dell, whether Frenchmen or not. However, that need not spoir our dinner; we should fight none the better with empty stomachs. After dinner we went on deck; the chase was about à league from us, to the leeward. The captain said to our guests, "Gentlemen, you had better go on board your brig. Keep a good distance to windward; and if you do so, and this should prove to be a Frenchman, though he may take us, I think we will put it. out of his power to take you. At the rate we have gone he would get along side of us in the night: we can't avoid that; but as I like to see what I am about, I will save him the trouble of any further chase, and stand down to speak him while we have day-light." Our guests went away in their boat; but the boat directly came back with the four men who had rowed it, and desiring to speak to the captain, they told him that with the permission of captain Davis, they had came to offer their serviees on board, in case the ship in chase should prove to be an enemy. "You are honest fellows, stout sailors, and trué yankees," said he; "come on board, and take your stations, at the guns; we may have need of all the aid we can get before the day is over." All things were ready for action, and the ship under her top-sail, stood down towards the chase. When we ranged along side, she proved like the former one, an English vessel; but we were told that she had been taken from the French, and retained her original spars and rigging. An officer came on board from her, and seeing our men at their guns, turned round to the captain, and said, "surely, sir, you did not intend to engage our ship with your force." "Certainly, I did," said the captain," but you know I did not think it one of his majesty's ships that we were running down upon."

One morning at day-light, we found ourselves close by two armed cutters. They were smart looking black little things, exactly alike, of ten guns each, and full of men. They hoisted English colours. The one nearest hailed with a trumpet large enough, at least with a tone loud enough, to have belonged to a line of battle ships. "Ho! heave your main-top-sail aback, till I send my boat aboard of you!"-Ramsdell, who was standing beside me looking at them, somewhat nettled by being hailed in that manner by a vessel of the size, imitating the provincial twang, generally supposed to belong to some of the eastern people, and drawling his words, replied,-" Ho! what's that you say, neighbour?” Our neighbour who appeared to understand the derison intended, again hailed with a still deeper roar than his former one, "heave your main-top-sail aback, or I'll fire a broad-side into you!" "Why, now, I guess, cried Ramsdell, still drawling in his former tone, that would be very unkind of you; for you might cut away some of my rigging, and then you'd soon see who would pay the piper.' By this time the other cutter hailed in a more respectful manner, and Ramsdell

said, "Well, my little fellow, as you appear to know how to behave yourself, you n ay come on board."

:

On the 3d of November, we arrived off Leghorn, where we were brought to by the British frigate Mermaid, and informed that the French troops were in Leghorn, which rendered it impossible for the ship to enter, in consequence of which it was judged prudent to put into Elba, till information could be obtained of the situation of Leghorn; the ship therefore bore away for that Island, since celebrated as the short residence of the modern Charlemagne. On the evening of the 5th, we came to in the outer harbour of Porto Ferajo, with the small bower anchor; but that not holding, in consequence of heavy squalls, we let go the best bower also; notwithstanding which the ship began to drive, and before day-light, being almost on the rocks, under the light-house we were obliged to hoist both anchors, and get the ship under weigh, in order to take a station higher up in the harbour, where the bottom might be better holding ground. It blew in violent squalls, and we were obliged to tack from point to point, making little or no head way. Just at day-light, the fort fired a gun without shot; we supposed it to be a morning gun, and paid no attention to it but a few minutes afterwards, as we were tacking ship, two or three more, shotted, were fired in quick succession at us. We could not heave to; the ship was in the greatest danger of going on the rocks at the time, and the stupid fellows in the fort appeared to think that we were escaping out of, instead of trying to get into, the harbour. In this dilemma, I told the captain that if he would order some men into the boat, I would endeavour to stop the firing on us. The men were sent into the boat, and I jumped in after, and told them to row right up to the battery, on arriving at which, I was directed to go round a point higher up to the harbour, to the officer of the port. This I did, and told him who we were, and what was our difficulty. I was treated with great politeness, and asked if I wished any refreshment; I requested some coffee and breakfast for my men, and was admiring the promptitude and alacrity with which my request was granted, when a guard of soldiers entered the room and told me rather roughly, that I and my men, must go with them, which I did without hesitation, thinking that they wished to conduct me to the governor or some superior officer of the place, instead of which, they led us to a very uncomforta ble looking mansion, whose interior did not belie its outside consisting of one large room floored with brick, and desiring us to walk in, fairly turned the key on us. The grating of the lock made me whistle a long whew, and called forth other exclama tions from my companions. My anxiety was shortly after very much increased by hearing several cannon fired in the direction I supposed the ship to be. I was utterly unable to conjecture what was the cause of this, and remained in great uncertainty

and anxiety for an hour or two, when one of the men peeping through a crack in the door saw an English naval officer at a little distance, which he informed me of, and knocking at the door, I desired the sentinel to call him to me. He was the captain of a frigate, then lying in the harbour. I told him who I was, and the awkward situation in which I was placed. Make yourself easy, sir, said he, you shall be here but a few minutes. He left me, and directly after the British consul came, who told me that I and my men were at liberty, and desired me to accompany him to a hotel near his home, where I would find all the accommodations I might want. From him I learnt that our ship had been in great danger of being driven on the rocks, which was the occasion of her firing several guns, as signals of distress. She had let go her anchors, but drifted with them all ahead, in consequence of the extreme violence of the squalls, and was obliged to cut her cables. A number of boats had gone to her assistance, among which were four from the British frigate, Sancta Theresa, the master of which had got on board of her, but being unable to regain his boat, had been taken out to sea. 66 But," said he," she will soon be back, and in the mean time command whatever is in my power to procure for you." I felt very grateful for such kindness from a perfect stranger, and proffered in a situation where it was so much needed. The next day came, and the next, and the next, but no ship came with them. cended the highest ground several times a day, and looked out for her with great solicitude. On the evening of the third day, while I was pacing backwards and forwards on the pavement before the hotel, hearing the rapid approach of horses, I looked up, and behold, the captain leaped from a horse and seized me by the hand. "Why, Ramsdell! where did you come from? where's the ship?" "At Porto Lougohe, two leagues from this, where having lost all our anchors, and twenty times escaped the rocks, we at last brought the ship up with a couple of guns instead of anchors. You'll see the master of the frigate, whom we took along with us, and he'll tell you that he never had such a jaunt in all his life. But here's a bundle of your clothes; I thought you would want them, and be rather uncomfortable till you knew what had become of us; therefore, as soon as the ship was secured, I got these rags, and that fellow, who can't understand a word I say to him, and we have come here like a couple of flying proas."

