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The lessening boat unwilling rows to land—
"Adieu!" she cries, and waved her lily hand.

THE STORM.

THIS noble song is generally attributed to George Alexander Stevens, a well-known actor half a century ago. It has, however, been contended that the writer was William Falconer, the author of 'The Shipwreck.' The air was known long before the song was popular.

Cease, rude Boreas, blust'ring railer!

List, ye landsmen, all to me! Messmates, hear a brother sailor

Sing the dangers of the sea; From bounding billows, fast in motion, When the distant whirlwinds rise, To the tempest-troubled ocean,

Where the seas contend with skies!

Hark! the boatswain hoarsely bawling, By topsail-sheets and haul-yards stand! Down top-gallants quick be hauling; Down your stay-sails, hand, boys, hand! Now it freshens, set the braces,

Quick the topsail-sheets let go, Luff, boys, luff! don't make wry faces, Up your topsails nimbly clew. Now all you on down-beds sporting, Fondly lock'd in beauty's arms; Fresh enjoyments wanton courting,

Safe from all but love's alarms; Round us roars the tempest louder ; Think what fear our minds enthrals; Harder yet, it yet blows harder,

Now again the boatswain calls! The topsail-yards point to the wind, boys, See all clear to reef each course; Let the foresheet go, don't mind, boys, Though the weather should be worse. Fore and aft the spritsail-yard get,

Reef the mizen, see all clear;
Hands up, each preventive-brace set,
Man the foreyard, cheer, lads, cheer!
Now the dreadful thunder's roaring,

Peal on peal contending clash,
On our heads fierce rain falls pouring,
In our eyes blue lightnings fiash.
One wide water all around us,
All above us one black sky,

Different deaths at once surround us : Hark! what means that dreadful cry?

The foremast's gone, cries every tongue out,

O'er the lee, twelve feet 'bove deck; A leak beneath the chest-tree's sprung out,

Call all hands to clear the wreck. Quick the lanyards cut to pieces :

Come, my hearts, be stout and bold: Plumb the well-the leak increases, Four feet water in the hold!

While o'er the ship wild waves are beating
We for wives or children mourn;
Alas! from hence there's no retreating,
Alas! to them there's no return.
Still the leak is gaining on us:

Both chain-pumps are choked below— Heav'n have mercy here upon us!

For only that can save us now. O'er the lee-beam is the land, boys,

Let the guns o'er board be thrown; To the pump let every hand, boys;

See our mizen-mast is gone. The leak we've found, it cannot pour fast,

We've lighten'd her a foot or more; Up, and rig a jury-foremast,

She rights, she rights! boys-we're off shore.

Now once more on joys we're thinking,

Since kind Heav'n has saved our lives; Come, the can, boys! let's be drinking To our sweethearts and our wives. Fill it up, about ship wheel it,

Close to lips a brimmer join; Where's the tempest now-who feels it? None-the danger's drown'd in wine.

POOR JACK.

THE greatest writer of Sea-songs was CHARLES DIBDIN. He was a musician as well as a poet. It is not too much to say that his songs were worth more for national defence than a hundred "towers along the steep." His songs are now provided in abundant volumes for

every ship of our navy. We give his Poor Jack,'-the very perfection of simplicity and pathos.

Go patter to lubbers and swabs, d'ye see,
'Bout danger, and fear, and the like;

A tight water-boat and good sea-room give me,

And t'aint to a little I'll strike:

Though the tempest top-gallant masts smack smooth should smite,

And shiver each splinter of wood,

Clear the wreck, stow the yards, and bouse everything tight,

And under reef'd foresail we'll scud:

Avast! nor don't think me a milksop so soft

To be taken for trifles aback;

For they say there's a Providence sits up aloft,
To keep watch for the life of poor Jack.

Why, I heard our good chaplain palaver one day
About souls, heaven, mercy and such;
And, my timbers! what lingo he'd coil and belay,
Why 'twas just all as one as High Dutch :
For he said how a sparrow can't founder, d'ye see,
Without orders that come down below;

And many fine things that proved clearly to me
That providence takes us in tow:

For says he, do you mind me, let storms e'er so oft,'
Take the topsails of sailors aback,

There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft,
To keep watch for the life of Poor Jack.

I said to our Poll, for, d'ye see, she would cry,
When last we weigh'd anchor for sea,

What argufies sniv'ling and piping your eye,

Why, what a damn'd fool you must be !

