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eye, is four views upon the Glasgow and Garnkirk Railway, representing different parts of the line, and exhibiting a very accurate-idea of the manner of travelling which it has brought into practice. The first picture is an exact copy of the scene which was presented to a spectator, on the 27th of September last, the day when the railway was opened, and which we remember to have witnessed, among other admiring strangers, from the commanding situation of the bridge at Provan Mill. The busy groups which were then seen, hurrying to obtain an advantageous situation, or waiting in anxious expectation till the long serpentine train should be visible from end to end, are here brought again to view, and the noble sight of endless moving machines, which was hailed with shouts of exultation from every side, is presented to the eye with something of the effect which was produced by the regular and easy motion of the original, and with none of the transitory pleasure which diminished, in some degree, the reward of an hour's patient stance upon the bridge. The next is a view of the Germiston embankment, looking West, and is really a harmonious combination of the beauties of nature, and the wonders of art. Those landed proprietors who object to the formation of railways on their estates, on the ground of its spoiling their appearance, may see from this, how far the naturally inert, but artificially active machines are, from being unsightly objects. The two other prints represent the depots at St. Rollox, the spirited proprietors of which, the Messrs. Tennant, have been principally instrumental in bringing this liberal scheme to completion. The bold and effective style in which these and the other engravings are executed, with the exception of a trifling, but very evident error in perspective, in view Fourth, is highly creditable, both to the designer Mr. Hill, and to our namesake, the lithographer; and we do not doubt, but that they will be the means of interesting, in behalf of the very useful speculation which has called them into being, a much larger portion of the public than have hitherto turned their attention that way.
The letter-press, which forms the other portion of this work, contains what might be expected from the able writer, a very clear demonstration of the advantages connected with railways, especially in the county of Lanark, and R succinct detail of the peculiar circumstances attending the formation of that now established between Glasgow and Garnkirk. The causes which have contributed to the increase of facility in land communication, are very well classified and described, and it is shewn, that all the improvements which have been made hitherto, rapid and extensive as some of them have been, have never equalled in importance the results which are to be expected from the discoveries of Mr. George Stephenson, Mr. Gurney and others. Mr. Richardson is at some pains to ascertain the precise extent and value of the coal fields in the neighbourhood of Glasgow, and shews the insufficiency of canals to afford a means for conveying this useful mineral to the market. This is followed by an account of the progress of railways in the west, with the success which attended them ever since the formation of that called the Monkland and Kirkintulloch. Due attention is paid to the distinguishing excellences of the Ballochney railway, and to the benefits which have accrued from it to the public. Then comes a description of that which forms the more immediate subject of this work, the Glasgow and Garnkirk Railway, the merits of which are very fairly and highly estimated. We shall quote from this part the following passage, illustrative of the effects already produced by this undertaking:—
Since the railway commenced, in September, the chief trade on it has been in coals, of which a very great quantity has been already sent down the line, averaging about 350 tons daily, or at the rate of 100,000 tons annually ; and the quantity is expected to be much greater, when additional engines arrive, and things get into their regular train. A carriage for the conveyance of passengers
also leaves Coat Bridge and Leaend every morning for Glasgow, and returns in the evening. Each time, also, the engine start* with a load of coal from the upper part of the line, or with empty waggons returning, a small passenger waggon is attached, not being regulated by any hour; and a considerable number of stragglers find their way in this manner along the line.
