sands, that were becoming visible as the tide fell, and others wildly tossed, in the frantic movements of helpless despair. The honest old seaman gave a cry of joy as he saw Barnstable [the commander whom Tom had forced into the boat] issue from the surf, where one by one several seamen soon appeared also, dripping and exhausted. Many others of the crew were carried in a similar manner to places of safety; though, as Tom returned to his seat on the bowsprit, he could not conceal from his reluctant eyes the lifeless forms that were, in other spots, driven against the rocks with a fury that soon left them but few of the outward vestiges of humanity.

Bachelor, 1828; Wept of Wish-ton Wish, 1829; The Water Witch, 1830; Bravo, 1831; Heidenmauer, 1832; Headsman, 1833; Monikins, 1835; Homeward Bound, and Home as Found, 1838; The Pathfinder, and Mercedes of Castile, 1840; The Deerslayer, 1841; The Two Admirals, and Wing and Wing, 1842; Ned Myers, and Wyandotte, 1843; Afloat and Ashore, and Miles Wallingford, 1844; The Chainbearer, and Satanstoe, 1845; The Red Skins, 1846; The Crater, 1847; Jack Tier, and Oak Openings, 1848; The Sea Lions, 1849; and The Ways of the Hour, 1850. Of this numerous family of creations, the best areThe Spy, The Pilot, The Prairie, The Last of the Mohicans, and The Red Rover. In these his characteristic excellences-his noble marine painting and delineations of American scenery and character -are all combined. Besides his novels, Cooper wrote ten volumes of sketches of European travels, & History of the Navy of the United States, and various treatises on the institutions of America, in which a strong democratic spirit was manifested. In these he does not appear to advantage. He seems to have cherished some of the worst prejudices of the Americans, and, in his zeal for republican waters were the same as a dry deck,' returned the 'There was One and only One to whose feet the institutions, to have forgotten the candour and cockswain; and none but such as have His power will temper becoming an enlightened citizen of the ever be able to walk from these rocks to the sands.' world. In the department of fiction, however, The old seaman paused, and turning his eyes, which Cooper has few superiors, and his countrymen exhibited a mingled expression of disgust and compasmay well glory in his name. He emphatically belongs to the American nation,' as Washington Irving has said, while his painting of nature under new and striking aspects, has given him a European fame that can never wholly die.

[A Virgin Wilderness-Lake Otsego.]

On all sides, wherever the eye turned, nothing met it but the mirror-like surface of the lake, the placid view of heaven, and the dense setting of woods. So rich and fleecy were the outlines of the forest, that scarce an opening could be seen; the whole visible earth, from the rounded mountain-top to the water's edge, presenting one unvaried line of unbroken verdure. As if vegetation were not satisfied with a triumph so complete, the trees overhung the lake itself, shooting out towards the light; and there were miles along its eastern shore where a boat might have pulled beneath the branches of dark Rembrandt-looking hemlocks, quivering aspens, and melancholy pines. In a word, the hand of man had never yet defaced or deformed any part of this native scene, which lay bathed in the sunlight, a glorious picture of affluent forest grandeur, softened by the balminess of June, and relieved by the beautiful variety afforded by the presence of so broad an expanse of water.

[Death of Long Tom Coffin.]

Lifting his broad hands high into the air, his voice was heard in the tempest. God's will be done with me,' he cried: 'I saw the first timber of the Ariel laid, and shall live just long enough to see it turn out of her bottom; after which I wish to live no longer.' But his shipmates were far beyond the sounds of his voice before these were half uttered. All command of the boat was rendered impossible, by the numbers it contained, as well as the raging of the surf; and as it rose on the white crest of a wave, Tom saw his beloved little craft for the last time. It fell into a trough of the sea, and in a few moments more its fragments were ground into splinters on the adjoining rocks. The cockswain [Tom] still remained where he had cast off the rope, and beheld the numerous heads and arms that appeared rising, at short intervals, on the waves, some making powerful and well-directed efforts to gain the

Dillon and the cockswain were now the sole occupants of their dreadful station. The former stood in a kind of stupid despair, a witness of the scene; but as his curdled blood began again to flow more warmly to his heart, he crept close to the side of Tom, with that sort of selfish feeling that makes even hopeless misery more tolerable, when endured in participation with another. the agony of fear, though his words expressed the 'When the tide falls,' he said in a voice that betrayed renewal of hope, we shall be able to walk to land.'

sion, on his companion, he added with reverence: 'Had you thought more of Him in fair weather, your case would be less to be pitied in this tempest.'

'Do you still think there is much danger?' asked Dillon.

