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no one.

ing earnestly, though in a suppressed [fied that the mutineers could not have tone. I cautiously drew near the accomplished their aim'with impunity. spot from whence the noise arose, but I was borror struck. A swimming the alarm was given, and I could see sensation came ‘over my eyes, my

I retired to rest, or rather to limbs failed me, and I fell senselie down, for I felt that beavy and less. foreboding sense of evil overpower me, When I recovered, I found myself which comes we know not how or lying on a bed. Every thing was still. wherefore; and I could not sleep, I listened in vain for a sound; I lay still knowing that there had been disputes a considerable time; at last I rose and between the Captain and his men re- walked about the ship, but could see specting some point of discipline; and no one. I searched every part of the I feared to think what might be the vessel ; I visited the place of slaughconsequences. I lay a long time dis- ter, which I had at first carefully turbed with these unpleasant reflec- avoided; I counted nine dead bodies, tions; at last, wearied with my and the coagulated blood formed a thoughts, my eyes closed, and I drop- loathsome mass around them; I shudped to sleep. But it was not to that dered to think I was desolate, the refreshing sleep which recruits the companion of death. " Good God!" exhausted spirits, and by a while said I, "and they have left me here “steeping the senses in forgetful- alone!" The word sounded like a knell ness,” renders them fitter for exertion to me. It now occurred to me that on awakening. My sleep was haunted it was necessary the bodies should with hideous and confused dreams, be thrown overboard. I took up one and murder and blood seemed to sur- of them, and dragged it to the side, round me. I was awakened by con- and plunged it into the waves, but vulsive starts, and in vain sought the dash of the heavy body into the again for quiet slumber; the same sea reminded me more forcibly of my images filled my mind, diversified in loneliness. The sea was so calm, I a thousand horrid forms. Early in could scarcely hear it ripple by the the morning I arose, and went above, vessel's side. One by one I comand the mild sea breeze dispelled my mitted the bodies to their watery uneasy sensations.

grave. At last my horrible task was During the whole of the day, no- finished. My next work was to look thing seemed to justify the fears which for the ship's boats, but they were had tormented me; and every thing gone, as I expected. I could not bear went on in its regular course. The to remain in the ship, it seemed a vast men pursued their occupations quiet tomb for mo. I resolved to make ly, and in silence, and I thought the some sort of a raft and depart in it. temporary fit of disaffection was pass- This occupied two or three days; at ed over;-alas ! I remembered not that length it was completed, and I sucthe passions of men, like deep wacceeded in setting it afloat. ters, are most to be suspected when I lowered into it all the provision I they seem to glide along most smooth- could find in the ship, wbich was but ly. Night came on, and I retired to little, the sailors having, as I imarest more composed than on the pre- gined, carried off the remainder. All ceding evening.--I endeavoured to was ready, and I prepared to depart. convince myself that the noises I had I trembled at the thought of the danheard were but the fancies of a dis-gers I was about to encounter. I was turbed imagination, and I slept going to commit myself to the ocean, soundly. Ill-timed security !-about separated from it only by a few midnight I wasawakened by a scuffling boards, which a wave might scatter in the vessel. I hastened to the spot. over the surface of the waters. I The Captain and one of his officers might never arrive at land, or meet were fighting against a multitude of with any vessel to rescue me from my the ship's crew. In a moment after I danger, and I should be exposed saw the officer fall. Two fellows ad- without shelter,' and almost without vanced to me, and clapping pistols to food. I half resolved to remain in my my breast, threatened instant death, present situation; but a moment's reif I stirred or spoke. I gazed on the flection-dispelled the idea of such a bloody spectacle; the bodies which

i descended, I stood on lay around, swimming in gore, testi- I my frail raft, I cut the rope by which


it was fastened to the ship; I was I became hourly more feeble; I. lay confused to think of my situation. I down, but was unable to rise again, could hardly believe that I had dared My limbs lost their strength, my lips to enter alone on the waste of waters. and tongue were parched; a convulI endeavoured to compose myself, but șive shuddering agitated me; my in vain. As far as I could see, nothing eyes seemed darkened, and I gasped presented itself to my view, but the for breath. vessel I had left. The sea was per- The burning at my stomach now defectly still, for not the least wind was parted, I experienced no pain; but a stirring. [ endeavoured, with two dull torpor came over me; my hands pieces of boards, which supplied the and feet became cold. I believed I place of oars, to row myself along, was dying, and I rejoiced at the but the very little progress I made thought. Presently I lost all thought alarmed me, If the calm should con- and feeling, and lay, without sense, tipue, I should perish of hunger. How on the few boards wbich divided me I longed to see the little sail I had from the ocean. In this situation, as made, agitated by the breeze. II was afterwards informed, I was watched it from morning to night, it taken up by a small vessel, and carwas my only employment, but in vain. ried to a sea-port town. I slowly reThe weather continued the same. covered, and find, that I alone, of all Two days passed over. I looked at who were on board of the vessel in my store of provision; it would not, I which I had embarked, had escaped found, last above three or four days death. The crew who had departed longer, at the farthest. They were in the boats after murdering the Capquickly passing away. I almost gavetain, had met their reward in the myself up for lost. I had scarcely a waves, the boats having been shatterhope of escaping.

