of about a pound of hard bread a day; but our chief article of food was the beef. A mess, consisting of six men, had a large wooden kid piled up with beef-steaks, cut thick, and fried in fat, with the grease poured over them. Round this we sat, attacking it with our jackknives and teeth, and with the appetite of young lions, and sent back an empty kid to the galley. This was done three times a day. How many pounds each man ate in a day, I will not attempt to compute. A whole bullock (we ate liver and all) lasted us but four days. Such devouring of flesh, I will venture to say, was seldom known before. What one man ate in a day, over a hearty man's allowance, would make a Russian's heart leap into his mouth. Indeed, during all the time we were upon the coast, our principal food was fresh beef, and every man had perfect health; but this was a time of especial devouring; aud what we should have done without meat I cannot tell. Once or twice when our bullocks, failed and we were obliged to make a meal upon dry bread and water, it seemed like feeding upon shavings. Light and dry feeling unsatisfied, and at the same time full, we were glad to see four quarters of a bullock, just killed, swinging from the fore-top. Whatever theories may be started by sedentary men, certainly no men could have gone through more hard work and exposure for sixteen months in more perfect health, and without ailings and failings, than our ship's crew, let them have lived upon Hygeia's own baking and dressing.

Friday, April 15th. Arrived, the brig Pilgrim, from the windward. It was a sad sight for her crew to see us getting ready to go off the coast, while they, who had been longer on the coast than the Alert, were condemned to another year's hard service. I spent an evening on board, and found them making the best of the matter, determining to rough it out as they might; but my friend S- was determined to go home in the ship, if money or interest could bring it to pass. After considerable negotiating and working, he succeeded in persuading my English friend, Tom Harris,--my companion in the anchor watchfor thirty dollars, some clothes, and an intimation from Captain Faucon, that he should want a second mate before the voyage was up, to take his place in the brig, as soon as she was ready to go up to wind

ward.

The first opportunity I could get to speak to Captain Faucon, I asked him to step up to the oven and look at Hope, whom he knew well, having had him on board his vessel. He went to see him, but said that he had so little medicine, and expected to be so long on the coast, that he could do nothing for him; but that Captain Arthur would take care of him when he came down in the California, which would be in a week or more. I had been to see Hope the first night after we got into San Diego this last time, and had frequently since spent the early part of a night in the oven. him to go to windward, to find him alive upon my return. I hardly expected, when I left He was certainly as low as he could well be when I left him, and what would be the effect of the medicines that I gave him, I hardly then dared to conjecture. Yet I knew that he must die without them.

I was not

a little rejoiced therefore, and relieved, upon our return, to see him decidedly better. The medicines were strong, and took hold, and gave a check to the disorder which was destroying him; and, more than that, they had begun the work of exterminating it. I shall never forget the gratitude that he expressed. All the Kanakas attributed his escape solely to my knowledge, and would not be persuaded that I had not all the secrets of the physical system open to me and under my control. My medicines, however, were gone; and no more could be got from the ship, so that his life was left to hang upon the arrival of the California.

FRITZ HAZELL.-A TEMPERANCE TALE.

"Do I not hear some one crying murder ?" said a stranger, in a sailor's garb, addressing an old Dutchman, who sat smoking his pipe upon the stoop before his door, in an obscure part of the village of Still-Valley. The Dutchman slowly withdrew the pipe from his mouth; and when the volley of smoke which issued forth had sufficiently cleared away, to enable him to obtain a fair view of the inquirer "Yaw, mynheer," he replied. "I hear it again," said the sailor; "it grows louder; what can be the meaning of it?"

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Vy," the old Dutchman replied, "it ish no more nor no less dan dish here; Patrick Mc Fillagin, vat lives in dat small house dere mit de gaple end, ish a drubbing Matty McFillagin, his vrow; Patrick gets drunk, and Matty gets drunk, and just apout now every day he gives her a beating, and she cries murder; dat ish all.”

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My friend," said the stranger,

"that cry is occasioned by no common cause. There! don't you hear that shriek ?—and now it is all still again. I should not wonder if it were murder, in sober earnest."

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Vary well," replied the Dutchman, who was in the act of restoring the pipe to his mouth, "may pe so."

