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attempted in an early stage of the progress, nor until the car nas attained the nicest accuracy.

Expression is the principal and characteristic charm of the voice, but propriety of expression demands fitness to a peculiar style; for instance, nothing can be more disagreeable than to hear Italian opera music sung with the frigidity of the English style; except it be to hear a native ballad overlaid with foreign ornaments and frippery. A thorough acquaintance with the Italian language, and a dilligent observation of the best performers at the opera, are to be recommended to those whose taste leads them in that direction; for it is in vain to think of giving, even in private, the spirit of opera music, from the mere notes, sung with an inflexible face. Like the renowned Miserere, of Allegri, which performed out of the Sistine Chapel, at Rome, without the usual solemnities, appeared but a common-place, second-rate affair,-opera music, without the requisite warmth of manner, becomes incongruous, if not an elaborate absurdity. Conceive the sly, impertinent address of the knavish Leporello to Elvira, "Madamina," given with all the gravity of visage which a church-warden wears at a parish meeting, and the portrait, however it may appear exaggerated into cariacature, is not without an original. It is indeed, seldom that in England we find any strong natural aptitude for the lighter kinds of dramatic music, which require action. We are more prone to indulge in witty speeches and satire than in arch looks and bodily gesticulations. To succeed properly in such music as the airs in the Beggar's Opera, and the well known Scotch and Irish melodies, of kindred simplicity and pathos, demands, generally, a voice of great native beauty, and refined and tender soul. The impetuosity which well befits the Italian style is no profitable qualification of this department of vocal music. Handel's oratorio songs, require, principally, a smooth, beautifully toned voice,-the utmost conception of the devotional feeling of the composer,a beautiful crescendo and decrescendo and a perfect shake. Perhaps there is nothing in music which approaches so nearly our imagination of the angelical, as the tones of a beautiful female voice in some of the prayer replete songs of Handel. Let us recommend Mrs. Knyvett as an example of perfection in this style, as Miss Stephens is in that of ballads and national airs.

Whatever be the flexibility which practice bestows upon the voice, it is requisite that the time for displaying it should be regulated by the judgment; for one of the most frequent but least tolerable offences in singing, is to break the continuity, and to injure the sentiment of a fine air, by the unmeaning succession of notes termed roulade; but this false taste is already on the decline. Rapid and distinct articulation is never misplaced in a bravura; and the judicious performer will always select such movement as will place the acquirements in a favourable light, without detracting from the reputation of the taste. The famed singer, Signora Guari, when Mozart, then a youth, was travelling through Parma, and creating the liveliest astonishment by his compositions and performance, invited him to her house, and sang to him some airs, which, not of that kind calculated most to charm such a musician, excited、his admiration to so great a degree that he wrote down some of the passages executed, least his account should be deemed incredible. Is is recorded by Mozart, to add

to our surprise, that the higher the notes ascended, the softer the singer gave them; which is exactly the reverse of what is usually to be remarked in such exhibitions.

We have but a few words more to say on the mechanism of the voice, before we recommend the pupil to her diligence. Let the words be well pronounced, the tone flow directly from the chest, without receiving the slightest taint of peculiarity of quality from the head or throat in its passage. This is a point upon which some of our most celebrated English singing-masters have shown great negligence; it will therefore be prudent to choose such a teacher as has already made good pupils.

