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sengers went to bed at an early hour, and soon all was awfully still; Mrs. Cummings being really too much frightened to talk, only that she sometimes wished herself in Shoreditch, and sometimes in Houndsditch. It was a night of real danger. The captain remained on deck till morning, and several of the gentlemen bore him company, being too anxious to stay below. About day-break, a heavy shower of rain dispersed the fog-"the conscious vessel waked as from a trance"-a breeze sprung up that carried us out of danger from the icebergs, which were soon diminished to three specks on the horizon, and the sun rose bright and cheerfully.

Towards noon, the ladies recollected that none of them had seen that gentleman during the last twenty-four hours, and some apprehension was expressed lest he should have walked overboard in the fog. No one could give any account of him, or remember his last appearance; and Miss Audley professed much regret that now in all probability we should never be able to ascertain his name, as, most likely, he had "died and made no sign." To our shames be it spoken, not one of us could cry a tear at his possible fate. The captain had turned into his berth, and was reposing himself after the fatigue of last night; so we could make no inquiry of him on the subject of our missing fellow-passenger.

Mrs. Cummings called the steward, and asked him how long it was since he had seen anything of that gentleman. "I really can't tell, madam," replied Hamilton; "I can't pretend to charge my memory with such things. But I conclude he must have been seen yesterday at least I rather expect he was.'

"I

The waiter Juba was now appealed to. believe, madam," said Juba-"I remember something of handing that gentleman the bread-basket yesterday at dinner-but I would not be qualified as to whether the thing took place or not, my mind being a good deal engaged at the time."

Solomon, the third waiter, disclaimed all positive knowledge of this or any other fact, but sagely remarked, "that it was very likely that gentleman had been about all yesterday as usual; yet still it was just as likely he might not; and there was only one thing certain, which was, that if he was not nowhere, he must, of course, be somewhere."

"I have a misgiving,” said Mrs. Cummings, "that he will never be found again."

I'll tell you what I can do, madam," exclaimed the steward, looking as if suddenly struck with a bright thought-"I can examine

into No. eleventeen, and see if I can perceive him there." And softly opening the door of the state-room in question, he stepped back and said with a triumphant flourish of his hand

"There he is, ladies, there he is, in the upper berth, fast asleep in his double cashmere dressing-gown. I opinionate that he was one of the gentlemen that stayed on deck all night, because they were afraid to go to sleep on account of the icebergers-of course nobody noticed him but there he is now, safe enough."

Instantly we proceeded en masse towards No. eleventeen, to convince ourselves: and there indeed we saw that gentleman lying asleep in his double cashmere dressing-gown. He opened his eyes, and seemed surprised, as well he might, at seeing all the ladies and all the servants ranged before the door of his room, and gazing in at him: and then we all stole off, looking foolish enough.

"Well," said Mrs. Cummings, "he is not dead, however,-so we have yet a chance of knowing his name from himself, if we choose to ask him. But I'm determined I'll make the captain tell it me, as soon as he gets up. It's all nonsense, this making a secret of a man's name."

After crossing the Banks we seemed to feel ourselves on American ground, or rather on American sea. As our interest increased on approaching the land of our destination, that gentleman was proportionally overlooked and forgotten. He " 'kept the even tenor of his way," and we had become scarcely conscious that he was still among us: till one day when there was rather a hard gale, and the waves were running high, we were startled, as we surrounded the luncheon table, by a tremendous noise on the cabin staircase, and the sudden bursting open of the door at its foot. We all looked up, and saw that gentleman falling down-stairs, with both arms extended, as he held in one hand a tall cane-stool, and in the other the captain's barometer, which had hung just within the upper door; he having involuntarily caught hold of both these articles, with a view of saving himself. "While his head, as he tumbled, went nicketty nock," his countenance, for once, assumed a new expression, and the change from its usual unvarying sameness was so striking, that, combined with his ludicrous attitude, it set us all to laughing. The waiters ran forward and assisted him to rise; and it was then found that the stool and the barometer had been the greatest sufferers; one having lost a leg, and the other being so shattered that the stair-carpet was covered with

globules of quicksilver. However, he retired | myself and my passengers the trouble. And to his state-room, and whether or not he was partly for that reason, and partly to teaze you seen again before next morning, I cannot posi- all, I have withheld it from your knowledge tively undertake to say. during the voyage. But I can assure you he is a baronet."

Next day we continued to proceed rapidly, with a fair wind, which we knew would soon bring us to the end of our voyage. The ladies' cabin was now littered with trunks and boxes, brought from the baggage room that we might select from them such articles as we thought we should require when we went on shore.