'To them that have reason to fear death. Listen! Do you hear that hollow noise beneath ye?' "Tis the wind driving by the vessel!'

"Tis the poor thing herself,' said the affected cockswain, 'giving her last groans. The water is breaking up her decks, and in a few minutes more, the handsomest model that ever cut a wave, will be like the chips that fell from her in framing!'

'Why then did you remain here?' cried Dillon wildly. 'To die in my coffin, if it should be the will of God,' returned Tom. 'These waves are to me what the land is to you: I was born on them, and I have always meant that they should be my grave.'

'But I-I,' shrieked Dillon, 'I am not ready to die! I cannot die !-I will not die!'

'Poor wretch!' muttered his companion, 'you must go like the rest of us; when the death-watch is called, none can skulk from the muster.'

'I can swim,' Dillon continued, rushing with frantic eagerness to the side of the wreck. 'Is there no billet of wood, no rope, that I can take with me?'

'None; everything has been cut away, or carried off by the sea. If ye are about to strive for your life, take with ye a stout heart and a clean conscience, and trust the rest to God.'

'God!' echoed Dillon, in the madness of his frenzy, 'I know no God! there is no God that knows me!' 'Peace!' said the deep tones of the cockswain, in a voice that seemed to speak in the elements; 'blasphemer, peace!'

The heavy groaning, produced by the water in the timbers of the Ariel, at that moment added its impulse to the raging feelings of Dillon, and he cast himself headlong into the sea. The water, thrown by the rolling of the surf on the beach, was necessarily returned to the ocean, in eddies, in different places favourable to such an action of the element. Into the edge of one of these counter-currents, that was produced by the very rocks on which the schooner lay, and which the watermen call the 'under-tow,' Dillon had unknowingly thrown his person; and when the waves had driven him a short distance from the wreck, he was met by a

works of mediocre character followed-The Settlers in Canada, 1844, and The Mission, or Scenes in Africa, 1845. In 1846 he regained something of his old nautical animation in The Privateersman One Hundred Years Ago, which proved to be his last work. Captain Marryat,' says a writer in the Quarterly Review, 'stands second to no living novelist but Miss Edgeworth. His happy delineations and contrasts of character, and easy play of native fun, redeem thousand faults of verbosity, clumsiness, and coarseness. His strong sense and utter superiority to affectation of all sorts, command respect; and in his quiet effectiveness of circumstantial narrative, he sometimes approaches old Defoe. There is less of caricature about his pictures than those of any contemporary humorist-unless, perhaps, Morier; and he shews far larger and maturer knowledge of the real workings of human nature than any of the band, except the exquisite writer we have just named, and Mr Theodore Hook, of whom praise is equally superfluous.' This was written in 1839, before Dickens, Thackeray, or Anthony Trollope had earned their laurels; and with all our admiration of Marryat, we should be disposed to claim for the later novelists an equal, if not superior-as clear, and a more genial— knowledge of human nature-at least on land.

the Hanoverian Guelphic Order, an officer of the Legion of Honour, &c. In February 1848, Captain Marryat received intelligence of the death of his son, lieutenant on board the Avenger, steam-frigate, which was lost on the rocks off Galita. This bereavement tended to hasten the death of the able and accomplished novelist.

[A Prudent Sea Captain-Abuse of Ship's Stores.]

[From The King's Own.]

'Well, Mr Cheeks, what are the carpenters about?" 'Weston and Smallbridge are going on with the chairs the whole of them will be finished to-morrow.'

'Well?'

'Smith is about the chest of drawers, to match the one in my Lady Capperbar's bedroom.'

'Very good. And what is Hilton about?"

'He has finished the spare leaf of the dining-table, sir; he is now about a little job for the second lieutenant.'

'A job for the second lieutenant, sir! How often have I told you, Mr Cheeks, that the carpenters are not to be employed, except on ship's duty, without my special permission!"

'His standing bed-place is broke, sir; he is only getting out a chock or two.'

'Mr Cheeks, you have disobeyed my most positive orders. By the by, sir, I understand you were not sober last night?'

'Please your honour,' replied the carpenter, 'I wasn't drunk-I was only a little fresh.'

'Take you care, Mr Cheeks. Well, now, what are the rest of your crew about?'

'Why, Thomson and Waters are cutting out the pales for the garden out of the jib-boom; I've saved the heel to return.'

'Very well; but there wont be enough, will there?' 'No, sir; it will take a hand-mast to finish the whole.'