In order to form the taste upon the principles of a purely vocal style, we must turn to those treasures of melody which are discoverable in the Italian and German operas of the latter half of the last century,-in Sarti, Gluck, Paesiello, Cimarosa, and Mozart. Rossini is the author now earliest put upon the music desk,but injudiciously; for though he has composed here and there, exquisite subjects, his novelties of air are made up, too frequently, of surprising quaint, or instrumental phrases; and it is only in compliance with, the over anxious desire of friends to see improvement, (as they imagine it) that pupils are hurried into such extravagances, before they well know what song means. Music of this kind accustoms the hearer not to look closely to the union of sense with sound, but to be satisfied with any words to any tune; and consequently, to lower the intellectual standard of the art. One test of the genuine goodness and meaning of an air, is its liability to be injured by additions, or decorations, at the will of the performer; this is seldom the case with compositions in the modern school of Italian music. With Mercadante, Pacini, and others of that stamp, sing how you will,decorate at pleasure,-at pleasure add, omit, or do what you list, and the music will be found none the worse; for we cannot spoil what is already bad, or turn into nonsence that which has no meaning. These composers are like bungling novel writers, who shroud their imperfect ideas, and half conceptions, under the obscurity of words, and palm their own stupidity upon the reader. It would be folly to institute any comparison or believe the crude notions of such pretenders, and the school of Gluck and Mozart, whose crotchets and quavers, if there were a language refined enough, it would be no difficult matter to trans late into words.

But let us return to our rules of the passions, and to the young days of Melody, when she appears graceful, free, and natural, reminding us of the wood-nymphs and goddesses of the poets, and not of the meretricious bedizened creature she has become. The province of vocal melody is but ill fulfilled when the sounds penetrate no farther than the ear; but sufficiently so, when they convey some emotion from one human being to another, agreeable to the nature of the expression which the poetry or sentiment requires. The secret of the musician's labour is a grand one,-as unfathomable in its source as any mystery of nature; we feel assured that there is no deception in it; we readily acknowledge the difference between airs of a tender, melancholy, or joyous character; but upon what principal they become so, and by what process their affinity to certain sentiments is discovered, is a puzzling question,-indeed, one

that cannot be resolved. It is a curious consideration that intervals, at a certain distance, aided by certain accompaniments, shall give an air of dignity to the singer or that the very soul of tenderness shall dwell in certain appogiaturas; but difficult as it is to comprehend the source of the composer's inspiration, this intelligible music furnishes the easiest, as well as the most honorable and profitable employment of the student. Still more interesting is it to trace the operations of the musician in characters of a mixed expression; as in the Poor Mad Nina of Paesiello; or where several persons of different characters are brought into one piece to cantrast with and relieve each other, as in the celebrated quartet of Il Don Giovanni, "Non ti fidar." In neither of these compositions are the proper boundaries of the voice overstepped, though nothing can be more dissimilar than the melodies, yet each has the proper vocal character. However, there are some excellencies of singing which are certainly more worthy of attainment than others, and at the head of all may be placed the tender and pathetic. Certain singers are gifted with voices of a quality peculiarly fitted to effect in these styles; others, with a sweet and smiling tone (like Caradori's,) which seldom makes impression. The pupil must, as we said before, be greatly guided by inclination; but we would recommend that the approval or disapproval of such music as "Che Faro," in Gluck's Orfeo, or the duet “ Deh Prendi," in Mozart's Clemenza di Tito, should decide whether the musical sentiment in really strong in the hearer or not. The abundance of exquisite melodies which are to be found in the hymns to the Virgin, and other parts of the Catholic service, are calculated, next to those, to lead to great purity of taste: they are slow and graceful in the movement, and require that nicety of swelling and diminution of tone which indicate feeling. But to avoid the extremity of vulgarity in musical taste, the student must eschew the greater part of English songs; →we mean those that are born and die in a day; they are generaly replete with bad accent, bad harmony, and common melody. The more popular the song, the worse it is sure to be;-there is always some new fashion in the melody of songs which strikes the fancy for a week or two and is then thrown aside and forgotten for ever. Except the airs of Mr. Bishop, there are hardly any of native produce, calculated to have a favorable influence upon the taste; and as there exists at present no really English style, the less attention given to this class of music the better.

TO A ROSE.

THE THOUGHT FROM THE ITALIAN.

QUEEN of Flora's emerald bowers,
Imperial Rose, thou flower of flowers
Wave thy moss-enwreathen stem,
Wave thy dewy diadem;
Thy crimson luxury unfold,
And drink the sunny blaze of gold.

