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but always a profitable school. To use a western and, therefore, over the most beaten parts of the phrase, this chart proposes nothing less than to ocean, where it might be supposed there is no room blaze a way through the wind of the sea, by which for improvement. Take the Liverpool packets, the navigator may find the best path at all seasons. for instance: which of them make the shortest We find two vessels sailing about the same time passages! As a general rule, those whose masters from one of our ports, for Rio in the Brazils, making have the most experience; who have crossed the a difference of ten, twenty, thirty, or even forty greatest number of times, and, therefore, whose days, in their time of passage. . In such cases, general knowledge of winds and seasons supplies their tracks invariably show that they take different them with the best chart of sailing directions.' But his chart is made up mostly of his own observations, while the one proposed will consist of his and a thousand others. It may not be expecting too much, from such a chart, to say it would materially lessen the average of passages even over the great thoroughfare between New York and Liverpool.

routes.

Now suppose, that, for the next three years, every vessel trading between this country aud Brazil should be furnished with a blank chart, and at the end of that time should return it to the Institute, with her tracks upon it, and full remarks for each day at sea, as to the prevailing winds, the currents, calms, rains, phosphorescence of the sea, &c., who can estimate the amount and value to commerce of the information thus collected, when brought together and compared? We venture but little in the opinion, that the average length of passage, hence to Rio, would be lessoned one tenth. Besides such a practical and useful result, there would remain to us the benefits of all the collateral infor

mation.

Just after the Atlantic steamers first commenced to run between this country and England, there appeared, in the Southern Literary Messenger, a piece with a chart, showing the advantages of 66 great circle sailing" in open steam navigation-a principle, the importance of which had been generally overlooked in works of navigation, and which, before this era in practical navigation had not received that degree of attention to which it is fairly It would be exceedingly interesting to put down, entitled, because, to vessels, propelled by the winds, upon our chart of sailing directions' the limits of it was considered of but little practical importance. phosphorescence of the sea, as well as the average This great circle sailing' is nothing more than an boundaries and breadth of the fresh winds for application to traverse sailing' of the spherical every month in the year, and to have, for what it is axiom, that the shortest distance between two worth, every observation relating to the air or wa-places, different both in latitude and longitude, is ter that bears upon the safe and expeditious navi- not along the line of bearing, or the course from gation of the ocean. Multiplied observations effect much; for every new fact, however trifling it may seem, that is gathered from nature or her works, is a clue placed in our hands, which assists to guide us into her labyrinth of knowledge.

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one to the other, but along the intercepted are of that great circle which passes through them. By this chart it was shown, that the Great Western steamer, by attempting to follow the line of bearing from Bristol to New York, sailed, on her first trip, upwards of two hundred and sixty miles farther than she need to have done, and than she would have done had she laid her track, as near as practicable, to the arc of the great circle between her ports. She was furnished with a copy of this chart, and she and the other Atlantic steamers have regularly made their passages according to it ever since. The packets, too, have adopted it, as far as the winds would allow, and, in some iastances, they have actually made passages to compete with the steamers in time.

A few generations past, several months was the average passage from Lima to Valparaiso. Later, the commander of a vessel performed it in a month, and for it, he was tried as a wizard before the Spanish Inquisition. I have performed it in fourteen days, which, up to that time, was the shortest passage on record. The average passage then was twenty-three or twenty-four days; but since the Vincennes led the way, it has been frequently performed in less time than she made it. I have known her to go in with a fast-sailing Englishman, just arrived on the coast, and which sailed from Since then, a work on navigation has been pubCallao ten days before she did. I could but attri-lished in England; and one of its chief recombute this difference of passage, not to luck, but to mendations is its chapter on 'great circle sailing." a better knowledge of the winds, which she had gained from experience and which her chart, on which her track was daily projected, would impart to any navigator at a glance.

Its author has been rewarded with a prize from the Royal Geographical Society, and the work itself extensively patronised by the Board of Admiralty, a copy of which they have ordered to be supplied to each of her Majesty's ships in commission.

