[25] In the _Daily Advertiser_ of June 12, 1790, there appeared from the pen of Freneau a long article entitled "Description of New-York one Hundred years hence, By a Citizen of those Times:" The following is an extract: "At the South western part of this city formerly stood a strong fort, with stone walls, near thirty feet in height, upon which were mounted a considerable number of large pieces of cannon. This fortress was originally constructed by the Dutch possessors of the place to defend the town, then in its infancy, from the insults of pirates on the one side, and the aborigines of the country on the other. After this territory fell into the hands of the English nation, the fort was at different times enlarged, strengthened and repaired, and was the usual place of residence for the British Governors, who, in the true spirit of European royalty and despotism chose to live separate from their fellow-citizens, and in several instances treated them with a degree of contempt and disrespect proportionate to the confidence they had in the number of their cannon, and in the strength of the walls and ramparts that surrounded them. "History mentions that in the year 1790, fourteen years after this republic had shaken off its yoke of foreign bondage, this fort was totally demolished by an edict of the Senate, and the space it occupied employed to better purpose in making room for those elegant streets and buildings which now adorn this quarter of the city." The poem appeared in the issue of March 9, 1790, and was entitled "On the proposed demolition of Fort George, in this City." The text of the 1809 edition has been followed. CONGRESS HALL, N. Y.[26] With eager step and wrinkled brow, The busy sons of care (Disgusted with less splendid scenes) To Congress Hall repair. In order placed, they patient wait To seize each word that flies, From what they hear, they sigh or smile, Look cheerful, grave, or wise. Within these walls the doctrines taught Are of such vast concern, That all the world, with one consent, Here strives to live--and learn. The timorous heart, that cautious shuns All churches, but its own, No more observes its wonted rules; But ventures here, alone. Four hours a day each rank alike, (They that can walk or crawl) Leave children, business, shop, and wife, And steer for Congress Hall. From morning tasks of mending soals The cobler hastes away; At three returns, and tells to Kate The business of the day. The debtor, vext with early duns, Avoids his hated home; And here and there dejected roves 'Till hours of Congress come. The barber, at the well-known time, Forsakes his bearded man, And leaves him with his lathered jaws, To trim them as he can. The tailor, plagued with suits on suits, Neglects Sir Fopling's call, Throws by his goose--slips from his board, And trots to Congress Hall.