O'er the Zephyr, sportive minion,
Spreads the blue, aurelian pinion,
Now in love's low whispers winging,
Now in giddy fondness clinging,

With all a lover's warmth he wooes thee,
With all a lover's wiles persues thee.

And thon wilt yield, and thou wilt give The sigh that none can breathe and live.

Like lovelier things, deluded flower,
Thy date is short; the very hour
That sees thee flourish, sees thee fade;
Thy blush, thy being, all a shade.
Yet, flower, I'll lay thee on a shrine,
That makes thy very death divine.
Couch'd on a bed of living snows,
Then breathe thy last, too happy rose!
Sweet Queen thon'lt die upon a throne,
Where even thy sweetness is outdone;
Young weeper, thou shalt close thine eyes
Beside the gates of Paradise.
On my Idalia's bosom, thon,
Beneath the lustres of her brow,
Like pilgrims, all their sorrows past,
On Heaven their dying glances cast,

Thy crimson beauty shall recline.
Oh, that thy rapturous fate were mine.

THE SPECTRE OF THE MIST.

ANTAR.

"About twenty-five years since I served as Lieutenant on board the Minerva. Our ship had gone as convoy to some merchant-vessels bound to Canton, and it was our intention to return the same way as soon as they had taken in their landing. The season was far advanced, and we were prepared to encounter many dangers. The Captain of the Minerva was a stern determined character, and so obstinate that he would listen to no one's advice. Avarice was his ruling passion; and from this vice the crew suffered great privations, as he never laid in stores sufficient for the voyage, but trusted receiving a supply from the merchant-vessels should it be required, without reflecting that if we were to be separated from them, our situation would indeed be dreadful. As we lay at anchor at Java, I thought it my duty to warn the Captain of what might take place ; but he replied that it was no business of mine to meddle in matters that did not concern me; and that unless I wished to bring punishment upon myself, I would instantly desist from my impertinent interference. Upon this I was silent, and although we had the fruitful coast of Java before our eyes, yet no one dared approach the island. At length we put to sea, and sailed between Sumatra and Malacca, through the dangerous straits. Here it was that our Captain showed his skill and courage. With the greatest ability he piloted us through the numerous rocks and sand-banks by which we were encircled, and the merchant-vessels followed in our course. We safely passed the dangerous sound; but we had hardly reached the open sea, when a dreadful storm arose, which raged during the whole of the night. Our vessel, though good and strongly built, yet sustained some damage, though fortunately not of much consequence. But you may imagine our horror, when daylight broke, on finding that the ships under convoy had all disappeared. Not a sail was to be seen. For the first time, the Captain seeméd anxious and discomposed. All on board were aware that the cutter had only provisions for a few days; the evil which I had anticipated had now overtaken us; and with one voice the crew insisted that we should return, and procure provisions at the first port. This proposal recalled the Captain to himself. A dark shade overspread his countenance, while, with a voice of thunder, he exclaimed, Silence, every man of you! The first who dares to murmur, I shall hang at the yard-arm. I know my

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duty; I command here; my orders shall be obeyed, though every soul should go to the bottom.' To this none had the courage to reply. I myself could not but wonder at this bold speech.

"For some days we continued to cruise in the Eastern Ocean, without meeting a single sail, and always receding from the coast. The daily rations at length were so diminished that, from exhaustion, the crew were disabled from working the ship. I now remarked that the Captain had become extremely irritable; his countenance alternately changed from the flush of fever to the paleness of death. The orders which he formerly issued with determination, were now given with intemperance, and if not instantly obeyed, the crew were severely punished. Amongst others, Tomkins harshly punished for a very trifling fault; but on my remarking that this was the effects of fever, he thought no more of the matter. The same day, the Captain died. His body was the first that was food for the fishes: but many were to follow. Already had the Spirit of Destruction marked us for his prey.

