of men who knew so little of Americans, so little indeed of human nature, so little of the descendants of their own people, as to suppose they would sit supine under every national as well as individual degradation; and see the produce of their industry wrested from them, without being allowed a word in its defence; see themselves stripped of social and national privileges, and reduced to the state of serfs and bondsmen, the very name of which they had been taught to hold in abhorrence. Never could such things continue, whilst bold and free hearts were to be found here ;--and here above all places in the world, such hearts ought to be found. And now is that mysterious, but all-pervading law brought into its most marvellous action. Its impulses are two-fold and in opposition, but "magna est veritas et prævalebit." Long did the considerations of father-land, of family connexions, of various domestic and social ties, of unity of language, of ancient allegiance, of the horrors of civil war, of even the hopes of reform, check the aspirations after freedom, which nevertheless were breathed from every American bosom. Petitions were presented, remonstrances were urged; but vain were all, and at length the public eye was opened to the conviction, that independence alone, which they had a right to enjoy, which they were determined to assert, and which they were able to maintain, could put an end to this wretched state of things, and restore to so large a portion of the habitable world, the blessings of peace and national tranquility. But who shall be the adventurous man, to take the first step in so bold a measure? Like the citizens of Calais, in a case of less importance, but of equal magnanimity, many a noble heart burned to shed its blood for the public good, yet the first step is awful. But, as "heaven tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," so, in every important emergency, are there spirits fitted to the occasion. Two-never to be forgotten---stepped forth, and declared the land of their birth FREE and Independent, and were quickly increased into a sacred band-the SIGNERS OF THE DECLARATION. When will the United States forget their names, and when will the glories which surround their memory be shorn of their beams.-Never, till America shall cease to be herself,--never, unless her sons should sink into the corruption of bygone republics,--forgetful of her origin,--careless of her honor. Here indeed was the triumph of the principle we have endeavored to describe; all things gave way before it. Liberty and independence were obtained by it; public tranquillity was procured by it. They have all been cemented by blood,--by the best blood of our best citizens; but the power of that cement is such as to render the edifice durable and strong-beyond the power of faction to wash away; and nothing but the canker worm working at its foundation, shall ever have the power to risk its fall. How enviable must have been the lot of those venerable men, who, after struggling through the building of so noble a structure, were permitted to survive till they had witnessed it rearing its sublime head for half a century, the admiration and wonder of a surrounding world; and then gloriously to finish their patriotic career, even on the jubilee anniversary of that ever memorable day, when liberty asserted her rights by their hands; those rights, which they had seen brought to maturity! One by one have these scions of true nobility been gathered to their fathers; they have carried with them the veneration, the gratitude, the sincere regrets of their surviving fellow-citizens. One by one the list has been diminishing of those who were left to us, and we seemed insensible that the original lamp of our independence was glimmering in the socket, till at length the solitary one of the splendid nucleus has disappeared from mortal sight, and left us but the remembrance of what they were, and how they acted. CARROLL OF CARROLLTON, the latest survivor among the Signers of Independence, full of years, full of honors,---with his latest breath uttering a prayer for his country's weal,--has summed up his mortal account, and presents it before the Faithful and Unerring Auditor, in humble hope that he has not lived in vain. There can be no adulation in offering the tribute of esteem and veneration to the memory of the illustrious DEAD. Praise of the living may be subject to misrepresentation: but the sire and sage who rests from his labors, sees not,---hears not--the expressions of admiration, which, whilst they delight the soul of the utterer, may haply be a farther incentive to the patriot of future days. Honorary titles may dazzle the weak,---affluence may prejudice the sordid in its favor,---but inward merit only will stand the test of time, and ripen, without perishing, with age. Our hearts ne'er bow but to superior worth, Nor ever fail of their allegiance there. YOUNG. Such is the power and influence of love of country over the human soul, and such are its effects upon human actions, that it may fairly be considered as the palladium of national safety, and, it would be almost superfluous to say, it is the duty of every one to cultivate it more and more. We have seen that it is a plant of kindly growth; there is no climate so bleak that it will not blossom therein,---there is no soil so barren in which it will not take root. On the contrary, we have observed that the more forbidding the circumstances, the more vigorous has been its growth. So talismanic are its operations, that it can make "the wilderness a standing water, and fruitful fields of a dry ground;" or, which is the same thing, it keeps away the unreasonable desire of them, and preserves a contented disposition. And worse than useless is it, for modern philosophers to declaim against the narrowness of feeling, which concentrates its affections in the love of one particular