with mathematics and astronomy, and Mr. Fisher, a gentleman of Cambridge, of equal knowledge, were engaged to make the voyage, the former with captain Ross, the latter with captain Buchan.

We shall begin our narrative by giving an account of the operations of the vessels under the conduct of captain Buchan. In consequence of the opinion which was generally entertained, that the Polar Bason would be found to be remarkably clear from ice, the officers of these vessels indulged the most sanguine hopes that to them would belong the honour of finding a passage which had been hitherto sought in vain, and, of course, the large parliamentary reward which was held forth as the prize of such an achievement. We shall soon see how well founded were those hopes. After a good voyage, during which nothing occurred worthy of notice, the ships reached Cherry island on the twenty-seventh of May. Thence they continued their course along the western coast of Spitzbergen, "the cheerless, bleak, and sterile aspect of which," says one of voyagers, "it is impossible to describe." On the seventh of June they arrived at Hakluyt's headland, one of the most northerly points of Spitzbergen. Before they had advanced thus far, however, they had discovered, to their infinite vexation, that, instead of being disencumbered of ice, the sea in this quarter was more than commonly embarrassed by it. A succession of southerly and south western winds had accumulated it in the confined channel between Spitzbergen and Old Greenland, and the mass was still further increased and pressed together by the north easterly current which set round Hakluyt's headland. On the tenth of June, the discovery ships fell in with several Greenland whalers, from the masters of which they learned that no opening existed to the west by which they could

proceed towards the north, and that the only chance of making any progress was by keeping near the land of Spitzbegen. The pilots on board were also of the same opinion.

In pursuance of this information, the discovery ships changed their course, and, as much clear water was observed in the quarter toward which they were steering, the commanders flattered themselves that they should yet accomplish their purpose. They were, however, speedily undeceived. The ice twice closed around them, and, in one instance, it held them prisoners for three weeks. The highest northern latitude which they were able to attain, was eighty degrees. Still, having at length extricated themselves, and found that the sea was open to the east, their hopes were reviving, when their progress was suddenly cut short by one of those tremendous events to which navigators are perpetually exposed in the perilous seas of the circumpolar regions.

"On the twenty-ninth of July," says the writer of a sketch of this 66 voyage, we had a heavy swell from the southward, with large masses of stream ice in motion, which the ships with difficulty avoided, and which, in fact, struck them frequently very hard. On the following day, we stood towards the main body of the ice in the north east quarter. The weather now became squally, the atmosphere was loaded with clouds, and the barometer continued gradually to fall. Our distance from the ice was not more than five miles; and by a shift of the wind to the southward, it became unfortunately what I may call a lee shore. The wind rapidly increased to a gale, and the ships as rapidly approached the ice, which we soon perceived it was impossible to weather. Nothing was now left for us but to set all sail, and run the ships directly stem on into the body of the ice; an example

being first set by the Dorothea, and followed by the Trent: had they broken the ice with their broadsides, they must both inevitably have gone to pieces, strong as they were, in a few moments. The approach to the ice was one of the most awful moments I ever experienced. The sea was rolling mountains high, the wind blew a hurricane, and the waves broke over the mast heads, and every appearance indicated the immediate destruction of the two ships; and I believe every man on board thought there was but a few moments between him and eternity. The two ships entered the ice with a tremendous crash, and must infallibly have gone to pieces with the shock, had they not been fitted up with all the strength that wood and iron could give them. By degrees the strength of the wind acting on the sails, worked the ships into the body of the ice; and in proportion as they advanced from the outer edge, the motion became less, till at length, when they had advanced from a quarter to half a mile, they were completely set fast, and remained in tolerable tranquillity; but, by the first shock, and the working of the ice against their sides, they both sustained very serious damage, especially the Dorothea, which was not expected to reach Smeerenberg bay. The Trent's damage was principally confined to her rudder.

"On the thirty-first of July, the gale had abated; and the wind shifted to the northward, when the ice immediately opened, and both ships having got out, made the best of their way to an anchorage between Amsterdam and Dane's island, which the Dutch named Smeerenberg bay; and here we remained the whole month of August, repairing the damages we had sustained. The Trent was soon ready for any service; but the Dorothea was so bruised and shattered, that, on a minute survey, after every thing had been taken out of her, it was found necessary to keep

the Trent by her, as she was deemed unsafe to proceed to England alone. Thus you will perceive that by this untoward accident we completely lost the best month in the year for getting to the northward, and, in fact, attempted nothing further in that direction; though, on our return, we did try to make the coast of Greenland, but without success. At the time when the gale occurred, and after it had ceased, there was every appearance of open water to the eastward; and I cannot help thinking, that if a passage at any future time be effected, it must be between Spitzbergen and Nova Zemble; to try which, I have learned, since our return to England, was a part of our instructions: but, alas! the terrible gale of wind rendered us perfectly inefficient for this year."

The time which they spent in Smeerenberg bay was, however, not wholly lost, as many valuable observations were made on the pendulum, and on astronomical subjects. The voyagers found a profusion of various kinds of game, among which were great numbers of rein deer, extremely fat and savoury, though their only food appeared to be a kind of moss, which was in scanty quantity, and grew particularly between rocks and stones. In Smeerenberg bay no other ice was to be seen than an immense iceberg, which had grounded. As the purser of the Trent was one day firing at some birds near the iceberg, it gave a loud crack, and the next moment fell in pieces with a tremendous crash. So great was the swell of the water from the falling mass, that the boat was thrown out of the sea above ninety feet beyond the place where it had been left ashore. The sea, for a mile round, was also instantaneously covered with the floating fragments.

The two vessels met with no further accident, and arrived in England about the middle of October.

TO BE RESUMED.

EUCALIA.

A TALE OF ANCIENT SICILY.

Concluded from Page 70.

IT may easily be imagined that Eucalia was much affected by this new proof of love. She no longer made to the two rivals a mystery of the feelings which each of them had excited; and her heart, being thus eased for a while, allowed her to recover her health. She was, nevertheless, incessantly occupied in thinking how she might put an end to a passion which was the source of her disquiet. One day, believing that she had at length found the means of lightening her bosom, she sent to desire that Ariston and Hymetis would meet her, in the evening, in the olive grove near the sea side; where she wished to confer with them upon something of importance. They were both punctual to the appointment; and, when the sun was declining to the horizon, and the evening zephyrs began to awake, Eucalia joined them, accompanied by Theona. She made them sit down by her, on a turfy slope, and addressed them in the following words: "You both well know all the claims which you have upon my affection. I should have thought it a crime any longer to conceal from you, that I feel an equal degree of tenderness for you both; you know that you have both given me equal proofs of devoted attachment. I should be the happiest of mortals if I could make a choice between you. I have vainly tried to do so, and the gods know all the anguish which rends my breast. O Hymetis! O Ariston! hearts truly worthy of being happy! I have long endeavoured to discover whether it is possible to bring our sorrows to a close." With a sigh Ariston replied, “Which of us, Eucalia, would