The stranger expressed his intention of going immediately to ascertain the cause. "Shtop," cried the Dutchman, laying his hand upon the man's arm-" Mc Fillagin, ven he ish in a shpree, ish as crazy as a herring buss in a gale, mitout a rudder, and ye had better shtay away.. But let me see, dere ish de poor boy, leetle Patrick, poor lad, ven it blows too hard for him at home, he often makes a port under my shtoop here. Sometime it ish late ven his fader kick him out of door, and he come over after I goes to bed, and he lay just here all night, and I finds him curled up in de morning like a leetle tog. And den he ish so glad of a leetle biscuit and a salt herring, and he cries so pad ven I tells him he must go home. He ish a goot poy: I had a leetle poy once myself; just such a poy was my leetle Fritz, just such a poy is Patrick."

The interest which he felt in the fate of little Patrick increased, as it obviously was, by his associated recollections of the child he had lost, completely overcame the old Dutchman's phlegm, and he proceeded

with the stranger to Mc Fillagin's dwelling. All was stillness within. They called at the door, but received no reply. It was bolted on the inside. After knocking repeatedly in vain, they were at length answered by a deep, hollow groan. "Here ish trouble," said the Dutchman; and by the application of his powerful shoulder, he soon burst open the door. An awfully loathsome scene presented itself to their view; Mc Fillagin and his wife were both extended on the floor. Tables and chairs, bottles and glasses, were broken, and scattered about the room. A brief inspection assured the visitors that the woman was already dead; her skull was fractured, and she had received several stabs in the body. The man was just expiring, having cut his throat from ear to ear; though speechless, he still held the bloody knife in his hand. 66 Patrick, leetle Patrick !" exclaimed the DutchAll was silence. He then put his mouth to the dying man's ear, and exclaimed, in a voice of thunder, "Have ye murdered de leetle chilt ?" The miserable victim of intemperance made a feeble motion of his head to the right and left, and, with a slight convulsion, expired. The old man proceeded to look under the bed and in the closets for the little boy. Lighting a candle, he descended with the stranger into the cellar. “Patrick, Patrick! poor leetle poy !" cried the old man, with a winning gentleness of manner utterly at variance with his uncommonly rough and inauspicious exterior-" come out, leetle poy; here's old friend Hazell come to take care of ye, poor chilt!" A slight movement was heard in a corner of the cellar, and the poor terrified child was seen peering forth from the ash-hole, whither he had fled for refuge from the domestic hurricane which had left him fatherless and motherless.

man.

Man's imagination, under its highest pressure, could not produce a more moving example of helplessness and terror. This bare-footed and ragged little urchin, whom misery had adopted for its own, looked wearily from his place of refuge, and half recoiled at the sight of the stranger. The old Dutchman placed himself before the ash-hole, and endeavoured to coax him forth, with that kind of importunity which is sometimes employed to seduce an oft-beaten dog from his covert. "Come out, leetle Patrick," said he, extending his hand in the most encouraging manner, and twisting his weather-beaten features into a smile; "don't pe feared, leetle poy, it's nopody but old Hazell." Thus comforted and assured, the poor child ventured forth; and, drawing as closely as possible to the old Dutchman, he held fast by his garments, with the nervous grasp of a drowning boy. Trembling and agonized with terror, he cried, in a whispering voice, "You won't let father kill me, will you?" " No, my poy," replied the old man, as he wiped the tear from his eye. "Won't you let me live with you?" cried little Patrick in a most beseeching tone; "I will do every thing you tell me; oh do let me go home with you, Mr. Hazell!" While he uttered this supplication, he had laid hold of the old man's hand, and covered it with kisses and tears. This was too much for an old Dutchman's heart. After a momentary effort to controul his strong natural feelings, Mynheer,' said the old man, "vat shall pe done mit dish poor leetle toad?"

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"It

is a bad case," said the stranger, looking at his watch. "I should think it would be best to send for the coroner." 66 Vy, dat ish for de dead; vat goot vill de coroner do for dish leetle poy? dat ish vat I say, mynheer."

