"It is believed that Robert Bell, an Englishman or a Scotchman, who came to Philadelphia about 1772 or 1773, was the first person who kept a circulating library in this city. He had his place of business in Third street below Walnut. He was also one of the first to establish book auctions here, in which effort he met very serious opposition from the booksellers. He published several works prior to the Revolutionary War, but during that struggle he seems to have left the city. He died in Richmond, Va., Sept. 26, 1784."--_Watson's Annals._ He published Freneau's _American Independence_ in Philadelphia in 1778. ON THE FIRST AMERICAN SHIP[288] _Empress of China_, Capt. Greene That explored the rout to China, and the East-Indies, after the Revolution, 1784 With clearance from Bellona won She spreads her wings to meet the Sun, Those golden regions to explore Where George forbade to sail before. Thus, grown to strength, the bird of Jove, Impatient, quits his native grove, With eyes of fire, and lightning's force Through the blue aether holds his course. No foreign tars are here allowed To mingle with her chosen crowd, Who, when returned, might, boasting, say They shewed our native oak the way. To that old track no more confined, By Britain's jealous court assigned, She round the Stormy Cape[A] shall sail, And, eastward, catch the odorous gale. [A] _Cabo Tormentosa_ (The Cape of Storms) so called by _Vasco da Gama_, and by the earliest Portuguese adventurers to India--now called the cape of Good Hope.--_Freneau's note._ To countries placed in burning climes And islands of remotest times She now her eager course explores, And soon shall greet Chinesian shores. From thence their fragrant teas to bring Without the leave of Britain's king; And Porcelain ware, enchased in gold, The product of that finer mould. Thus commerce to our world conveys All that the varying taste can please; For us, the Indian looms are free, And Java strips her spicy tree. Great pile proceed!--and o'er the brine May every prosperous gale be thine, 'Till freighted deep with Asia's stores, You reach again your native shores. [288] Text from the edition of 1809. THE NEWSMONGER[289] A Character An insect lives among mankind For what wise ends by fate designed 'Tis hard, 'tis very hard, to find. In pain for all, but thanked by few Not twice a year he gets his due-- Yet, patiently he struggles through. Beneath some garret roof restrained To one dull place forever chained His word is, "little money gained." The flowers that deck the summer field, The bloom of spring, too long concealed, To him no hour of pleasure yield. His life is everlasting whim; The seasons change--but scarce for him-- On sheets of news his eyes grow dim.