But fully to impress the learned members of this Society, with just ideas of the great room there A number of the Messenger containing this is for improvement in navigation in this respect, I chart is on the table before you. By referring to have but to refer them to a few facts in the history it, it will be perceived that, sailing as nearly on the of navigation between this country and Europe, arc of a great circle as the land will admit, Havre

is not one hundred and fifty miles, or one day's dies, rather than any book, would be consulted as sail, farther than Liverpool from New York, and to the best route. that the great circle rout to each, as far as Cape It is a source of great satisfaction to the naviClear, is precisely the same. The average packet gator, particularly on his first voyage to any part passage from Liverpool to New York is thirty-of the world, to find that the track engraved on his five days, and, from Havre, one hundred and forty-chart was made at the season of the year in which five miles further, forty-four days. What should he happens to make his voyage. Whether it indicause this difference of nine days? I have never cates the shortest route, is another question; the been able to account for it in any other way than probabilities are that it does not, for it is for the by supposing-and which I believe is the case-most part the track of some early navigator, and that the Havre packets, because it is out of their his only voyage over the regions crossed, and, course, think it is out of their way, to make Cape therefore, made very much at random; nevertheClear on their return voyage, and that, by attempt- less, in the absence of others, it is highly useful. ing the direct course, they consequently increase But if the tracks of Cook, Carteret, and Bostheir distance, and meet with less favorable winds cawen, made on their random cruisages from sea on this, the southern route. to sea, during the last century, are valuable to the

"A blank chart, kept on board each of the Euro-navigator of the present day, because they afford pean packets and there is one arriving at, or departing from New York on an average of every thirty hours and returned to the Institute after a few voyages, could not fail to throw valuable light on this subject.

him not only the best, but often the only information as to the navigation of the latitudes in which he may be sailing, in what estimation would he not hold a chart that contained nothing but the tracks of vessels passing over it at all seasons and in all directions, each one giving a full and faithful account of winds, currents, &c., encountered

The cases cited and offering such an inviting field for labor, are drawn from the most frequented parts of the ocean. Not to detain the Society by him? longer, by dwelling on other advantages, not less obvious, it may be asked, if such be the room for improvements in the directory of the most frequented parts of the ocean, what may not be expected from those parts that are less travelled, and, therefore, less known?

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But, to confine the advantages of charts of sailing directions' to one single point: If, by a systematic record, of a few every-day remarks upon the winds and currents of the ocean, the Institute should be enabled to point out to the Havre packets a route, by which the remarkable difference of passage between them and the Liverpool line should be removed, it would be doing nothing less than lifting up a great kingdom of people, and placing them, with their arts and sciences, their wants and supplies, a week nearer in communication with us ;-nothing less than drawing around two Christian nations, with all the force that commerce and its multiplied interests can give, closer ties of friendship and stronger bonds of peace.

Such is the rude state of this branch of navigation, or, more technically, in the sailing directions for the OCEAN, that if a vessel, which had never been there before, were now to leave this place for the West Indies, or other parts equally as much frequented, the chances are that she would no where find among the nautical works of the day any directions as to her best route. If she found any thing said of it at all, it would be merely a casual remark incidental to some other subject. She might, indeed, find on the chart the track of some vessel, that made the voyage fifty or more years ago, but quite at another season of the year, and, therefore, more calculated to mislead than to Every sailor carries with him to sea, for cerguide. Captain Cook's track is still retained on tain purposes of his own, a carte blanche, and, the charts of those parts of the ocean over which therefore, there is nothing new to him, at least, in he sailed, and is often the only track published. I the idea of a blank chart; neither do I pretend to have just received a set of the latest publication of any thing like novelty in the matter. Although English admiralty charts. Captain Carteret's track blank charts have been partially and frequently in 1787, and Admiral Boscawen's, are the only ones laid down around the Cape of Good Hope. In the case of the vessel, supposed to sail to the West Indies, she may have a passage of ten, twenty, or thirty days, according to the route she takes, and, as before intimated, the "sailing directions" as to her best route is rather a matter of tradition among seamen, than a written branch of navigation; and some old cruiser to the West In

Such, at least, in kind, if not in degree, are some of the most palpable advantages to be derived from the plan, now proposed for the consideration of the Institute.

used on board ships at sea, I know of no systematic attempt that has been made, at least in this country, to collect the information suggested, either upon the plan proposed, or in any other regularly organized and extensive system, reaching to all classes of vessels. Should the Institute deem the subject worthy of its attention, it is hoped it will act, irrespective of any opinion here expressed, by the means and mode, which to it may appear the most suitable.

THE AVENGING CONSCIENCE.

BY MRS. JANE L. SWIFT.

Why come ye, spectres of the past, to haunt me?
As if I loved to see your features grim;
Will memory, in mercy, never grant me

A veil opaque to hide your shadows dim?
Fearful! in dreamy bands around me closing,
Ye wear terrific panoply of gloom;
Shrouding in black the pillow, where, reposing,
In vain I seek a respite from my doom.

