bucket of foul water and half a dozen flower pots were thrown upon the head of the innocent serenader.

Dickey wears a likeness of Paganini round his neck, supported by a single string of catgut-the string on which the incomparable maestro played his solo before the emperor of Germany. Poor Doddicombe has been lately prosecuted for slander; he whispered, with a serious face, the important fact that John Smith had better stay at home and study, for he had a faulty method of fingering! The whisperee repeated the observation to a third person, with a slight difference, and by next day, John Smith was denounced as a pickpocket, on the authority of Mister Richard Doddicombe.

Dickey's devotion to harmony has sadly reduced his means of life; he has sold his houses to buy horns, and his fields to pay for fiddles; his bank notes have been turned into music paper, and substantial wealth has vanished in thin air and empty sound. He has been turned out of endless lodgings for midnight practisings—and committed to countless watch-houses and jails as a nuisance and a noisy disturber of the peace-but the love of music cannot be quenched within him, for each succeeding opposition serves but to tighten his strings and produce severer tones.

Dickey felt that he was descending the hill, with grim poverty staring him in his face, which now began to assume somewhat of the sere and yellow leaf. He looked around for the means of deliverance, and cast his eyes upon the person and purse of an elderly spinster, Miss Timkins, who had graciously bestowed her praises upon the performances of our hero. He popped the question, and was accepted; the day was fixed-and, as if to crown the glorious event, Dickey was offered a very profitable engagement at a series of morning concerts, about to be given by several eminent professors, under the most fashionable auspices. On the night preceding the day appointed for his marriage, Doddicombe passed the evening with his beloved, and, after two innocent glasses of weak gin and water, returned home to his garret, to dream of future wealth and happiness. But the piece of music wherein he most expected to shine at the first concert of the season, met his eye; he resolved to go over it once before he went to bed-the trombone was seized, and the music executed to the performer's entire delight. Again and again, the piece was repeated—the hours flew rapidly away— the lodgers swore at the infernal noise that prohibited all sleep-and the landlord cursed the musi cianer who paid his rent in such uncurrent notes. The clock had travelled far into the "wee sma' hours ayont the twal'," when the landlord, a pains-taking tailor, who plied a weary needle for sixteen hours out of the twenty-four-and his consumptive wife, worn out for want of rest by the continuous tromboning of our Dickey- and a squalling infant, half delirious from its loss of sleepburst into Doddicombe's room, and found him straining eyes and lungs over the Hailstone Chorus. Explanations were useless; he ordered the intruders to quit his room; the tailor waxed valorous, backed by the remonstrances of the other lodgers who had gathered round the scene of action-particularly a sour old lady who dwelt in the third floor back, and seemed to have a spite against poor Dickey because he was going to be married.

"For 'evvin's sake, Mister Doddicombe, give over trumpetising at this 'ere 'our. My other lodgers is raving. The back garret is swearing awful, and the parlors has broke the bell ropes. My blessed babby is screaming like a dear little toad in convulsions, and the methodisses opposite are a pouring out all sorts o' brimstone curses on us. You know you driv' away my first floor, and the third floor back says that it was you as killed the second floor front-the nervous old lady as died last week for want o' sleep. Do leave your blowing; there's a dead baker now in the next house, and how would you like, if you was stiff and silent, to be disturbed jest afore your berring by them blowed horns.'

Dickey insisted upon his right to play when and where he pleased; the tailor gave him warning to quit; Dickey called him a ninth part of humanity, and played in derision the air of “Go to the devil and shake yourself." The old maid opened the street door, and let in the watchman-Dickey knocked him down with his trombone, and was eventually dragged to the watch-house by the united force of fifteen watchmen, the tailor, the tailor's wife, and the old maid. The officer of the watch, infuriated at Dickey's repeated offences, locked him up for the balance of the night. In the morning, he was fined for the assault, and in default of payment, for Dickey was bare of the needful, committed to jail for a month.

The marriage was of course broken off. His intended declined a connection with a jail bird; and the concerts took place without Dickey's assistance. The poor fellow is now suffering the pangs of poverty and misery; he occasionally earns a few dollars by his musical abilities; but his deficiency in the scientific principles of the art prevents him from holding a lucrative or respectable situation. He has run through a whole gamut of garrets in his residential career, and though living in alt, declares that he never expected to descend so low in the scale of human existence.

THE WHITE MOUNTAIN LEGEND.

BY JAMES F.

There is a summit of the White Hills in New Hampshire, which the native Indians deemed it sacrilege to ascend, where the great spirit, as they imagined, did abide, and before whom it would be death for any one of His people to intrude.-Winthrop's Journal."

FIRST. SPOILING A CRUISE, OR THE CAPTURE OF THE GUERRIERE.