This railway promises to realize fully the great object of its promoters, and to become, at the same time, a work of vast benefit to the city of Glasgow, as well as to the districts through which it passes. Such is the facility of transport on it, that coals from Kipps Colliery for example, which were formerly carted one and a-half miles to the Monkland Canal, and by it conveyed to Glasgow at an expense in all of 3s. Od. a ton, can now be sent by the railway for less than Is. 3d. In fact, the expense of carting them that one mile and a half to the canal, amounted to two-thirds of the whole expense of sending them by the railway to Glasgow. From the collieries, again, situated on the canal, the saving by the railway will amount to la. 4d. a ton. This must evidently have a sensible effect on the price of coal, generally, throughout Glasgow and the neighbourhood, and the consequences of even a very trifling reduction in the price of this necessary, over so large and populous a city, must be in the highest degree important to the inhabitants, as well as in giving a new and powerful stimulus to trade and manufactures. The extent and magnitude of some of the manufacturing establishments in this city is what few have an idea of, and the consumption of coal enormous. Jn the chemical works, for example, of St. Rollox, belonging to Messrs. Charles Tennant and Co. and the most extensive perhaps in the world, which are situated, as already mentioned, close on the railway at the west end, and which cover an extent of about ten acres, the greater part of which is covered and roofed over with buildings, the quantity of coal required for the different furnaces amounts to 30,000 tons annually, and in the City gas-works in the same neighbourhood, the consumption amounts to about 16,000. Supposing the price only reduced Is. a ton, here would be a saving in two works only, of £2300 a year, and if we take the whole annual consumpt of the city at 700,000 tons, a difference of Is. a toa on this quantity would occasion a saving of £35,000 a year; or nearly half the expense of the railway. It is not alone, however, in the mere saving of such a sum of money that the advantage consists, but what is of still more importance, in the encouragement it holds out to trade and manufactures, such a difference is sufficient to draw new establishments to the place; for, as the price of coal is one of the principal considerations in the establishment of many manufactures, a small difference is often sufficient to turn the balance in favour of one place over another, and that the saving of what may appear only a trifle per ton, may become in its consequences of the highest public importance.
We need not extend our remarks any farther, save to mention, that the work is concluded by a calculation of the advantages likely to result from the completion of the railway now in progress, embracing in its extent a number of collieries in the direction of Carluke and Coltness. When to this it is added, that the whole is illustrated by correct etchings and accompanied by a sketch of the Lanarkshire railways, shewing the public works in connexion therewith, our readers will at once perceive the value, as well as the elegance of the treatise.
The Diamond Gazhtteeh Of Great Britain And Ireland; with Tables of Principal Towns, Population of 1831, &c &c Glasgow, 1832.
This neat and tiny volume may, indeed, be called, Multum in Parvo; for, although it is not bigger than a snuff-box for the waistcoat pocket of the jemiest of those who take rapee, it not only comprises a compendious account of all the counties, cities, boroughs, towns, capes, forts, rivers and lakes of Great Britain and Ireland, but likewise many most useful and complete tables of cities and towns, with all the principal travelling routes throughout the empire.
The work has, evidently, been prepared with considerable labour, and, although it is only of the small dimensions to which we have alluded, we find that not a city, town, or village has been overlooked, that is worthy of particular description, either in point of its local, historical, commercial, or manufacturing importance. This handsome little to me is, in fact, both a typographical and topographical gem, and will be found one of the most useful companions, that we know, to the traveller whose library must be portable.
IMPORTANCE OF ORDER IN OUR CONDUCT.
We have sometimes attempted to ridicule method and regularity in our worldly conduct, but every wise man must allow that to act by some rule, and to some end, is so essential to our happiness, and so conformable to the designs of our Creator, that it cannot be neglected without a violation of the laws of God. This regard to duty and propriety is in fact the bond by which peace is preserved in kingdoms, and union in families. It is this which regulates the conduct of the servant towards his master, and the subject towards his Prince. It is this which engages parents to love their children, and study to promote their happiness, and children to make due returns of obedience, honour and grateful assistance to their parents.
It is certainly one of the greatest misfortunes in the world to live without any stated rule of conduct, in perpetual tumult and confusion. Our life should, in fact, be a transcript of the universe, which could not subsist, much less attract our admiration, were it not for that just proportion which is discoverable in all its parts. Take order from a world, and you reduce it to a frightful chaos; leave man without any other guide than his own passions and caprice, and there will be nothing but perpetual discord between his judgment and his will.
