ns, and
Portuguese, are much worse examples for our youth, than English,
Irish, or Scotchmen. I must say of the British that they are generally
men of better habits and morals than some of the continental nations.
But enough, and more than enough, on the depravity of the oldest of
the European nations.

_February 28th, 1815._--Time hangs heavily on the weary and restless
prisoner. His hopes of liberation, and his anxiety, increase daily and
hourly. _The Favorite! The Favorite_, is in every one's mouth; and
every one fixes the day of her arrival. We have just heard that she
was spoken near the coast of America, by the Sultan, a British 74, on
the 2d of February. If so, then she must arrive in a few days, with
the news of the ratification or rejection of the treaty of peace, by
Mr. Madison; and on this great event our happiness depends. Some of
the English merchants are so confident that our President will ratify
the treaty, that they are sending vast quantities of English
manufactures out to Halifax, to be ready to thrust into the ports of
America, as soon as we shall be able, legally, to admit them. It is
easy to perceive that the English are much more anxious to send us
their productions, than we are to receive them.

Our anxiety increases every day. We inquire of every one the news. We
wait with impatience for the newspapers, and when we receive them are
disappointed; not finding in them what we wish. They, to besure, speak
of the sitting of the _Vienna Congress_; and we have been expecting,
every day, that this political old hen had hatched out her various
sort of eggs. We expected that her motley brood would afford us some
fun. Here we expected to see a young hawk, and there a goslin, and
next a strutting turkey, and then a dodo, a loon, an ostrich, a wren,
a magpie, a cuckoo, and a wag-tail. But the old continental hen has
now set so long, that we conclude that her eggs are addled, and
incubation frustrated. During all this time, the Gallick cock is on
his roost at Elba, with his head under his wing.

We but now and then get a sight of Cobbett's Political Register; and
when we do, we devour it, and destroy it, before it comes to the
knowledge of our Ceroebrus. This writer has a manner _sui generis_,
purely his own; but it is somewhat surprising, how he becomes so well
informed of the actual state of things, and of the feelings and
opinions of both parties in our country. His acuteness, his wit, his
logic, and h