ed against a rock. On the fourth day since my depar- I am now safe in my native land, ture from the ship, I thought I per- thankful for my deliverance, and ceived something at a distance-I without any desire again to tempt looked at it intently-it was a sail. the ocean. Good heavens! what were my emotions at this sight? I fastened my handkerchief on a piece of wood, and DISSERTATION ON CARE. waved it, in hopes that it would be observed, and that I should be res- THERE is something in the nature of cued from my fearful condition. The care, I mean the kind of care which vessel pressed on its course; I shouted; will presently be explained, more corI knew they could not hear me, but rosive of human happiness than can despair impelled me to try so useless well be imagined. Its usual concomi: an expedient. It passed on-it grew, tants are anxiety, fear, and a certain dim-I stretched my eyeballs to see species of indifference, as it respects it-it vanished—it was gone. I will a variety of objects of legitimate solinot attempt to describe the torturing citude. It differs much in kind, acfeelings which possessed me, at seeing cording to the characteristics of those the chance of relief which had offered whom it infects,--so multiform are its itself destroyed. I was stupified operations, and extensive its desos with grief and disappointment. My lating influence on human happiness, stock of provisions was now entirely that it may even be regarded as a exhausted, and I looked forward with species of judicial punishment. horror to an excruciating death. In our comparative estimate of bu

A little water which remained, man misery and happiness, the existquenched my burning thirst. I wished ence of this subtle agent may influthat the waves would rush, over me, ence our judgments towards the widest My hunger soon became dreadful, but extremne of error. It is not the apI had no means of relieving it. I en-pearance of much positive suffering, deavoured to sleep, that I might for nor the blandishments of gaiety assoa while forget my torments, and my ciated with the circumstantials of bapwearied frame yielded for a while to piness, that impregnate and identify slumber. When I awoke, I was not, with their respective natures, the however, refreshed; I was weak, and stream of future existence, or from felt a burning pain at my stomach; I which the actual relations of either

no care.

can be ascertained, in that which they extreme suffering—that faculty beimpose upon us. We may be appalled comes the intense heat, the sun of at the spectacles of suffering, where prosperity, which in its earliest operaprivations and inflictions meet, and tion may impart joy and hope, and where nature's sorrows are heard in pour its genial warmth into the all the depth and variety of her woes, springs of wealth and plenty, but it and the settled shadow of despair will eventually parch up and destroy completes the harmony of the picture; all within its directer influence. and in the midst of this there may be

Nature may assert her majesty, and sustain all with fortitude the chest in the CORNER.-No. 1. and serenity. If not, the satisfactions of virtue, and the necessity of the MR. EDITOR. case, will forbid the self-reproaches Sir,—The following is intended as an of the past, and the concentration of introduction to a series of papers feeling will circumscribe and absorb which I have found in “the Chest in the vagrant cares of the present and the Corner.” the future. And in this we may dis

R. West. cern traces of the wisdom of providence, in adjusting the good and the evil, and apportioning from the chaos

“ A battle or a triumph are conjunctures in of rain and disorder, the marred ves

“ which not one man in a million is likely to

“ be engaged; but when we see a person at tiges of original good, with the appro- " the point of death, we cannot forbear bepriate quantum of natural and moral “ ing attentive to every thing he says. or evil. In this way God reigns over a

“ does, because we are sure that some time ruined world, producing good out of

" or other we shall ourselves be in the same

“ melancholy circumstances. The general, evil,--purifying his people by submis

“ the statesman, the philosopher, are, persion,--a concomitant of the highest haps, characters which we may never act virtues of their probationary state. "in, but the dying man is one, whom sooner On the other hand, how inseparable

" or later we shall certainly resemble.” are cares from prosperity; and, as I

SPECTATOR, No. 289. observed above, through being di- NOTHING appears to me more calcurected to certain objects, it induces lated to excite salutary reflection, indifference as it respects many sub-than a contemplation of the ruins of jects of legitimate solicitude ;this grandeur, and the remains of magnifimay be referred to one among other