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"After the Captain's death, I assumed the command. As I thought it probable that the dispersed vessels were driven to the cost of Sumatra, I determined to bend our course there, and this determination gave universal satisfaction to the crew. The state of exhaustion, however, to which hunger had reduced us, rendered our reaching the coast so improbable, that a feeling of despondency took possession of us. Notwithstanding all our economy and care in regard to distributing the provisions, to our horror we found that we had only one day's allowance on board; and, even with a favourable wind, we could not expect to reach the nearest coast in less than five or six days. With a heavy heart I watched the ship's course, which, with a slight wind, moved slowly on. The heat now became oppressive. I was the only one on deck. When twilight began, Tomkins approached with a mysterious look, and said, in a half-whisper, Lieutenant, it goes ill with us; in a short time the Minerva will be driven out of the open sea. Have you not remarked the oppressive heat? See how her sails flap together! All hope is past, for there will be a dead calm, which will last for many days.' Tomkins,' I replied, you yesterday predicted calm weather; it may be so; but may we not be fortunate enough to procure some fish or wild fowl? or perhaps we may fall in with some vessels that will bring us assistance?' Sir,' answered Tomkins with a serious look, don't be offended that I speak my mind freely. I am not the man to grumble at the want of provisions. Do you think that an empty larder is depressing to me? that that is the evil I dread? No, no; old Tomkins has suffered that privation too often to be cast down by it. But,' continued he with earnestness, there is a spirit coming on board, which is always the forerunner of destruction. Do you see nothing, Sir? Do you not observe something éxtraordinary upon deck? Hist! it moves!' he exclaimed in a suppressed voice. And now I did remark that the evening mist had assumed a strange spectral form, which laid itself down upon the deck. ་ How, Tomkins!' said I in an ironical tone, have you no other grounds for your anxiety than the phantoms which are raised by the mists of the evening? You, who are an old sailor,ought to know that this often occurs without any evil agency.' Ah, to be sure,' grumbled the old sailor, every cabin-boy would

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stare at me if I did not know that; but a fog in this shape, and upon these seas, is something worse than common evening mist. Have you never heard, Lieutenant,' he continued, of the Sea Spectre?' I shook my head. Well,' said he, I shall tell you of this spirit, of which I have heard from old sailors who have been in these seas. It is well known that this spectre comes on board every vessel which has the misfortune to enter these seas. Over the winds and the provisions has this spirit, which is called the Spectre of the Mist, no power, but only over the wretched crew. It takes its place at the helm, and steers where it thinks fit. This spectre seems every moment to increase in size; it begins to move a few steps from the helm, to which it soon returns, and at every step it takes, dooms its victims to death; but if it once reaches the other end of the ship, all hope is lost, and the spectre either brings the captive ship on a rock, or sinks it in the deep.'

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"Want of sustenance, and the fatigue of watching upon deck, had so much exhausted me, that I soon fell into a deep slumber. About midnight I was suddenly awakened by a dreadful tumult on deck;—the noise of voices, the clashing of swords, and the firing of pistols, became tremendous. I flew to the door, but, to my rage and disappointment, I found it locked. This is mutiny, was my first thought. I called on the mate, the boatswain, on old Tomkins, but no one answered me. I went to the cabin window, and listened attentively; the tumult appeared to be over the gangway. I fired my pistol, but no notice was taken of it.

"It was nearly an hour before the affray ceased; I heard the boatswain exclaim- Surrender instantly, you rascals! or, as sure as you are imps of Satan, I'll fire the powder-room, though we all should dance in the air together.' This threat seemed to take effect, for I again heard the boatswain say- Ah! it is well, old boy; and now I will bind you so tight, that the blood will spring out from your finger ends. And now, Tomkins," he added, you may go and free the lieu.

tenant, whom we locked in.

