-Lightnings blast -not thee, But those that by their subtle incantations Look there! MARGARITA. I see a silent shape of stone, CALLIAS. Ha! look again, then, MARGARITA. On yon burning orb I gaze and say,-Thou mightiest work of Him That launched thee forth, a golden crowned Bridegroom, To hang thy everlasting nuptial lamp In the exulting Heavens. In thee the light, To thee was given to quicken slumbering nature, This part concludes with a hymn, by Margarita, to the Saviour, from which we can only afford three stanzas. Thy birthright in the world was pain and grief, In peace, tongue cannot tell, Low bow'd thy head convulsed, and droop'd in Thy voice sent forth a sad and wailing cry; That head, whose veilless blaze, We are unable to do justice to this work in the X. FOR THE IRIS. AN ESSAY ON THE FUNDAMENTAL OR STYLE was divided by the ancients into three But, although it impossible to give any specific be The causes which I am now to assigu, may called fundamental or primary, because they have always possessed much influence, and because to the m the influence of every other cause may be traced. I. The first which I would assign is difference of age. The passions of a young writer being strong, he will enter with keenness into his subject. The interest which he feels in what he asserts will appear conspicuous. Not content with general terms, he will descend to particular circumstances, and explain As he advances in life this tendency to diffuseness While strength of feeling, then, and fondness of ornament characterize the young writer; and while the middle-aged is distinguished by his moderate use of ornament, by his command over his feelings, and by the vigour of his mind; we may know an aged author from a decay of sensibility and of mental vigour. Such are the effects which difference of age produces in the style of authors. These effects are not universal, but the exceptions are few. In speaking, indeed, of the primary causes of the diversity of style, it must not be understood that one of these operates on one person, and one on another. All have some influence on every author, and the influence of each is so far counteracted by that of every other. II. I proceed, therefore, to mention as a second cause of the diversity of style, the difference of original constitution. It has been mentioned above, that a radical cause of the diversity of style lies in the minds of the authors. No two minds are constituted perfectly alike, therefore no two minds can perfectly resemble each other in their productions. In all the powers of the mind men differ much. The mind of one man is penetrating while that of The penetrating another is slow of discernment. mind is fitted for abstruse subjects, and when directed to those which are common searches them to the bottom. He that possesses such a mind is able to contemplate his subject as a whole, to examine it minutely, and estimate the intrinsic and relative value of each part. From a truth which is simple and easy, he can draw others which are very complex and very remote. The author's penetration must shew itself in the work. Having a correct idea of the whole subject, and understanding perfectly its different parts, he will express himself with clearness. Every idea will be expressed in definite language, and the connexion of the whole will be apparent. On the other hand, he that is slow in discernment is fitted for those subjects only, which are more ordinary, and even these he is not able fully to comprehend. Being under the necessity of examining the different parts in succession, his idea of the whole is vague. It appears to him, indeed, not as a whole, but as consisting of so many different parts, between which there subsists no very strong connexion. The language of such an author will be like his ideas, indefinite and obscure. But, even in the writings of those whose powers are extraordinary, obscurity is sometimes to be found. This obscurity occurs chiefly in their abstract reasonings, and is owing, not to a want of precision in their language, but, to the rapidity of their transitions. Many ideas pass through their minds, but it costs them so little trouble to see their connexion, that a great number escape their memory, and those only which are most striking are to be found in their writings. It is for the want of these intermediate ideas, which passed through the author's mind, that the connexion between the premises and the conclusion does not appear sufficiently obvious. Others differ likewise in imagination. The use of imagination is not confined to the composition of the epos, nor even to poetry. For every species of writing, inventive powers are required. He that is deficient in those powers is so far restrained from bringing to his illustration those ideas which do not bear directly on the point, but which have a very powerful effect in keeping up the attention of the reader. Imagination goes out in quest of the most pleasing objects in nature, and, bringing them to her assistance, renders those subjects attractive, which would otherwise be very unpleasing. When the ideas more closely connected with the subject, and those brought for its illustration, are placed together, and shown to be analogous, the reader fancies that they have some connexion. He finds himself in a pleasant country, and continues his journey with pleasure. Without imagination, the utmost correctness and precision will often be of no avail. They may force our conviction that the sentiments are just, but they will not engage our interest. A plain discussion of a subject, in itself