To vary or relieve his incessant toils at original composition, Captain Marryat made a trip to America in 1837, the result of which he gave to the world in 1839, in three volumes, entitled A Diary in America, with Remarks on its Institutions. This was flying at higher game than any he had previously brought down; but the real value of these volumes consists in their resemblance to parts of his novels-in humorous caricature and anecdote, shrewd observation, and lively or striking description. His account of the American navy is valuable; and so practical and sagacious an observer could not visit the schools, prisons, and other public institutions of the New World, without throwing out valuable reflections, and noting what is superior or defective. He was no admirer of the democratic government of America: indeed his Diary is as unfavourable to the national character as the sketches of Mrs Trollope or Captain Hall. But it is in relating traits of manners, peculiarities of "Yes, sir; but my Lady Capperbar wishes the jealspeech, and other singular or ludicrous charac-owsees to be painted vermilion; she says it will look teristics of the Americans, that Captain Marryat more rural.' excelled. These are as rich as his fictitious delineations, and, like them, probably owe a good deal to the suggestive fancy and love of drollery proper to the novelist. The success of this Diary induced the author to add three additional volumes to it in the following year, but the continuation is greatly

inferior.

"Then we must expend one when we go out again. We can carry away a top-mast, and make a new one out of the hand-mast at sea. In the meantime, if the sawyers have nothing to do, they may as well cut the palings at once. And now, let me see-oh, the painters must go on shore to finish the attics.'

'Mrs Capperbar ought to know enough about ship's stores by this time to be aware that we are only allowed three colours. She may choose or mix them as she pleases; but as for going to the expense of buying paint, I can't afford it. What are the rest of the men about?" 'Repairing the second cutter, and making a new mast for the pinnace.'

"By the by-that puts me in mind of it-have you expended any boat's masts?'

'Only the one carried away, sir.

has

The life of this busy novelist terminated, after a long and painful illness, at Langham, in Norfolk, August 9, 1848. Captain Marryat was the second "Then you must expend two more. Mrs Cson of Joseph Marryat, Esq., M.P., of Wimbleton just sent me off a list of a few things that she wishes House, Surrey, and was born in the year 1792. He made while we are at anchor, and I see two poles for entered the navy at an early age, and was a mid-clothes-lines. Saw off the sheave-holes, and put two pegs shipman on board the Impérieuse when that ship through at right angles-you know how I mean?' was engaged as part of Lord Cochrane's squadron 'Yes, sir. What am I to do, sir, about the cucumber in supporting the Catalonians against the French. frame? My Lady Capperbar says that she must have He also served in the attack on the French fleet in it, and I haven't glass enough. They grumbled at the Aix Roads, and in the Walcheren expedition. In yard last time.' 1814, as lieutenant of the Newcastle, he cut out 'Mrs C must wait a little. four vessels in Boston Bay, an exploit of great armourers about?' difficulty and daring. During the Burmese war, he commanded the Larne, and was for some time senior officer on the station. His services were rewarded by professional promotion and honours. He was a Companion of the Bath, a Knight of

What are the

"They have been so busy with your work, sir, that the arms are in a very bad condition. The first lieutenant said yesterday that they were a disgrace to the ship.'

Who dares say that?'

'The first lieutenant, sir.'

'Well, then, let them rub up the arms, and let me know when they are done, and we'll get the forge up.'

"The armourer has made six rakes and six hoes, and the two little hoes for the children; but he says that he can't make a spade.'

"Then I'll take his warrant away, by heavens, since he does not know his duty. That will do, Mr Cheeks. I shall overlook your being in liquor this time; but take care. Send the boatswain to me.'

scarcely heard the ripple of the ship's motion, till he leant over the gangway, and looked out on the sea.

If you

Nights like these make a man meditative; and sailors are more serious than is generally supposed; being serious just as they are gay, because they give themselves up to natural impressions more readily than other people. At this moment, the least conventional men now living are probably afloat. would know how your ancestors looked and talked, before towns became Babylonish, or trade despotic, you I must go and have a cruise on salt water, for the sea's business is to keep the earth fresh; and it preserves character as it preserves meat. Our Frogley Foxes and Pearl Studdses are exceptions; the results of changed times, which have brought the navy into closer relation with the shore than it was in old days; and sprinkled it with the proper denizens of other regions. object is to shew how the character of the sailor born is affected by contact with the results of modern ages. Can we retain the spirit of Benbow, minus that pigtail, to which elegant gentlemen have a natural objection? Can we be at once polished, yet free from what the ambition for Eustace. Still, we know that Pearl Studds newspapers call 'juvenile extravagance?' Such is our would go into action as cheerfully as any man, and fears less any foe's face than the banner of Levy; and we must do him no injustice.

