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3. The chase was now truly soul-stirring. Sometimes the larboard, then the starboard, then the waist boat took the lead. It I was a severe trial of skill and muscle. After we had run two miles at this rate, the whales turned flukes, going straight to windward. "Now for it, my lads!" cried our headsman. "We'll have them the next rising. Now pile it on! A long, steady pull! That's it! That's the way! Those whales belong to us. Don't give out! Half an hour more, and they're our whales." On dashed the boat, clearing its way through the rough sea, as if the briny element were Lue smoke. The whale we pursued, however, turned flukes before we could reach him. When he appeared again above the surface of the water, it was evident that he had gone a good distance while down, gaining on us nearly a mile.

4. The chase was now almost hopeless, as the whale was making to windward rapidly. A heavy black cloud was on the horizon, portending an approaching squall, and the bark was fast fading from sight. Still we were not to be baffled by discouraging circumstances of this kind, and we braced our sinews for a grand and final effort. The wind had by this time increased almost to a gale, and the heavy black clouds were scattering far and wide. Part of the squall had passed off to leeward, and entirely concealed the bark. Our situation was

rather unpleasant, in a rough sea, the other boats out of sight, and each moment the wind increasing. We continued to strain every muscle till we were hard upon the whale. Tabor sprang to the bow, and stood by it with the harpoon.

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5. "Softly, softly, my lads!" said the headsman.

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“Ay, ay,

sir.' Hush-h-h! Softly! Now's your time, Tabor!" Tabor let fly the harpoon, and buried the iron. "Stern all!" thundered the headsman. "Stern all!" And as we rapidly backed from the whale, he flung his tremendous flukes high in the air, covering us with a cloud of spray. He then plunged down under water, making the line whiz as it passed through the chocks. When he rose to the surface again, we hauled up, and the second mate stood ready in the bow to despatch him with lances.

6. "He is spouting blood!" said Tabor; "he is a dead whale. He will not need much lancing." It was true enough; for, before the officer could get within dart's reach of him, the monster commenced his dying struggles. The sea was crimsoned with his blood. We lay upon our oars a moment to witness his last throes, and when he had turned his head towards the sun a loud simultaneous cheer burst from every lip.

J. ROSS BROWNE.

CLXXXVII.

THE PASSIONS: AN ODE

WHEN Music, heavenly maid, was young,
While yet in early Greece she sung,
The Passions oft, to hear her shell,EI
Thronged around her magic cell:
Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,
Possessed beyond the Muse's painting,
By turns, they felt the glowing mind
Disturbed, delighted, raised, refined:
Till once, 't is said, when all were fired,
Filled with fury, rapt, inspired,
From the supporting myrtles round,
They snatched her instruments of sound;
And, as they oft had heard apart
Sweet lessons of her forceful art,

Each for madness ruled the hour –

Would prove his own expressive power.

2 First, Fear156 his hand, its skill to try,
Amid the chords bewildered laid :
And back recoiled, he knew not why,
E'en at the sound himself had made.

3. Next, Anger rushed; his eyes on fire
In lightnings owned his secret stings;
In one rude clash he struck the lyre,
And swept with hurried hand the strings

4. With woful measures wan Despair

Low, sullen sounds! - his grief beguiled
A solemn, strange, and mingled air;

'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.

5. But thou, O Hope! with eyes so fair,
What was thy delighted measure?
Still it whispered promised pleasure,
And både the lovely scenes at distance hail
Still would her touch the strain prolong;
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale,
She called on Echo still through all her song:
And where her sweetest theme she chose,

A soft responsive voice was heard at every close;

And Hope, enchanted, smiled, and waved her golden hair.

A. And longer had she sung-but, with a frown,

Revenge impatient rose.

He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down;
And, with a withering look,

The war-denouncing trumpet took

And blew a blast so loud and dread,

Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe.
And, ever and anon, he beat

The doubling drum with furious heat :

And though, sometimes, each dreary pause between,
Dejected Pity, at his side,

Her soul-subduing voice applied,

Yet still he kept his wild, unaltered mien,

While each strained ball of sight seemed bursting from his head

7. Thy numbers, Jealousy, to naught were fixed;

Sad proof of thy distressful state!

Of differing themes the veering song was mixed;

And, now it courted Love; now, raving, called on Hate.

8. With eyes up-raised, as one inspired,
Pale Melancholy sat retired;

And, from her wild, sequestered seat,
In notes, by distance made more sweet,

Poured through the mellow horn her pensive soul:
And, dashing soft from rocks around,

Bubbling runnels joined the sound:

Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole,
Or o'er some haunted streams with fond delay

(Round a holy calm diffusing,

Love of peace, and lonely musing)

In hollow murmurs died away.

9 But, O! how altered was its sprightlier tone, When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, Her bow across her shoulder flung,

Her buskins gemmed with morning dew,

Blew an inspiring air, that16 dale and thicket rung!
The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known!

