whom we loved at home. Many a prayer was offered by hearts that never prayed before, and eyes which had never wept were now filled with tears. Each prayed for himself, but wept for others; wept, that this little band of honest-hearted men should fall like sheep before the murderous knives of their destroyers.

'I would not wish, my dear shipmates,' said Captain N., 'to go before the bar of my God, as I expect in a few minutes to do, with my hands unnecessarily stained with the blood of my fellow beings, but I hold self-preservation to be the great first law of our nature; and although to all human appearances we must die, even if we should succeed in destroying thrice our number of the enemy, yet we will endeavor to rid the world of some of these monsters.'

According to directions then given by him, four barrels were placed on the quarter deck and covered with boards, upon which temporary platform the little four-pounder was lifted by all hands, loaded to the muzzle with pieces of iron. The object of this was to raise the gun above the rail, for the pirates being astern, it could not be directed towards them through the port holes in the sides of the vessel. Captain N. aimed the gun himself, not pointing it directly at the boats, but at a spot about twenty rods distant from the ship, with the intention of discharging the piece when the boats covered that spot. The priming was poured on, and in breathless anxiety we awaited the enemy's approach.

Suddenly a gleam of hope flashed across every countenance. In the eastern board was observed a dark ripple skirting the horizon, a sure evidence that the sea breeze was setting in. If the wind reached us before the ship was boarded, we were safe. The pirates also observed the indications of the rising breeze, and therefore plied their oars with all their strength.

'Stand by with your matchrope,' said Captain N. without moving his eye from the range of the gun, 'and the very second I lift my hand do you fire.'

Almost immediately the signal was given and the gun discharged. Unerringly did those iron messengers of destruction do their work. One boat was completely shattered to pieces, and as far as we could judge at least twenty sunk into a bloody grave. Those in the other were apparently uninjured, but were obliged to stop and rescue their drowning companions. This delay saved us; for before the enemy were again prepared for the attack the sails beautifully stretched themselves to the full under the first blast of the sea breeze which had reached us, and the noble ship careening over with the pressure, as if bowing in defiance to the fiends, immediately shot away from the danger. Never did the air ring with nine more hearty cheers than then arose from the quarter deck of the Java. The change was electrical; and the revolution of feelings in every bosom was legibly written on the countenance.

Some danced, and some, among whom was our captain, even wept for joy, and many were the long yarns and jokes told on that day. Still we were not entirely free from danger; for although we might hope that the pirate thus baffled and weakened would abandon the chase, yet he might also resolve upon being revenged for our resistance and pursue us even to our destined haven.

Early in the morning we had observed a sail on the weather bow, but so far distant that her hull could not be distinguished. After the breeze had taken us we soon gained upon her, and by noon had come up abeam. She proved to be the French brig L'Amicitie from Havre bound to Vera Cruz, with two hundred passengers on board.

'Ah! Monsieur,' said her captain in broken English, 'if you be von honest man vill you please tell me vat for dat vessel fire so many guns at you?'

We replied that it was a piratical schooner.

'Mon Dieu! von pirate did you say? Ah, sacre! I esteem you von very grand man to escape so very finely. Monsieur, oh Monsieur, vat shall I do? my vessel is von slow sailer, and de d-d pirate vill catch us and kill us all. Oh Monsieur, vill you be soso-such a good man as to keep vid me a leetle while?'

To this request we knew not what to reply. The brig, as the captain said, was a dull sailer, and if we kept company we should be obliged to shorten sail and thus again be exposed to our old enemy. On the other hand we could not endure the thought of deserting so many of our fellow beings in a moment of extreme danger, and yet if we remained with them we could not defend ourselves, much less another vessel. We however took in some of our light sails and kept with the brig for nearly an hour. Finding however that the pirate gained rapidly upon us, only one alternative remained, and that was to crowd all sail and leave the brig to the protection of Providence, unless indeed we were willing to remain like men bound hand and foot to be captured. The commander of the brig therefore was advised to alter his course and steer in a northerly direction, as the pirate, being so eager to secure us as the larger vessel and to repay us for our incivility to his men, might leave the brig unmolested. The light sails being again set we parted, and parted too for ever. Sadly did we mistake as to the probable movements of the pirate, for immediately upon our separation he hauled his wind and steered for the brig.

Gladly would I here close my sketch and if possible dash the darkest oblivion across the bitter recollection of that hour. But it can never be effaced from my memory: it has haunted me by day and by night, and even now, though many years have intervened, as I recall it more vividly before my mind hot scalding tears are gathering.

The brig was soon overtaken. For a few moments there was a desperate conflict; yard-arm was locked in yard-arm, and a cloud of smoke soon enwrapped them both in one deadly embrace. The Java was hove to that we might learn the result of the battle. Soon the firing ceased and as the smoke rolled away, what a sight was presented! Not a spar of the brig was standing, while her decks were crowded with fiends dealing every where the blows of death. The victims were soon dispatched and one after another thrown into the ocean. The schooner had lost her foremast which now lay alongside, and disengaging herself from the brig she lay to at a short distance from her. The work of plunder Thrice the boats went to the brig and returned. Once more too they returned, but not now laden with gold and silver spoils. One was filled with the pirates; the other-oh God, must I write it!-with the wives and daughters of the slaughtered dead.

went on.