Our

Such nights, then, Eustace already felt, as fruitful in activity, if he had drooped under the influence of partithought. If he had been pining for a little more cular kinds of talk, a quiet muse on deck refreshed him. The sea regains all its natural power over the spirit, when the human life of the ship is hushed. In the

A few other authors have, like Captain Marryat, presented us with good pictures of maritime life and adventures. The Naval Sketch-book, 1828; Sailors and Saints, 1829; Tales of a Tar, 1830; Land Sharks and Sea Gulls, 1838; and other works, by CAPTAIN GLASSCOCK, R.N., are all genuine tales of the sea, and display a hearty comic humour and rich phraseology, with as cordial a contempt for regularity of plot. Captain Glasscock died in 1847. He was one of the inspectors under the Poor Relief Act in Ireland, and in that capacity, as well as in his naval character, was distinguished by energy and ability. Rattlin the Reefer, and Outward Bound, or a Merchant's Adventures, by MR HOWARD, are better managed as to fable-particularly Outward Bound, which is a well-constructed tale-but have not the same breadth of humour as Captain Glasscock's novels. The Life of a Sailor and Ben Brace, by CAPTAIN CHAMIER, are excellent works of the same class, replete with nature, observation, and humour. Tom Cringle's Log, by MICHAEL SCOTT, and The Cruise of the Midge-both originally pub-presence of its grand old familiar majesty you forget lished in Blackwood's Magazine-are also veritable productions of the sea-a little coarse, but spirited, and shewing us things as they are.' Mr Scott, who was a native of Glasgow, spent a considerable part of his life-from 1806 to 1822-in a mercantile situation at Kingston, in Jamaica. He settled in his native city as a merchant, and died there in 1835, aged forty-six. MR JAMES HANNAY has also added to our nautical sketches. He may, however, be characterised as a critical and miscellaneous writer of scholastic taste and acquirements. He is young, and seems destined to occupy a higher niche than he has yet attained in our national literature. Mr Hannay is a native of Dumfries, a cadet of an old Galloway family, and was born in 1827. He served in the navy for five years-from 1840 to 1845. Since then he has been actively engaged in literature, writing in various periodicals-including the Quarterly and Westminster Reviews, the Athenæum, &c.-and has published the following works: Biscuits and Grog, The Claret Cup, and Hearts_are Trumps, 1848; King Dobbs, 1849; Singleton Fontenoy, 1850; Sketches in Ultramarine, 1853; Satire and Satirists, a series of six lectures, 1854; Eustace Conyers, a novel in three volumes, 1855; &c. We subjoin from Eustace Conyers a passage descriptive of

[Nights at Sea.]

Eustace went on deck. A dark night had come on by this time. The ship was tranquilly moving along with a fair wind. Few figures were moving on deck. The officer of the watch stood on the poop. The man at the wheel and quarter-master stood in silence before the binnacle; inside which, in a bright spot of light, which contrasted strongly with the darkness outside, lay the compass, with its round eloquent face, full of meaning and expression to the nautical eye. The men of the watch were lying in black heaps in their sea-jackets, along both sides of the ship's waist. Nothing could be stiller than the whole scene. Eustace

trouble, and care little for wit. Hence, the talk of the middle watch, which occupies the very heart of the night, from twelve to four, is the most serious, the deepest, the tenderest, the most confidential of the twenty-four hours; and by keeping the middle with a man, you learn him more intimately than you would in any other way. Even Studds in the middle watch, at least after the 'watch-stock,' or refreshment was disposed of, grew a somewhat different man. A certain epicurean melancholy came over the spirit of Studds, like moonlight falling on a banquet-table after the lamps are out! By Jove, sir,' he would sigh, speaking of the hollowness of life generally, and he was even heard to give tender reminiscences of one 'Eleanor,' whose fortune would probably have pleased him as much as her beauty, had not both been transferred in matrimony to the possession of a Major Jones.

MRS CATHERINE FRANCES GORE.

This lady is a clever and prolific writer of tales and fashionable novels. Her first work, Theresa Marchmont, was published in 1823; her next was a small volume containing two tales, The Lettre de Câchet and The Reign of Terror, 1827. One of these relates to the times of Louis XIV., and the other to the French Revolution. They are both interesting graceful tales-superior, we think, to some of the more elaborate and extensive fictions of the authoress. A series of Hungarian Tales succeeded. In 1830 appeared Women as They Are, or the Manners of the Day, three volumes-an easy sparkling narrative, with correct pictures of modern society; much lady-like writing on dress and fashion; and some rather misplaced derision or contempt for 'excellent wives' and 'good sort of men.' This novel soon went through a second edition, and Mrs Gore continued the same style of fashionable portraiture. In 1831, she issued Mothers and Daughters, a Tale of the Year 1830. Here the manners of gay life-balls, dinners, and fêtes-with