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piped upon decks, I sate with the lieutenants in the ward-room. About ten minutes before twelve o'clock, however, the drum beat to quarters, and all, both officers and men, hurried to their stations. This done, the boatswain's whistle sound ed, and all hands crowded the forecastle, quarter-deck, and poop, in a moment. There we stood in profound silence, till eight bells were told; and exactly as the last stroke ceased to reverberate, the captain made his appearance.

All eyes were now turned in fearful expectation upon the fore-hatches; nor was expectation long kept upon the stretch. A sergeant of marines, followed by a file of men, mounted the ladder; then came two persons, dressed in blue jackets and trousers, heavily ironed, and after them came another file of marines. They moved towards the quarter-deck, and having arrived opposite the gang-way, stood still. In the meantime it had not escaped our notice, that a couple of nooses hung from the fore-yard, one on each side of the mast, and that the ends of the ropes lay at length upon the forecastle, ready to be hurried aft by the ship's company. Of course, we were all perfectly sensible to what uses these rope-ends were about to be turned; and though there was not one amongst us who felt disposed to deny the justice of a deserter's fate, there were few indeed who experienced no pity for the unhappy wretches about to suffer. No great while, however, was granted for the indulgence of such thoughts. The captain, unfolding a roll of paper which he held in his hand, read aloud the proceedings of the court-martial, which sentenced the prisoners before him to suffer death, and having stated that the sentence in question received the approbation of the admiral on the station, he silently motioned to the culprits that their hour was come. I cannot pretend to convey to my reader any notion of the expression which passed across the poor men's countenances whilst these preliminaries went on. They were both deadly pale; the limbs of one, too, appeared to totter under him; but neither of them spoke a word. They seemed, indeed, especially one of them, to feel as men may be supposed to feel, if indeed they feel at all, on whose heads a heavy stunning blow has fallen, for they suffered themselves to be led back towards the fatal noose without uttering one exclamation, or offering the slightest resist ance. Their lips moved, however, though whether in prayer or execration I cannot tell; and one raised his manacled hands with great apparent energy to his breast. But the struggle was soon over. The chains were struck from their legs, which

were bound about at the ancle and thigh with cords; their hands loosened from the handcuffs, were pinioned behind them, and a white night-cap being drawn over cach of their faces, they were placed upright, with their fronts towards the mast. Then was the noose silently cast on their necks, and a signal being given by the first lieutenant, about twenty stout fellows seized each of the ropes. One instant's, and only one instant's pause occurred, for the boatswain piping "hoist away," the executioners ran with all speed towards the poop; and the unfortunate culprits, hurried aloft with the rapidity of thought, died in an instant. I forced myself to gaze steadfastly upon the whole proceeding, and I can vouch, that not so much as a quiver, or motion of the limb, gave evidence of suffering; it seemed to me to be the most humane execution which I had ever witnessed. And now all was over. The sailors returned to their births, and we to our transport; whilst the bodics of the deserters were left to swing in he air till sunset.-Subaltern in America. Blackwood's Magazine.

The Selector,

AND

LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS.

ANECDOTES OF FATHEP
O'LEARY.

I FREQUENTLY had an opportunity of meeting, at my father-in-law's, Mr. Grogan's, where he often dined, a most worthy priest, Father O'Leary, and have listened frequently with great zest to anecdotes which he used to tell with a quaint yet spirited humour quite unique. His manner, his air, his countenance, all bespoke wit, talent, and a good heart. I liked his company excessively, and have often regretted I did not cultivate his acquaintance more, or recollect his witticisms better. It was singular, but it was fact, that even before Father O'Leary opened his lips, a stranger would say, "that is an Irishman," and at the same time guess him to be a priest.

One anecdote in particular I remember. Coming from St. Omer, he told us, he stopped a few days to visit a brother priest in the town of Boulogne-sur-mer. Here he heard of a great curiosity which all the people were running to see, a curious bear that some fishermen had taken at sea out of a wreck; it had sense, and attempted to utter a sort of lingo which they called patois, but which nobody understood.