Four years after these events a pirate was executed in one of our large cities, who stated, before his death, that about the time to which this sketch refers he was master of a schooner which captured, among other prizes, a French brig from which several young females were taken and carried to a place of rendezvous in Cuba, and there, after having suffered for two months the most horrid degradation, were at last all destroyed by poison. Beyond all doubt these were the ill-fated ones of the L'Amicitie.

LINES WRITTEN IN A LADY'S ALBUM.

WHAT though the ties of honor bind my soul
To her, whom tenderer ties may soon control,
Shall friendship droop, and the too selfish muse,
When Harriet asks, the colder lay refuse?
As the bright god who heaven's high arch adorns,
Illumes the earth, and while he shines yet burns;
While sparkling gems, in eastern courts, unite
Transparent lustre with their milder light;
So love its burning radiance still displays,
While friendship shines with less consuming rays.
Let him, whose soul by friendship ne'er was fired,
Whose heart the love of virtue ne'er inspired,

In listless apathy neglected live,

Nor know the sweets which hallowed love can give;
But grant me, gracious Heaven, these gifts most dear,
The mutual smile, the sympathetic tear;

Let love to life afford its heavenly zest,

And "breathe its raptures through my thrilling breast."

And thou whose generous mind can condescend,
Nor wound your pride, to call your poet, friend,
Deem not the heart's spontaneous wish too free,
Which claims remembrance when removed from thee.
If when retired from these dear rural shades,
Where the proud Mohawk laves his verdant meads,
Where oft I've wandered through the silent grove,
Whose lonely shades attuned the heart to love;
This humble tribute to thy virtue due,
Recalls one welcome faded hour to you,
No more I'll ask, no greater boon regard,
But deem the dear reflection my reward.

H. R. S.

ENTHUSIASM, AS CONNECTED WITH PROFESSIONAL EMINENCE.

In its restricted and legitimate import, enthusiasm is but a step beyond the natural delineations of nature, a generous fervor in pursuit of an object somewhat in advance of the calculations of a frigid philosophy. We are aware, that it is often confounded with the wild dreams of the visionary and the blind frenzy of the fanatic; but divested of these incidental connexions, it loses its objectionable features, and exhibits itself as closely connected with the brightest displays of human excellence.

It is a principle of almost universal extent. Perhaps never did an individual rise above the ordinary level of humanity, either in speculation or in action, without experiencing the stimulus of its influence. Reason, of itself, is an imperfect motive to exalted action; and reason and passion combined are insufficient, when drawn forth by regard for utility merely. The mind, instinct with sentiments that bear the hues of an enlightened enthusiasm, exhibits an unwearied elevation, an aspiring energy, that throws into the shade the timid advances of other influences. Hence the connexion of enthusiasm with the highest attainments in professional eminence. On the principle spoken of,-original views of the mind as affecting the acquisition,-enthusiasm steps in to exert an important influence. To the exaggerated conceptions of eloquence, which perpetually revolved in the mind of Cicero, to that idea which haunted his thoughts of 'aliquid immensum infinitumque,' we are indebted for some of the most splendid displays of genius. The canvass of a Raphael hung, relatively, in all its senseless folds until his imagination, kindling with the fervor of elevated views and hopes, and concentrating upon the ' graphic art' the energies of enthusiasm, gave to it unrivalled combinations of beauty and intelligence. Patriotism and philosophy,

with all their magnificent motives, were comparatively circumcribed while under the influence of cool, feeble apprehensions of their relations. Let the standard of professional character be ever so exalted; will not the attainment evince corresponding elevation? Let the pursuit of the chosen object of life glow with an intensity of ardor, and conspire with a most flattering estimate of its pre-eminence; do not the results reflect a similar grandeur, and manifestly outweigh all incidental evil consequences? The effect of enthusiasm is obviously to elevate the intellectual standard, and thus it operates directly in inciting to higher effort and higher attainment.

The peculiar state of the professions, and the claims of society on them, in reference to this subject, evince not only the importance of this agent, but a degree of necessity for its free action. The same causes that have opened the springs of public prosperity, and broken down casual and invidious distinctions in society; the spirit of enterprise, defying all opposition; the varying and complex relations growing up in the midst of dense, enlightened communities, give an entire new character and coloring to the learned professions. They have become far more accessible to individual advancement, and the effect of the excessive competition passing into these elegant departments of labor, is to elevate their standard. More intellect is brought into action, inquiries are pushed farther, and professional advancement in every respect is far more rapid, and adorned with richer attainments. Again, the searching and diffusive spirit of the age has drawn out to public inspection, the elements and more important principles of the professions. Technicalities and pedantic subtleties have lost their magic, and much of the knowledge they once concealed is brought down to the level of vulgar comprehension.

To meet the real demand that is made on the proper resources, to act on the advantage derived from a knowledge that lies far beyond public advancement, to draw up treasures from a science involving great depth and intricacy, are imperiously the kind of claims on professional ability at the present day.

These considerations serve to show, that even respectability in professional life is of difficult attainment, and that eminence is incompatible with any thing else than the highest devotion, the most ardent enthusiasm, both with regard to the original estimate of the mind and the force of the pursuit. The aspirant after distinction must encounter obstacles of a most weighty nature; he enters the lists of competition, the arena of intellectual warfare; shall he act under the influence of narrow views, or move forward in an over-cautious, halting progress? Were the slightest degree of exaggeration carefully excluded from the conception of his chosen object of pursuit; did he look forward into its diversified relations and capacities with no kindling emotion, no ardor of