but the arms which will enable thee to vanquish them are at hand-by the Scriptures alone can they be opposed, by the Scriptures alone can they be defeated. Let them, then, be thy study; make them thy rule of action; and thy reward shall be, not only a life on earth happy beyond whatever vice can bestow, but an eternal, unchangeable, existence of inconceivable and incomparable felicity.

"But this reward, so glorious, and so far beyond all human desert, thou canst not obtain by the mere abstinence from vice; thou must also practise virtue. Thou must be charitable to the distressed; kind to the unfortunate; and merciful to the guilty. If wealth shall crown thy exertions, thou must consider thyself the steward of Heaven; and, in imitation of that Heaven, thou must distribute the abundance which is showered upon thee, to those whose lot is less fortunate. Shouldst thou, on the contrary, be doomed to pass thy life in poverty, thou mayest teach patience by thy precepts, and enforce it by thy example; thou mayest still discharge thy duty to God and to thy neighbour; thou mayest share freely the little that thou hast, with those who have still less-for thou must remember that even the cup of cold water, given in charity, will be accepted and rewarded-thou mayest instruct the young in the way of rectitude; and, by showing in thine own person the power of virtue to render the lowest station productive of that happiness which, without it, the most exalted station cannot bestow, thou mayest induce the misguided wanderer from her paths to retrace his steps, to repent him of his guilt, and by his actions to deserve that forgiveness, which by his prayers he will desire.

"This day is the beginning of a new year of thy life: let this day, then, be the beginning of a course of virtue which shall continue till thine existence be at an end. Thou wishest to acquire knowledge; but remember, that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; and that all human knowledge is vain, without that divine enlightening which leads to the practice of rectitude. Nevertheless, earthly science should not be neglected; since its pursuit gives employment to those hours which might else be devoted to the service of

vice; and its acquirement renders man more eminently useful to his fellows. Employ thy youth, therefore, in the acquisition of knowledge, that in thine age thou mayest assist in its diffusion.

"Engrave, then, these precepts on thy heart; let them be the rules of thy future conduct; remember that the life which is most acceptable to God, is that which is most serviceable to thy fellow creatures; arise, be virtuous, and be happy.'

The voice ceased, the figure disappeared, and darkness again surrounded me. I awoke, and the vision had made so strong an impression on my mind, that I determined to commit it to paper, hoping that what was addressed but to one, might be useful to many. Oct. 5, 1818.

ACCOUNT

OF THE

J. R.

SHIPWRECK OF THE MEDUSA FRIGATE. Resumed from page 185.

THE morning dawned upon a sight which was truly deplorable. Ten or twelve unhappy men, mangled and mutilated, had lost their lives, by their lower extremities getting entangled in the openings between the pieces of the raft. Several had been carried away by the waves. Twenty men were missing at the hour when the survivors took their slender repast. Many laboured under delirium, and some, in despair, voluntarily plunged into the ocean.

The day, however, was fine, and Hope "that lingers long, and latest dies," once more exerted her influence, and cheered the sufferers with the idea that they should soon see the boats approaching to their relief. But, as the light declined, their fears and horrors returned with tenfold force. Cries of despondency and rage burst forth anew, and the voice of the officers was wholly disregarded. The elements now seemed again to conspire to aggravate their distress. Dense clouds entirely obscured the heavens, the wind swelled to a storm, the waves rose in mountains, and dashed on the men with such impetuous fury, that they were com

pelled to crowd to the centre of the raft; all those who could not reach it being swept off by the billows, In the centre another danger awaited them, the pressure being so intolerable, that some of the men were stifled or crushed to death.

To complete their miseries there was yet one thing wanting, which was, that they should shed each other's blood, and this dreadful completion was now at hand. Giving themselves up as doomed to inevitable death, and untaught to look for consolation where alone under such circumstances it can be found, "the soldiers and sailors resolved to soothe their last moments by drinking till they lost their reason." They accordingly broke a large hole in a cask of wine, and continued to drink, till the sea-water mixing with it, rendered it too nauseous for them to swallow.