Ruin ensues when a man exhibits in his own illregulated mind the miseries of anarchy; his ideas are confused, his imagination is bewildered, his conscience misled, his reason obscured, and his soul becomes the seat of tumult and confusion.
The man who lives at random is a slave to his own whims and caprice. The world reprobates such an one as a monster which disturbs its harmony, and society rejects him as a being incapable of friendship. Whoever is irregular in his own mind is destitute of every quality which can contribute to the ornament or benefit of human life; his manners are disgusting, his expenses are excessive, and his whole conduct unaccountable.
The exact proportion observable in every work of God is intended to teach us, that order is the greatest beauty in nature, and that, to despise this, is to counteract one of the greatest laws of the Creator of the universe. It is the duty, therefore, of every one, to endeavour to imitate, in his behaviour, that general harmony in the creation, which, in the course of every year, supplies man with whatever is agreeable or useful.
The mind in which disorder prevails, is like a city without government, or a house without unanimity: How many, in fact, seem to delight in nothing but irregularity; individuals who go to rest when others rise, who eat when others fast, who stay at home when others go to church—in short, whose chief employment seems to be, to break through every rule, without the least regard to method in any part of their conduct. The fashionable lady, whose gaiety is so much the object of envy, confounds night with day—knows no laws but her own whims, has no home but for pleasure, no plan except it be to avoid every thing that is akin to regularity. When the mind is thus disordered, it is afraid to look into itself, or if it ventures to examine at all, it only does it superficially. The senses are so many tyrants, from whose power we are unable to de
liver ourselves, and nothing appears really valuable, which does not administer to their gratification.
Let us maintain then that dominion over our own hearts, that we be not overcome by those passions which lay daily seige to our virtue, and if we do so, then our own thoughts will be regulated by wisdom, and we will be raised above those clouds which obscure the light of the understanding.
Were man only confirmed in the wise habit of acting methodically, every part of his conduct would be happily adjusted. He would then set apart proper seasons for study and for recreation—he would then manage his time and his income with prudence—he would then distribute exact justice to his neighbours, and he would never engage in any important enterprize without considering the end. Nothing will then make him ever forget the duties which he owes to his character and station, and no day will then ever pass, in which he will not remember his duty to God.
To the Editor of the Tun Dir. Sir,—I agree with your correspondent in Friday's publication, that foreign literature has been much indebted to writers in English, and, I think, he sufficiently demonstrated the resemblance betwixt " the Ephemeral" of the German Author, which appeared in No. 76 of The Day, and Franklin's well-known paper entitled "the Ephemera," or, as your coutributor has called it, "emblem of life." However, whilst agreeing thus far with " A Yankee," I cannot allow him to appropriate, as a portion of his country's literature, the parable on persecution which appears in all the editions of Franklin's works that I have seen, and which has been generally considered as a happy specimen of that eminent American's powers both of composition and imitation. This parable excited considerable speculation when it was last given to the world. The Scriptures were diligently searched to determine bets, whether or not it was in the English Bible, and the search being unsuccessful, it was, without further enquiry, attributed to Franklin. This worthy philosopher seems to have had little inclination to undeceive the world regarding its origin, for he sent it to Lord Karnes as a Jewish parable on persecution, and it was published, by the latter, In his " Sketches," probably under the impression, that it was of Franklin's own composition.
The source whence Franklin derived this parable, was, evidently, the works of Dr. Jeremy Taylor, who, although he calls it "a story found in the Jews' books," was generally understood to have composed it, in order to introduce, with a better grace, an apt illustration of his moral. Investigation, however has shown, that the English Divine is no more entitled to be considered its author, than the American Philosopher.
It has been traced to its legitimate source, and it appears that Taylor took this beautiful apologue from an epistle dedicatory, prefixed to the translation of a Jewish work, by George Gentius, who quotes it from the Persian Poet Saadi.