O'Leary gave his six sous to see the wonder, which was shown at the porte by candlelight, and was a very odd kind of animal no doubt. The bear had been taught a hundred tricks, all to be performed at the keeper's word of command. It was late in the evening when O'Leary saw him, and the bear seemed sulky; the keeper, however, with a short spike at the end of a pole, made him move about briskly. He marked on sand what o'clock it was with his paw, and distinguished the men and women in a very comical way; in fact, our priest was quite diverted. The beast at length grew tired the keeper hit him with the pole; he stirred a little, but continued quite sullen: his master coaxed him-no! he would not work! At length, the brute of a keeper gave him two or three sharp pricks with the goad, when he roared out most tremendously, and rising on his hind legs, swore at his tormentor in very good native Irish. O'Leary waited no longer, but went immediately to the mayor, whom he informed that the blackguards of fishermen had sewed up a poor Irishman in a bear-skin, and were showing him for six sous! This civic dignitary, who had himself seen the bear, would not believe our friend; at last O'Leary prevailed on him to accompany him to the room. On their arrival the bear was still upon duty; and O'Leary, stepping up to him, says, "Gand e tha hawn, Pat ?" (How do you do, Pat?)—" Slanger a manugouth," (Pretty well, thank'ee,) says the bear. The people were surprised to hear how plainly he spoke; but the mayor directly ordered him to be ripped up; and after some opposition and a good deal of difficulty, Pat stepped forth (stark naked) out of the bear-skin, wherein he had been fourteen or fifteen days most cleverly stitched. The women made off; the men stood astonished; and the mayor ordered the keepers to be put in gaol unless they satisfied him; but that was presently done. The bear afterwards told O'Leary that he was very well fed, and did not care much about the clothing, only they worked him too hard. The fishermen had found him at sea on a hen-coop, which had saved him from going to the bottom with a ship wherein he had a little venture of dried cod from Dungarvon, and which was bound from Waterford to Bilboa. He could not speak a word of any language but Irish, and had never been at sea before. The fishermen had brought him in, fed him well, and endeavoured to repay themselves by showing him as a curiosity.

O'Leary's mode of telling this story was quite admirable. I never heard any anecdote

(and I believe his one to have been true) related with so much genuine drollery, which was enhanced by his not changing a muscle himself, while every one of his hearers was in a paroxysm of laughter.

Some ideas of the common Irish are so strange, and uttered so unconsciously, that in the mouths of any other people they might be justly considered profane. In those of my countrymen, however, such expressions are idiomatic, and cer tainly spoken without the least idea of profanity.

The present Lord Ventry was consi dered, before his father's death, the oldest heir apparent in the Irish peerage, to which his father had been raised in 1800, in consequence of an arrangement made with Lord Castlereagh at the time of the Union. He had for many years been bed-ridden, and had advanced to a very great age latterly without any corresponding utility; yet little apprehensions were entertained of his speedy dissolution.

A tenant on the estate, the stability of whose lease depended entirely on the son surviving the father, and who was beginning to doubt which of them might die of old age first, said, seriously, to the heirapparent, but without the slightest idea of any sort of impropriety, either as respected God or man,—

"Ah, then, Master 'Squire Mullins, isn't it mighty strange that my poor ould landlord (heaven preserve his noble lordship!) shou'd lie covered up in the bed all this time past? I think, plase your honour, that it wou'd be well done, to take his lordship (Lord bless his honour!) up to the tip-top of Crow-Patrick, and hold him up there as high as could bejust to show his lordship a bit to the Virgin; for I'm sure, plase your honour, if God Almighty hadn't quite forgot his lordship, he would have taken him home to himself long and many a day ago." Barrington's Personal Sketches.

THE MEETING OF SHIPS.
WHEN O'er the silent seas alone,
For days and nights we've cheerless gone,
Oh! they who've felt it, know how sweet
Some sunny morn a sail to meet.
"Ship a boy!" our joyful cry,
Sparkling at once is every eye,

While, answering back, the sounds we hear,
"Ship a hoy! what cheer, what cheer?”
Then sails are back'd, we ncarer come,
Kind words are said of friends and home ·
And soon, too soon, we part with pain.
To sail o'er silent seas again."

A set of Clees, written ad composed by Thomas
Moe, Esq

THE WATCHMAN.

Good night, good night, my dearest,

How fast the moments fly!

Tis time to part, thou hearest

That hateful watchman's cry.

"Past twelve o'clock !”—good night

Yet stay a moment longer

Alas! why is it so

The wish to stay grows stronger,

The more 'tis time to go.

"Past one o'clock!"-good night! Now wrap thy cloak about thee

The hours must sure go wrong, For when they're past without thee, They're oh! ten times as long.

"Past two o'clock !"- good night!

Again that dreadful warning!
Had ever Time such plight!

And, see the sky-'tis morning-
So now, indeed, good night!
"Past three o'clock !"-good night!

Ibid.

