The following is extracted from the manuscript Journal of a Sailor, who served on board his Majesty's friga Crescent, but died lately at Ravenna: "We had cruized for six days off Cape Formosa, and death had begun his ravages. A sickly langour prevailed among our men-their usual lightness of heart and vacity seemed to have fled them: they sat in groups on the forecastle, smoking in silence, or listening to the nar rative of deaths on board of the other vessels, which had been on the same station. We endeavoured to divent their melancholy by different amusements, but it would not do; the number of our sick list was increasing, and the low. muttered inquiries after the dying, were always accom panied by an involuntary shudder. We committed, in one night, two to the waves; but as they had been ill eve since we had left Ascension, we paid not so much atten tion. The gun-room had always been healthy, but on Sabbath morning (it was our first Sabbath on the coast of Africa) poor Bury complained of head-ache and dizziness -his fair face had already turned sallow; and when he expressed his determination of retiring to his hammock, there was a settled gloom on every countenance. 1 member, as the event of yesterday, when he came on board at Portsmouth. He had just completed his eighteenth year his heart was light and his hopes were high; and when he stepped on the quarter-deck in his uniform, I am sure there was not a finer fellow in all his Majesty's service. How affectionately his aged father bade him farewell-the tears stood in the old man's eyes, as be said, James, I know that you will not forget your duty to man, forget not your duty to God. They will never meet! I went to ask him how he felt, but he knew me not; his eyes were wild; his reason was eclipsed; the sun was setting, and the night bad a most ominous appearance. I went to see him again, but his eyes were closed-the struggle was over-his spirit had fled to God who gave it! Few preparations can be made for a funeral on board of a ship. The bell tolled; and there was not a sailor who was not on deck, save those who heard the sound as the warning that the same bell would soon toll to assemble their comrades to commit to the sea their remains. The night was dark and lowering yet the lightning, which flashed vividly across the vessel, showed every object most clearly; a paleness and stiles were seated on the faces of the crew, and many a wistful look was cast towards the gangway, in mournful antic pation of the corpse. I am the resurrection and the life!"-There was a thrill went through every heart s these words were uttered; a shuddering hysterical sort of sigh was the response. Inclosed in his hammock, his corpse was laid on the grating. The thunder burst lo over our heads, yet seemed as if it had not been heard. The service proceeded-I heard a splash in the waters! I could contain myself no longer, I rushed into the gu room. There is a moment when this world seems httle and its joys transitory baubles; there is a moment when the soul feels itself affianced to objects more sublime tha nature can afford; there is a moment when all the trea sured sophistry of the past life, and all the infidel cavil lings which have hamper ed our energies, vanish like the cobwebs before the breath of the wind, and the soul asserts its claim to a nobler sphere; and that moment is when we retire from the world and follow a dear departed friend -not to the untrodden floor of the ocean-not to the darkness of the grave-but whither? ay-to the glories of heaven! And the heart beats highest, yet soundest, whe we feel assured, that, ransomed by a Saviour's blood, "he walks in white robes, and celebrates in never-dying strains, the praises of his redeemer, God." the usual mining machinery for the hoisting up of the If the rock, to form the abutments for the archwork CAPTAIN LYON. (From the Bath Journal) There are some persons who, in the course of life, seem articularly subject to misfortune, and born to endure a ore than ordinary share of those casualties and sufferings which all are liable. This is wonderfully exemplified the life of one of the bravest and most able officers of e present day, Captain Lyon. This gentleman, after aving spent some time in our service on the coast of frica, was appointed to command part of the expedition a the North Pole, which latter service we all know how e performed; in both, however, he confined not himself the mere duties of his appointment. Two able works ave been given to the public, briefly and manfully reating the occurrences of both those services. Possessing he finer accomplishments of a traveller, still his claims as nable and experienced officer were great, and he had a ight to employment. He did get employed: he was ent to explore that part of the northern continent of menca, the very name of which almost traditionally told f the danger. No words can better paint the heroic irtues of those composing this expedition than his own Feet In. 8 0 5 9 0 in describing the night of the 1st of September, 1824; who found them. They were partly embedded in sapo- It is said that he offended the Admiralty for daring to A YOUNG LADY LOST IN THE SNOW. 3 of the opposite branch, ... The breadth of one of the palms within the branches 1 The length of the head, from the back of the skull to the extremity of the upper jaw, The breadth of the skull, 1 7 10 ..... 