THE SOLITARY TUTOR. 



Who'er across the Schuylkill's winding tide, 

 Beyond Gray's Ferry half a mile, has been, 

 Down in a bridge-built hollow must have spy'd 

 A neat stone school-house on a sloping green : 

 There tufted cedars scatter'd round are seen, 

 And stripling poplars planted in a row ; 

 Some old gray white-oaks overhang the scene, 

 Pleas'd to look upon the youths below, 

 Whose noisy noontide sports no care or sorrow know. 



On this hand rise the woods in deep'ning shade. 

 Resounding with the songs of warblers sweet, 

 And there a waving sign-board hangs display'd 

 From mansion fair, the thirsty soul's retreat ; 

 There way-worn pilgrims rest their weary feet, 

 When noontide heats or evening shades prevail : 

 The widow's fare, still plentiful and neat, 

 Can nicest guest deliciously regale. 

 And make his heart rejoice the sorrel horse to hail. 



Adjoining this, old Vulcan's shop is seen. 

 Where winds, and fires, and thumping hammers roar, 

 White-wash'd without, but black enough within * * * 

 Emblem of modern patriots many a score. 

 The restive steed impatient at the door. 

 Starts at this thundering voice and brawny arm. 

 While yellow Jem with horse-tail fans him o'er. 

 Driving aloof the ever buzzing swarm, 

 Whose shrill blood-sucking pipes his restless fears 

 alarm. 



