposition of the editor, have all conspired to exclude from this month's repository many articles both brilliant and solid. Our correspondents hourly increase, their lucubrations appreciate in value; and we confidently declare to the public that the originality of the Port Folio shall soon be recognised by the most careless, and acknowledged by the most censorious.

The eloquence of the Prophet of Alleghany, and the interest of the biography of Wood, unite to produce additional admiration of the fine talents of an ingenious and original writer. We shall be delighted if our witty friend will correspond with us every month. Whenever he chooses to appear at our literary levee, he may rely upon a most gracious reception.