uninteresting, will inevitably become wearisome. On the other hand, the most uninteresting subject will gain readers, when it is rendered attractive by pleasing allusions. By enriching the sentiment, the author must enrich his style; for ideas when they get new forms must likewise get new names, and their combinations must also be affected by the analogous ideas which imagination brings. Again, others differ in sensibility. We have already found, that the sensibility of every man differs with his age; but men even of the same age differ much in sensibility. This difference will produce effects in the style, somewhat similar to those which we find produced by difference of age. One man is so constituted that he is able to consider coolly every subject which comes before him. Though it exercises his judgement, it has no effect upon his feelings. That coolness is communicated to his work. He addresses himself not to the feelings, but to the judgement of the reader. Without any attention to ornament, he studies only to make himself understood. If his style therefore rises to plainness it goes no farther. Another man differently constituted enters with keenness into every subject. Not only his judgement, but his feelings are engaged. He speaks and writes from the heart. Not content with being plain, he pours out his sentiments with rapidity and warmth. The choice and the management of his words is such as is calculated, not only to convey his sentiments, but, likewise, the impression which they have made on the heart from which they are uttered. He makes use of strong expressions, and those which affect himself most, occupy the most conspicuous place. Between these two extremes, however, as between those of every other quality of mind, the greater number of men are to be found. When we take into consideration the great differences of men in judgement, in imagination, in sensibility, and in every other mental endowment, we find a very important reason of the great difference in style, which is to be found among the necessary distinction between ideas, is most likely to possess copiousness of expression. It is evident, therefore, that the degree of ease, accuracy, and copiousness of language, possessed by any writer, must depend much on that state of mental cultivation to which he has attained. IV. A fourth cause of the diversity of style is a difference in the genius of languages. One tongue is scanty, another copious, another dry, and another figurative. This difference arises from the particular genius of the people. On this genius,-this cast of the mind, which distinguishes the inhabitants of one country from those of another, every one of the inhabitants must in some measure participate. The genius of the language, therefore, and the cause of it-the genius of the people, must operate on every author in determining his choice of III. Another cause of this diversity, is the differ-words, his use of figures, and the cast of his sentences. ence of cultivation which the minds of different au- On this, however, it is not necessary to insist long, thors have received. since it is a difference not of individuals but of nations. It divides authors into classes, but a great difference among the individuals who compose each class is occasioned by other causes of the diversity of style, some of which have been already enumerated. authors. Although the cultivation of any one faculty tends to the improvement of the mind in general, the other faculties are improved in a less degree. Every faculty requires a particular mode of cultivation. This mode however, cannot be determined by any precise rules. Great allowances must be made for the constitutional differences of men. But whatever be the peculiar constitution of any man, he will require great attention to the cultivation of his mind before he arrives at excellence. Even great minds are not fitted for accomplishing at once great designs. Their performances may be equalled, if not excelled, by those whose original powers were far inferior, but who had cultivated them with greater carefulness and assiduity. The execution of the performance, however, is affected not only by the general cultivation of the author's mind, but, likewise, by the attention which he has paid to his particular subject. No person, even in the highest state of mental cultivation, is fitted for discussing a subject which he has not studied. The previous cultivation of the mind affects style, as it contributes to the arrangement of ideas. When the different ideas contained in a work do not occupy their own place, the style cannot be easy. If they are presented in that form which they would have required in their proper place they will appear incongruous; and, if to suit their situation another form is given them, the transitions must be clumsy. But when the subject has been studied by a cultivated mind, the different parts of the work are adjusted, the train of thought is determinate, and one idea follows another in natural order. The cultivation of the mind tends also to assist in the choice of words. It is impossible for any man to study successfully, without affixing to the words which he employs, a precise meaning; and that meaning which he has affixed to them in his studies, they will bear in his discussions. Precision of language, however, marks not only that the author understands his subject. It is by a correct manner of using words that we discover a cultivated mind. The difference of constitution affects our ideas on every subject, and according to the peculiar ideas of the author will be the peculiar