0 10 The brow-antlers, as well as the main horns, are pal. mated, and slightly divided at the ends; and the whole may justly be considered as a rare and interesting specimen of organic remains. Discoveries in Egypt.-It is at length placed beyond doubt that the Nile, of which Bruce conceived he had discovered the sources in Abyssinia, and which the Portuguese had seen and described in the sixteenth century, is only a tributary stream flowing into the true Nile, of which the real source is much nearer to the equator. For this information we are indebted to M. Calliaud, a French traveller, who accompanied the predatory expedition of the two sons (Ismael and Ibrahim) of the Pacha of Egypt, into Nubia, and who, in conjunction with M. Latores, has made known to us a new region in the exterior of Africa, more than 500 miles in length, and extending to the tenth degree of northern latitude. This gentleman has likewise determined the position of the city of Meroe, Bahr-el-Abriel (the White River.) and the Bahr-el-Azraq of which he found the ruins in the Delta, formed by the (the Blue River,) precisely in the spot where D'Anville had placed them upon the authority of ancient authors. Avenues of sphynxes and of lions, propylea and temples in the Egyptian style, forests of pyramids, a vast inclosure formed with unbaked bricks, seem to point out in this place the existence of a large capital, and may serve to elucidate the much agitated, but sull undecided question, "Whether civilization followed the course of the Nile from Ethiopia to Egypt, or whether it ascended from Egypt to Nubia ?" Argument to Unbelievers.-Some months ago the Rev. James Armstrong preached at Harmony, when a doctor of that place, a professed Deist or Infidel, called on his asThe Edinburgh papers of Feb. 3, announce the follow-thodists," as he said. At first he asked Mr. Armstrong sociates to accompany him, while he attacked the Mcing melancholy event:"If he followed preaching to save souls ?" He auBrechin, N. B. Feb. 1.-On the night of Saturday last, swered in the affirmative. He then asked Armstrong this city and district to the northward were visited with a "If he ever saw a soul?" "No." "If he ever heard The snow fell thick, and was in many a soul?" severe storm. "No." "If he ever tasted a soul ?" "No." places drifted to a great depth. Miss Douglas, a young If he ever smelt a soul ?" 66 No." If he ever felt a lady who had been residing for some time in the house of soul?" Yes, thank God," said Armstrong. "Well, the Rev. Peter Jolly, at Tarfside, parish of Lochlee, pe: (said the Doctor) there are four of the five senses against rished in the storm; and Mr. Jolly himself was nearly one that there is a soul." Mr. Armstrong then asked the sharing the same fate. The lady had accompanied Mr. gentleman if he was a doctor of medicine, and he was also Jolly to Blackcraig, a distance of about three miles from answered in the affirmative. He then asked the Doctor Tarffside, on occasion of a marriage ceremony at which he If he ever heard a pain ?" "No." "If he ever saw had to officiate; and they set out together on their return a pain ?" "No." "If he ever tasted a pain ?" "No." home, about five o'clock in the evening. In consequence If he ever smelt a pain ?" "No." "If he ever felt a of the thickness of the drift and the darkness of the night, Yes.' pain ?" they had gone out of the road; and, after wandering upon also four senses against one, to evidence that there is a Mr. Armstrong then said, "There are the Mordlach-hill till about six o'clock on Sunday morn-pain, and yet, Sir, you know that there is a pain, and I ing, Miss Douglas suddenly sunk down and expired from know that there is a soul." The Doctor appeared conexhaustion. Mr. Jolly sustained his terrible situation till day light showed his position, and enabled him to obtain founded, and walked off.—Indiana Gazette. assistance. He then found that Miss Douglas had perished within 300 yards of the house of Auchintoul, although, in their wanderings round the trackless mountain, they had unfortunately missed the house, which they must Mr. Jolly's serhave passed probably oftener than once, vant and another man had been despatched by the family at home in search of the wanderers; but they had deviated so far from the road that the search proved fruitless.These individuals had also their share of misfortunes: they fell over a precipice and were much hurt. NATURAL HISTORY. The head, horns, vertebræ of the neck, and some rib bones, of a large animal of the deer kind, (which may now be regarded as an extinct species) were recently discovered in the cliff at Skipsea, and have subsequently