Near one o'clock I heard a voice announcing the light on the island of Neversink, and in a short time all the gentlemen were on deck. At daybreak Mr. Fenton came to ask me if I would rise and see the morning dawn upon our own country. We had taken a pilot on board at two o'clock, had a fine fair breeze to carry us into the Bay of New York, and there was every probability of our being on shore in a few hours.

Soon after sunrise we were visited by a news-boat, when there was an exchange of papers, and much to inquire and much to tell. We were going rapidly through the Narrows, when the bell rung for breakfast, which Captain Santlow had ordered at an early hour, as we had all been up before daylight. Chancing to look towards his accustomed seat, I missed that gentleman, and inquired after him of the captain. "Oh!" he replied, "that gentleman went on shore in the news-boat; did you not see him depart? He bowed all round before he went down the side."

"No," was the general reply, "we did not see him go." In truth we had all been too much interested in hearing, reading, and talking of the news brought by the boat.

"Then he is gone for ever," exclaimed Mrs. Cummings, "and we shall never know his name." "Come, Captain Santlow," said Mr. Fenton, "try to recollect it. Let it not,' as Grumio say, 'die in oblivion, while we return to our graves inexperienced in it.""

Captain Santlow smiled, and remained silent. "Now, captain," said Miss Audley, "I will not quit the ship till you tell me that gentleman's name.-I cannot hold out a greater threat to you, as I know you have had a weary time of it since I have been under your charge. Come, I set not my foot on shore till I know the name of that gentleman, and also why you cannot refrain from smiling whenever you are asked about it."

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"A baronet!" cried Miss Audley-"I wish I had known that before, I should certainly have made a dead set at him. A baronet would have been far better worth the trouble of a flirtation than you Mr. Williams, or you Mr. Sutton, or you Mr. Belfield, or any of the other gentlemen that I have been amusing myself with during the voyage."

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'A baronet!" exclaimed Mrs. Cummings, "well, really-and have I been four weeks in the same ship with a baronet-and sitting at the same table with him,-and often talking to him face to face. I wonder what Mrs. Thimbleby of Threadneedle Street would say if she knew that I am now acquainted with a baronet?"

"But what is his name, captain?" said Mr. Fenton; "still you do not tell us." "His name," answered the captain, "is Sir St. John St. Ledger."

"Sir St. John St. Ledger!" was repeated by each of the company.

"Yes," resumed Captain Santlow—" and you see how difficult it is to say it smoothly. There is more sibilation in it than in any name I know.-Was I not right in keeping it from you till the voyage was over, and thus sparing you the trouble of articulating it, and myself the annoyance of hearing it? See, here it is in writing."

The captain then took his manifest out of his pocket-book, and showed us the words, "Sir St. John St. Ledger, of Sevenoaks, Kent."

"Pho!" said Mrs. Cummings, "Where's the trouble in speaking that name, if you only knew the right way-I have heard it a hundred times-and even seen it in the newspapers. This must be the very gentleman that my cousin George's wife is always talking about. She has a brother that lives near his estate, a topping apothecary. Why, 'tis easy enough to say his name, if you say it as we do in England."

"And how is that?" asked the captain; "what can you make of Sir St. John St. Ledger?"

Why, Sir Singeon Sillinger, to be sure;" replied Mrs. Cummings-"I am confident he would have answered to that name. Sir Singeon Sillinger of Sunnock-cousin George's wife's brother lives close by Sunnock in a yellow house with a red door."

"And have I," said the captain laughing, "so carefully kept his name to myself, during the whole passage, for fear we should have had

to call him Sir St. John St. Ledger, when all the while we might have said Sir Singeon Sillinger!"

"To be sure you might," replied Mrs. Cummings, looking proud of the opportunity of displaying her superior knowledge of something. "With all your striving after sense you Americans are very ignorant people, particularly of the right way of speaking English. Since I have been on board, I have heard you all say the oddest things-though I thought there would be no use in trying to set you right. The other day there was Mr. Williams talking of the church of St. Mary le bon-instead of saying Marrow bone. Then Mr. Belfreld says, Lord Cholmondeley, instead of Lord Chumley, and Col. Sinclair instead of Col. Sinkler; and Mr. Sutton says Lady Beauchamp, instead of Lady Beachum; and you all say Birmingham instead of Brummagem. The truth is, you know nothing about English names. Now that name, Trollope, that you all sneer at so much, and think so very low, why Trollope is quite genteel in England, and so is Hussey. The Trollopes and Husseys belong to great families. But I have no doubt of finding many things that are very elegant in England counted quite vulgar in America, owing to the ignorance of your people. For my part, I was particularly brought up to despise all manner of ignorance."