meaning which he attaches to words. An untutored mind is therefore likely to use words in a sense somewhat different from their ordinary one. It is from the man of a cultivated mind, who has studied carefully the ideas and language of others, that we may expect words used with correctness. It is in his writings that we are to look for a discrimination of the nice shades of meaning which different words are calculated to convey. But copiousness, as well as accuracy of language may be expected from the cultivated mind. For ordinary conversation, very little variety of expression is required; and he who has studied language no more than is necessary to fit him for the ordinary business of life, can have very few words at command. The deeper any subject is, and the more carefully it is examined, the greater need will there be that those ideas, which are only similar, may be distinguished. The difference of ideas cannot be marked without a difference of words. He therefore, who has studied most deeply, and who has been most careful to make V. I proceed to mention as a fifth cause of this diversity, the difference of the subject treated. He that enters into the discussion of any one subject, ranks himself under a particular class of authors. His subject has already been discussed, and discussed in a certain way. From this way he cannot entirely depart, because from those who preceded him he cannot always differ in opinion. Nay, though his opinions be different, he is likely to treat, to illustrate, and to support them, much in the same way as they have done theirs. His style will therefore be somewhat affected by their manner. Independently, however, of this, there are principles in which a difference of subject must produce a difference of style. This difference may proceed from the particular light in which the subject is viewed, and must proceed from the difference of the effect which the discussion of it is intended to produce. If the writer's object be conviction, he will study plainness of language, and closeness of argument. If his object is only to please, he will pay particular attention to the opinions and prejudices of those for whom he writes. If he means to astonish, he will scrupulously avoid that easy carelessness of manner, which is fitted for treating common subjects, and for relating common incidents. If again, he intends to move any of the passions, the circumstances by which they are in a greater or less degree affected will occupy his attention, and his style will be suited to the tone of his feelings. These effects, produced on the style by the nature of the subject, will be proportioned to the attention which has been paid to the subject by the author. Whatever engages our attention much, naturally associates with the train of our ideas and gives the mind a particular turn. Long attention to any subject will accommodate an author's style to the tone which it requires, but will at the same time render it more unfit for subjects which require a tone somewhat different. He who has been engaged in treating important subjects, and who has preserved, in treating them, a dignified manner, cannot easily descend to the style of common life. On the other hand, when he whose attention has generally been directed to commou and trivial subjects, attempts to be dignified, his dignity becomes him ill. In addition to the causes which have been already enumerated, I might mention copying of models. This must affect the style: but if the natural style of the author does not appear from an incongruity between that which is his own, and that which is borrowed, it will at least appear from his imagination, his sensibility, or the vigour of his mind. I shall conclude, therefore, by enumerating again, as the fundamental or primary causes of the diversity of style, the difference of age and of original constitution, and the state of the mental cultivation of the authors, the genius of the languages in which they write, and the peculiar nature of the subjects treated. B.. POETRY. [ORIGINAL.] LINES TO THE REV. H. H. MILMAN; Come to my aid celestial muse, The leaves and flowers must ne'er decay, Nor droop in wint'ry hour. MILMAN! thy beauties are sublime! And majesty's in every line, Exalted and refined; Full of bright charms and eloquence, Of her sad awful fate; The Christian bears his cross with awe, Good-will from shore to shore. Antioch's sons, a race debas'd, Their god a block of stone. The Prince of Peace unknown. Of everlasting light: And sweeps the trembling strings! Hail! then, sweet bard, immortal fame, Will ever deck with wreaths thy name, Fragrant as blooming spring. Feb. 26th, 1822. [ORIGINAL] THE TEAR. BY A YOUNG LADY. T. T. L. [ORIGINAL] MORNING. Come, come, and we'll climb, with day's young blushes, Yon hills with purple heather crown'd, For nature now from sleep is waking, Tho' night has her in tears been steeping, The clouds are ting'd with her orient dye, Come ye whose hearts these things can move, Come listen to the water rushing, Then rise, and join this universal lay, LINES, P.W.H. On witnessing the separation of an African Negro and his Wife, having been sold to different masters. I saw the two parted That ne'er had been parted before- It burst, and the loud cry of madness, As they rush'd from the arms of each other, I met the poor African's eye: The remembrance no time can e'er smother, ON DISAPPOINTMENT. Alas! how inconstant the pleasures That fancy pourtrays to the mind; We grasp at the shadowy treasures, And nought but deception we find. Gay hope, like a gentle deceiver, Bewitches the world