"In a few minutes the cabin-door flew open, and old Tomkins entered, who told me the crew had broken open the provision-room, and had helped themselves to all that they found there; and that some of them had entered into a conspiracy to barricade the cabin-door, and leave the vessel to its fate. They carried the stolen provisions on deck, where an unexpected reception awaited them, they were immediately attacked by that part of the crew who would not join in their enterprise, and a severe conflict ensued. In the meantime, some of the mutineers had, unobserved, placed the provisions in the boat, which they instantly lowered into the sea; and having taken possession of it, they were soon joined by their companions, who had the good fortune to fight their way through those who oppoed them, and to reach the boat in safety. Deep was the indignation of those who remained at the treachery of their companions. All had taken to flight except four, who had been placed as a guard at the door of the cabin. I immediately

ordered lights to be hung out, and sent several shots after the cowardly rascals, which unfortunately missed them, and they soon vanished in the dark. In the gangway we found many dead, and some severely wounded: the first we lowered into the sea, and we bound up the wounds of the latter. Our situation was now indeed deplorable.

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"At break of day, as I stood mournfully upon deck gazing upon the calm sea, old Tomkins again approached me, saying, Well, Sir, you yesterday laughed at me for telling you the spectre would pay the Minerva a visit; but I don't think that you will again take the old sailor Tomkins for a man who troubles his head with a fabulous spirit.' In truth, I did again observe something standing immoveable by the helm, which appeared like the figure of a large, tall man. Without waiting to reply to Tomkins' remark, I quickly approached this singular apparition. The nearer I approached it, the more indistinct and shadowy it became. When I reached the place where the phantom stood, to my astonishment it had disappeared; but the instant I left the place, the spectre re-appeared, and assumed the singular form of an old sailor in a bending attitude. See, Lieutenant,' said Tomkins, the spectre makes himself sure of a good prey this night, because he is seen more distinctly. He will now begin to take command of the ship, which he will keep for days.' I knew not what to think of this matter, but being called down to the cabin, where two of the steersmen lay mortally wounded, I cautioned Tomkins to say nothing of it to any of the crew, as not a man would stir from horror of the appa rition. I found both the wretched men at the point of death. The same day, four more of the crew died, and at midnight we had only twelve men on board the Minerva.

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"When we sunk the last body in the sea, I looked towards the helm, but the apparition had vanished. Tomkins, who stood beside me, whispered, that it would again appear in the evening, and that it would be more distinctly seen than hitherto. We had paid the last honours to the dead, and my unhappy comrades had gone below to avoid the oppressive heat, and I stood lost in thought on our melancholy situation; not a breath of air cooled the burning atmosphere; not a star glimmered in the wide horizon. Our vessel rocked from side to side, the helm had lost all power over her. I now apportioned what remained of our provisions to the crew; for myself I retained none. Tomkins was still the most active and unrepining.

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"As soon as I had dealt out the small remains of the provisions, I returned on deck. Here I found my favourite dog, Cynthio, who, the moment he saw me, turned with feeble steps towards the helm, and looking steadfastly on the place, began to howl. Sorrowfully I called the faithful animal to me. Cynthio,' said I, 'for many years you have faithfully served your master; you now receive your death from his hand.' I need not express to you what my sensations were; seizing my pistol, a deep groan followed the shot, and then all was still. The report brought all the crew upon deck. With a bitter sigh I gave the dog to the poor fellows. Their repast was soon prepared, and they all expressed their gratitude for the sacrifice I had made. When Tomkins returned upon deck, he approached me and said, Lieutenant, you are a generous man, and spare nothing to your crew.' Truly, I have

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NO. XXIX.-VOL. III.

