his reckoning, and had been driven about at the mercy of the winds and waves, uncertain of his course, when morning found them on a strange coast, and the vessel struck almost before they were aware of their perilous situation.

Every attention was cheerfully afforded the unfortunate sufferers that was necessary for their comfort, and intelligence of what had occurred was immediately forwarded to the French consul at the nearest port, in order that means might be supplied to enable them to return to their native country. In the afternoon the wind abated considerably, and the tide having so far receded as to leave the vessel almost dry, although in a most shattered condition, the remainder of the crew were conveyed ashore, every one wondering at their almost miraculous preservation from the fearful and perilous situation in which they had for so many hours been placed. Indeed, if the ship had not been of the strongest material, she must have gone to pieces hours before. As it was, the hull presented a most battered appearance. She was firmly w wedged in a sort of saddle, if I may so term it, on the highest ridge of the rocks, and it was to that reason, perhaps, that her holding together so long may be attributed. The sea had struck her most furiously on the stern, which was completely beaten in, and the hold was, in consequence, filled with water; indeed I never saw a more complete wreck.

Upon the wat'ry plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,
When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,

He sinks into thy depths, with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and un-
known.'

All hands were immediately set to work to endeavour to save such part of the cargo as could be got at, but she was so full of water that almost every thing was inaccessible, except the remaining masts, anchors, and such parts of the rigging as had escaped the fury

of the storm. None of the disgraceful scenes which too frequently occur on such melancholy occasions came under my observation here; indeed, the men exerted their utmost endeavours to save whatever could be got at that would be useful to the poor shipwrecked mariners, and their conduct was most highly meritorious and praiseworthy. Nearly the whole of the bodies of those that had been drowned came on shore, including the captain, and were decently interred. On the turn of the tide, in the evening, the wind began to freshen, and the night proving exceedingly boisterous, nothing in the morning could be seen of the Commerce de Bourdeaux' but the fragments of her hull and cargo, drifting into the harbour with the morning's tide. ANSELM.

ON RECEIVING ADA'S PICTURE.

WHAT slumbering love-born passions rise to storm
My breast, while gazing on the pictured form
Of her who first my waking thoughts did turn
Into a dream, and bade my bosom burn.
Could mortal art thy living charms unroll,
Paint the bright eye, that spoke a brighter soul;
The tone into each dreaming ear that crept,
The lip where scorn in beauty might have slept,
The form of grace, the cheek, oh! passing fair,
For softly shone the heaven of beauty there.
Could mortal art but weave thy love's soft chain,
And bid thee blossom in thy pride again,

Thine eye then o'er that cheek would sparkle bright,
As on the rose e'er beamed Heaven's morning light,
Thine image, like omnipotence, would wile
Invidious hate, to wear love's sweetest smile.
Though ne'er again my lute shall win thy praise,
Far dearer than a world of happy days,

Though ne'er I watch thy smiles, or lovelier tears,
Pure as the taintless virtue of thy years;
Albeit no more, thou beauty-beaming child,
I hear thee wake, irregularly wild,

Sweet music in thine ear-enriching tone,
O'ermounting heavenly Philomela's own.
Yet to my soul thy spirit peace shall bring,
While hovering round me on its airy wing;
And in Elysium shall thine image steep
My conscious hours, and sweeten too my sleep.
Yea, since Fate's hand hath chilled thy living bloom,
And led those Phidian graces to the tomb,
Embosomed on my breast, this semblance dumb,
Shall kiss regret away, till death upon me come.
D. CORKINDALE.

SONG.