with her smile; By flattery lull'd we believe her, C. S. Nor once think of sorrow or guile. Our joys with our troubles soon blended, SONNET. WRITTEN IN A CHURCH-YARD. A sweet and soothing influence breathes around WOMAN. X. Y. O Woman, lovely Woman, magic flower, Thy tender beauty Mercy wrung from heaven, From Wisdom's pitying hand thy sweets were given, That makes one loth to leave this heaven below? Pains they might soothe, and cares subdue awhile, But soon the soul would sigh for 'witching Woman's smile. CLARE. There is a popular story, that about 500 years ago, the city of Basil was threatened with an assault at sunrise. The artist, who had the care of the great clock of the tower, having heard that the attack was to begin when it should strike one after midnight, caused it to be altered, and it struck two instead of one: thinking they were an hour too late, the enemy gave up the attempt; and, in commemoration of this deliverance, the clock ever since has been kept an hour in advance. LUSUS NATURE. SERPENTS. A few weeks since some young ladies who had been taking a walk were accosted by a gipsy woman, who, An extraordinary female twin birth lately took for a small reward, very politely offered to show them The following singular circumstance is related in place at Soignies. Both were perfectly formed, but their future husband's faces in a pool of water that Campbell's travels, by a respectable person who was united together from the upper part of the neck to the stood near. Such an offer was too good to be refus-eye-witness to the fact: The serpent was only umbilical region. The heads, shoulders, arms, hands, ed, and, on paying the stipulated sum, the ladies hast- about twelve inches long, and not thicker than a and lower limbs were in their natural positions, and ened to the water-each in anxious expectation of man's little finger. Having found a hen's egg, the it seemed as if nothing more was necessary than to getting a glance of the beloved;' but lo! instead of little reptile gradually distended its mouth so as to out the skin to separate the bodies and make two in- beholding the form, the face,' they so fondly antici- swallow it whole. When the egg had reached the dividuals. There was but one umbilical cord.-Apated, they were surprised to see only their own rosy stomach, the serpent, by twisting himself round, still more wonderful Lusus Naturæ, on the 21st De-cheeks and sparkling eyes glancing from below. broke the egg, threw up the shell, but retained its cember, is vouched for by M. Denis, of Souilly, who 'Sure you are mistaken, woman,' exclaimed one of states, that the imagination of a female under his care them, for we see nothing but our own faces in the had been so wrought on by a deformed caricature, water.' Very true, mem,' replied the sagacious forthat she produced an infant without a head. The face tune-teller, but these will be your husband's faces was on the back of the sternum. This monster was when you are married.' still born. ANECDOTES OF LORD ORFORD. When Walpole quarrelled with Lord Sunderland, he went over to the opposition, and on the debate upon the capital clause in the mutiny bill, he made use of this strong expression; "Whoever gives the power of blood, gives blood." The question being carried in favour of the ministry by a small majority, Sir Robert said after the division, Faith, I was afraid that we had got the question;" his good sense (observes Mr. Seward, from whom this anecdote is quoted) perfectly enabling him to see that armies could not be kept in order without strict discipline, and the power of life and death. Walpole had always very exact intelligence of all that was passing at the court of the Pretender. When Alderman Barber visited the minister after his return from Rome, he asked him how his old friend, the Pretender, did. The alderman was much surprised; Sir R. then related some minute particulars of a conversation which had taken place between them. "Well then, Jack," said Sir Robert, "go, and sin no more, lest a worse thing befall thee." Walpole was accustomed to say, when speaking of corruption, "We ministers are generally called, and are sometimes, tempters, but we are oftener tempted." ARTHUR ONSLOW. ANECDOTE OF MILTON. The freedom and asperity of his various attacks on the character and prerogative of the late King, rendered him peculiarly obnoxious when the Restoration was accomplished. To save himself, therefore, from the fury of a Court which he had so highly incensed, and the vigilance of which from the emissaries employed, it was become so difficult to elude, he connived with his friends in effecting the following innocent imposture. The report of his death was so industriously circulated, that the credulity of the public swallowed the bait prepared for them. The coffin, the mourners, and other apparatus of his burial were exhibited at his house, with the same formality as if he had been really dead. A figure of him, as large, and as heavy as the life, was actually formed, laid out, and put in a lead coffin, and the whole funeral solemnity acted in all its parts. It is said when the truth was known, and he was found to be alive, notwithstanding the most incontestible evidence that he had been thus openly interred, the wits about the Court of King Charles II. made themselves exceedingly merry with the stratagem by which the Poet had preserved his life. The lively and good natured Monarch discovered, too himself, not a little satisfaction, on finding that, by this ingenious expedient, his reign had not been tarnished with the blood of a man already blind