A Constant Reader.
Ou! frown not, Lady! if I gaze
Upon that radiant brow; And mark each graceful curl that strays
Across its arch of snow.
And, if that gaze a truth reveal,
Ah! deem it not too bold;
Should, in a look, be told!
And, if a ray of diamond light,
Should linger, in its passing flight,
And, if a smile should, o'er thy face,
In sunny gladness, play;
That glance—that smile away!
The announcement of Mons. Eilouart's departure from this town has produced the effect which we expected, of drawing to the Exhibition room greater numbers than he can find time to work for. This is encouraging merit in the right way, and we flatter ourselves that our recommendation has not been altogether without influence in bringing the clever artist into notice. If all men of talent, who visit our city, were to meet with the same reception which Mons. Edouart has experienced during the last fortnight, Glasgow would cease to labour under the epithet of Boeotian dullness, and would, at once, justify her claim to the proud distinction of the Venice of the West. In this prayer her Council of Ten ever fervently participate. ,
GLASGOW EDITORIAL CONUNDRUMS.
Why is the Editor of the Herald like Nimrod ?—Because he is a mighty Hunter I
Why is the Editor of the Scots Times likely never to give offence?—Because he takes good Care I
Why is the Editor of the Chronicle not a Freeman ?—Because he is a Prentice I
Why is the Editor of the Saturday Evening Post a man of cultivated taste?—Because he is a Gardener I
Why is the Editor of tho Trades' Advocate like an enemy's camp ?—Because he is a Warden !
MISS SINGLE AND HER BACHELOR FRIEND.
To the Editor of The Day, My Dear Daylightful Day.—The respect which I entertain towards you, for your daily appearance in the literary world, as well as at our breakfast table, encourages me to address you in the above familiar manner.
This is my first ebullition of feeling, openly avowed for you, which I shall not at present encroach long on your pages or patience, only permit me to submit to your discriminating scrutiny the following query! which I beg you will answer speedily, for the benefit of our sex, who are on the qui vive of excitement, anxious to procure any information which can in the least add a stimulus to their fair exertions this season.
We are as well aware, Mr. Day, (as the epidemic Drs.) that every thing depends on the advantage taken of a disease during its first symptoms, which is my reason for saying speedily, that we may double our exertions while this opportunity lasts, keeping in mind the chance of us having gone into the collapsed stage of widowed maidenhood before another offers.
Dining at home two days ago; which by the bye, I wish was from home; I happened to be seated beside a bachelor friend of mine, (happily depends on whether he remains so,) he was not
Bachelor Benedict, which is some comfort to Miss Marry M .
The most fatiguing part of this daily ceremony being finished, and the dessert on the table, my neighbour who is un joli garcon, expressed a wish to part with me the merry thought of a fine fowl which had graced the board. I readily assented to a wish, mutually gratifying, after some nonsense as to precedence in taking it up. The yielding bone was broke asunder, when he got, to his no small satisfaction, the greatest share.
The smile of love was on his lip,
Reluctantly, I told him that I was successful, and the bright sunshine of hope vanished before the rising clouds of disappointment. He was at a loss to see how this could happen, as he had the most wleldy part of the thought, I stated that we are victors when we get that part of the bone which I had the fortune to obtain; this being leap year. Now, my dear Aurora, breathe your sentiments in the light of your paper, ou this bony matter, and convince all men of the age in brief time—in a day of their mistaken notions. I am, yours daily,
J. M. Single.
Odd Whims.—Addison, descanting on the different species of false wit, observes: "The first I shall produce are the Lipogrammatists, or letter-droppers of antiquity, that would take an exception, without any reason, against some particular letter in the alphabet, so as nut to admit it once in a whole poem. One Tryphiodorus was a great master in this kind of writing. He composed an Odyssey, or Epic Poem, on the adventures of Ulysses, consisting of four-and-twenty books, having entirely banished the letter A from his first book, which was called Alpha, (as lucus a non lucendo) because there was not an alpha in it. His second book was inscribed Beta, for the same reason; in short the Poet excluded the whole four-and-twenty letters in their turns, and shewed them that he could do his business without them. It must have been very pleasant to have seen this Poet avoiding the reprobate letter as much as another would a false quantity, and making his escape from it, through the different Greek dialects, when he was presented with it in any particular syllable; for the most apt and elegant word in the whole language was rejected, like a diamond with a flaw in it, if it appeared blemished with the wrong letter."