The knell of blighted youth! I hear it ringing-
Say, what can stop its melancholy chime?
Remorse-despair-to my lost spirit bringing
The maddening record of a life of crime.
Sce! see! each foul, and blotted page I'm turning,
But makes that knell boom louder on my ear;
Already is my soul with torments burning--

Can hell give more than what I suffer here?
Where art thou, purest vision, once so smiling,
That hovered round my couch in angel hue?
To watch and bless the infant, who, beguiling,
Lent to thy cares a solace, as it grew.
Could'st thou have known, that he, thy poor heart breaking,
The brand of guilt should bear upon his brow;
Mother! thy soul, its tenement forsaking,

Would have escaped the blow that stuns thee now.

Where art thou, friend revered, to whom appealing,
My unformed mind its earliest lessons drew?
Alas! too soon thy sterner bosom steeling

Against thy child, as youthful follies grew,
But turned to gall the milk of human kindness,
That flowed within the bosom of thy son—
Father! too late thou dost deplore the blindness,
[won.
That made thee curse-when, kind, thou might'st have
Again-that fearful knell! how loud it soundeth!
It tolls the funeral of my sinful years;
Come, see the heart entombed while still it boundeth,
Come to the living grave-but not with tears.
Tears, did I say? from man no mercy finding,
I can but weep my dreary fate alone;
Flow on! ye scalding drops, my eye-sight blinding,
Ye soothe and melt the culprit's heart of stone.
The deed that crowned my course of reckless danger,
Was not the plotted hell-thought of an hour;
But maddening wrath to which, I'd been a stranger,
Lent to this strong right arm a demon's pow'r.
Yet this, my tale of truth, was unavailing--
Men judged-may God to them more lenient be-
In every effort to convince them, failing,

They clasped the murderer's fetters upon me. Forever-aye, forever, close upon me

The rosy precincts of the blooming world;
Alive- yet dead to every joy that won me---

Crime into this deep abyss my soul has hurled.
Cease-ce se-the blood is to my temples rushing,
My buried heart is bursting with its flow;
Love-hate-despair-in wildest torrent gushing-
But sear my spirit with their lava-glow.
No loving arm, in sleep around me stealing,

Shall e'er recall me from the land of dreams;
No look of love, a wife's fond care revealing,
Shall ever wake the heart's deep-welling streams.
No child-ah! whither is my fancy straying?
Back! back! to cower in my dreary cell;
Within me, hope's last embers are decaying-
List to the boomings of that fearful knell.

Toll with vibrations never, never ending,
The mournful cadence of the murderer's dirge;
Toll! for the fancies of his brain are blending

With shapes, that madness brings upon its rage.
Ye come-ye come-black spectres flit around me--
Ha ha! ye shall not crush your victim now;
Breaking like wisps, the chains with which they've bound me,
Come on! this arm has learned to deal its blow.

Its blow! oh, God! that gurgling sound remaineth
To freeze my soul, as when it met my ear;
See, on my hands, how deep the heart's blood staineth;
Long months have passed-its red, red glow is here.
Behold! within my clutch, a sharp steel gleaming-
Oh! that its edges might my bosom plough;
No! no! the frantic prisoner was dreaming-
God of the frail! have mercy on me now.

A SUMMER EVENING RAMBLE.

How pleasant it is to "steal awhile away" from the great Babel of the world, to withdraw from the busy bustling crowd of the city, to leave behind us the red-brick walls and slated roofs, glowing and glistening under the fervid heat of a summersun-to exchange them all for the fresh and fra grant air of the country--for a ramble among the green fields and shady groves, that environ our be loved and beautiful Richmond!

Will you, dear reader, in imagination, take a walk with us this July evening? The sun arose this morning in a gloomy and sullen sky; and, often daring the day, a "war of elements" seemed inevi table; but the clouds are now partially broken up and dispersed; the evening promises to be very beautiful; and there will, doubtless, be a glorious sunset.

Will you then accompany us? We will pass through the upper part of the city, in the direction of the river. You see that large and som- 1 bre looking building, on the left, the penitentiary' Often as we have looked out from our window, upon the broad and beautiful panorama, spread out before us, limned by nature's own hand, we have almost involuntarily exclaimed “what a beautiful world" then, as we have turned in another direction, that building has met our gaze, a black blot upon otherwise faultless picture; a blot placed there by the hand and crime of man.

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But let us pursue our way. Listen to the merry whistle of that boy, as he rattles by us in his woodHe has sold his load, and, with the proceeds in his pocket, light-hearted and cheerful, is return, ing to his home in the country. Contented with his humble lot, wealth could not bring him asy increase of pleasure. He is far happier than the languid and care-worn occupant of the splendid vehicle, that has just whirled by him. Yonder comes a band of reapers. Their day's work is over; their toils are ended; and now, with gaiety and gladness, they are directing their steps homeward. A plain and frugal meal awaits them, but

they will enjoy it with a far keener relish than he,| days of other years." Silent and unmoved, they who, with an appetite cloyed by long indulgence, have looked on, whilst the most wonderful changes sits down to partake of the rarest and costliest vi- were taking place; while nations were fast dwinands. And then, whilst he perchance is restlessly dling away from around them, and others rising up tossing upon his downy couch, they will be enjoy-in their stead. At one time, the only sounds, that ing the "sweet sleep of the laboring man."