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"In the evening I felt some one touch my shoulder: I quickly turned round,-it was Tomkins. Our steersman is here again,' he whispered; see how restless he becomes, and how he strides backwards and forwards. Courage will not help us here; those over whose heads he walks, are doomed by him, and he makes himself sure of us also.' I now looked towards the helm, and saw the spectre more distinctly than I had done in the morning. On approaching nearer, I remarked with horror and astonishment two eyeless sockets; and the dark and furrowed countenance of the phantom was meager and ghastly. With crossed arms and measured steps he paced between the helm and the mast. I summoned my courage to my aid, approached and addressed him; but he silently continued his walk, without appearing to have observed me. I now drew my sword from the scabbard, and made a thrust at the unbidden guest, but it only cut the air, and the spectre quietly persued its wanderings. are right Tomkins,' said I, as I turned to the old man; 'Satan has taken up his abode wieh us, and I have no power to drive him away.' With a feeling of terror which till then I had never experienced, I went forward, leaving the spectre to continue his walk undisturbed. The moon had risen; the heavens were bespangled with stars: Tomkins and I were sitting upon deck, lost in thought, when suddenly a wild song arose from the steerage-without doubt the unfortunate beings were endeavouring by this means to restore their cheerfulness. As I was still in hopes that the spectre would suddenly vanish, I looked towards the helm, but to my disappointment, I still saw him pacing backwards and forwards as before. Since the evening I had allowed all the work of the ship to stand, as the famished crew were quite unfit for service; and as no exertions on our part could be of the slightest use. All was now quiet in the steerage. That is the calm of desperation, thought I; and as none of them came on deck to enjoy the cool breeze, I went down to enquire the reason, and to my surprise I found them all in a state of insensibility. They had emptied the last anker of rum; the empty keg lay upon the table, and the unhappy crew were extended without any signs of life. At first, I thought it was from intoxication, but on finding behind the empty anker, a bottle with opium inscribed upon it, and which was also empty, I soon found that the miserable wretches, to console themselves under their privations, had had recourse to this dangerous and fatal remedy. I hastily called Tomkins and told him my suspicions: we tried to restore them to consciousness, but without success. 'Sir,' said Tomkins, I greatly fear none of these poor fellows will ever come to life again: take notice, 'tis not for nothing the spectre is walking over their heads'. He was right. The same night eight of the unhappy crew died in violent convulsions: but the boatswain and cabin boy became sensible next morning. They told us that they had all partaken of the drug, for the purpose of delivering them from their wretchedness. As they had frequently indulged in the use of opium

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its operation was slow, but at length death asserted his power, and by mid-day all was over.

"With a mind full of sadness, I paid the last rites to the dead. Tomkins was still active and cheeful, whilst I, who was so much younger, could hardly support myself on this sorrowful occasion. When all was concluded, I became extremely faint. I threw myself down upon deck; every thing seemed to move around me, and I soon fell into a stupor: my thoughts wandered and became unsettled. I dreamt that I was on a fertile coast, and that several persons approached me with the most delicious fruits. A number of slaves came near, bearing in their hands cups of gold, which emitted the most delicious perfumes. From this enchanting vision I suddenly awoke; but on opening my eyes I thought I still dreamt, for Tomkins stood before me, holding in his hand some of the fruit I had seen in my dream. Without enquiry I took part of it, from which I found great refreshment. Enquiringly, I looked at Tomkins, who, in confusion, threw down his eyes. 'How came you by this fruit, Tomkins?' I asked after a pause: Did you swim for it to-day, sir?— that's a sign we must be near some coast.' 'Not today,' said Tomkins; but I swam for it when we lay at anchor on the coast of Java.' 'Impossible, Tomkins! I replied, as I angrily sprung up; surely you could not have kept this refreshing fruit when so many of your messmates were dying of want?' I give you my word sir,' said Tomkins, with a firm voice, I have always divided my rations with them: they are now dead; but not from famine alone, but from their wounds and the opium they drank.' This reply placed the old sailor in a very favourable light. He told me he had overheard my conversation with the captain, in regard to our want of provisions, in consequence of which, when keeping watch during the night, he swam secretly to the shore, brought some fruit, and returned without being missed. He expressed his happiness at having an opportunity of showing his gratitude to me, for having saved him from a punishment with which the captain had threatened him. We now went down to the steerage, where he showed me where he had hid the fruit, and some cocoa nuts, under an old chest.