In a short time a steamboat came alongside, into which we removed ourselves, accompanied by the captain and the letter-bags; and we proceeded up to the city, where Mr. Fenton and myself were met on the wharf, I need not tell how, and by whom.

THE FOREIGN LAND.

A woman is a foreign land,

Of which, though there he settle young, A man will ne'er quite understand

The customs, politics, and tongue. The foolish hie them post-haste through, See fashions odd, and prospects fair, Learn of the language, "How d'ye do," And go and brag that they've been there. The most for leave to trade apply,

For once, at Empire's seat, her heart, Then get what knowledge ear and eye Glean chancewise in the life-long mart. And certain others, few and fit,

Attach them to the Court, and see The Country's best, its accent hit, And partly sound its polity.

COVENTRY PATMORE.

THE BLESSING.

[Rev. Thomas Brydson, was sometime minister of Levern Church, Renfrewshire, and wrote numerous minor poems.]

Dark is the sky with thunder-clouds,
While breathes that aged one
His fervent gratitude to Heaven,
Amid the mountains lone,
For the mercy of the present hour,
And for the mercies shown
To him and his continually,

In the seasons that are gone.

His little grandson calmly views

The tempest gathering round; For though the words cannot be heard, Yet, in their whisper'd sound, The boy a heart-felt safety finds, And it seems holy ground To his young eye, where they two sit On the gray rocky mound.

Not oft in crowded scenes of life,
When the richest feasts are spread,
Does such accepted prayer arise

As o'er the peasant's bread,
Who, at the close of every day,

Rests a toil-wearied head, Soothed by the hope that heaven remains When mortal life is filed.

A WARNING TO YOUTH OF BOTH SEXES.

BY THEODORE HOOK.1

My readers may know that to all the editions of Entick's Dictionary, commonly used in schools, there is prefixed "a table of words that are alike, or nearly alike, in sound, but different in spelling and signification." It must be evident that this table is neither more nor less than an early provocation to punning; the whole mystery of which vain art consists in the use of words, the sound and sense of which are at variance. In order, if possible, to check any disposition to punning in youth, which may be fostered by this manual, I have thrown together the following adaptation of Entick's hints to young beginners, hoping thereby to afford a warning, and exhibit a deformity to

1 From The Christmas Box, edited by T. Crofton Croker, 1828.

be avoided, rather than an example to be followed; and at the same time showing the cau

tion children should observe in using words which have more than one meaning.

PUNNING.

"My little dears, who learn to read, pray early learn to shun
That very silly thing indeed which people call a pun:

Read Entick's rules, and 'twill be found how simple an offence
It is, to make the self-same sound afford a double sense.

"For instance, ale may make you ail, your aunt an ant may kill,
You in a vale may buy a veil, and Bill may pay the bill.
Or if to France your bark you steer, at Dover, it may be,
A peer appears upon the pier, who, blind, still goes to sea.

"Thus one might say, when to a treat good friends accept our greeting,
'Tis meet that men who meet to eat should eat their meat when meeting.
Brawn on the board's no bore indeed, although from boar prepared;
Nor can the fowl, on which we feed, foul feeding be declared.

"Thus one ripe fruit may be a pear, and yet be pared again,
And still be one, which seemeth rare until we do explain.
It therefore should be all your aim to speak with ample care:
For who, however fond of game, would choose to swallow hair?

"A fat man's gait may make us smile, who has no gate to close:
The farmer sitting on his style no stylish person knows:
Perfumers men of scents must be; some Scilly men are bright;
A brown man oft deep read we see, a black a wicked wight.

"Most wealthy men good manors have, however vulgar they;
And actors still the harder slave, the oftener they play:

So poets can't the baize obtain, unless their tailors choose;

While grooms and coachmen, not in vain, each evening seek the Mews.

"The dyer who by dying lives, a dire life maintains;

The glazier, it is known, receives-his profits from his panes :
By gardeners thyme is tied, 'tis true, when spring is in its prime;
But time or tide won't wait for you, if you are tied for time.

"Then now you see, my little dears, the way to make a pun;
A trick which you, through coming years, should sedulously shun.
The fault admits of no defence; for wheresoe'er 'tis found,
You sacrifice the sound for sense: the sense is never sound.