The oak-crowned Sisters, and their chaste-eyed Queen,

Satyrs and sylvan boys, were seen,

Peeping from forth their alleys green;

Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear,

And Sport leaped up, and seized his beechen spear.

10. Last came Joy's ecstatic trial:—

He, with viny crown advancing,

First to the lively pipe his hands addressed:
But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol,

Whose sweet, entrancing voice he loved the best.
They would have thought, who heard the strain,
They saw in Tempe's vale her native maids,
Amid the festal-sounding shades,

To some unwearied minstrel dancing:
While, as his flying fingers kissed the strings,

Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round
(Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound),
And he, amid his frolic play,

As if he would the charming air repay,

Shook thousand odors from his dewy wings.

COLLINS.

CLXXXVIII.

THE ELOQUENCE OF SCIENCE.

1. EXTENT OF THE UNIVERSE. It may give some idea of the extent of the universe to know the length of time required for light which travels one hundred and ninety-two thousand miles a second, to come from different celestial objects to this earth. From the moon, it comes in one and a quarter seconds; from the sun, in eight minutes; from Jupiter, in fifty-two minutes; U'rănus, in two hours: from a star of the first magnitude, three to twelve years; fre a star of the fifth magnitude, sixty-six years; from a star of the twelfth magnitude, four thousand years. Light which left a star of the twelfth magnitude when the Israelites left Egypt has not yet reached the earth. Our entire solar system itself travels at the rate of thirty-five thousand miles an hour among the fixed stars. 2. THE ATMOSPHERE. -The atmosphere rises above us with its cathedral dome, arching towards the heaven, of which it is the most familiar synonyme and symbol. It floats around us like that grand object which the apostle John saw in his vision, "a sea of glass like unto crystal." So massive is it that, when it begins to stir, it tosses about great ships like playthings, and sweeps cities and forests like snow-flakes to destruction before it. And yet it is so mo'bile, that we have lived years in it before we can be persuaded that it exists at all, and the great bulk of mankind never realize the truth that they are bathed in an ocean of air. Its weight is so enormous that iron shivers before it like glass; yet a soap-bubble sails through it with impunity, and the tiniest insect waves it aside with its wing.

It ministers lavishly to all the senses. We touch it not, but it touches us. Its warm south winds bring back color to the pale face of the invalid; its cool west winds refresh the fevered brow, and make the blood mantle in our cheeks; even its northern blasts brace into new vigor the hardened children of our rugged elime. The eye is indebted to it for all the magnificence of sunrise, the full brightness of midday, the chastening radiance of the gloaming, and the clouds that cradle near the setting But for it the rainbow would want its "triumphal arch,'

un.

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and the winds would not send their fleecy messenger on errands round the heavens. -Quarterly Review.

3. THE STEAM-ENGINE.It has become a thing stupendous alike for its force and its flexibility, for the prodigious power which it can exert, and the case and precision and ductility with which it can be varied, distributed, and applied. The trunk of an elephant, that can pick up a pin or rend an oak, is as nothing to it. It can engrave a seal, and crush masses of ob'durate metal before it; draw out, without breaking, a thread as fine as gossamer, and lift up a ship of war like a bauble in the air. It can embroider muslin and fōrge anchors; cut steel into ribands, and impel loaded vessels against the fury of the winds and waves. It has increased indefinitely the mass of human comforts and enjoyments, and rendered cheap and accessible all over the world the materials of wealth and prosperity. It has armed

the feeble hand of man, in short, with a power to which no limits can be assigned; completed the dominion of mind over the most refractory qualities of matter; and laid a sure foundation for all those future miracles of mechanic power which are to aid and reward the labors of after generations. Lord Jeffrey.

4. IGNORANCE OF GREAT PHYSICAL TRUTHS. How few men really believe that they so'journ on a whirling globe, and that each day and year of life is measured by its revolution, regulating the labor and repose of every race of beings! How few believe that the great luminary of the firmament, whose restless activity they daily witness, is an immovable star, controlling, by its solid mass, the primary planets which compose our system, and forming the gnomon of the great dial which measures the thread of life, the tenure of empires, and the great cycle of the world's change! How few believe that each of the millions of stars- those atoms of light which the telescope can hardly descry―are the centre of a planetary system that may equal, if not surpass, our own!

5. LIFE. Of all miracles the most wonderful is that of life the common, daily life which we carry with us, and which everywhere surrounds us. The sun and stars, the blue firmament, day and night, the tides, and seasons, are as nothing compared with it. Life, the soul of the world, but for which creation were not! It is life which is the grand glory of the world; it was, indeed, the consummation of creative power, at which the morning stars sang together for joy. Is not the sun glorious, because there are living eyes to be gladdened by his beams? Is not the fresh air delicious, because there are living creatures to inhale and enjoy it? Are not odors fragrant, and sounds sweet, and colors gorgeous, because there is the living sensation to

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