"The things which are seen are temporal."-2 Cor. iv. 18. THE haze! how it prevents me seeing the harbour! Smiling villages may be near-ships may be riding at anchor in the quiet bay-crowds may be gathered on the shore-but the fog prevents them being visible. What a picture of this world and of the heavenly shore! Heaven is in sight, revealed to the eye of faith, but the fog and mists of sin and sense hide it from view. The "many things" of earth make us "careful and troubled," and dim the eye to the "one thing needful." What can disperse the haze that broods over the earthly voyage but the beams of the sun ? and what can disclose to the eye of faith the glories of the heavenly shore but Thy bright beams, O thou better Sun of Righteousness? Sun of my soul! scatter the clouds of ignorance, unbelief, and sin. Show me the littleness of time compared to the greatness of Eternity. Remove whatever dulls my spiritual vision-the dust and cobwebs that obscure the windows of the soul,-that I may see the King in His beauty, and the land that is still afar off." HE 66 MISTOOK THE LIGHT. AND what was the consequence? Why, the largest steam-ship in the world, with a rich cargo, and a company of 300 souls on board, was wrecked, in a dark and stormy night, on the most dangerous part of the coast of Ireland! The noble ship, which cost upwards of £200,000, left her port that very afternoon in fine trim, and with every prospect of a safe and speedy voyage, and at nine o'clock she was thumping upon the rocks-the sea breaking over her with terrific violence, and threatening to send people, ship, and cargo to instant destruction! But how could they mistake the light? Were the captain and his officers on the look out? Yes. Was the chart closely examined? Yes. Was the compass all right? Yes. And were the common precautions taken to keep the ship on her proper course? Yes; all this was done. How then could she have met such a sad disaster? Why, because a light appeared which was not noted on the chart, and the captain was deceived by it! He mistook it for another light that was on the chart, and so, when he supposed he was running out to sea, he was really running in upon the breakers! How great a mistake, and how terrible the consequences! False Every reader of these lines is sailing on a more hazardous voyage than the 'Great Britain' attempted, and has the command of a nobler vessel and a richer freight than hers; yes, richer than all the treasures of the world! Thousands of plans are laid to mislead and divert him from his course. lights are purposely held out to betray him, and tides and currents, of almost resistless power, set against him from every point of the compass. Will he steer clear of them all? Shall we see him push out into the broad sea, with a bright sky, a fair wind, and sails all set for the desired haven? Will he accomplish the voyage, and his fears and perils be all exchanged for the tranquillity and joy of a happy home? It will depend on two things-1. Whether he has the true chart, and takes good heed to it. It is known as the Holy Scriptures, and it lays down the position of every light on the voyage; and he may be sure that any light that is not found on that chart is to be shunned. 2. Whether he commits himself, and the whole direction of the voyage, to Him whose footsteps are on the sea, and who rides upon the wings of the wind.-British Workman. * "The Sailor's Text Book," Nisbet & Co., London. HE career of an heroic seaman always possesses an interest to an insular nation like the English. Still more is this the case when the seaman, as a naval commander, achieves brilliant exploits against enemies Egor superior in force to himself. And still more, again, is the interest excited, when such a such a man sees undeserved accusations, and the declining years of life. sketch. fails to obtain justice fair fame clou until gray hairs mark Such a man was the subject of our present Thomas Cochrane, born at Annsfield, in Lanarkshire, on the 14th December, 1775, was descended from a very old Scottish family. He himself believed that the first Cochrane was a Scandinavian sea-rover, who, in remote age, settled on the shores of Renfrew and Ayr; and such a rover would certainly not have been an inapt ancestor for him. His first cousin, Sir Thomas John Cochrane, G.C.B., is the present distinguished senior Admiral of the Fleet. Thomas, Lord Cochrane, was the eldest son of the ninth Earl, and succeeded his father in the earldom, 1st July, 1881; his mother was a daughter of Captain Gilchrist of the Royal Navy. As the patriarchal estates had * The noble Earl's Autobiography, "Chambers's Miscellany," and O'Byrne have furnished us with much of the matter of this Memoir of his Lordship. We are also indebted to the Messrs. Chambers, Publishers, Edinburgh, for our illustration of the gallant Admiral. nearly all left the family, owing to rebellions, forfeitures, mortgages, and other causes, Thomas inherited little beyond the chance of an earldom and a gold watch. His father made many attempts to resuscitate the family fortunes, by entering into commercial and manufacturing enterprises, but they proved disastrous to the family in a pecuniary sense. When it became necessary to adopt some definite mode of life, young Cochrane, through the aid of his uncle Alexander, a captain in the Navy, entered into the naval service. Before this, however, an attempt was made to obtain for him a position in the Army; but his dislike of the stiff martinet rules of military drill proved too strong to be surmounted. Although borne at the same time on the books of a ship, and the 104th regiment, yet he did not go afloat till he was seventeen. In his Autobiography, he gives an amusing account of his first and only experience as a military officer: "By way of initiation into the mysteries of the military profession, I was placed under the tuition of an old sergeant, whose first lessons well accorded with his instructions, not to pay attention to my foibles.' My hair, cherished by boyish pride, was formally cut, and plastered back with a vile composition of candle-grease and flour; to which was added the torture incident to the cultivation of an incipient queue. My neck, from childhood open to the Lowland breeze, was encased in an inflexible leather collar or stock, selected according to my preceptor's notions of military propriety; these almost verging on strangulation. A blue semi-military tunic, with red collar and cuffs, in imitation of the Windsor uniform, was provided; and to complete the tout ensemble, my father, who was a determined Whig partisan, insisted on my wearing a yellow waistcoat and breeches-yellow being the Whig colour, of which I was admonished never to be ashamed. A more certain mode of calling into action the dormant obstinacy of a sensitive high-spirited lad could not have been devised than that of converting him into a caricature, hateful to himself and ridiculous to others. As may be imagined, my costume was calculated to attract attention, the more so from being accompanied by a stature beyond my years. Passing one day near the Duke of Northumberland's palace at Charing Cross, I was beset by a troop of ragged boys, evidently bent on amusing themselves at the expense of my personal appearance, and in their peculiar slang indulging in comments thereon far more critical than complimentary. Stung to the quick, I made my escape from them; then rushing home, begged my father to let me go to sea with my uncle, in order to save me from degradation of floured head, pigtail, and yellow breeches." 2 |