For this purpose, I am freanomalies of the human mind. Could quently in the habit of retiring to a the cares of the human mind be pro- dilapidated old priory, in this neighperly adjusted, the fertile and luxuri- hourhood, where the broken arches, ant pruned, and what is irregular re- the unpaned remains of gothic winpressed, their harmony would prevent dows, and stones covered with moss, the pressure of their extent; but their remind me that its former owners irregularity is one cause why they be- have departed to that country, from come, as it were, ministering spirits whose bourn no traveller returns. Years of evil, just as the want of order in have passed away since the voice of hell is characteristic of that abode of the vesper song resounded through its misery.-To resume the more imme- cloisters, and the magnificence of diate thread of illustration ; in propor- Romish ceremony illumed its balls; tion as men recede from a condition and the onion of all these circumstanof positive suffering in this life, in any ces, with the flitting light of the evenor many of its shapes, they become ing, the numerous swarms of dancing the subjects of anxious and corroding gnats, and the passing breezes of the cares; and independently of the benign ocean, appears to me with one voice, influence of genuine religion, and of and in a deep tone of sentiment, to causes confined to intervals, the uni- exclaim, Sic transit gloria munversality of facts will support the the- di.ory. The past, the present, and the The scenery around is peculiarly future, multiply the evil in proportion picturesque. The ruin stands on the to the rainifications of interest, plea- brow of a hill, that overlooks the sure, and imaginative good; it is the little town of Trepewan, through faculty of originating the latter, that which runs a small river, which disthose know little of, who are used to appears by the projection of a hill, No. 41.-Vol. IV.

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and further up again meets the eye, next morning, by a peasant, in a dying but apparently without any connection state. When he found himself so near with the stream below, and still fur- dissolution, he exclaimed, “Cursed ther up are to be seen the hills whence be the man who would not open his it takes its rise. On the right hand is doors unto me, yea, and a malison a grove, thick and shady, which shall rest upon him, till he shall enyears have raised to a state of ma- tomb my bones with a sepulchre, that jesty, inimitable by art, and almost shall atone for my murder." unsurpassed by nature. Through its Lord Erdline not only united in his foliage appear the half-hidden towers disposition the cruelty, rapine, and of the remains of the ancient and go- avarice, but also the superstition, so thic Erdline Castle, and the chimneys prevalent at the period alluded to, of the newly erected building, which and being willing rather to submit to is called the Hall, though it retains fatigue, than to the deprivation of his the name of its possessors, as its cog- riches, he arrayed himself in the weeds nominal prefix. On the left, is a of a palmer, and travelled to the small waterfall, over which a plank is shrine of St. Thomas of Canterbury; cast for the convenience of passengers, but, as the legend further informs us, from the common (on which the pri- he could get no rest until he built a ory stands) to the high road. Green monastery, and thus enclosed the fields, which lie on a steep declivity, bones of the servant of St. Franand terminate in a deep and dark cis, after whom the priory was glen, through which the same small named. river continues its course to the sea, It was one evening in April or May, inform the beholder that the agricultu- I forget which, that I retired to the rist has not been idle here. The place I have already described, and prospect is bounded on this side, and seated myself on a stone of some magin the front, by a ridge of blue hills, nitude, which appears once to have which have for many ages defied the been the foundation of a part of the buffets of the winds, and prevented wall: I sat musing for some time, and the encroachments of the ocean. at last broke out in a soliloquy,

This monastery was founded about Here,” said I, “ the wicked cease the year 1488,* by Lord Erdline, un- from troubling, and the weary are at der the name of The PRIORY OF Sr. rest." FRANCIS, OF Trepewan. Tradition

“ The storm that wrecks the winter sky, preserves the following story as the No more disturbs their deep repose, cause of its erection.t During some Than Summer evening's latest sigh, civil wars, I should suppose the wars

That shuts the rose.” of York and Lancaster, an old mendi

The twilight was come, the evening cant friar, travelling near this place, was growing cold; I rose and walked was overtaken by the night, which through the ruined cloisters. “The was cold and frosty. He went to winds of ages,” continued I, “have Erdline Castle, and besought that they swept over the remains of my fellowwould give him a night's lodging, creatures, which repose under these which (as the lord was an avaricious desolated stones, once so revered. and cruel man) was refused. The old The glory is departed from these man, distressed by this treatment, walls. How insignificant are the withdrew himself to the site of the things of this world when considered present ruin, where he laid himself in reference to the gulf in which they down on the ground. Overcome with are plunged, at the close of the pilfatigue and old age, in addition to the grimage of human kind! and how little inclement weather, he was found the should we be attached to the things

beneath the skies!* That is, if I may credit an inscription, which I myself chanced to find among the

“ Man wants but little here below." ruins.