The stranger was one of that numerous class who fly instantly to the rescue upon the cry of murder or of fire, and whose benevolence is particularly active while the scene and circumstances of affliction are of a busy and stimulating character, but who have no taste for the subsequent detail for the humble process of quietly balancing the final account of misery. He was therefore somewhat perplexed by the Dutchman's practical interrogatory. After a short pause, he replied: "Why, I suppose the neigbours will see that he is taken care of.” “ Yaw, mynheer," rejoined the old man; "but who ish de neighbours? as it is written in de goot book. If old Hazell vas so poor dat he could not py a salt herring, he would send voord over de great pond, and he would find neighbours in Amsterdam, I varrant. Now, mynheer, look at dist here ragged leetle poy; ven he make up his face, and cry just like dat, if I had not put my leetle Fritz in de ground mit my own hand, I should say sure it is de same chilt." Old Hazell patted little Patrick on the head, and bade him wipe his eyes; "Pe a goot chilt," said the old man, "and I vill pe a kind fader to ye, and I shall call ye Fritz, after de poor poy vat I buried."

The little fellow cried louder for joy than he had cried for sorrow. The benevolence of the Scotch and the Irish has been contradistinguished by a pleasant writer, who affirms that a Scotchman will walk all over Aberdeen to serve a friend to whom he would refuse a baubee; while an Irishman, upon a like occasion, will empty his pocket of its last farthing, though he will not walk a mile. The philanthropy of the stranger was somewhat of the Irish character. He caught the contagion of the scene before him, and, taking out his pocket-book, handed the Dutchman a two-dollar bill, to be employed in any way he might think proper for the boy's advantage; promising, at the same time, to call at the Dutchman's house to inquire after the child's welfare.

Little Patrick, whom for a respect for the old Dutchman's wishes, we shall hereafter call by no other name than Fritz, was immediately removed to his new quarters. The rags in which he had been so long enveloped were thrown aside; and, with a measure of sensibility utterly at variance with the general appearance of the outward man, the old Dutchman unlocked a particular trunk, and drew forth a complete suit of boy's wearing apparel. "Go into de chamber, my poy," said he, "and put 'em on; I hope ye vill pe so goot a chilt as de leetle fellow vat vore 'em last." When he returned, clad in his new apparel, the old man's recollections completely overpowered him; he took the child upon his knee, and seemed, as he wept over him, almost to realize that he held communion with his long-buried boy.

An inquest was held forthwith upon the bodies of Patrick Mc Filligan and his wife Matty. It was an occasion of peculiar interest to the He kept the grog-shop four doors above Mc Filligan's house, and he deeply felt the loss of two such valuable customers. Old Hazell,

coroner.

and the sailor appeared before the jury, and related the facts as they have already been recited, but Mr Mc Flaggon, the Irish coroner, persuaded the jury that they ought not to decide on circumstancial evidence, and that it would be very wrong to hurt the poor people's feelings after they were dead. Accordingly they brought in a verdict for " accidental death." Vell," said old Hazell, when he heard of the verdict, "dat ish droll enough: here ish Mc Filligan, vat get drunk, and kill his vife, and cut his own throat, as sure as viskey; and Mc Flaggon, vat sell de rum, say it ish accidental; vell, dat peats me and all the Dutch peside."

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The horrible outrage which we have just now related produced no ordinary measure of excitement in the village of Still-Valley. There is something extremely romantic in this simple appellation. When I entered this village for the first time in my life, through a cluster of tall hills by which it is surrounded, I fancied the hamlet before me to be, of all places upon earth, the abode of peace. Still-Valley! A more appropriate name could not have been chosen for this sequestered spot. Pray, sir," said I to an aged man whom I met at the entrance of the village, "do the habits of the people in this neighbourhood continue to justify the name which they have chosen for their valley?" "Why, as to that, sir," he replied, "since the late murder, the temperance folks have been making something of a stir here, and one of the distilleries has stopped. For several years there have been commonly four at work in the valley." "Bless me!" I exclaimed, "then it takes its name from the distilleries. I had fallen into an extraordinary mistake; I thought it had obtained its title from the quietness of the spot." The old man laughed heartily at my simplicity, and assured me that I was altogether mistaken, and that he doubted if a population of fifteen hundred noisier people could be found in the commonwealth.

(To be continued.)

PHOSPHORESCENCE OF THE SEA

By the researches made in the French Ship La-Bonite, in her recent voyage round the world, it appears, that the phosphorescence of the sea is not inherent in the water, but essentially due to the presence of organized matter; and is owing to animals of different classes. According to Mr. Robart, this property of phosphorescence in the northern seas is occasioned by animal matter held in solution, and not by the presence of animalcules.