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at the exact proportion for the number of copies wanted, that I, myself, paid for the copyright." Nor ought the law to permit him to ask

for more.

The consignee ought also to have some guarantee that the work in question should be brought out so as not to injure the reputation of the author, or deteriorate from the value of the production. How. ever, the two booksellers would perhaps best manage their affairs together by themselves, without any legal intervention, saving this, that the possessor of the copyright should not have it in his power to suppress the work abroad; and this we insist upon for the sake of the public good.

We fervently trust that this all-important question will be taken up warmly and early in the next session of Parliament, and the public voice would point out Mr. Edward Lytton Bulwer as the fittest organ by which this matter should be brought to a happy consummation. An elegant author himself, he has already, by his exertions, proved himself the friend of authors. This cannot possibly (though party can do strange things) be made a party question; and we trust that no latent and lurking enmity to America will be the cause of throwing unjust and ungenerous impediments in the way of this international arrangement.

Of this act we hope that no lawyer by profession will have the wording. The matter seems to us so simple, that we can well dispense with any legal learning upon the subject. As an international law of this description must partake of the nature of a treaty, we trust that it will partake of its language also. Treaties, in their clauses, though continually violated, are hardly ever misunderstood; whilst, on the contrary, laws, made by lawyers, are more misunderstood than violated. We have not professed to go into detail; we have treated only on the principle. We think that, before any enactment be made, there should be a general meeting of authors, publishers, and the influential patrons of literature. Were such a meeting speedily conyened, it would do more to forward the desired object, than all the articles that could be written in all the magazines and reviews. Each party would come to a clear understanding as to its wants, and the best means of remedying them.

We have only to remark, in conclusion, that, when authors by profession see the rights of their painfully-created property secured, their numbers will not be increased, but their excellence will. Many more will enter into the field of literary composition; but it is—though a field so wide-one upon which are erected not many seats of distinction, and scarcely any thrones. The deserving only will acquire these ; and their elevation be consequently the more high, and the envy that they excite will be less, the admiration more. In this elevation the public at large will participate—it will summon before its tribunal the noblest spirits, and, becoming the only and the best patron of genius, amply repay itself by extended enlightenment, and liter pleasures, and that by only doing a simple act of justice to a class that have been generally too little wise in knowing how to do justice to themselves.


How timidly from out the neighbouring copse
The crowing pheasant peeps, and disappears;
How yet more timidly the hare, erect,
Looks round, and starts, and vanishes again!
The deer go bounding down the distant slopes:
The noisy rooks grow silent, one by one;
As soothingly the mingled light and dark
Steals o'er the senses, with oblivion soft;
With grateful coolness, and refreshing shade.
Out from his ruin comes the dusky bat,
And from his hollow oak, the stealthy owl;
Shaking dull sleep from out his feathers thick:
Then, as on downy-pinioned silence moving,
From hedge to hedge he glides, unheard, unseen.
How full of dreaminess these antique shades-
The hush of slumber, and the soul of rest,-
A tranquil folding of gigantic wings!
The winds, as on a pillow, lay them down.
Soft as the feet of infancy the dews
Around me fall; and twanged along the dusk,
As from an archer's bow, the beetle drones,
Happy disturber of the quietude ;
Most pleasant ruffler of the waveless air.
Each tree is now a stately tent, broad-roofed,
All underlaid with twinkling ears, now still,
And antlers, fixʼd as if from earth they grew.
One hour ago what mirth was in the woods,
What madness of sweet song, what heart delight !
Now the sole singer is a rivulet,
That all the way chatters of one still nook,
Where it shall lay its head on a green bank,
A silent water !

From the distant grange,
Pleasantly pastoral, comes the sheep-dog's bark;
The unseen grange made visible by that sound,
Which, but for that, had no identity,
Brushed by the darkness from the unnoting mind.
High in the heavens what hosts of burning stars !
Deep on the earth how dense the slumbering dark !
Yet in this sleep of things the mind awakes
More clear, more wakeful for the general sleep.
No more compressed within this bodily frame,
The world is now the temple of the soul,
The soul the centre of the universe,
A god in its own sphere, like God in heaven.