been exhibited at Bridlington, by James Boswell, the person QUESTION BY G. F. OF BOLTON. What must be the length of a pendulum which shall vibrate half as many times per minute, as it is inches in length? Yes! but you never think upon her pain, The treacherous glacier burst-and down thou sink'st TELL. Who cheerily looks around him with sound mind, And now, methinks, the door will hold awhile: HEDWIG. Whither go'st thou ? TELL. Yes, right gladly. TELL. HEDWIG. Then let him first depart: Me will his evil wishes scarcely harm; HEDWIG. Who do but right, even those he hates the most. TELL. Because he cannot touch them. Me, at least, How know'st thou that? HEDWIG. TELL. It is not long ago I went amidst the savage wastes to range, HEDWIG. Only go not to day! Rather go hunt! What moves thee so? HOOD'S WHIMS AND ODDITIES. (From Blackwood's Edinburgh Magasine.) It will never be known till the last day, whether my Lord Byron or Mr. Thomas Campbell was the first to lect as a subject of pocsy, the Last Man. It is most me lancholy, even to a disposition naturally cheerful, to think on the huge mass of unmixed nonsense under which the said poor ill-used Last Man has been buried. Mr. Hood, alive to the ludicrous, has viewed the Last Man in his proper light; and had the verses been published two years ago, they surely would have saved Mrs. Shelley from the perpetration of her stupid cruelties. Let that lady, or Mr. Campbell, set fire to a sheet of paper, and observe the way in which the sparks go out There goes the squire, a most illustrious spark, And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk. But no one poor unhappy devil of a spark continues sintillating for hours by himself among the ashes, as if he would never go out, but require three volumes of me. moirs to elucidate his character, under the title of the Last Spark. The idea is most pitiful and unimaginative, and you might as well prove pathetic at a gooseberry bush, over the fate of the last small black hairy grosset. There is no such thing as the Last Man, or the Last Grosset, or the Last Dew-drop, or the Last Rose of Summer, or the Last Kick to a Cockney, or the Last Pot of Porter, or the Last Long Sermon, but the class of objects to which they one and all do severally belong, goes off after quite another fashion; men, grossets, dew-drops, sparks, roses, kicks, and sermons, all perish, not by a consecutive series of deaths, but by simultaneous extinction. You might s well write a book about the feelings of the hindmost horse in the St. Leger-for he is the last horse-as about the feelings of the hindmost man in that other St. Leger, c the judge's stand so close, that a winding-sheet might cover them all. The boys approach, and listen with intense curiosity. which so many have started, and in which they come past I drew towards him, and spake: 'Tis I, Lord Bailiff. Mr. Hood's Last Man is, in our opinion, worth fifty of Byron's "darkness," (a mere daub) a hundred and a of Campbell's Last Man, and five hundred of Mrs. S ley's abortion. The wood-cut is inimitable-quite Cruik shankish. The Last Man is a sort of absurd sailor-k insolent ruffian, sitting with arms a-kimbo, cross-legged and smoking his pipe on the cross-tree of a gallos There stands the ladder, never more to be touched b human foot. There depends the halter that shall barg no more. The crows, and the ravens, and the pies, sex the Last Man, and encircle him with a ring of wings eyes, beaks, and talons; but he is up to the sublimity his state and station, and puffing away from the gr corner of his mouth, seems to say gruffly, "Don't cam the toss of a tinker's curse for you all." By the wa what a heavenly calm would fall upon the soul of the Last Man, if we were assured that he had, during the twenty concluding years of his career, been over head a ears in debt! Not a barn-bailiff on the face of the uns : habited globe! His shoulder now free for ever from uch profane! No occasion now to take the benefit of e Insolvent Act! No such words now as "within the ales." The curse fled for ever-of seeking for bail! Oh! the celestial comfort of knowing that there is no man whom he owes a shilling-that widows and orphans are hining and whimpering against him no more-and that the persecuting race of tradesmen, jewellers, wine-merchants, breeches-makers, and above all, tailors, unrelentphing and inimitable in their fractionals even as very men, are "grated down to dusty nothing." Oh, here comes Mr. Hood's "Last man." THE LAST MAN. 