"So let your words and actions too, one single meaning prove,
And, just in all you say or do, you'll gain esteem and love:
In mirth and play no harm you'll know, when duty's task is done;
But parents ne'er should let ye go unpunish'd for a pun!"

38

THE MOUNTAIN OF MISERIES.

[Joseph Addison, born at Milston, near Amesbury, Wiltshire, 1st May, 1672; died at Holland House, Kensington, 17th June, 1719. He was the eldest son of He was Lancelot Addison, D.D., Dean of Lichfield. educated at the Charter House, where Richard Steele was his fellow-pupil, and afterwards at Oxford. His works are: Remarks on Several Parts of Italy, in 1701-3; The Campaign, a poem; The Five Whig Examiners, 1712; Cato,a tragedy, 1713; Poems; The Drummer, or the Haunted House; Dissertations on the most Celebrated Roman Poets; Notes upon the Twelve Books of Paradise Lost-collected from the Spectator: On the Evidences of the Christian Religion, &c. Macaulay said: "Addison is entitled to be considered not only as the greatest of the English essayists, but as the forerunner of the great English novelists. His best essays approach near to absolute perfection; nor is their excellence more wonderful than their variety." Thackeray said: "If Swift's life was the most wretched, I think Addison's was one of the most enviable. A life prosperous and beautiful-a

calm death-an immense fame, and affection afterwards for his happy and spotless name." 1]

It is a celebrated thought of Socrates, that if all the misfortunes of mankind were cast into a public stock, in order to be equally distributed among the whole species, those who now think themselves the most unhappy would prefer the share they are already possessed of, before that which would fall to them by such a division. Horace has carried this thought a great deal further, and implies that the hardships or misfortunes we lie under are more easy to us than those of any other person would be, in case we could change conditions with him.

As I was ruminating on these two remarks, and seated in my elbow-chair, I insensibly fell asleep; when, on a sudden, methought there was a proclamation made by Jupiter, that every mortal should bring in his griefs and calamities, and throw them together in a heap. There was a large plain appointed for this purpose. I took my stand in the centre of it, and saw with a great deal of pleasure the whole human species marching one after another and throwing down their several loads, which immediately grew up into a prodigious mountain that

seemed to rise above the clouds.

There was a certain lady of a thin airy shape, who was very active in this solemnity. She carried a magnifying glass in one of her hands, and was clothed in a loose flowing robe, embroidered with several figures of fiends and spectres, that discovered themselves in a thousand chimerical shapes, as her garment hovered

1 Addison contributed altogether 369 papers to the Tatler, Spectator, and Guardian, Steele contributed 510.

in the wind. There was something wild and distracted in her look. Her name was Fancy. She led up every mortal to the appointed place, after having very officiously assisted him in making up his pack, and laying it upon his shoulders. My heart melted within me to see my fellow-creatures groaning under their respective burdens, and to consider that prodigious bulk of human calamities which lay before me.

There were however several persons who gave me great diversion upon this occasion. I observed on bringing in a fardel very carefully concealed under an old embroidered cloak, which, upon his throwing it into the heap, I discovered to be poverty. Another, after a great deal of puffing, threw down his luggage, which, upon examining, I found to be his wife.

There were multitudes of lovers saddled with very whimsical burdens composed of darts and flames; but, what was very odd, though they sighed as if their hearts would break under these bundles of calamities, they could not persuade themselves to cast them into the heap when they came up to it; but after a few faint efforts, shook their heads and marched away as heavy laden as they came. I saw multitudes of old women throw down their wrinkles, and several young ones who stripped themselves of a tawny skin. There were very great heaps of The red noses, large lips, and rusty teeth. truth of it is, I was surprised to see the greatest part of the mountain made up of bodily deformities. Observing one advancing towards the heap with a larger cargo than ordinary upon his back, I found upon his near approach that it was only a natural hump, which he disposed of with great joy of heart among this collection of human miseries. There were likewise distempers of all sorts, though I could not but observe that there were many more imaginary than real. One little packet I could not but take notice of, which was a complication of all the diseases incident to human nature, and was in the hand of a great many fine people: this was called the spleen. But what most of all surprised me was a remark I made, that there was not a single vice or folly thrown into the whole heap: at which I was very much astonished, having concluded within myself that every one would take this opportunity of getI took notice in particular of a very profligate ting rid of his passions, prejudices, and frailties. fellow, who I did not question came laden with his crimes, but upon searching into his bundle I found that, instead of throwing his guilt from him, he had only laid down his memory. He was followed by another worthless rogue who flung away his modesty instead of his ignorance.

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