Infancy Of Knowledge Mankind, but a few ages since,
were in a very poor condition as to trade and navigation; nor, indeed, were they much better off in other matters of useful knowledge. It was a green-beaded time; every useful improvement was held from them: they had neither looked into heaven nor earth, neither into the sea nor land, as has been done since. They had philosophy without experiment; mathematics without instruments, geometry without scale, astronomy without demonstration. They made war without powder, shot, cannon, or mortars; nay, the mob made their bonfires without squibs or crackers. They went to sea without compass, and sailed without the needle. They viewed the stars without telescopes, and measured altitudes without barometers. Learning had no printing-press, writing no paper, and paper no ink. The lover was forced to send his mistress, a deal board for a love-letter, and a billet-doux might be of the size of an ordinary trencher. They were clothed without manufactures, and their richest robes were the skins of the most formidable monsters. They carried on trade without books, and correspondence without posts; their merchants kept no accounts, their shop-keepers no cash-books; they had surgery without anatomy, and physicians without the materia inedica; they gave emetics without ipecacuanha, and cured agues without bark.
Threshing Machine.—About the middle of the late century, a Mr. Menzies (of Culteralters, we believe, in the upper part of Clydesdale) constructed one, which consisted of a number of trails moved by a water-wbeel. A Mr. Stirling, of Perthshire, contrived and used another upon the principles of the flax-miR. About the year 1773, a Mr. Ilderton, of Alnwick, erected a machine, which acted npon the principle of rubbing or pressing out the corn. At the same time, a Mr. Oxley, at Hodden, framed one with skutcbers, but of defective nature, and possessing little velocity. The late Sir Francis Kinloch, of Gilmertou, Bart, took to Scotland a model of Mr. Ilderton's machine, which he sent to be tried by means of the water-wheel of a barley-mill belonging to Mr. Andrew Meikle, civil engineer at Heuston Mill, near Haddington, North Britain. It was torn to pieces in the trial; and when tried anew, upon a larger scale, the same accident occured. Mr. Meikle himself, however, invented the new machine which is at present in use, and which is now known and employed not only in Britain, but also on the continent of Europe and in America. It is a cause of regret to know, that like other ingenious men, Mr. Meikle has derived little or no emolument from his invention, though of the utmost utility to the most important of all arts.
Literary Malignity—Morris, in his epistle dedicatory of his Regii sanguinis clamor, compares Miltou to a hangman: his disordered vision to the blindness of his soul, and vomits forth his venom.
TO LET, in Exchange Place, the Western approach to the Royal Exchange, from Buchanan Street,—Entry At WhitSunday,—The SHOP No. II, with a LARGE SALOON behind, suitable for Booksellers or others, requiring extensive ac commodations. Likewise, the SINGLE SHOP, No. 15.
Also, TO LET, the FIRST FLOOR above these Shops, extending to the corner of Buchanan Street, for a RETAIL, WHOLESALE or COMMISSION WAREHOUSE Apply at 205, Upper Buchanan Street. Glasgow, 7th April, 1832.
Published, every Morning, Sunday excepted, by John Finlay, it No. 9, Miller Street; and Sold by John Wylie, 97, Argyle Street; David Robertson, and W. R. M'phun, Glasgow; Thomas Stevenson, and the other Booksellers, Edinburgh: DaVid Dick, and A. Gardner, Booksellers, Paisley i A. Laiss, Greenock i and J. Glass, Bookseller, Rothsay.