"In the evening our spectre friend again appeared: he was even more restless than ever. With rapid steps he quickly strode to the bench where we sat, and with a commanding air he stretched forth his right hand. On his deep furrowed features lay the expression of a fiend. By heavens, my young friend, I have stood the battle's thunder without feeling the terror which seized me at the sight of this spectre! As it approached me, a shudder ran through my veins. The dreadful feeling of expectation which filled me, at every turn the spectre took, became at length so insufferable, that drawing a pistol from my belt, I fired at the wandering spirit; but it had not the least effect on him. Of what use is it sir,' said Tomkins, as I threw myself in deep disappointment by his side, no human hand can injure him. We, too, are marked out for his sacrifice, and he is compelled to continue his wanderings over the whole ship. If he again comes this way we are lost. You had better now write down the melancholy intelligence, how that the cutter Minerva and her crew were sunk into the sea.'

"In the evening, the spectre again began its wanderings, which continued till next morning. After we

had divided the last cocoa-nut, Tomkins,' said I, I owe my life to you, and the service you have rendered me is the more to be praised, as you will probably live some days longer, and have nothing left for yourself. Let us, Tomkins, boldly meet death as brave seamen, nor fear the spectre as he stands before us with his threatening looks and gestures.' Upon this I went down to the cabin, to give an account of the destruction of the vessel aud the crew. I had just finished the document, which was to be thrown into the sea, and believing my last hour to draw near, I lay down in my hammock, when I was suddenly aroused from my uneasy and disturbed slumber, by the joyful voice of Tomkins, who, rushing into the cabin, exclaimed, ، Hurrah, Sir, our deliverance is near. The spectre has disappeared, and a stiff breeze now fills the sails.' I flew upon deck, and found to my relief, that the dreadful spectre had indeed taken to flight; but I could not restrain a sigh at the loss of the crew, as from want of hands we could make but little way. ، Courage, Lien tenant,' raid Tomkins, if this wind will not take us to any vessels, it may bring them to us. The phantom has taken himself off, that is the principal thing, and convinces me that we will soon be succoured." Tomkins was so strong in this hope, that in the evening he hung out lights, and fired a signal gun; but, as the morning dawned, not a sail could we descry on the wide and solitary ocean. I now gave up to despair, but nothing could damp the hopes of Tomkins. He ascended to the masthead, declaring he would stay there till he saw a sail, or die like a brave sailor. This affected me much. I threw myself upon deck, there to await our unhappy fate. I was soon roused from my painful reflections by an exclamation from Tomkins, of A sail! a sail!a sail before the wind!' he exclaimed in breathless haste. The joyful intelligence instantly restored my strength. While Tomkins fired a signal gun, I went up the mast, and there saw, not one, two, or three, but four sail. It was the fleet which we had conveyed to Canton, and, to my great joy, I saw the vessels bending towards us.

"I was soon in the arms of my friends. Some sailors who where on board, informed us, that the spectre was the apparition of a Portuguese corsair, who two hundred years ago had drowned himself in the Eastern Ocean, from remorse at having, in the most cruel manner, allowed his crew to die of hunger.-U. S. Journal.

SAYINGS & DOINGS OF THE PAST MONTH.

The proceedings at Bow Street Office respecting a certain member for a Northern City, whose dealings in looking glasses have produced some strong reflections, offered to stake his honor that the suspicions against him are untrue, but the usurers declined taking any more of his pledges.

We have been favoured through our interest with a most zealous disciple and confidant of Sir Andrew Agnew, (a venerable purveyor of roasted apples to the rising generation,) with the following propositions which have been made to the society that proposes to make men religious by compulsion.

"1. A plan to prevent the flowing and ebbing of the tide in the Thames River on Sunday, by means of ex tensive flood-gates, to reach from Tilbury Fort to Gravesend."

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