Can't you see the world's wide, and there's room for us all,

Both for seamen and lubbers ashore,

And if to old Davy I should go, friend Poll,

Why you will ne'er hear of me more :

What then, all's a hazard, come don't be so soft,

Perhaps I may laughing come back,

For, d'ye see, there's a cherub sits smiling aloft,
To keep watch for the life of Poor Jack.

D'ye mind me, a sailor should be every inch

All as one as a piece of the ship,

And with her brave the world without offering to flinch,
From the moment the anchor's a-trip.

As for me, in all weathers, all times, sides, and ends,
Nought's a trouble from duty that springs,

For my heart is my Poll's, and my rhino's my friend's,

And as for my life, 'tis the king's:

Even when my time comes, ne'er believe me so soft

As for grief to be taken aback,

For the same little cherub that sits up aloft

Will look out a good berth for Poor Jack.

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[THE Reverend Richard Jones is Professor of Political Economy and History at the noble establishment of the East India Company at Haileybury, for the education of their civil officers. Mr. Jones was the successor of Malthus. His great talents, his extensive and varied knowledge, and the practical character of his understanding, eminently fit him for a teacher in this difficult science, His principal work is an octavo volume, published in 1831, on 'The Distribution of Wealth;' in which the subject of rent is treated, not as a metaphysical theory, but with a careful examination all the various systems prevailing in the world, by which revenue is derived from land. Our extract is taken from this work.]

Under the head of Cottier Rents, we may include all rents contracted to be paid in money, by peasant tenants, extracting their own maintenance from the soil.

They are found to some extent in various countries; but it is in Ireland alone that they exist in such a mass, as palpably to influence the general state of the country. They differ from the other classes of peasant rents in this the most materially; that it is not enough for the tenant to be prepared to give in return, for the land which enables him to maintain himself, a part of his labour, as in the case of serf rents, or a definite proportion of the produce, as in the case of metayer or ryot rents. He is bound, whatever the quantity or value of his produce may be, to pay a fixed sum of money to the proprietor.* This is a change most difficult to introduce, and very important when introduced. Money payments from the occupiers, are by no means essential, we must recollect, to the rise or progress of rents. Over by far the greater part of the globe such payments have never yet been established. Tenants yielding plentiful rents in produce may be quite unable, from the infrequency of exchanges, to pay even small sums in money, and the owners of land may, and do, form an affluent body, consuming and distributing a large proportion of the annual produce of a country, while it is extremely difficult for them to lay their hands on very insignificant sums in cash. Money rents, indeed, are so very rarely paid by peasant cultivators, that where they do exist among them, we may expect to find the power of discharging them founded on peculiar circumstances. In the case of Ireland, it is the neighbourhood of England, and the connection between the two countries, which supports the system of money rents paid by the peasantry. From all parts of Ireland, the access, direct or indirect, to the English market gives the Irish cultivators means of obtaining cash for a portion of their produce. In some districts, it even appears that the rents are paid in money earned by harvest-work in England; and it is repeatedly stated in the evidence before the Emigration Committee, that were this resource to fail, the power of paying rents would cease in these districts at once. Were Ireland placed in a remoter part of the world, surrounded by nations not more advanced than herself, and were her cultivators dependent for their means of getting cash on her own internal opportunities of exchange, it seems highly probable, that the landlords would soon be driven by necessity to adopt a system of either labour or produce rents, similar to those which prevail over the large portion of the globe cultivated by the other classes of peasant tenantry.

Once established, however, the effects of the prevalence of cottier rents among a peasant population are important; some advantageous, some prejudicial. In estimating them, we labour under the great disadvantage of having to form our general conclusions from a view of a single instance, that of Ireland. Did we know nothing of labour rents but what we collect from one country, Hungary for instance, how very deficient would have been our notions of their characteristics.

* An engagement essentially pertaining to the nature of capital, by one who is not a capitalist.-ED.

ceeding and eternal weight of glory." It is the non-improvement of an affliction that makes it a curse; whereas, if improved, it is as great a blessing as any God is pleased to scatter amongst the children of men. And therefore it is, that God most frequently entrusteth this precious talent with his own peculiar people : "You only have I known of all the families of the earth; therefore will I punish you for your iniquities." Those that God know the best, with them will he entrust the most, if not of other talents yet be sure of this, which is so useful and necessary to bring us to the knowledge of ourselves and our Creator, that without it we should be apt to forget both.