PRINTED BY JOHN GRAHAM, MELVILLE TLACE.
A MORNING JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, FINE ARTS, FASHION, &c.
GLASGOW, TUESDAY, APRIL 10, 1832.
*' Where the sun loves to pause
On our voyage to Jamaica, when the usual resources of passengers were almost exhausted, when card playing begat ill temper, and the merits of the Captain's stores ceased to interest, when the latitude and longitude were no sooner announced than they were forgotten, a new source of amusement arose as we observed the motions of the different fishes, which swam before or alongside the vessel, as with a slow and graceful motion, she glided towards the wished-for port. The passengers, and especially the female portion of them, appeared most delighted with the dolphin, and, when an active sailor upon the jibboom, succeeded in harpooning one of them, they requested that the poor animal might be immediately returned to its native element. Jack, who had calculated on some variety for his mess, threw it into the sea with ill-humoured force, and it remained upon the surface, lying upon its side, whilst the blood issued from the wound inflicted by the harpoon, in a little jet, staining the sea around as its fainter struggles and convulsions indicated the impossibility of its life being protracted.
A slight ripple on the surface of the water, attracted our attention, and, presently, an enormous shark appeared. He immediately pounced upon the expiring dolphin, bit it in two, and swallowed the dissevered portions before we had time to recover from the surprise, that bis unexpected appearance had excited. It is impossible to describe the effect that such a circumstance produced in the mind of the spectators. The sailors, who beheld it, unused as they were to the melting mood, expressed their wrath in no measured terms; the passengers of the harder sex stigmatized the cruelty of the perpetrator, and one of the ladies who had interceded, in the first instance, for the dolphin, wept over the fate to which it had been consigned. As if conscious and proud of his feat, the monster glided slowly around the ship, expecting, as it were, another victim to satisfy his voracious appetite. He appeared to us to be, at least, sixteen or eighteen feet in length, and when he turned on his side to seize his prey, we could discern his light ash-coloured skin and fins. His eyes were large and dark. His mouth disclosed several rows of serrated teeth, whilst a scar or whitish mark upon his body evidently showed that, in some combat either with man or with one of his own species, he had recently been engaged.
When the events of our life are uniform, circumstances, of comparatively little importance, make a deep impression. At dinner, and throughout the remainder of the evening, our conversation always reverted to the scenes of the forenoon, and, as during the voyage, I had paid "marked attention" to a pretty little black-eyed girl who had been in England for her education, and was now returning to her parents, I thought the moment a favourable one, when the tear was in the eye, and the heart beating more ardently than usual, to avail myself of a visit of the muse, and I accordingly penned a few stanzas on "the dying
dolphin," which, when due attention was paid to the punctuation, glided very smoothly on the tongue. But, victorious as I had been in the first ten stanzas, the principal object of which was, to compare myself to the wounded and dying dolphin, I found an insuperable barrier in the remaining verses, since I should then be obliged to compare the beautiful inspirer of my lay, to a shark! After reading my lines, under promise of secrecy, to every one of the passengers except the dear girl to whom I had intended to dedicate them, we committed them to the deep, and devoted three bottles of Madeira to their memory.
Jamaica, which after a few days we approached, looks beautifully from the sea. We saw it at a considerable distance, and the breeze favouring us, we anchored before sunset. The island abounds in romantic scenery. It is intersected by several ridges of craggy mountains, with large masses of rock, piled by the hand of nature, in striking and varied forms, whilst, although the soil be but shallow, the balmy atmosphere cherishes a thousand varieties of trees and shrubs, which strike their roots amongst the rocks and cover them with the shadows of their foliage. The fogs that frequently rest upon the mountains preserve the fragrance and beauty of the plants, whilst various cascades of purest water, sustain a perpetual and undecaying verdure. Such is the island which Europeans, and especially Scotsmen, look upon as a grave. To me it seemed a terrestrial paradise!