66

The result of this may easily be imagined. The want of food, the agitated state of their minds, and the fumes of the wine, combined to produce the most dreadful intoxication, or rather insanity. They determined to murder their officers, and destroy the raft, by cutting asunder the ropes which united it. At the head of them was an Asiatic, a soldier in a colonial regiment, a man of colossal stature, whose short curled hair, extremely large mouth, and sallow complexion, gave him a hideous air.' ." With an axe he began to cut the cords, and even menaced an officer, but a blow with a sabre put an end to his existence. The contest soon became general. Sabres, knives, bayonets, but-ends of carabines, were used; every weapon that rage could find, was employed on both sides. Nothing was to be seen but cruelty, wounds, and slaughter. The most horrible ferocity was displayed by the mutineers, who, among other instances of the same kind, endeavoured to tear out with a penknife the eyes of an officer whom they had ineffectually tried to drown. It was in vain that kindness was shewn to them. M. Correard, who displayed great courage during the contest, having plunged into the waves to save the life of one of the mutineers, named Dominique, the miscreant rejoined them, renewed the combat, and was finally slain.

A short pause ensued, in which the soldiers displayed a momentary repentance. Many of them threw them

selves at the feet of those whom they had just attacked, and requested pardon. The moon, too, broke through the clouds, and rendered the scene less horrible.-At midnight, however, the brief tranquillity on the raft was at an end. With tenfold fury the mutineers returned to the combat, and nothing was to be heard but cries of phrenzied rage, nothing seen but the most appalling and disgusting sights. The raft was covered with the dying and the dead. The gloomy pencil of Dante never painted a more sickening and terrific scene than this narrow space presented to the view.— Those of the soldiers who had no weapons, attempted, like wild beasts, to tear their enemies with their teeth. Many were cruelly mangled in this manner. One of the mutineers, says the narrator, seized a workman by the right leg, and was biting him savagely in the sinew above the heel, while others were beating him severely with their sabres, and the but-end of their carabines. Amidst the combat they perpetually called for the head of one of their officers, who was left in the frigate, but whom, deprived as they now were of all sanity, they persisted in believing to be present. At length, the officers, and those who were on their side, succeeded in conquering their assailants; and a gloomy quiet was once more restored, broken only at intervals by the cries and lamentations of some, and the delirious exclamations of others, who fancied themselves on board of the Medusa, or travelling at their ease over the fertile plains of Italy.

The return of the day, as was always the case, restored them in some degree to reason, but disclosed to them a melancholy scene. Between sixty and sixtyfive men had perished during the night; at least a fourth of whom had drowned themselves in despair. In every face was the deepest despondency. Tears and lamentations again burst forth. They now, also, discovered another source of grief: the mutineers had thrown into the sea two casks of wine, and the only two casks of water which were on the raft. There were but two casks of wine left, and the persons among whom it was to be divided were above sixty in number. To accelerate their course the mast was replaced, but this failed in its object, for the sail being spread

indifferently to every breeze that blew, they were sometimes wafted towards the coast, and at other times into the open sea. At one moment they flattered themselves that they caught a glimpse of the land, and they even believed that they felt the burning air of the sandy desert. But either this was an illusion, or they were driven back from the coast, by a change in the direction of the wind. The latter was probably the case, as, at the outset, the gales for some time blew violently towards the shore. To satisfy the cravings of hunger, which were excessive, they having had no food for forty-eight hours, they endeavoured to procure some fish. Tags were collected from the soldiers, to make small hooks of them; and they bent a bayonet, to form a larger hook, in the hope of catching a shark. This plan entirely failed: the hooks were drawn under the raft, by the current, and became entangled; and the bayonet was found too weak for its purpose. There now remained only one horrible resource-the dead!

TO BE RESUMED.

For the Pocket Magazine.

MR. EDITOR,-IF the annexed be worthy a place in your Pocket Magazine, you will oblige me by inserting it. It is from my journal of last summer, and is a sketch from life.

Islington, Oct. 7.

Your constant reader,

THE FRENCH SOLDIER.

HENRIQUE.

"HAVING reached Peronne, a well fortified town, beautifully situated about thirty miles beyond Cambray, the diligence stopped to change horses, a business which I had never yet seen the French in any particular hurry to complete. Finding myself rather fatigued, from sitting so many hours cramped up in this vehicle, I embraced the opportunity now offered for a walk. It was a delightful evening in June, and taking the arm of my friend, we set forward together, admiring the beauties of the scenery which surrounded us, and calling to mind those equally charming scenes we had left in England.