“Bonaparte threatens to invade us; he promises to enrich his soldiers with our property, to glut their lust with our Wives and Daughters. To incite his Hell Hounds to execute his vengeance, he has _sworn_ to permit everything. Shall we Merit by our Cowardice the titles of sordid Shopkeepers, Cowardly Scum, and Dastardly Wretches, which in every proclamation he gives us? No! we will loudly give him _the lie_: Let us make ourselves ready to shut our Shops, and march to give him the reception his malicious calumnies deserve. Let every brave young fellow instantly join the _Army_ or _Navy_; and those among us who, from being married, or so occupied in business, cannot, let us join some Volunteer Corps, where we may learn the use of arms, and yet attend our business. Let us encourage recruiting in our neighbourhood, and loudly silence the tongues of those whom Ignorance or Defection (if any such there be) lead them to doubt of the attempt to invade or inveigh against the measures taken to resist it. By doing this, and feeling confidence in ourselves, we shall probably prevent the attempt; or, if favoured by a dark night, the enemy should reach our shores, our Unanimity and Strength will paralyze his efforts, and render him an easy prey to our brave _Army_. Let _us_, in families and neighbourhood, thus contribute to so desirable an event, and the _blood-stained banners of the Vaunted Conquerors of Europe will soon be hung up in our Churches, the honourable Trophies of our brave Army_—an Army ever Victorious when not doubled in numbers, and the only Army who can stand the charge of Bayonets. What _Army_ ever withstood THEIRS!!! Let the welfare of our Country animate all, and ‘come the World in Arms against us, and we’ll shock ‘em!’ “A SHOPKEEPER.” “Prave ‘orts,” but they answered their purpose. It was an article of faith that an Englishman was certainly a match for two ordinary foes, perhaps three, and this, no doubt, was to a certain extent true. The history of that time shows victories, both by land and sea, gained against fearful odds. What then might not have been done under such stimulant as “BRITAIN’S WAR-SONG. “BRITONS rouse; with Speed advance; Seize the Musket, grasp the Lance; See the Hell-born Sons of France! Now Murder, Lust, and Rapine reign Hark! the Shriek o’er Infants slain! See the desolated Plain! Now’s the Day, and now’s the Hour, See the Front of Battle lower! See curs’d Buonaparte’s Power! Who will be a Traitor Knave? Who can fill a Coward’s Grave? Who so base as live a Slave? Rush indignant on the Foe! Lay the Fiend Invaders low! Vengeance is on every Blow! Forward! lo, the Dastards flee; Drive them headlong to the Sea; Britons ever will be free! Huzza, Huzza, Huzza!” “Who is BONAPARTE?