I delivered my letters of introduction, and this procured me a series of invitations. I found the company of that free and gentlemanly description, which a familiar and frequent intercourse with strangers generally produces. But, there was one subject, always introduced in the conversation, which, at first, I could not comprehend—even the adventures of a certain "Long Tom," who had killed a negro, two days before, and who was the terror of all the sailors and fishermen on the coast. I discovered that this was a large shark which had been hovering in the neighbourhood, that had attacked and wounded several of the bathers, and that, lately, he had killed a European, who was swimming near the shores of the estate, of which he was overseer. Town and country, at home and abroad, the feats of " Long Tom" were trumpeted, and here, as well as in a more easterly longitude, I found a story lost nothing by the narration.
It was with pleasure I, one morning, received a letter, intimating the writer's obligations for my attention to his daughter, during her passage to the Island, and requesting me to visit his estate. I easily recognised the father of my charming friend, as the person who thus invited me, and I lost not a moment in replying to a communication so agreeable. Two days afterwards, I proceeded by land, to visit him, and I found the owner of the plantation himself, anxiously awaiting my arrival. To a European, on his first view of it, a cane field is a striking object. The sugar cane is a jointed reed, measuring eight, ten, or twelve feet in height, producing large and graceful leaves, which wave in the light breeze, and present a pleasing object, on which the eye delights to repose. The joyous prospect was heightened, by the universal happiness that pervaded this delightful spot. The slaves went cheerfully to their labour, singing some wild African ditty, whilst a black overseer, only required to direct, and not to command. Their master was hailed with pleasure wherever he was seen, and he pointed out two negroes who had property enough to obtain their freedom whenever they chose, but they had always declined leaving his service. A feeling that the kindness of their master ought to be met on their part with gratitude, made the work proceed pleasantly, and gave vigour and energy to all their occupations.
Of course, I had a delightful meeting with my dear dark eyed girl—she was kindness and happiness personified. Several friends were invited to meet me at dinner, and again the feats of Long Tom were introduced. It was an overseer belonging to a neighbouring estate, who had become his victim. One evening, I visited some of the negro huts, and found their inmates amusing themselves by cutting the figures of different animals in a soft kind of wood, which is very common in the Islands. Among the various figures that were intended to be represented, was one which particularly attracted me. It was a fish eight feet long, with black eyes and an open mouth, and christened, by its fabricator, Long Tom. I immediately purchased it, as I thought it would make an excellent embellishment for my lodgings, in Kingston, whither, next afternoon, I intended to return. I passed another agreeable day on the estate, and, as I had found the land journey tedious, I determined to vary my route, by returning in a little schooner, which was to sail in the evening. The hour of departure at length arrived, and, having deposited my luggage, including my recent purchase in the schooner, I bade farewell to my charmer, as she exclaimed, "Adieu, I hope Long Tom will not catch you."
As the little vessel glided slowly along, the scene was enchanting, and the eye was regaled with the vivid and varied colours, that the crops on the different estates presented. Contrary to our hopes, the wind suddenly died away, the pilot immediately abandoned the helm to partake of some provisions, and soon afterwards, I perceived the two negro sailors asleep in the bow. The fore, main, and jib sheets of the little vessel were tightly belayed, and she slept, as it were, upon the transparent waters. The scene still continued beautiful, although the shades of evening were begining to obscure the distant hills, when, suddenly, I perceived the sea betwixt us and the land, assume a dark blue colour, and, ere a minute had elapsed, a gust of wind struck the schooner, and in a moment overturned her. I was a considerable time under water, for I found myself for some moments entangled with ropes and rigging, and when I arrived at the surface, the vessel had drifted a considerable distance, with her keel uppermost. An oar at this moment lent me its friendly aid, and, although faint and worn out, I grasped it with desperate satisfaction.