I paused, + I had this story from an old woman of our town, of the name of Elizabeth Camdeller, “Nor wants that little long,” who is famous for her legendary knowledge. was repeated by a rough voice from She informed me, that this circumstance was

one corner of the ruin. I started from related to her by her great-grandfather, who had it written in an old book, but which, in a

my reverie, and saw a figure standing late fire, in this neighbourhood, was de- at the entrance of the priory, where stroyed.

there was just light enough to discern -“ Alas, poor

its form; by the large hat, the basket to repeat the latter end of that pason one arm, the staff in the other sage, which you caught me reciting: hand, and the wooden leg, I soon re- _Ab !” said the old man, hastily cognized old Adam Earnest, a man wiping away the tear which came into who for some years has travelled this, his eye, " that was taught me by one, his native county, with ballads and who is dead and gone. other wares. Adam was formerly a sai- | Yorick !” thought I.-“ Master, conlor, and had fought under Lord Howe, tinued Adam, “I came to tell you at the decisive victory gained over the about him. You have often asked French, on June 1st, 1794. Here he me, who it was who wrote the ballad lost a leg, and retired upon a small of 'The Sailor's Home:' it was written pension. Unwilling, however, to re- by this man; he lived down in the main idle, he continues to this day to bottom, to the west of the town, in a be a celebrated dealer, (as a Scotch- little hut which he and I built togeman here observed,) in lining for ther. I'll tell you how I got acquaintsaul and body.It has been hinted to ed with him. me, that some of Adam's articles, of “ One day coming along by the side the latter description, are procured of the river, I saw a man sitting on a from some gentlemen who occasionally little rock there, with his head on his visit the neighbouring coast, and who hand; he was well dressed, and so as have acquired the very impolite ap- I passed, and he looked up, I put my pellation of “SMUGGLERS.” Be that hand to my hat: he leaped from his as it may, as I am neither a house- seat, looked at me very earnestly, keeper nor custom-bouse officer, I do put his hand in his pocket, and pulled not think it my business to inquire out some money, which he would have into the subject, although it is a prac- given me, but I would not take it; he tice too common in this neighbour- | then took my hand, looked at me hood, and which frequently meets with again, and then at the river. At last my severe reprehension.

I summoned up courage to ask him, To return to the subject; I immedi- what he wanted.

He looked very ately went up to the old man, and sad, dropped my hand, folded his accosted him; he returned my salute, arms,

and turned away.

'I want and after observing that it was a fine every thing,' said he, at last. Have evening, inquired how it was that I you no house, Sir, said I.—'No,' said constantly liked to retire to such a he, ‘No house, no home, no friends.' dismal place. "Why do you call it I felt very queer, Sir,” continued dismal, Adam ?" said I.-" Indeed Adam. “ I took him home to my cot, Master West,” said he, “I have and he slept in my own bed, and the heard of very queer sights that have next day we built this hut.” “And been seen here; and to tell the truth, how long is it ago since this took I was not much in the mind to come place ?" inquired I. up here myself.”—“Surely,” returned last September,” said Adam. 1, " Adam, you do not fear such things Thursday (observed he) I was at his as have been seen here, you who hut, and he was very ill: I asked him have stood the enemy's cannon, nor if I should go for the doctor; but he been afraid, though you saw your said, 'No.' Now Master West, I know shipmates falling on every side.”- something about such things, for when “But,” replied the old man, “there I was aboard the Brunswick, I someis no need to expose one's self to what times helped the doctor there, and my is worse than guns, or powder, or any old mother, poor soul, knew a great thing else of the kind.”—“That is to deal about herbs; so I went out into say, Adam, that I expose myself.”— the fields, and gathered some for poor “Why really, master, I don't mean Oliver, (for that was what he called to offend you, and perhaps you may himself,) and I boiled them up, and be able to say something to frighten gave them to him, and I think they appearances away; but if I were you, did him some good; I was then forced I think I should rather walk up by the to go up to the Eastward, and was Hall, or down to Treelsick, or any absent till last night late. I went to where rather than here."

see the poor gentleman this morning “Well, Adam,” said I, “I am again: he was very ill-he took my much obliged to you for your advice, hand-(I shall never forget it)-he took but I want to know how you were able my hand-he could scarcely speak

“ Two years,

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