In which are narrated the adventures which took place in the corporal's cruise in the

joly boat.

CORPORAL VAN SPItter, as soon as he had expended all his breath in shouting for help, sat down with such a flop of despair on the thwart of the boat, as very nearly to swamp it. As it was, the water poured in over the starboard-gunnel

, until the boat was filled up to his ancles. This alarmed him still more, and he remained mute as a stockfish for a quarter of an hour, during which he was swept away by the tide until he was unable to discover the lights on shore. The wind freshened, and the water became more rough ; the night was dark as pitch, and the corporal skimmed along before the wind and tide. “A tousand tyfels!" at last muttered the corporal, as the searching blast crept round his fat sides, and made him shiver. Gust succeeded gust, and, at last, the corporal's teeth chattered with the cold: he raised his feet out of the water at the bottom of the boat, for his feet were like ice, but in so doing, the weight of his body being above the centre of gravity, the boat careened over, and with a “Mein Gott !” he hastily replaced them in the cold water. And now a shower of rain and sleet came down upon the unprotected body of the corporal, which added to his misery, to his fear, and to his despair.

“ Where am I?" muttered he; “what will become of me? Ah, mein Gott! twenty tousand tyfels—what had I to do in a boat-1, Corporal Van Spitter ?" and then he was again silent for nearly half an hour. The wind shifted to the northward, and the rain cleared up, but it was only to make the corporal suffer more, for the freezing blast poured upon his wet clothes, and he felt chilled to the very centre of his vitals. His whole body trembled convulsively, he was frozen to the thwart, yet there was no appearance of daylight coming, and the corporal now abandoned himself to utter hopelessness and desperation, and commenced praying. He attempted the Lord's Prayer in Dutch, but could get no further than “art in heaven,” for the rest, from disuse, had quite escaped the corporal's memory. He tried to recollect something else, but was equally unsuccessful; at last he made up a sad mixture of swearing and praying.

“ Mein Gott a hundred tousand tyfels-gut Gott-twenty hundred tousand tyfels! Ah, Gott of mercy-million of tyfels! holy Gott Jesus !—twenty million of tyfels—Gott for dam, I die of cold !” Such were the ejaculations of the corporal, allowing about ten minutes

Continued from page 241.

to intervene between each, during which the wind blew fresher, the waves rose, and the boat was whirled away.

But the corporal's miseries were to be prolonged; the flood of water was now spent, and the ebb commenced flowing against the wind and sea.

This created what is called boiling water, that is, a contest between the wind forcing the waves one way, and the water checking them the other, which makes the waves to lose their run, and they rise, and dance, and bubble into points. The consequence was, that the boat, as she was borne down by the tide against them, shipped a sea every moment, which the wind threw against the carcase of the corporal, who was now quite exhausted with more than four hours exposure to a wintry night, the temperature being nearly down to zero. All the corporal's stoicism was gone; he talked wildly, crouched and gibbered in his fear, when he was suddenly roused by a heavy shock. He raised his head, which had sunk upon his chest, and beheld something close to him, close to the gunnel of the boat. It was a thin, tall figure, holding out his two arms at right angles, and apparently stooping over him. It was just in the position that Smallbones lay on the forecastle of the cutter on that day morning, when he was about to keelhaul him, and the corporal, in his state of mental and bodily depression, was certain that it was the ghost of the poor lad whom he had so often tortured. Terror raised his hair erect-his mouth was wide open-he could not speak-he tried to analyze it, but a wave dashed in his face—his eyes and mouth were filled with salt water, and the corporal threw himself down on the thwarts of the boat, quite regardless whether it went to the bottom or not; there he lay, half groaning, half praying, with his hands to his eyes, and his huge nether proportion raised in the air, every limb trembling with blended cold and fright. One hour more, and there would have been nothing but corporal parts left of Corporal Spitter.