I as

From this place a few days afterwards, I crossed in a sparonaro to Piombino in Tuscany.

Poor Ramsdell! he was an excellent seaman, possessed of the greatest presence of mind, of the most determined courage, and the most affectionate heart. I frequently delight in recollecting him. It is that feeling which has induced me to write this narrative of the events which occurred while I was in his compa

ny; and in which I have been obliged to mention myself oftener than I would have done, could I have avoided it.

I say poor Ramsdell! The next voyage was his last. He had command of a ship, and is supposed to have been lost in a severe gale of wind in the Atlantic. Neither vessel nor crew were ever heard of.

I know nothing of his parentage or connexions, except, that they lived in Nantucket.

R.

ART, VI,-The Pirate; by the Author of "Waverly, Kenilworth, &c."

[We have already submitted to our readers, a very copious Review of the PIRATE (see the No. for January 1822,)-but we are tempted to renew the subject, in the following article, because it contains some excellent observations on the mooted point of novel-reading. The abstract of the story of the romance is omitted, as we suppose it is by this time familiar to every one; but if any one should wish to refresh his recollection, he may refer to the Number just cited.]

WHY does not the Christian Observer review the Waverly Novels has been so often repeated, that we think it time at length to attend to the inquiry. Our protracted silence will have shown that we are not very vehement admirers either of novels or novel-reading; and, as Christian observers, we do not hold ourselves obliged very frequently to notice works like the present. There are, however, cogent reasons for at length ad. verting to the subject. The Waverly Novels already amount to no less than thirty-nine volumes: their multifarious contents, good, bad, and indifferent, are eagerly swallowed (for novel readers do not wait to masticate, much less digest, their repast,) by innumerable readers in every corner of the empire: the book shops are crowded with candidates for the first reeking copies the moment a new tale is announced; long before which auspicious event, from the wholesale vender to the itinerant bookstall, the the wary bibliopole placards his widow and counter with the intelligence edition after edition is bespoken before it can be printed; the humblest circulating library must have its duplicate and triplicate copies; the parlour the drawing-room, and it is well if not the kitchen and servants' hall and nursery also, become possessed of this indispensible piece of furniture: the young and old, the gay and the grave, all sit down with avidity to the perusal; and more time and energy are perhaps employed in settling who among so many anxious expectants shall first have the precious volume, than would almost suffice for reading it; the lady's maid and footman quarrel for the prior claim to purloin a sight of the parlour copy; while the very cook and her scullion expedite their operations to have a snug hour for the borrowed treasure from the circulating library. Go where you

will, a Waverly Novel peeps forth; you find it on the breakfast table, and under the pillow; concealed in the desk of the clerk, and the till of the shopman; in the sleeve of the gownsman, and the pocket of the squire; on the barouche-box, and in the swordcase; by day-light, by lamp-light, by moon-light, by rush-light; ay, even among the Creek Indians has been seen a volume of these far-famed tales beguiling the tedious hours of the daughter of an Alabama planter, as she sat down with her coffee-pot by the evening fireside in the recesses of an American forest.

Scandit eodem quo dominus; neque.

Decedit æratâ triremi, et
Post equitem sedit.

Works thus numerous and popular-and which, both from these circumstances, and from the high degree of talent that pervades them, must have no inconsiderable effect upon the public taste and sentiments-undoubtedly claim some attention in a miscellany like ours; nor shall we shrink from putting our readers in full possession of our sentiments upon them.

There are, also, other reasons which have determined us to enter on the present subject; not the least of which is, that the modified character of the Waverly Novels has gained access for them into many families in which general novel-reading had been strictly interdicted. Even religious families, in numerous instances, have suffered these specious works to become the means of breaking down the barrier which had been hitherto maintained between the habits of bona fide Christians, and the habits of worldly society; and an opening for injurious or trifling reading being once admitted, it is not easy to anticipate where the evil may stop. A single novel, if not more exceptionable than are the generality of the Waverly Tales, would scarcely have induced us to go far out of our path to notice it: we should have calculated on its dying away without producing any very considerable effects on society, and certainly without causing any material innovations in the habits of those persons to whom novel-reading was a very rare or unknown practice. But such a constant repetition of the draught, even though its composition be but partially deleterious, may be highly dangerous. The volumes in question already amount, as we have stated, to the number of our Articles of Religion; and it will be well if they do not prove "forty stripes save one" for their readers and the public. Each stroke may be gentle, and yet the united effect of the whole severe; especially should the act of novel-reading, being thus frequently repeated become a habit, and find its way permanently into families hitherto inaccessible to its baneful influence. The Waverly Novels, however, must not be the whole of our theme; for they are but a part, though, for one writer, a very considerable part, of the mass of works of entertainment and