It is this that shows us the folly and pride of presumption, as well as the vanity and emptiness of all worldly enjoyments; and deters us from incensing and provoking him, from whom all our happiness as well as our afflictions flow. Let, therefore, what crosses or calamities soever befall me, I am still resolved to bear them all, not only with a patient resignation to the divine will, but even to comfort and rejoice myself in them as the greatest blessings. For instance, am I seized with pain and sickness? I shall look upon it as a message from God, sent on purpose to put me in mind of death, and to convince me of the necessity of being always prepared for it by a good life, which a state of uninterrupted health is apt to make us unmindful of. Do I sustain any losses or crosses? The true use of this is, to make me sensible of the fickleness and inconstancy of this world's blessings, which we can no sooner cast our eyes upon, but they immediately "take to themselves wings, and fly away from us." And so all other afflictions God sees fit to lay upon me may, in like manner, be some way or other improved for my happiness.

But besides the particular improvements of particular chastisements, the general improvement of all is the increasing of my love and affection for that God who brings these afflictions upon me. For how runs the mittimus, whereby he is pleased to send me to the dungeon of afflictions? "Deliver such a one to Satan to be buffeted" in the flesh: "that the spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord Jesus." By this it appears that the furnace of afflictions, which God is pleased at any time to thrown me into, is not heated at the fire of his wrath, but at the flames of his affection to me. The consideration whereof, as it should more inflame my love to him, so shall it likewise engage me to express a greater degree of gratitude towards him, when he singles me out, not only to suffer from him, but for him too. For this is an honour indeed peculiar to the saints of God, which if he should ever be pleased to prefer me to, I shall look upon it as upon other afflictions, to be improved for his glory, the good of others, and the everlasting comfort of my own soul.

Thus have I reckoned up the talents God hath or may put into my hands to be improved to his glory. May the same divine Being that entrusteth me with them, and inspired me with these good resolutions concerning them, enable me, by his grace, to make a due use of them, and carefully to put in practice what I have thus religiously resolved upon.

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[IN Milton's Prose Writings, controversial as most of them are, we find the most interesting morsels of autobiography. The following is from 'The Reason of Church Government.']

Concerning this wayward subject against prelaty, the touching whereof is so distasteful and disquietous to a number of men; as, by what hath been said, I may deserve of charitable readers to be credited, that neither envy nor gall hath entered me on this controversy; but the enforcement of conscience only, and a preventive fear, lest the omitting of this duty should be against me, when I would store up to myself the good provision of peaceful hours. So, lest it should still be imputed to me, as I have found it hath been, that some self-pleasing humour of vain-glory hath incited me to contest with men of high estimation, now, while green years are upon my head, from this needless surmisal I shall hope to dissuade the intelligent and equal auditor, if I can but say successfully that which in this exigent behoves me ; although I would be heard only, if it might be, by the elegant and learned reader, to whom principally for awhile I shall beg leave I may address myself. To him it will be no new thing, though I tell him that, if I hunted after praise, by the ostentation of wit and learning, I should not write thus out of mine own season, when I have neither yet completed to my mind the full circle of my private studies; although I complain not of any insufficiency to the matter in hand: or were I ready to my wishes, it were a folly to commit anything elaborately composed to the careless and interrupted listening of these tumultuous times. Next, if I were wise only to my own ends, I would certainly take such a subject as of itself might catch applause; whereas this hath all the disadvantages on the contrary, and such a subject as the publishing whereof might be delayed at pleasure, and time enough to pencil it over with all the curious touches of art, even to the perfection of a faultless picture; whenas in this argument, the not deferring is of great moment to the good speeding, that if solidity have leisure to do her office, art cannot have much. Lastly, I should not choose this manner of writing, wherein knowing myself inferior to myself, led by the genial power of nature to another task, I have the use, as I may account it, but of my left hand; and though I shall be foolish in saying more to this purpose, yet since it will be such a folly as wisest men go about to commit, have only confessed and so committed, I may trust with more reason, because with more folly, to have courteous pardon. For although a poet, soaring in the high region of his fancies, with his garland and singing robes about him, might, without apology, speak more of himself than I mean to do; yet for me sitting here below in the cool element of prose, a mortal thing among many readers, of no empyreal conceit, to venture and divulge unusual things of myself I shall petition to the gentler sort, it may not be envy to me. I must say, therefore, that after I had, for my first years, by the ceaseless diligence and care of my father, whom God recompense, been exercised to the tongues, and some sciences, as my age would suffer, by sundry masters and teachers, both at home and at the schools, it 3RD QUARTER.

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