We will continue our walk, through this field of fresh-mown and fragrant hay, and rest for a while in the cool shade of the magnificent grove on that piece of swelling land. What noble trees! Who can look upon their venerable forms so,

"Stately and tall, and shadowing far and wide,"

66

without feelings of reverence and respect-without
a fervent wish, that they may long continue to
flourish in a
green old age." Their towering
loftiness and wide-spreading branches so richly clad
in leafy robes, their wild and "verdant grandeur,"
their solemn and gloomy magnificence remind us
of the "Cedars of Lebanon," so often celebrated
by the pen of inspiration.

disturbed their solitude, were the yell of the savage and the howl of the wild beast; since then, they have listened to "the noise of the waves" of civilization, as they rolled steadily onward; and heard the death-cry of their brethren, as, groaning and crashing, they fell beneath the merciless axe. When we remember, too, that many, who, not a great while ago, looked up to them with a love and admiration not less than ours, have now gone to their last, long homes, the conviction forces itself abiding-place" here upon us, that we have no

below.

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Let those who choose sneer and talk of "an affectation of sentiment," but it seems to us like casting a reflection upon the wisdom of God, to suppose that he would fill this world with so much that is grand and beautiful, without intending that we should admire the work of his hands, and Look through nature, up to nature's God."

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We would address, to all such persons, the beau

"Thanks be to God for mountains," was the fervent exclamation of William Howitt, when contemplating them as having often been the asylums of the oppressed and persecuted. Shall we not, too, for a somewhat similar reason, thank Him for trees? We all know, that, during our Revolutionary strug-tiful words of the poet: gle, Marion, Sumter, and their gallant compatriots, when threatened to be crushed by the overwhelming numbers of their foes, often found refuge in the inaccessible recess of our Southern forests, and were thus enabled, for so long a time, to harass their enemies, and continue that series of patriotic and daring deeds, which has embalmed their names in the hearts of their countrymen. For this then, if for no other reason, we ought to thank God for trees. And yet, they are but one of the many blessings, which, Nature, the almoness of His bounty, has bestowed upon this "highly favored land;"

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With hill, and lawn, and winding vale; "Woodland, and stream, and lake, and rolling seas; "Green mead, and fruitful tree, and fertile grain, "And herb, and flower, so lovely so adorned, "With numerous beasts of every kind, with fowl "Of every wing and every tuneful note; "And all fish, that in the multitude "Of waters swim: so lovely, so adorned, "So fit a dwelling-place for man."

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"O how can'st thou renounce the boundless store
Of charms, which Nature to her votary yields!
The warbling woodland, the resounding shore,
The pomp of groves and garniture of fields,
All that the genial ray of morning gilds,
And all that echoes to the song of even,
All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields,
And all the dread magnificence of heaven;

O, how can'st thou renounce and hope to be forgiven?"
Is not that Indian corn imposingly beautiful?
Surely, not Erin's far famed fields of emerald hue,
nor the golden harvests of which poets love to
speak, can vie in beauty of appearance with our
own corn-fields. Those stately stalks-their regu-
lar
array in long, straight files, their many green
arms interlocked with each other, or branching up-
ward, glittering in the sun, and their yellow tassels
bending before the breeze, remind us of some ser-
ried phalanx of warriors, with their bristling spears
and nodding plumes? They are warriors in the
army of plenty.

How serene and silent is every thing around us! Silent? We recall the word; for the many meloFor all these trees around us, we have a pecu- dies of evening are breathing into our ears. At lar affection. We love them for the associations our feet, is a laughing, leaping stream, to whose connected with them, and because in them we merry, yet gentle, voice we love to listen. Not far recognize old and familiar friends. Many pleasant off is heard the hoarse roar of the river-Zephyr hours have they afforded us. Often have they breezes are rustling in the leafy canopy above our thrown around us their shadowy shields protecting heads-the lowing of cattle, and the tinkling of cowas from the rays of a scorching sun. But we love bells, they too are pleasant sounds, far more pleasant to gaze upon their guarded old trunks, not for this than the turmoil and tumult of the city. And then, alone: they have power to teach us many an in- from every tree, from every shrub, each member of tractive lesson. They are the living witnesses the feathered choir is carrolling forth sweet songs of the past. Could they but speak, they would tell and hyms of praise; while from the vast laboratories "a tale of the times of old"-of "the deeds of of nature the most fragrant perfumes are exhaled.