ONCE more in motion upon her favorite elementi. e. salt water-and under the command of her former commander, the gallant Hull-Old Ironsides, on the second of August, 1812, bade good night to the high lands of Massachusetts bay, and proceeded on a cruize. Hugging the land of her birth, she stood to the northward until the Bay of Fundy spread out its ample bosom to receive her; but finding nothing there to cope with, she stood boldly out to the eastward, and waved her striped bunting along the shores of the Isle of Sables, and before the mouth of the St. Lawrence. Having burnt two insignificant prizes there, she continued on her course, and on the morning of the 15th, made five sail, one of which was a sloop of war.

"Crack on sail, sir,” said captain Hull to the first lieutenant, as he stood on the windward horseblock, scanning the stranger with his glass.

"Aye, aye, sir!” replied the gallant Morris, and soon the old ship spread out her fair-weather sails to the favorable wind, and bowled along in chase.

"She has set one of her prizes on fire!" said captain Hull, stamping his foot on the horseblock. "Then she will have the less prize money, and be dd to her!" said the old signal quarter master, in a gruff tone, to the signal midshipman, as he took another squint at his Britannic majesty's cruizer.

"I say, Jack," said a tall Marbleheader, as he leaned over the head rail, "that fellow would make a good whaleman, if you could only get his lubberly topmasts fidded, and tip his old iron overboard. A lick of coal tar wouldn't hurt his bends, and a bright streak might add a little to his appearance on a Sunday morning!"

"Silence, forward!" thundered the first lieutenant. ship of war, sir."

"Master's mate of the forecastle, this is a

"Down with you, forward!" said the master's mate, jumping down as though he had put his foot in a bucket of hot water. "Lie close, you landlubbers, this is no whaleman!"

"Old Switchell is at it again!"* whispered one of the quarter masters to his neighbor. " I wonder why he don't swallow a breaker of molasses, and then hoist in water at his leisure; that infernal steward of his has kept his teaspoon agoing since seven bells, and burn me, if it hasn't put me in mind of splicing the mainbrace with a real nor'-wester !"

"I say, John Wilson, let me kiss your monkey, you close-fisted son of a catgut scraper !" said the

Captain Hull was at this time a robust man, in full health, and having made a pretty severe attack upon salt codfish the day previous, he drank a great quantity of molasses and water during the day. The sailors, ever ready to notice the most minute peculiarities in their superiors, immediately named him "Old Switchell," and by this name he is known to the old men of war's men, to this day.

captain of the head, to an old tar who generally kept a wee drop in his locker, for sore eyes and the rheumatiz, as he often termed it.

"You be blasted!" replied the indignant Mr. Wilson. "Kiss the purser's bull, if you like, or take a pull at the halliards with Old Switchell-molasses and water is good enough for a gentleman's son!" And a smothered laugh and a fresh plug of pig-tail ended the colloquy. The next moment a round shot cut the captain of the head in two, and produced from the aforesaid Mr. Wilson the piteous exclamation of

"Hello! No. 1 has stopped his mess! My eyes! that was a close shave!"

The body was immediately hove into the sea, and a bucket or two of water washed all traces of the unfortunate captain of the head from the upper world.

The sloop of war being to windward, the Constitution changed her course, and overhauled an English merchantman, already a prize to an American privateer. A brig was next chased to leeward, which proved to be an American with a prize crew on board. She was recaptured, and sent in. The remainder of the vessels escaped. Having run up as far as his instructions permitted him, captain Hull came about, and proceeded to the southward; and on the 19th, at two, P. M. the cry of "Sail O!" roused the officers from the mess table, and assembled all hands on the spar deck. The sail was soon dimly seen to leeward, bearing E. S. E., but her character could not be discovered. The Constitution immediately made sail in chase, and at six bells the stranger was ascertained to be a ship. In a short half hour, her rows of teeth were discovered, and no doubt was entertained of her being an enemy's frigate. The Constitution still kept on her course until she was within a league of the frigate to leeward, when she began to shorten sail. The enemy had now laid his maintopsail aback, and appeared to be waiting for the frigate to come down, with every thing ready to engage. Perceiving that there was a chance for a fight at last, upon something like even terms, captain Hull proceeded to make his preparations with the greatest coolness and deliberation. The Constitution, therefore, furled her light sails, double-reefed her topsails, hauled up the courses, sent down her royal yards, and prepared her decks for action. At the first tap of the drum, the crew came pouring up to muster, and ere the drummers had beaten the call, they stood in silence at their guns. At five, P. M., the chase hoisted three English ensigns, and opened her fire at long shot, waring several times to rake and to avoid a raking in return. The Constitution still came down in death-like silence, yawing occasionally, to baulk the English commander in his rakish intentions, and heaving ahead like her inimitable self alone. At six, the enemy, who seemed to be a very gentlemanly fellow, bore up, and ran off under his three topsails and jib, with the wind on his quarter, which in plain English meant, as one of the captains of the guns whispered to the first spunger-❝ Come alongside as quick as you please, and take it yard-arm and yard-arm, and be d―d to you!"