Evening drew on apace, and I began to fear its approach; for I had heard that not only did the sharks prowl near the shore when sun light was obscured, but that a deadly sleep often fell on men situated like myself, and who never again awoke but in eternity. Fatigue, however, was about to conquer my philosophy, and I was only half awake, when I dimly saw in the water, a large dark and moving mass gliding towards me. Long Tom immediately rushed upon my recollection, when I fortunately remembered a large pocket knife I carried, and, shouting with all my might, "Long Tom, Long Tom," I plunged the steel into its side. At this moment I heard the sound of oars, and of human voices, but relief was now too late, the monster continued to fix his dark eyes upon me. In vain I tried again to shout—my voice failed, I fainted.
When reason began to assume her throne, I found myself in a neat apartment, with a lovely girl, like a ministering angel, for my attendant. The schooner had been seen from the shore, the owner of the estate where I lately resided, had been informed of our misfortune, and to his house I had been carefully convey
ed. During two days of fever, I had alluded in very eloquent terms to my combat with the shark, and after my perfect recovery, I could distinctly state its length, its dreadful rows of teeth, and the mark upon its side, adding with peculiar emphasis, "my prowess shall one day be proved, for my name is upon my knife, and it will be found in the carcase of my dead opponent."
For a week nothing was heard of Long Tom. I was looked upon as a second St. George, and a gentleman from Kingston assured me, that nothing had been talked of there, but my extraordinary courage and success. I became excessively vain, and, after dinner, regularly narrated my achievement to the planter, until at length, imagination so blendid itself with truth, that I found it impossible to separate them. I now asserted that the dreadful combat lasted half an hour, that I saw the monster bleeding and wounded, and that if the boat had not arrived, I should have killed him outright.
A numerous party of gentlemen was invited to dine with my host, the day before I intended to take my leave of his dark-eyed daughter and his lovely mansion. I observed some of the company rather significant in their smiles, which I attributed to the success of my suit in a certain quarter. This induced me " to tell it o'er again," with additions and variations, concluding, as usual, "my prowess shall one day be proved," &c.
"It was thirty feet long, I think you mentioned," said one of the company—
"Thirty-five feet," I exclaimed, " for I coolly measured by comparison with the oar."
"And you saw it bleed," said another.
"Oh, a deluge," I replied.
"And you are sure you killed it," said my lady love.
"I am," was my reply.
This elicited a thunder of applause, which seemed to be the signal for two negroes to enter the dining room, bearing what? why the wooden toy I had purchased, and wouldst thou believe it? the individual knife, with my name and address in its side. I immediately ordered my horse, and never since have I visited " Plantation Pretty," nor seen the proprietor, or his agreeable daughter.
TO THE LADIES.
How easily are impressions effaced from the human heart, ere it hath known the chilling influence of disappointment, ere it hath felt the pangs of unrequited passion, or the sorrows of disappointed love. Yout can gather garlands, where manhood traces not h flowret—can dance in the sunlight of the rosy morn, which to the unfortunate only announces another day in the long record of their sorrows and sufferings. Though the theme be painful, bear with me, fair pe-,, ruser, and, oh! if my sufferings excite one pang in thy bosom; if the eye of beauty diffuse a tear of softest sympathy o'er the honoured page, prize the gem; for it speaks at least of more feeling than I have met with in my pilgrimage, and if all hearts had been as warm as thine, Maria! this tale of sorrow never would have caused it to beat as it does now, nor those cheeks to flush with indignation as thou readest how an ungrateful world misused one, whose only fault was that he loved too well, whose only failing was his unshaken confidence. I am the advertising Bachelor, compelled to a mode of solicitation as abhorrent to my inclination as it is contrary to the taste of the city, wherein for these several years I have resided. I can offer no apology for an intrusion so unwarrantable, save the melancholy fate which has hitherto attended me, and, which I would attempt to persuade myself, you, my fair peruser, will, with your usual feeling, be not unwilling to commiserate.
MY FIRST LOVE.
After having resided several years in London, where my books were my principal companions, I received a