RE: This seems to be the main thread for James Hall (above and link to Lighter's post.) He did not become “Judge” Hall until 1824, so unlikely to publish as such in 1821. Otherwise identical text ––

“Nor did the amusements of the night end here. The adventure of the whipping post had exhilarated the spirits of the crew, who now seating themselves in groups on the bank, actuated, no doubt, by the genial influence of "the chaste cold moon,” began to chant their rude ditties of "bold young fellers," and "ladies gay;" an accomplishment in which some of them had acquired a tolerable proficiency, and which they appeared to value more highly than their rough natures would seem to indicate. Here was a fund of entertainment for me. It is amusing to see poetry dressed in rags, and limping upon crutches. Dignified and lovely as she is in her robes of majesty, she becomes the most quaint, ingenious entertaining little imp imaginable, when she condescends to play the hoyden; and I assure you, that I adored her with ten-fold ardour, when I beheld her versatility, and saw her, like a good republican, conforming herself to the company in which she happened to be thrown. She has indeed risen wonderfully in my opinion, in which of late years she had rather sunk, in consequence of the suspicious company she had kept––a virago with Lord Byron, a voluptuary with Anacreon Moore, and with Monk Lewis, a wrinkled old hag. She has again appeared in her native integrity; I have seen her in the robes of nature, and heard her in the innocency of her heart. To the admirers of the simplicity of Wordsworth, to those who prefer the naked effusions of the heart, to the meretricious ornaments of fancy, I present the following beautiful specimen verbatim, as it flowed from the lips of an Ohio boatman:

        Its oh! as I was a wal-king out,
        One morning in July,
        I met a maid, who ax'd my trade,––
        Says I “I'll tell you presently,”
        “Miss, I'll tell you presently!”

I challenge the admirers of that celebrated poet to point out, in all his works, or in those of his disciples, a single verse which is more simple, more descriptive, or which contains so much matter in so small a compass.

In the following amatory stanza, the lover betrays his tenderness with great delicacy:

        Here's to you, and all the rest,
        And likewise her that I love best;
        As she's not here to take a part,
        I'll drink her health with all my heart.”

What a manly spirit breathes through each line, where the poet pays an honest tribute to poverty, sympathises with the forlorn wight, too often the object of ridicule, who lives in " single blessedness," and satirises the cupidity of the world, all in the compass of a single verse, as thus:

        “Here's to those that have old clothes,
        And never a wife to mend 'em;
        A plague on those that have half joes,
        And hav'nt a heart to spend 'em.”

There was one ballad particularly, of a very pathetic nature, which I regret I have forgotten, as the singer observed very feelingly, that "he set more store to it, than all the rest." It began thus:

        "Oh! love was the 'casion of my downfal,
        I wish I had'nt never loved none at all!
        Oh! love was 'casion of my misery,
        Now I am bound, but once I was free!"

But I have no more room for criticism. These brief extracts will convince you that I have not decided in favour of the “River Melodies,” on slight grounds. By some future opportunity, I will send you some more of them; in the mean while I bid you good night, in the words which the rowers are even now sounding in my ears as they tug at the oar:

        Some rows up, but we row down,
        All the way to Shawneetown,
        Pull away-pull away!”
[Letters from the West, Letter III, April 18th, Oliver Oldschool*, The Port Folio, 1821]

*more to follow.