spot of earth. Their pompous declarations, that they are citizens of the world, and that nothing less than its wide circumference is included in their social feelings, is a high sounding fallacy. The home of our infancy, the pursuits of our youth, the scenes, the business, even the petty politics, and silly scandal of our domestic range, leave impressions upon us which years of worldliness cannot shake off; and, in very truth, it is to be suspected that these over-capacious bosoms of the universal philanthropists, who have shaken off the prejudices of humanity, are filled with nothing better than---wind. Impressed with the idea, that the All-wise Dispenser of Gifts has strongly imbued our nature with this feeling, for the purpose of establishing society on its best and most permanent footing, we are convinced, that to warp or to destroy such a feeling, is nothing less than to pervert a great moral principle, and to debase the mind of an intelligent and responsible being; and we call upon all who value social order and kind affections, to spurn from their regards the heartless, if not villanous, philosophy, that "love of country" is incompatible with universal philanthropy. J. RECOLLECTIONS OF A NAUTICAL LIFE. No. II. Ps. civ. v. 26. there is that leviathan, whom thou hast made to play therein. "BESOM BOB" as he was familiarly styled on shore, but which it would have been dangerous to utter on board the Circe, was a remarkable man. He was of the lowest origin in point of birth, his father being an itinerant dealer in brooms, in which mystery Robert himself had been initiated, and followed the business until he attained his twenty-third year. Happening to be seated one evening in a small ale-house in Whitby, where there chanced to be several seamen carousing, he listened with attention and admiration to the exploits which, over their cups, they related with all the boisterous mirth, and some of the exaggeration that deep potations are apt to engender. Gradually he became smitten with the desire to imitate their adventures, perhaps to go beyond them. He was a stout, athletic young man, and the stinging reflection all at once came across him, of the helpless, useless life he was leading, in a world, full of adventure. He determined to renounce the broom line of business, and betake himself to the deep. Accordingly he went and offered himself as a landsman to one of the masters from his native port, and was accepted. His anxiety to learn his new occupation was incessant, his exertions ardent. At all times,-under all circumstances,-Besom Bob, for thus he was named from the beginning of his career, was to be found ready to execute any commands as far as his ability would reach,—and it was not long before that ability was great. From danger he never flinched,—from labor he never skulked, he never was heard to complain,—and, accordingly, as is generally the case, he soon had not much to complain of. The young man's conduct was remarked with approbation by the commander, who determined to encourage him, and the ship having returned FULL, -a circumstance of most favorable omen among the superstitious race of sailors,--the young broom-man's destiny was thought to be mixed up in the good luck, and it was resolved to secure that and its possessor together. Besom Bob, then, was retained in the service of his first employers, by being sent on a voyage to Archangel, after his return from Greenland, and was propitiated in the next whaling expedition, by being put into the office of line-coiler-a duty of which, more hereafter. Success, the most powerful proof of merit in most opinions,--still attended his steps; he became successively, boat-steerer, harpineer, spikesneer, mate, and in the almost incredibly short space of six years, the itinerant dealer in brooms was master of one of the finest whalers from the port of Whitby. Nor did his good fortune forsake him. At the period of my entrance into his ship, he was about fifty years of age;-he had been twenty-two years in command of whaling vessels, in which time it was remarkable that he never failed of a full ship,--he had never been beset in the ice,---he had never lost a man by an accident,--had never been wrecked,-nor had the impress, that disgrace to the British service,---ever succeeded in taking from him one of his crew. Good luck, therefore, according to the popular belief, was peculiarly his, and no wonder that the very best of seamen were ready to ship themselves under his command at lower wages than they VOL. I. 20 could procure in other places. A prosperous voyage, and a safe return, are to the superstitious seaman worth securing at any rate. Thus, then, continued success provided him a superior crew on easy terms, and these in His friends said "he was born with their re-action provided him success. a silver spoon in his mouth," and his enemies said "he had sold himself to the d-l." purpose To return to our voyage. In four days we reached the Shetland Isles, and anchored in Lerwick Sound. It is customary with the British whalers, to sail with the superior part of their crew only, from the English port, and for the wages, of engage natives of these islands at a lower rate of manning the boats when the vessel is upon "fishing ground." Here we received an additional force of forty men, which added to twenty-eight, with which number we sailed, made us in powerful strength. It was not my good fortune, however, to sail longer under the command of the gallant and fortunate Capt. Scoles, though I fell in with him again; for the "Ilchester," Capt. Bunting, came into the Roads, and in a conference it appeared that he was short of boys; one of his apprentices having died just before he left Hull, and another ran away from him in Grimsby Roads. I was therefore called into the cabin, and after some little conversation, in which I was assured of the kind disposition of Capt. B., I