dreadful catastrophe. I could not bear to look at him, and yet could not withdraw my gaze. A film came over my eyes, and a faintness over my heart. The atmosphere seemed to grow thick, and to tremble and waver like the heated air around a furnace; the mast appeared to totter, and the ship to pass from under my feet. I myself had the sensations of one about to fall from a great height, and making a strong effort to recover myself, like that of a dreamer who fancies he is shoved from a precipice, I staggered up against the bulwarks.

When my eyes were once turned from the dreadful object to which they had been rivetted, my sense and consciousness came back. I looked around me-the deck was already crowded with people. The intelligence of poor Bob's temerity had spread though the ship like wild-fire-as such news always will-and the officers and crew were all crowding to the deck to behold the appalling-the heartrending spectacle. Every one, as he looked up, turned pale, and his eye became fastened in silence on the truck-like that of a spectator of an execution on the gallows-with a steadfast, unblinking and intense, yet abhorrent gaze, as if momently expecting a fatal termination to the awful suspense. No one made a suggestion—no one spoke. Every feeling, every faculty, seemed to be absorbed and swallowed up in one deep, intense emotion of agony. Once the first lieutenant seized the trumpet, as if to hail poor Bob, but he had scarce raised it to his lips, when his arm dropped again, and sunk listlessly down beside him, as if from a sad consciousness of the utter inutility of what he had been going to say. Every soul in the ship was now on the spar-deck, and every eye was turned to the main-truck.

At this moment there was a stir among the crew about the gangway, and directly after another face was added to those on the quarter-deck-it was that of the commodore, Bob's father. He had come alongside in a shore boat, without having been noticed by a single eye, so intense and universal was the interest that had fastened every gaze upon the spot where poor Bob stood trembling on the awful verge of fate. The commodore asked not a question, uttered not a syllable. He was a dark-faced austere man, and it was thought by some of the midshipmen that he entertained but little affection for his son. However that might have been, it was certain that he treated him with precisely the same strict discipline that he did the other young officers, or if there was any difference at all, it was not in favour of Bob. Some, who pretended to have studied his character closely, affirmed that he loved his boy too well to spoil him, and that, intending him for the arduous profession in which he had himself risen to fame and eminence, he thought it

would be of service to him to experience some of its privations and hardships at the outset.

The arrival of the commodore changed the direction of several eyes, which now turned on him to trace what emotions the danger of his son would occasion. But their scrutiny was foiled. By no outward sign did he show what was passing within. His eye still retain.. ed its severe expression, his brow the slight frown which it usually wore, and his lip its haughty curl. Immediately on reaching the deck, he had ordered a marine to hand him a musket, and with this stepping aft, and getting on the look-out-block, he raised it to his shoulder, and took a deliberate aim at his son, at the same time hailing him, without a trumpet, in his voice of thunder.

"Robert!” cried he, "jump! jump overboard! or I'll fire at

you."

The boy seemed to hesitate, and it was plain that he was tottering, for his arms were thrown out like those of one scarcely able to retain his balance. The commodore raised his voice again, and in a quicker and more energetic tone, cried, "Jump! 'tis your only chance for life."

The words were scarcely out of his mouth, before the body was seen to leave the truck and spring out into the air. A sound, between a shriek and a groan, burst from many lips. The father spoke not-sighed not-indeed he did not seem to breathe. For a moment of intense agony a pin might have been heard to drop on deck. With a rush like that of a cannon ball, the body descended to the water, and before the waves closed over it, twenty stout fellows, among them several officers, had dived from the bulwarks. Another short period of bitter suspense ensued. It rose-he was alive! his arms were seen to move!-he struck out towards the ship!-and despite the discipline of a man-of-war, three loud huzzas, an outburst of unfeigned and unrestrainable joy from the hearts of our crew of five hundred men, pealed through the air, and made the welkin ring. Till this moment, the old commodore had stood unmoved. The eyes, that, glistening with pleasure, now sought his face, saw that it was ashy pale. He attempted to descend the horse block, but his knees bent under him; he seemed to gasp for breath, and put up his hand, as if to tear open his vest; but before he accomplished his object, he staggered forward, and would have fallen on the deck, had he not been caught by old Black Jake. He was borne into his cabin, where the surgeon attended him, whose utmost skill was required to restore his mind to its usual equability and self-command, in which he at last happily succeeded. As soon as he recovered from the dreadful shock, he sent for Bob, and had a long confidential conference with him; and it was noticed when

the little fellow left the cabin that he was in tears.

The next day we sent down our taunt and dashy poles, and replaced them with the stump-to'gallant-masts; and on the third, we weighed anchor, and made sail for Gibraltar.

LINES

WRITTEN IN THE ISLAND OF IONA,-SEPTEMBER, 1830.