How fine, too, is the view from this spot! Yon- | we remain ignorant of the being of a God, who has der, to the right, is Manchester, with its houses written His name throughout the universe, in suns, prettily embosomed in trees, its tall straight pop- and moons, and stars, whom we can all "see in lars, its fertile fields, and broad green plains. Not clouds, and hear in the wind," whose existence is far from us, flows "the noble James," glittering proclaimed in the murmur of every rill, in the roar like molten gold in the rays of the sinking sun. of every torrent, in the thunder of every cataract. Now it comes roaring and rushing along, widely It is manifested alike, by the lofty mountain, whose scattering the foam and spray, as it dashes against hoary head is turbaned with clouds, and the green the fixed and frowning rocks, that have for ages grassy hillock; by the slender sapling and the withstood its vain assaults. Anon, it silently and towering and gigantic oak; and by every flower of gently glides around some green and grassy island; the field, from "the lily of the valley," to the goragain, it is united, and in a broad, deep current, geous and luxuriant plant of the tropics. With rolls majestically to the ocean. Since it left its mementos of his mercy and monuments of his mountain home, it has passed by many flourishing greatness, all nature teems. Then-to adopt the towns and beautiful villages, many handsome dwell-words of the "Prince of Poets"—

ings and lowly huts. Averting from it our admiring gaze, in every direction we see waving fields and beautiful gardens, studded with flowers, "the stars in the green firmament of earth," as another has beautifully called them. Afar off in the back-ground, crowned with pretty little villages, "Church-Hill" and "Union-Hill" rear their grassy fronts, forming a part of the landscape on which the eye loves to dwell, after wandering over the wilderness of houses that intervenes. Then just before us lies the city, with it noble looking capitol, so proudly conspicuous, its tall and graceful spires, and its many handsome buildings, public and pri

vate.

RICHMOND! "Thou art my own, my native" place: Prosperity attend thee! May the rich blessings of a kind and bountiful Providence be showered down upon thee. May the time never come, when the owl and the bat shall take up their abode among thy deserted and crumbling ruins. May the grass never grow in thy streets; and the hum of business, "the noise of the hammer, the sound of the saw and the plane-the roar and clangor of machinery" never cease to be heard in them. May'st thou long continue the favorite daughter of the "Old Dominion;" live to attain a proud preeminence among thy sisters of other states; and may the time be, when "nations shall rise up and call the blessed."

But we must retrace our steps, and wend our way homeward. How surpassingly splendid is that sunset! The lowering clouds, that overcast the sky all the forepart of the day, are now separated into huge fragments and piled up, in the sublimest confusion, presenting all the appearances of rugged mountains, with their crags and cliffs. Over their summits and down their sides, the sun, as it sets, pours, as it were, streams of glowing and golden lava; and then, in what magnificent contrast-how gloomily grand-is that cloudy canopy of "the blackness of darkness," which has been so suddenly hung out, over all the Eastern part of the horizon! Who can look on such scenes, and not feel that THERE IS A GOD! Even were we not blessed with the light of Revelation, with the vast volume of nature spread out before us, how could'

"His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow,
Breathe soft, or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines,
With every plant, in sign of worship wave.
Fountains and ye, that warble, as ye flow,
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise.
Join voices, all ye living souls; ye birds,
That singing up to heaven's gate ascend,
Bear, on your wings and in your notes, His praise."
Richmond, July 7th, 1843.
A. M.

SPANISH NATIONAL SONG.
How mournful to live,

When in bondage we sigh;
While to die for our country,
How God-like to die!

Then baste to the conflict;

Tis glory that calls:
The death-shriek of freedom,

Has swept through our halls.
The voice of our country

Is loud in despair;
She calls to her children,

She summons to war.
Then sound the loud trumpets;
The standards advance:
Down, down with the Tyrants;
Destruction to France.

Our patriots are arming;

"Spain, Spain!" is the cry; Their bright swords are gleaming; We conquer or die!

The banners are waving;

The work is begun :
The death-fires are blazing

In victory's sun.

O'er hill, and o'er valley,

The tempest shall blow;
And bear like a whirlwind,
Our rage on the foe.

Then sound the loud trumpets;

The standards advance:
Down, down with the tyrants;

And vengeance on France.
"To arms!" be the war cry;

From mountain to main:
And our death-shout in battle,

"For Freedom and Spain!"

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