The reason why the last movement of the corporal did not swamp the boat, was simply that it was aground on one of the flats; and the figure which had alarmed the conscience-stricken corporal, was nothing more than the outside beacon of a weir for catching fish, being a thin post with a cross bar to it, certainly not unlike Smallbones in figure, supposing him to have put his arms in that position.

For upwards of an hour did the corporal lie reversed, when the day dawned, and the boat had been left high and dry upon the flat. The fishermen came down to examine their weir, and see what was their success, when they discovered the boat with its contents. At first they could not imagine what it was, for they could perceive nothing but the capacious round of the corporal, which rose up in the air, but, by degrees, they made out that there was a head and feet attached to it, and they contrived, with the united efforts of four men, to raise him up, and discovered that life was not yet extinct. They poured a little schnappes into his mouth, and he recovered so far as to open his eyes, and they having brought down with them two little carts drawn by dogs, they put the corporal into one, covered him up, and yoking all the dogs to the one cart, for the usual train could not move so heavy a weight, two of them escorted him up to their huts, while the others threw the fish caught into the cart which remained, and

took possession of the boat. The fishermen's wives, perceiving the cart so heavily laden, imagined, as it approached the huts, that there had been unusual success, and were not a little disappointed when they found that instead of several bushels of fine fish, they had only caught a corporal of marines; but they were kind-hearted, for they had known misery, and Van Spitter was put into a bed, and covered up with all the blankets they could collect, and very soon was able to drink some warm soup offered to him. It was not, however, till long past noon, that the corporal was able to narrate what had taken place.

“ Will your lieutenant pay us for saving you, and bringing him his boat ?" demanded the men.

Now, it must be observed, that a great revolution had taken place in the corporal's feelings since the horror and sufferings of the night. He felt hatred towards Vanslyperken, and good-will towards those whom he had treated unkindly. The supernatural appearance of Smallbones, which he still believed in, and which appeared to him as a warning—what he had suffered from cold and exhaustion, which by him was considered as a punishment for his treatment of the poor

lad but the morning before, had changed the heart of Corporal Van Spitter, so he replied in Dutch.

“ He will give you nothing, good people, not even a glass of schnappes, I tell you candidly—so keep the boat if you wish I will not say a word about it, except that it is lost. He is not likely to see it again. Besides, you can alter it, and paint it.”

This very generous present of his Majesty's property by the corporal, was very agreeable to the fishermen, as it amply repaid them for all their trouble. The corporal put on his clothes, and ate a hearty meal, was freely supplied with spirits, and went to bed quite recovered. The next morning, the fishermen took him down to Amsterdam in their own boat, when Van Spitter discovered that the Yungfrau had sailed; this was very puzzling, and Corporal Van Spitter did not know what to do. After some cogitation, it occurred to him that, for Vanslyperken's sake, he might be well received at the Lust Haus by widow Vandersloosh, little imagining how much at a discount was his lieutenant in that quarter.

To the Frau Vandersloosh accordingly he repaired, and the first person he met was Babette, who finding that the corporal was a Dutchman, and belonging to the Yungfrau, and who presumed that he had always felt the same ill-will towards Vanslyperken and Snarleyyow, as did the rest of the ship's company, immediately entered into a narrative of the conduct of Snarleyyow on the preceding night, the anger of her mistress, and every other circumstance with which the reader is already acquainted. Corporal Van Spitter thus fortunately found out how matters stood previous to his introduction to the widow. He expatiated upon his sufferings, upon the indifference of his lieutenant in sailing without caring what had become of him, and fully persuaded Babette not only that he was inimical, which now certainly he was, but that he always had been so, to Mr. Vanslyperken. Babette, who was always ready to retail news, went up to the widow, and amused her, as she dressed her, with the corporal's adventures,

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