"THE glory of earth fades," the ancients graved
On their fair tombs-those tombs have faded now;
But not on tomb alone, but on the pride

And monument of power; the mightiest ones

Have signed themselves the thralls of time, and bowed
The neck unwilling, to the crumbling tread

Of great Decay, whose head is wrapt in heaven,
And cinctured with the serpent, embleming
Eternity. Thus gazed I on these stones,

Carved with grotesque emblazon, and these towers
Bowing above me; the dim soundless night
Was on them; ocean, like a lullaby

For slumbering gods, spoke to them, and to me.
'Twas as I stood upon a father's grave-
As if I'd known their habitants, and had
Carried a corner of their pall, when they
Were housed in their last slumber,-as if I
Had chiselled out their scutcheons, sword and shield,
Had stood with taper at the altar,-bowed
Beneath the abbot's ringed hand when he
Raised me from kneeling,-as if I had rowed,
In ancient garb, the fair young penitent
Who had felt earth a scene of grief, and came
Devout, with folded arms across her breast,

Seeming to keep her heart from fluttering. Heavens!
I feel as now I lived in times of eld:

I hear the harp and horn are wailing, while

Slow down the Bay of Martyrs, streamers float;

A hundred chieftains in their heraldry,

Leap in the surf: the crowned corse is borne
Where the gemm'd mitre glances 'bove the wave
Of torches wind-swayed; I behold the throng
Of linen-shrowded virgin brows; the chaunt
"Kyrie Eleison," arises slow;

Crosiers and pennons blend above the stream
Of gilded censers; men of hundred garbs

Wend through the burial place of kings, where stand
Innumerous crosses, tall and richly carved,
Inlaid with silver; wide the gates expand
And the high altar flameth gorgeous; low

A voice doth murmur "Let us pray !"-plumed heads
Of pride, and mailed knees are bow'd to heaven.

W. B. S.

THE CHEATERIE PACKMAN.

BY LEITCH RITCHIE,*

Ir was yet pretty early in the morning when I arrived at the inn of Skreigh, and never having been in that part of the country before, my heart misgave me at the appearance of the house, and I thought that surely I had mistaken the road, an awful idea to a Iman who had walked twelve miles before breakfast! It was a huge, grey, dismantled edifice, standing alone in a wild country, and presenting evident traces of a time when the bawbees of the traveller might have procured him lodgings within its walls, for a longer period than suited his convenience. On entering the parlour, although the "base uses" to which this ancient mansion had returned were clearly indicated by certain gill-stoups scattered about the dirty tables, yet the extraordinary size of the room, the lowness of the walls, and the scantiness of the furniture, kept up in my mind the associations which had been suggested by the exterior; and it was not till the aroma of tea, and the still more "fragrant lunt" of a Finnan haddie had saluted my senses, that the visions of the olden time fled from my eyes.

room.

While busy with my breakfast, another traveller came into the He had a pack on his back and an ell-wand in his hand, and appeared to be one of those travelling philanthropists-answering to the pedlars of the south-who carry into the holes and corners of the sylvan world the luxuries of the city. Our scene being on the best side of the Tweed, I need not say that the body had a sharp eye, an oily face, and a God-fearing look. He sat down over against me, upon one of the tables, to rest his pack, and from his shining shoes and orderly apparel, I judged that he had passed the night in the house, and was waiting to pay his score, and fare forth again upon his journey. There was, notwithstanding, a singular expression of fatigue on his yellow countenance. A common observer would have guessed that he had been brim-fou over night, and had risen before he had slept off the effects; but to me, who am curious in such matters, there appeared a something in his face which invested with a moral dignity an expression that would otherwise have been ludicrous or pitiable. Ever and anon he turned a longing eye upon the Finnan haddie, but as often edged himself

From The Club Book: being Original Tales, by various Authors.' London. 1831, 3 vols.

with a jerk farther away from the temptation: and whenever the landlady came into the room, his remonstrances on her delay, at first delivered in a moaning, heart-broken tone, became at last absolutely cankered. The honest wife, however, appeared determined to extend the hospitality of breakfast to her guest, and made sundry lame excuses for not " bringing ben his score," while she was occupied in displaying upon my table with the most tempting liberality, the various good things that constitute a Scottish breakfast.

"Are you not for breakfasting, good man," said I at length, "before you go forth this morning?" "No, please God," said he with almost a jump, "no carnal comfort shall pass my lips on this side the mill of Warlock!" "The mill of Warlock!" repeated I with surprise, "that should be at least twelve miles from this-and I can tell you, my friend, it is not pleasant travelling so far on an empty stomach. If you have any urgent reason for an abstinence that we of the kirk of Scotland attach no merit to, you should not have loitered in bed till this hour of the morning."

The packman, at my reproof, put on a kind of blate look, but his features gathering gradually into solemnity-" Sir," said he, "I have urgent reasons for my conduct, and while this weary wife is making out my score, I will, if you desire it, tell you the story.” Having eagerly signified my assent, the packman wiped his glistening forehead, and with a heavy sigh began to discourse as follows:

"Aweel, sir-it was at this time yesterday morning I arrived at the mill of Warlock. The miller was out, and his wife, glad of the opportunity, rampauged over my pack like one demented. She made me turn out every article in my aught, and kept me bargaining about this and that, and flyting by the hour about the price; and after all it came to pass that the jaud (God forgive me!) wanted naething of more value than three ells of ribbon! You may be sure that I was not that pleased; and what with fatigue, and what with my vexation, while I was measuring the ribbon, and the wife sklanting round at the looking-glass, I just clipped by mistakelike a half ell short. Aweel, ye'll say that was just naething after the fash I had had, and moreover I stoutly refused the second glass of whiskey she offered me to the douroch; and so shouldering my pack again, I took the way in an evil hour to the Inn of Skreigh.

"It was late at night when I arrived here, and I had been on my legs all day, so that you may think my heart warmed to the auld biggin, and I looked forward to naething waur than a cozy seat by the ingle-side, or chat with the landlady-a douce woman, Sir, and not aye so slow as the now, foul fa' her! (God forgive me!) forbye, maybe, a half mutchkin-ortwa: and all these things