HABITS OF THE WALRUS.

WHEN I was at Fuglenæs I had an opportunity of seeing the remains of a walrus, which was lying upon the shore not far from the Red House. This had been brought from Cherie Island. I could not help remarking the extraordinary thickness of the hide, which at present is applied, I believe, to no other use than occasionally as matting to protect the masts of vessels. I brought with me to England a long strip of it, which, after undergoing the usual process, would seem to be well adapted for carriage-traces and braces, from its superior strength to other leather now used for this purpose. I have lately learnt, that it is likely to prove also extremely serviceable for the purpose of making fire-buckets.

Mr. Colquhoun, who lately returned from an expedition to Spitzbergen and the Finmark coasts, to try the power of the Congreve rocket against the species of whale known by the name of the finner, informs me they found the walrus lying in herds of many hundreds each, on the shores of Hope and Cherie Islands, and took a great quantity of them. The most

favourable time for attacking them is when the tide is out, and they are reposing on the rocks. In this case, if the javelors be very alert, and fortunate enough to kill the lower ranks of them, which lies nearest the shore, before the hindmost can pass, they are able to secure the whole; as the walrus when on shore is so unwieldy a creature, that it cannot get over the obstacles thrown in its way by the dead bodies of its companions, and falls in this manner a prey to the lance of the seamen. It does not, however, die tamely;

and perhaps no animal infers a more determined resistance, when attacked on an element where they are incapable of exerting their prodigious strength, striking furiously at their enemy, and continually turning round to assist their companions in distress. When an alarm of the approach of an enemy is given, the whole herd makes for the sea.

When they reach the water, they tumble in as expeditiously as possible; but the numbers are often so immense, and the size of the animal is so great, that a short time elapses before they can escape, from want of space. In this case, those who happen to be in the rear, being pressed by the danger behind them, and finding their way blocked up by their companions in front, attempt, by means of their tusks, to force their way through the crowd; and several that have been taken at the time by means of the boats, have some visible proofs of the hurry of their comrades, in the numerous wounds inflicted on their hind-quarters.

The walrus, however, when attacked in the water, is by no means an easy animal to kill, offering sometimes a successful resistance. Instances have even been known of their staving and sinking a boat with their tusks.

The food of the walrus consists of mollusca and crustacea. Fish probably does not form any part of it, and it is not likely, as has been said, that they prey upon seals, from the structure of their mouth. The principal use of their tusks is probably to enable them to detach their food from the ground or rocks. They also employ them for the purpose of securing themselves to the rocks while they sleep; and it not unfrequently happens, that during their sleep the tide falls, and leaves them suspended by their tusks, so that they are unable to extricate themselves.

More than one instance of this, I was informed, had occurred in the Magereösund. Though the value of the ivory and oil obtained from the walrus has lat terly suffered a considerable depreciation, the fishery is still a very lucrative one; and the distance from Finmark to the seat of it not being great, two voyages may be made sometimes in the course of the season. The oil derived from the fat of the animal, as well as the ivory from the tusks, are of a very fine quality.

A Winter in I.apland.

BILLIARDS.

BILLIARDS we admit to be a beautiful game; a man may wile away an hour or two of a winter's evening at them plea

santly enou zn with a friend; 1e may also enjoy himself as a spectator, especially where the players are old hands, and wield their tools as magicians do their wands; he may even play for the game--of course there can be but little damage in that— with any apparently casual visitant to the room. If he go further, if he play for a stake, whether he win or lose, let us beseech him never to make a companion of any acquaintance picked up at the billiardtable. Many of its visiters are, it cannot be denied, liegemen and true; but the chance is, that out of ten associates, gathered from such places, nine will prove scoundrels. They frequently are the ackalls of "greater beasts of prey," and lead the arden. nov.ce into "dens of destruction." Pray you avoid them."

If our reader be young-if he have not yet published a beard-we entreat him to believe, that we feel a fatherly consideration for his welfare, and are influenced by the dictates of experience in what we are about to say to him. Young manour dear boy-if you are yet no billiardplayer, chase from your heart the first incipient wish you feel of being one. Strangle that snake, the ambition of becoming a fine marksman at the balls, in your bosom; or, mark our words, you will rue it. Billiards require a nice hand, an accurate eye, the patience of Job, and unremitting practice; without these you will never be a player. The ascent to perfection at the table is a work of long toil and trouble; when you have reached the wished-for goal-and it is one thousand chances to one against your so doing -you will look back with bitterness at the time lost and the means used in attaining it. Ergo, be no billiard-player.