'Twas in the year one thousand and one, A pleasant morning of May, 1 sat on the gallows-tree all alone, A chanting a merry lay: To think how the pest had spared my life, To sing with the larks that day! When up the heath came a jolly knave, Like a scarecrow, all in rags; It made me crow to see his old duds All abroad in the wind, like flags; So up he came to the timber's foot, And pitch'd down his greasy bags. Good Lord! how blythe the old beggar was, A pulling out his scraps; The very sight of his broken orts Made a work in his wrinkled chaps: Then down the rope, like a tar from the mast, But I wish'd myself on the gallows again, Then after this grace he cast him down; A pace or two off, on the windward side," But he only laugh'd at the empty skulls, "I never harm'd them, and they won't harm me, Let the proud and the rich be cravens!" I did not like that strange beggar-man, He look'd so up at the heavens Anon, he shook out his empty old poke; "There's the crums," saith he, "for the ravens !" It made me angry to see his face, It had such a jesting look; But while I made up my mind to speak, A small case-bottle he took. Quoth he, "Though I gather the green water-cress, My drink is not of the brook !" Fall manners like he tender'd the dram; Ob it came of a dainty cask! But whenever it came to his turn to pull, "Your leave, good Sir, I must ask; But I always wipe the brim with my sleeve, When a hangman sups at my flask!" And then he laugh'd so loudly and long, The churl was quite out of breath; I thought the very Old One was come To mock me before my death, And wish'd I had buried the dead men a bones That were lying about the heath!" But the beggar gave me a jolly clap: Now a curse (I thought) be on his love, And a curse upon his mirth; An'it were not for that beggar-man I'd be the King of all the earth, But I promis'd myself, an hour should come So down we sat, and bous'd again Till the sun was in mid sky, When just as the gentle west-wind came, "Up, up, on the tree," quoth the beggar-man, "Till those horrible dogs go by!" And lo! from the forest's far off skirts, A hundred hounds pursuing at once, Till he sunk adown at the gallows' foot, His haunches they tore, without a horn I turn'd, and look'd at the beggar-man, And with curses sore he chid at the hounds, "Anon," saith he, "let's down again, And ramble for our delight, For the world's all free and we may choose A right cosie barn for to night!" With that he set up his staff on end, For the porters all were stiff and cold, And when we came where their masters lay, But the beggar-man made a mumping face, It made me curse to hear how he whined, And I bade him walk the world by himself, So he turn'd right and I turn'd left, As if we had never met;, And I chose a fair stone house for myself, And for three brave holydays drank my fill And because my jerkin was coarse and worn, I got me a proper vest; It was purple velvet, stitch'd o'er with gold, 'Twas enough to fetch old Joan from her grave To see me so purely dress'd. But Joan was dead, and under the mould, In vain I watch'd at the window pane, But sheep and kine wander'd up the street, When lo! I spied the old beggar-man His rags were wrapp'd in a scarlet cloak, So he step'd right up before my gate, Heaven mend us all! but, within my mind, I had kill'd him then and there; To see him lording so braggart like, But God forbid that a thief should die, So I nimbly whipt my tackle out, I was judge myself, and jury, and all, And solemnly tried the cause, But the beggar-man would not plead, but cried For he knew how hard it is apt to go Oh, how gaily I doff'd my costly gear, I was tir'd of such a long Sunday life, So I haul'd him off to the gallows' foot, 'Twas a weary job to heave him up, In the wind, and airing his rags! So there he hung, and there I stood To have my own will of the earth; My conscience began to gnaw my heart For other men's lives had all gone out, But it seem'd as if I had broke, at last, A thousand necks in one! So I went and cut his body down To bury it decently; God send there was any good soul alive To do the like by me! But the wild dogs came with terrible speed, And bay'd me up the tree. My sight was like a drunkard's sight, And my head began to swim, To see their jaws all white with foam, But when the wild dogs trotted away, Their jaws were bloody and grim! Their jaws were bloody and grim, good Lord! But the beggar-man, where was be? There was nought of him but some ribbons of rags Below the gallows' tree! I know the Devil, when I am dead, Will send his hounds for me! I've buried my babies one by one, For the lion and Adam were company, I could love it like a child! And the beggar-man's ghost besets my dreams, At night to make me madder,— And my wretched conscience, within my breast, Is like a stinging adder;— I sigh when I pass the gallows' foot, And look at the rope and ladder! For hanging looks sweet,-but, alas! in vain, My desperate fancy begs, I must turn my cup of sorrow quite up, And drink it to the dregs, For there is not another man alive In the world to pull my legs! A genuine poem, so far from being degraded in our imagination by a successful parody, rises up more beautiful beside its caricatured Eidolon. What the worse has the Elegy in the Country Churchyard" been of the many thousand parodies that its unparalleled popularity has provoked? Not a whit. On the contrary, it triumphs over them all; either sending them into utter oblivion, or embalming them, by means of some portion of its own immortal spirit transfused into the otherwise