by application, infirmity and age, and who, under all his dreadful misfortunes, had written Paradise Lost. Foreigners amuse themselves with describing England as the most gloomy of all nations, and November as the month when the English have no other enjoy ment but that of hanging and drowning themselves. The real fact is, that, on a general computation, the English are less addicted to the crime of suicide than any other nation; and that as to the much-abused month of November, it is so far from being the first in the bad pre-eminence of self-murder, that it stands only seventh in the list. We refer to the following account of suicides, during the last ten years, in the city and liberty of Westminster, from 1811. Years. Jan. Feb. March 1812 2 April. co-June. July. Aug. This celebrated Speaker of the House of Commons, for the purpose of relaxing himself from the multiplied cares of his office, was in the habit of passing his evenings at a respectable country public-house, which for nearly a century was known by the name of the Jew's-harp-house, situated about a quarter of a mile north of Portland-place. He dressed himself in plain attire, and preferred taking his seat in the chimney corner of the kitchen, where he took part in the valgar jokes, and ordinary concerns of the landlord, his family and customers. He continued this practice for a year or two, and much ingratiated himself with his host and family, who, not knowing his name, called him the gentleman,' but, from his familiar manners, treated him as one of themselves. It happened, however, one day, that the landlord was walking along Parliament-street, when he met the speaker in state, going up with an address to the throne, and looking narrowly at the chief personage, he was astonished and confounded at recognizing the features of the gentleman, his constant customer. He hurried home, and communicated the extraordinary intelligence to his wife and family, all of whom were disconcerted at the liberties, which at different times they had taken, with so important a person. In the evening Mr. Onslow came as usual, and prepared to take his old seat, but found every thing in a state of peculiar preparation, and the manners of the landlord and his wife changed from indifference and familiarity to form and obsequiousness. The children were not allowed to climb upon him, and pull his wig as heretofore, and the servants were kept at a distance. He, however, took no notice of the change, but finding that his name, and rank had by some means been discovered, he paid the reckoning, civilly took his departure, and never visited the house afterwards. | felo-de-se), and 63 were females. 1813 2 1| 3| 322 1814 2 1 3 5 1 4 4 0 2033 5 1820 4 1 5 2 1 1 2 2 1 o Of the above, 163, were males (including four of contents." REPOSITORY OF GENIUS. The position of the nine digits required in No. 3. The arrangement of 100 numbers required in our last. LITERARY NOTICES. An edition of 500 copies of the British poets, in 100 volumes, royal 18mo., which has long been in preparation, is, we understand, on the eve of being published. It includes our most celebrated Poets, from Chaucer and Spenser down to Burns and Cowper, together with the standard Translations from the Classics. The lives of the authors are prefixed to their works; as far as they extend, those by Dr. Johnson are adopted; the remainder, fifty in number, are original compositions. The embellishments are proof impressions of nearly two hundred masterly engravings; and the whole of the typography executed by Whittingham. The pair are wed, and the feast is spread But the laughter loud is changed to shrieks, The wild wind raves along the waves, Shall the ghost of that lady glide. Here the minstrel suddenly paused, and Ella, terrified with the prophecy respecting herself, which he had uttered, immediately turned towards home, when she was met by Sir Oscar, as before related. On The author of the Beauties, Harmonies and Sub-hearing the cause of her fright, Sir Oscar used his limities of Nature, is engaged upon a new work, utmost efforts to efface the disagreeable impressions entitled The Tablets of Memnon; or, Fragments, left on her mind, by the old man. He succeeded illustrative of the human character.' partially, by his smiles, ridicule, and reasoning, but could not wholly remove her fearful forebodings. There was still a cloud of sadness on her brow, a feeling of apprehension in her breast, and both gathered strength as the important day nearer approached. Neither was Sir Oscar, though he endeavoured, as much as possible, to conceal them, free from the same disagreeable sensations. Capt. Manby, author of the means of saving persons from shipwreck, is about to publish, with graphic illustrations, a Journal of a Voyage to Greenland, in 1821. A new edition of Humboldt's Account of the Kingdom of New Spain, with additions and corrections, is announced.-L. Gaz. SEA STORIES; Or the Voyage and Adventures of Cyril Shenstone, Esq. his lips, as be maintained a sullen reserve to all his Now shifted is the darkling cloud I speak with tongue of prophecy. A joyous bridal train I sée, Move out from yonder towers; And laughing mirth and gaiety Have deck'd the band in flowers. There is the bridegroom and the bride, up the river, and moor her under the trees beside the red rocks; and mind me Gundulph,' said the Baron, more sternly, 'your life depends upon your secrecy.' But to night! Sure your Lordship won't go to night.' 