To the man whose hand is familiarized with the cue, we shall not attempt to preach. If we had any desire to wean him from his visits to the green board, we should not attempt to do so; for were we gifted with the eloquence of the silvertongued Nestor, in eleven cases out of a dozen we verily believe our endeavours would prove abortive; we are too sensible of its infatuations. Long customs, says Dr. Johnson, are not easily broken: he that attempts to change the course of his own life often labours in vain and how shall we do that for others which we are seldom able to do for ourselves?

Every Night Book.

The Gatherer.

"I am but a Gatherer and disposer of other en's stuff."— Wotton.

LORD MANSFIELD went the Shrewsbury circuit; and having been asked to dinner

by the Mayor of the town, his lordship observing an antique clock in the room, observed to the Mayor," that he supposed Sir John Falstaff fought by that clock," to which the Mayor replied, “He could 1ot tell, for he had not the pleasure of nowing Sir John."— Lord Mansfield :hen tried his host on another subject, and remarked, "that the town appeared very old"-to which the Mayor replied, "it was always so, please your lord. ship."

AT the late Limerick assizes, P. Magrath was tried for stealing a great coat. After this fact had been proved, the judge called on him for his defence, when the prisoner addressed the court:" My Lord, he saw what a bad way I was in for clothes, being almost naked, and he said, 'I would advise you, Pat, the first coat or blanket you get to throw it over your shoulders.' I did so my Lord, and now he is prosecuting me for following his own bad advice and this is my defence, plase your Reverence's Lordship." The court was convulsed with laughter.

AN old gentleman who to great general timidity, added an absolute horror of fire-arms, riding one day in a stage-coach, suddenly felt something hard at the Lack of the seat on which he was sitting, which the application of his fingers convinced him was a gun. Instantly, and without any explanation, he thrust his head and body through the window, and with the strongest appearance of horror and alarm, called to the coachman to let him out. Being interrogated as to the cause of his fright, he replied, that there a gun in the coach." You are mistaken," said one of his fellow passengers, "there is no gun in the coach." "Don't tell me, Sir," rejoined the terrified old man, "there is." " I assure you there is not." "Coachman, let me out, I say there is a gun, I feel it."

was

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Pray, my dear Sir," said the other, "do not be alarmed, I repeat my assurance, that there is no gun in the coach, it is only a blunderbuss."

THE number of volumes in the university library at Cambridge has never been ascertained; but Dr. Farmer, when librarian, counted the number of authors, and they amounted at that time to upwards of 100,000.

143, Strand (near Somers House), and sold by

Printed and Published by J. LIMBIRD,

ail Newsmen and Booksellers.

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PERHAPS the most remarkable event in the history of that very ancient city, Norwich, was the rebellion of 1549, in the reign of King Edward VI. It was occasioned by the enclosure of abbey lands, commons, and other waste grounds, whereby the poor were deprived of the accustomed pasturage of their cattle, and consequently greatly distressed. The leader of the populace in this great rebellion was one Kett, (Robert,) a tanner, o. Windham, who, it seems, was chosen by them as their captain, from his boldness in avenging a private injury done him by a Master Flowerdew, of Hethersett. William Kett, his brother, a butcher in the same town with Robert, joined him, as did also a great number of the worst description of the lower orders o people. They proceeded to Norwich, committing great ravages in all the vil lages through which they passed, were joined by many malcontents from the city, and encamped on Moushold-hill and heath, just overlooking it on the east. Part of this domain was called St. Leonard's-hill, from a priory which had formerly stood there, upon the site of which VOL. IX.

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the earl of Surrey built a stately palace, and termed it Mount Surrey; of this, and of St. Michael's Chapel, (ever since called Kett's Castle,) the rebel and his followers took possession, destroying every thing they found therein, and converting the palace into a prison. These rebels styled themselves the king's friends and deputies, and Robert Kett presided at a mock court of justice, held under a tree, termed the oak of reformation, of which there is not only no vestige left, but even not a tradition as to the place where it stood. Here they had divine service morning and evening, having obliged the Rev. Thomas Coniers, minister of St. Martin's-on-the-Plain, to become their chaplain. Their numbers increased to 16,000; and as they were very desperate men, had a most commanding station, their camp strongly fortified, and needed neither ammunition nor food, they did great injury with their cannon to the city below them, and many times entered it, and made vast havoc and bloodshed. The king sent the marquis of Northampton with a strong force to the relief of the citizens; but the night after their arrival,

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