was "lent" to him. Yes, dear H., whatever shock your delicate sensations may encounter at the use of such a word applied to a free human being, I was assuredly lent to him. That is to say, Capt. Scoles was responsible for my emoluments, on the footing of the original agreement, but Bunting was to have my services during the voyage, and to pay him for the same. I gulped this down with some difficulty; and to say truth, it was a hard task for a young lad among a number of superstitious seamen; for whilst getthe whis.. ting my "dunnage" ready, for a transfer of myself and property, per ran round that I was marked for misfortune, and hence it was that I was removed from the "jolly old Circe." They all shook hands cordially with me, wishing me well through the troubles which they knew I should encounter, and rejoicing inwardly that the "barky was clear of a Jonah." Be this as it might, there was no alternative, and I had the mortification on the following day to see the Circe weigh anchor without me, and was doomed to exercise my philosophy as well as I could. The Ilchester was soon manned for the fishery, and we in our turn set sail for the Arctic Regions. As I intend to detail the business of whaling, perhaps I cannot take a better opportunity than the present of giving you some preliminary information. As soon as we had got clear to the north of Shetland, all the boats were hoisted out, to be fitted with the necessary gear, and suspended in places most convenient for lowering into the sea, at any hasty necessity. The following was the order of their situations. There was one, outside of each gangway, two at each quarter, and one over the stern. These were all provided with rope grommets instead of row-locks for the oars, and a mat underneath each oar, upon the boat's gunwales; all was well greased in order to enable the boat's crew to row with silence. Next, the whale-lines were brought out and coiled, cable-fashion, and in smooth fakes, in the line-tub, in the after part of the boat; each boat carried from four to six lines of one hundred and twenty fathoms each, spliced together into one length. The whale-line consisted of rope extremely supple, and strong, being made from long hemp picked for that purpose. A few fathoms nearest the outer end were without tar, and were perfectly soft and pliant, but very strong; this latter was firmly attached to the harpoon, at the shank. The latter instrument consisted of an iron head doubly barbed about six inches long, and five wide, but flat, and about three quarters of an inch thick in the strongest part; the shank or socket was in one part with the barb, about two feet long, and into the socket was fixed a wooden shank about six feet long. This instrument was always kept bright and clean, it lay in the boat's bow, close to the harpineer's seat in rowing, and ready to be snatched up by him at any moment. Near the boat's stern also was a strong circular piece of wood, firmly fixed, called the bollard, round which the harpineer frequently took a turn with the whale-line, when a fish was struck, thereby compelling him to drag the boat and its contents, thus fatiguing him with the labor, whilst the pain of the instrument was assisting to bring about his death. The bollard being round and smooth, it was easy to give out portions of line at the judgment of the harpineer, and to hold on, or throw it off altogether whenever he should think fit. Besides the harpoon there are always two or three lances in each boat, for the purpose of being plunged into a vital part of the fish when he is weary, weak, and dying. The lances are commonly used by such boats as come late up to the whale, and when the fish has already been struck by three or more harpoons from different boats, and the object is to dispatch him. A staff with a small white or colored flag is in each boat, to be hoisted whenever a fish is struck, to denote that they are fast to him, and to demand assistance. A small swab, for the purpose of wetting the boat's gunwale when the line is running out with such rapidity, and thus prevent its taking fire, completes the equipment of each boat, excepting a spare oar or two, in the event of any damage to those actually in use. Every precaution is taken to procure celerity and silence, and no unnecessary words are to be uttered. The following is the order of the people composing a boat's crew in this service; first, the harpineer whose place is always in the boat's bow, in other words, he always rows the foremost oar; and he is ready to throw in his oar and catch up his harpoon when he shall see occasion to do so. Next to him in the boat is some smart dexterous fellow who can promptly obey the orders of the harpineer, and render him any assistance he may desire,— but this man is not what is called an officer. After him there are two, sometimes three Shetland-men, of whom nothing is required but that they row steadily, strongly and silently, and be prompt to back the boat off or urge it on, as the harpineer shall direct. The last of the rowers is the linecoiler, whose duty it is to be ever attentive to his lines; to see that they run out smooth and even, because as they sometimes run very rapidly, at the least irregularity a bight catching any part of the boat, might be the cause of her destruction with that of all the crew. When, therefore, the harpineer lays in his oar to seize his harpoon, the line-coiler also lays in his, to watch his lines: and if, in spite of his utmost care, the rapidity with which the fish runs should drag the whole or a part of a sheave out of his linetub, he instantly gives notice, and the harpineer with a sharp hatchet cuts the line and lets the fish go, with so much of the line and harpoon with him, as he has dragged out. The last man in the boat is the boat-steerer,—a very âmportant office he holds. I need scarcely inform you that whale-boats are |