'Let my orders be obeyed, and instantly, or you may rue it: I am not used to be trified with. Well if your Lordship will venture, surely I may, and so I'll go with all speed.' The other domestics of Ulric heard this dialogue in amazement. There were no guests at the Black Tower, they well knew; and they were quite at a loss to know was the meaning of a moonlight sail, on a rough stormy night, in the middle of December. In a short time however, guests began to arrive, some of which the park-ranger discovered to be notorious deer-stealers; and one of the visitors was recognized as the captain of a numerous band of robbers, that infested the neighbouring mountains, and for whose head large rewards had been frequently offered. They were all ferocious looking fellows, well armed, and received from the Baron a hearty welcome. This had been the bridal day of Sir Oscar and Lady Ella. Their hearts had long been united in the closest union, but this day, the outward ceremony of joining hands, and plighting their vows before the altar, had been performed. The marriage was celebrated with all pomp and splendour. It was graced by a numerous retinue of knights and ladies; who, after the ceremony, accompanied the pair to the castle, where a sumptuous banquet was prepared, to which they all sat down in high Ulric in the mean time remained in the deepest se- spirits. The rosy wine flowed profusely. The gobclusion. No one was permitted to intrude upon him let was often filled and emptied to the health and hapwithout his special order. He held no familiar inter-piness of the pair. Then was the loud laugh-the course with any of his domestics, excepting one. ready jest, and the strains of music and dancing. This was a menial in one of the lowest offices of his The hall rung with minstrelsy. Far out upon the establishment. With this man he had long and fre- ocean, the radiance of the windows gleamed upon the quent conferences, but the results never transpired surface of the dark foamy waves; and the soft strain of music, wild and irregular, was frequently beard on fellow-servants. One day, after being a long time the fitful blast. The lower orders were equally joycloseted with his master, he came down stairs in a ous, and the sparkling bowl banished care from the great hurry, saddled a horse and galloped up the heart of every one. Thus was the feast kept up till avenue, at full speed. None of the servants could midnight; when, as the bell of the castle tolled one, a conjecture the cause of his journey. The Baron, band of ferocious ruffians burst into the hall, headed after he had been gone some time, came down into by Ulric. In an instant all was horror and confusion. the ball, and by his frequent gazings out of the The lamps were exting 'ished. One part attacked window, and hurried pacings to and fro, appeared their unarmed and defenceless victims, and hacked to be in the greatest impatience for his return. It them to pieces with their swords, while the other bore began to grow dusk-he came not-and the patience the bride, struggling and shrieking, away. Ulric, saof the Baron waned fast. He quickened his step, his tiated with the blood he had spilt, drew off the ruffians brow contracted into a deeper frown, and he bitterly to the beach, where their remaining accomplices had cursed his unnecessary delay. The night wind rushed retreated to, with their unfortunate prize. The words through the forest in fearful murmurs, and the awful of the minstrel now came forcibly to the unfortunate voice of the distant thunder was heard afar off. Stili Ella's recollection, and she at once concluded that he came not. Suddenly the clattering of hoofs was her husband, father, and friends, were no more, and heard, and in a few moments the messenger entered the hall, leaving his jaded steed to the care of a fellow domestic. Ha!' said the Baron, have you not brought him.' No,' replied the fellow, 'he is out beyond the banks, and will not be in till the morning tide.' 'But I left my message with his wife, and May withering plagues seize them,' interrupted the Baron. But hast thou been to have. By heavens, 'tis Gundulph.'-At this moment another horse tramp was heard, and old Gundulph, the fisherman, entered the castle-yard, mounted on a lank bony hack. Why Gundulph,' said the Baron, 'I thought you were trauling beyond the banks, and would not be in till to morrow's tide.'Yes, your Lordship, I left that word with my dame, but as I saw the scud was coming in, and that there would be a storm, and that I should not make a good trip of it, about noon I made sail for home, and my dame told me I was wanted here directly; so I borrowed Neighbour Cogswell's blind mare, and came as fast as I could.' Right, Gundulph; and now in what sort of trim is your boat.' Why, your Lordship, a little strained and damaged in her timbers, but stout enough --barring accidents-to weather many a voyage yet.' Will she carry twenty men.' Why your Lordship, we might manage.' Well, I have a party of friends, and to night we are going to have a sail by moonlight; so you must make all speed home, and bring your boat Eternal curses that she should not long survive them. Ulric now After Terror seized upon the hardiest of the villains, and the air was rent with their cries. Just at the moment when the pale moon again appeared from between two large parting clouds, there came a wave more powerful--a blast more furious than any of the former the vessel disappeared-a few faint and bubbling cries were beard from the drowning crew, and then they all sunk to rise no more. Oh Lord!' said the Captain. Shiver my timbers,' said Jack Brindle but that's a queer trick.' That's all a most infernal lie,' said the Captain, |