AWAY with all care, and departed be sorrow,
No more to bedizzen the prospects of youth;
O never let those take a thought for the morrow,
Who walk in the pathway of virtue and truth!
Destroy not the beauty of opening flowers,

Nor wantonly break e'en the tenderest stem,
But kindly leave each one to ope to the showers,
Which heav'n, in its goodness, has destined for them.
Though we on the ocean of life are oft tossed-

The billows dash o'er us, creating alarmThe anchor from every holding is forced,

We shall yet reach the port-we shall sail in a calm! The beams of the sun have shone forth on our roses, We've plenty of fragrance, and plenty of flowers, And now we will make us our odorous posies,

And later in life we'll recline in our bowers! Stern Winter once cast her white mantle around her; But Flora has come on the zephyrs of spring: Then away with all care, for we've joyfully found her, And Pan will arrive: so we'll merrily sing :Away with all care, and departed be sorrow,

No more to bedizzen the prospects of youth; O! never let those take a thought for the morrow, Who walk in the pathway of virtue and truth! U. C. K. L'E.

ON THE PASSIONS.

MAN-the boasted lord of the created world, possessing, if not solely, yet transcendently above all other animals, the inestimable gift of reason-is, above all others, the slave to a variety of conflicting passions, which fill his bosom with delight, lacerate it with anguish, or agitate it with remorse, unknown to all other creatures; passions, calculated to raise him to the level of superior beings, but frequently so indulged as to sink him below the brutes; passions, whose rage and violence bid defiance to control, and transport him in their fury to the condition of the raving maniac, or induce the commission of acts of imbecile folly, to be expected only from the unfortunate idiot, to whose vague mind the light of reason has never been imparted.

That all the passions, various and conflicting as they are, were intended by the great Creator for the happiness of mankind, is manifest from this-that each, under proper guidance, is adapted to promote our welfare and conduce to our felicity. They are, indeed, essentially necessary to this end, since (as they have very aptly been styled,) they are the gales which are to propel us through the ocean of life. It is these alone which can give a zest to existence; without them, life would be one continued scene of monotonous indifference. Uninfluenced by hope, unbiassed by fear, the mind would be a painful vacuum, a stagnant lake, whose muddy waters could only be acted upon by those gross and sensual appetites which we share in common with the lowest of the animal creation. Our talents would be completely dormant, for want of a sufficient stimulus to call them into action.

To the passions, then, we owe every thing which can interest the imagination, or excite the energies of man ;-those splendid exhibitions of talent, which have in all ages delighted and astonished the world; those acts of heroism, which have dignified and exalted our species. But, while they are thus necessary for the production of any thing which can show the human in

tellect in its proper light-can show, by the operations of reason, that the image of God is indeed stamped upon the mind of man; while, under due restraint, they can so largely contribute to our happiness, and to our exaltation in the scale of creation, there is not one of them whose power is so limited, that, if left to exert its influence without control, will not produce effects directly the reverse, in the misery and degradation of those who are thus submitted to its tyrannic dominion.

Accident and circumstance, undoubtedly, often occasion the predominance of a particular passion; but it is by no means to be thence concluded, that the empire of circumstance is universal or omnipotent, and that all mankind are originally the same. An attentive observance of the youthful mind will show, that the peculiar bias exists, and is perceptible, at a much earlier period than is generally imagined. In our boyish days, and among our boyish companions, the ruling passions are developed, and continue their powerful sway through the remainder of life.

That noble emulation, which has produced so many and such important benefits to mankind, which has given rise to so many heroic achievements, early exhibits itself in the desire to excel our juvenile competitors, as well in those feats which constitute the amusement of our leisure hours, as in the studies which are to fit us for the future business of the world. Virtuous emulation may be considered the main spring of honourable enterprise; but, in some minds, this laudable principle degenerates into the base passion of envy. Unequal, from their sordid nature and impoteut capacity, to the attainment of any excellence, they regard with malicious dislike the successful efforts of genius and virtue; exult with malignant satisfaction over their failure; and are ever ready to excite those suspicions, and join in that abuse, which a selfish world so lavishly bestows upon every generous deed, which its own mercenary and grovelling disposition renders it unable to comprehend.

In minds of a more enlarged and enterprising character, it expands into that inordinate ambition, whose