days subsistence of the troops. Burgoyne instantly called a council of war, at which, not only field officers, but every captain was ordered to assist. Their unanimous opinion was, that their present situation justified a capitulation, on honourable terms. A negotiation, accordingly, opened next day, which speedily terminated in a capitulation of the whole British army, the principal article of which was, that the troops were to have a free passage to Britain on condition of not serving against America, during the war. The number of those who surrendered at Saratoga, amounted to 5750: the sick and wounded left in the camp, when the army retreated to Saratoga, to 528, and the number lost in killed, taken and deserted, since the capture of Ticonderoga, was near three thousand men.

Such was the melancholy event of a campaign from which the British expected the most important benefits. The capture of Burgoyne was the hinge on which the revolution turned; for, whilst it encouraged the perseverance of the Americans, by well grounded hopes of final success, it encreased the embarrassment of that ministry, which had so ineffectually laboured to compel their submission.

In 1778, Burgoyne returned to Great Britain, where he was received with the utmost coolness, or rather contempt by the ministry, and denied admission to the presence of his sovereign. He could not, however, be prevented from his seat in Parliament. There he was constant in his attendance, and unceasing in his endeavours to have his conduct fully investigated, which indeed, had been so unmercifully censured, that even the ministers began to think he had suffered too much, and that he ought to be allowed to vindicate himself. He was, accordingly, permitted to bring witnesses in his own behalf, and from the most respectable evidence it appeared, that he had acted the part, as occasion required, both of a general and a soldier; that the attachment of his army to him was so great, that no

danger or difficulties could shake it, and that, even when all their patience and courage were found to be ineffectual, they were still ready to obey his commands, and die with arms in their hands. A great number of other particulars relating his expedition, were also cleared up entirely to his honour, and several charges against him totally refuted. Soon after he had thus vindicated his character, he resigned a!! his emoluments from government, to the amount of 15,540 dollars per annum.

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Towards the close of the year 1781, when, notwithstanding the reiterated disappointments, which the British ministry had experienced in America, a majority in parliament still seemed determined to perse vere: Burgoyne, anxious to save his country from ruin, joined the opposition, and strenuously advocated a motion which was made against the farther secution of the war. He said, he was now convinced that the principle of the American war was wrong, though he had not been of that opinion when he formerly engaged in the service in Ainerica, that he hard been brought to this conviction, by observing the uniform conduct and behaviour of the people of America. "Passion, prejudice and interest, said h‹, might operate suddenly and partially; but, when we saw one principle pervading the whole continent, the Americans resolutely encountering difficulty and death for a course of years, it must be a strong vanity and presumption in our own minds, which could only lead us to imagine that they were not in the right. It was reason and the finger of God alone, that implanted the same sentiment in three millions of people. He would assert the truth of the fact against all which either art or contrivance could produce to the contrary. He was, likewise, now convinced, upon comparing the conduct of the ministry, as time had developed their system, that the American war formed only a part of a general design, levelled

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against the constitution of Britain and the general rights of mankind."

From the peace till the time of his death, which was occasioned by a fit of the gout, 4th August, 1792, Gen. Burgoyne lived as a private gentleman, in or near the city of London. He died richer in esteem than money, for in the saving or securing of that article he had no talent. He was the author of four comedies, all of which, particularly "The Heiress," were much esteemed.

BURKE, (EDMUND) son of a respectable attorney, was born in a small town in the county of Cork, Ireland, 1st January 1730. At a very early age, he was sent to Ballytore school, a seminary in the north of Ireland, of very great repute, and well known for furnishing the bar and the pulpit, with many of the most respectable and eminent characters. Here MrBurke soon distinguished himself, by an ardent attachment to study, a prompt command of words, and a good taste. He took the lead in all general exercises and was considered as the first Greek and Latin scholar. He also devoted a great part of his time to the study of poetry and belles lettres, and before he left the school, produced a play in three acts, founded on some incident in the early part of the history of England. All that we know of this juvenile production, is that Alfred formed the principal character, and we have been told, that this part breathed a spirit of freedom and sublimity that was wonderful, considering the age of the author. After having continued some time at this seminary, be was entered a fellow commoner, at the universty of Dublin, where he pursued his studies with the same application as at school, and where he was no less esteemed as a scholar, than beloved for his agreeable manners, and the integrity of his friendships; in

deed, this last feature of his character was his liar praise through life.

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After staying the usual time at the university, he came over to London, and entered himself as a stu dent of the honourable society of the Middle Temple. Here, though neither the duties of the inns of courts, nor the examples of his fellow practitioners in the law, demanded or stimulated his attention; such was his natural inclination for knowledge, that he studied here as in every other situation, with unremitting diligence.

What was his first production after this period, we cannot exactly state; we have, however, been informed on respectable authority, that it was a poem, and that it was unsuccessful. This may seem paradoxical to some, considering the extent and variety of his talents, and above all the copious imagery, with which his subsequent works and speeches abound; but history, and a closer observation on mankind will furnish us with many cases in point. Cicero, amongst a crowd of others, stands predominant in this predicament, who, though, by far the geatest orator of his time, as well as one of the finest writers, yet in attempting to be a poet, was so far from being successful, that he subjected himself, on this ground. only, to the ridicule of his cotemporaries and posterity.

But Mr. Burke's first known publication was a work of much greater consequence, not only when we consider it as a work of fancy, but as an imitation of an original, of whom even hope despaired of seeing so well paralleled; what we allude to is the well known pamphlet, entitled "A Vindication of Natural Society," for sometime supposed to be a posthumous work of Lord Bolingbroke. To assume the style and character of such a writer, who had passed through all the high gradations of official knowledge, for near half a century; a fine scholar, a most ready and eloquent speaker, as well as the sublimest and most nervous writer of his time, was, perhaps, one Vol. I. No. 7.

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of the boldest attempts ever undertaken; particularly when it is considered by whom!-By a young man, a stranger to the manners, habits, and college connections of the literati of England, who could have no near view of the great character he imitated, and whose time of life would not permit of those long and gradual experiments, by which excellence of any kind is to be obtained; but great and extraor dinary minds have a consciousness of their own strength, which is their least and truest adviser.

"A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of our Ideas on the Sublime and Beautiful," was the next production of his pen, which soon engaged all readers, who had the least pretension to taste or science.

The celebrity of such works soon made Burke known to the literati, amongst whom were the late Lord Littleton, the archbishop of York, and many other respectable characters, who were proud to patronize a young man of so good a private character and so very distinguished talents. It was in consequence of these connections, that we soon after found Mr. Burke in the suite of the Earl of Halifax, who was appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, October, 1761. Before he left Ireland, he had a pension settled on him of 888 dollars per annum, which was said to be obtained through the interest of the Right Honourable William Gerard Hamilton, the official secretary to the Lord Lieutenant. Report said, at the time, that Mr. Burke had obliged Mr. Hamilton in turn, by writing the celebrated speech for him, which, as he had never afterwards spoken another of such consequence, dubbed him through life with the name of "Single speech Hamilton." The connection between these two gentlemen did not last very long; for, a few years afterwards, on some politi. cal contest, Mr. Hamilton telling Mr. Burke, as coarsely as it was unfounded, "that he took him from a garret," the latter very neatly replied, "then, Sir, by your own confession, 'twas I that descended to