At a little after six, the bows of Old Ironsides began to double on the quarter of the English ship, and as she came full upon her, at pistol shot distance, captain Hull, who had stood, trumpet in hand, upon the horseblock, waiting for the favorable moment, sprang upon deck and gave the long expected order-" Fire!!"

At the word, the entire broadside went off as one gun, and careened the Constitution to her bearings. It was a broadside of destruction-its shot pierced the enemy through and through, and carried away his mizzenmast, while captain Hull roared through his trumpet

"Well done, my lads, you have made a brig of her!"

"You have carried away a streak of copper, sir," said an old tar, pointing to an enormous rent in the captain's nankin tights with one hand, and touching his hat with the other.

"Ha!" said Hull, examining his damaged unmentionables, "'tis true the stuff has given way, but never mind, burnt powder will soon color every thing. Give them another royal salute, my boys." For thirty minutes, one incessant roar of artillery filled the ears of the combattants. A vast field of white smoke spread upon the face of the waters to leeward, and the hollow waves echoed mournfully to the thunder speaking gun.

The frigate now passed slowly ahead, keeping up an unmitigated fire, and luffed short around the Englishman's bows, to prevent being raked, In performing this manœuvre, the ship shot into the wind, got sternway upon her, and backed on to her antagonist. The cabin of the Constitution now caught fire from the close explosion of the forward guns of the enemy. The exertions of lieutenant B. V. Hoffman, who commanded that division, however, soon restored order, and the gun of the enemy that had caused the injury and threatened to do still greater damage was disabled and silenced. As the vessels touched, the sound of bugles and the cry of," First division of boarders, away!" issued from the smoke that covered each vessel, and the heavy cannon had an opportunity to cool awhile.

The English mustered at the bows, while the Americans assembled at the taffrail. The musketry now was dreadful. Lieutenant Morris was shot through the body, but maintained his post; the bullet having fortunately missed his vitals. Sailing master Almy was wounded in the shoulder; and Heutenant Bush, the marine officer, having received a bullet in the head, fell upon his face and died with the cry of encouragement upon his lips. The English suffered the most, however, by the fire.

* The purser's bull is the grog barrel.

It being found impossible for either party to board in the presence of such a fire, and during the continuance of the heavy sea, the sails were filled. As the frigate shot ahead, the foremast of the enemy fell by the board.

"Huzza!" said captain Hull, "we have made a sloop of her, my boys!"

At this moment, down came the mainmast of the Guerriere with a tremendous crash, and she lay a helpless wreck, wallowing in the trough of the encrimsoned sea. A cock that had been knocked out of his coop by a shot, now flew into the mizzen rigging, and crowed like a bantam on his dunghill. It was the cry of victory, and was followed by three loud huzzas from the Constitution's crew. The conqueror now ran off a short distance, secured her masts, rove new ligging, and wiped her bloody decks. At seven, she wore round, and took a favorable position for raking. The enemy, having had sufficient amusement for one afternoon, lowered a jack that had been kept flying on the stump of the mizzenmast, and Old Ironsides' victory was complete.

An officer was now sent on board the prize, who returned immediately and reported her to be His Britannic Majesty's ship Guerriere, of thirty-eight guns, captain Dacres. The Constitution, having put a prize-master and crew on board, hovered around her during the night. The next morning, the prize officer having declared the Guerriere to be in a sinking condition, the prisoners were removed and the prize crew recalled. At three, P. M., captain Hull ordered the wreck of the beautiful frigate to be set on fire, and in a quarter of an hour, a bright flash lit up the heavens-an awful roar rang along the billows-a mighty cloud of impenetrable smoke slowly moved along the ocean, and when the evening sun looked down upon the clear waters, nothing was to be seen of the noble cruizer but black and bubbling fragments dancing upon their waves.

The Constitution, having her decks lumbered with wounded prisoners, shaped her course for the southward; and on the 30th of August, stood up Boston harbor, with the cross of England trailing beneath the stars and the stripes, and anchored off Long wharf amid the ringing of bells, the firing of cannon, and the wild huzzas of assembled thousands.

Such was the battle that told to the astonished world that the lion was no longer the master of the ocean. The whole nation was electrified at the result-the old doubters doubted no longertories hung their heads in shame, and a generous people arose like one man to do honor to the brave of their native land. Captain Hull and his officers were feasted and toasted-services of plate, and freedoms of cities in gold boxes, were showered upon the captors from all quarters-the name of Old Ironsides became the watchword of the nation, and a passport to every society; and while the brave tars, from the lofty yards, raised the loud huzza in honor of the victorious Hull, they forgot not to add another to the memory of the absent and wounded Morris.