perishable materials. But a counterfeit poem cannot endure the test of parody, and falls to pieces at once. Its hollowness is exposed-its glitter is seen not to be gold-and the parodist appearing a much cleverer artist than his original, his original is dished for life. Mr. Campbell is a poet of a very high order, but his Last Man is a poem of a very low order; and Mr. Hood's Last Man beats him all to sticks at his own weapons. Mr. Hood's Last Man is not a parody, it is true, of Mr. Campbell's Last Man; but the whole conception of such a person as a Last Man, is with great power burlesqued, and that is the same thing in our present argument. Had there been any thing really sublime, or striking, or terrible, in the idea of a Last Man, Mr. Hood's poem would have left it unimpaired in our imaginations; but the very idea being in itself absurd, and contrary to the very nature and constitution of things, not even to be dreamt on of a supper of pork chops, Mr. Hood has exposed its absurdity; and the Last Man of Mr. Campbell drifting along in a ship to shores where all are dumb, is just as grotesque a Christian, as Mr. Hood's Last Man, perched and puffing on the gallows tree, with a pound of pigtail in each pocket of his trowsers, and a half-chewed quid in the envelope of his jacket-sleeve, and a club of hair, tufted like a stot's tail, hanging down to his burdies. The Beauties of Chess. "Ludimus effigiem belli."-VIDA. A B C D E F G H Correspondence. GRAMMATICAL QUERY. TO THE EDITOR. St.--The rule applicable to the case propounded by your correspondent W. H. J. is this:-All nouns of two or more syllables ending in y, if the y be immediately preceded by a consonant, have their plural termination in ies; as ruby, rubies; strawberry, strawberries; but if a vowel intervene hetween the consonant and the y final, then the plural is formed by the simple addition of the s; as pulley, pulleys; attorney, attorneys. This rule may be considered as invariable. It is, however, often violated, and but imperfectly understood, I verily believe, by many persons even of good education. By giving it publicity, therefore, you may convey a piece of useful information to many of your readers, besides having the satisfaction of settling "a dispute between une petite bas bleu and your constant reader." Feb. 16, 1827 TO THE EDITOR. VERITAS. THE HALLELUJAH STONE, NEAR MOLD. out uttering a syllable. He then pointed with his fig to Handel's works, and said, with feeling and emphasi Beethoven is laid up with In consequence of the article on this subject, which"Das ist das wahre !" TO THE EDITOR. SIR,-It is now upwards of forty years since I studied the history of the Welsh monument at Bhwal, and published a large print of it, connected with a representation of the victory recorded. Had I been able to find the papers connected with this study, I should have furnished you with their contents earlier. I have, however, sent you a translation of the inscription on the monument, in verse. If you should not have been favoured with an English reading by any of your correspondents, it may be acceptable to many of your Cambrian readers. I would have accompanied it with the original Latin, but that, at present, is among the papers I cannot immediately find.-Yours, &c. A. D. 420.. J. FERNELL. The Saxons with the furious Picts ally, In memory of the Hallelujah Victory, erected this monument. BEETHOVEN. Our readers will regret to learn from the subjoined letters, that the greatest musical genius of the present age, Ludwig Von Beethoven, is, by this time, most probably no more. This extraordinary genius was born in December, 1770; he has, therefore, only just completed his 56th year. (From the Harmonicon.) HOPELESS STATE OF BEETHOVEN. TO THE EDITOR OF THE HARMONICON. dropsy in the abdomen, and though the operation of t Though M. Beethoven did not himself write a letter Remarka 0 43 0 E.N.E. Cloudy. 38 0 41 0 E.N.E. Fair. 37 0 41 0 E.N.E. Cloudy 38 0 42 0 N.E. Fair. 0 41 0 NE. Fair. 34 0 37 0 42 0 E.N.E. Fair. 34 0 37 0 41 0 N.N.W. Fair. Erratum in our last: for the mean of atmospherical pr sure, instead of 22. 55, read 29. 65. To Correspondents. J. H. C. has omitted to send the solution to his puzzle, which we have expected for some time. G. F. of Bolton, will perceive we have inserted his pendulum query; but in doing so, we by no means pledge ourselves to a continuance of auch subjects. A mathematical depart ment, whilst it is interesting only to very few, is extremely troublesome in typographical arrangement; is very liable to errata, and often requires illustration by expensive engravings. We have also been favoured with an enig by G. F. SIR,-I beg to offer you for insertion in your work theA "Vienna, the 5th of January, 1827.-Agreeably to your PLAGIARIST.-The lines, "Our own Fireside," which MODERN LISBON.-The correspondent who first called The piece on MADNESs shall be put in hands immediately. THE LAST MAN, BY MR. HOOD. We hope our readers will Printed, published, and sold, EVERY TUESDAY, |