there appeared to him no palliation of his offence; but he rather deemed the yielding to female influence an aggravation. Consequently the letters, though intended to be forwarded to the Admiralty, went no further than himself; and Montagu, decorated with orders presented by a generous enemy, returned to his ship in Wingoe Sound, to be placed under arrest by his countrymen and friends.

"ould Jack Tiller is not to be told that the articles of war must be obeyed, and death is denounced against them as breaks 'em: but I pities they as wants pity; and though duty to our king and country must be done, yet there's a neglect of duty to the great commander-in-chief, whose voice we have so often heard upon the waters; that will bring us to a more terrible court-martial than this here, where The winter was at hand, and the large ships re- your honors know that if being merciful is a crime, turned to England. The flag for a court-martial every one on you is as guilty as my brave officer was hoisted on board the Raisonnable in Sheerness there. And oh! if you had but seen her when she harbor; and the gallant Lieutenant Rivers, who grappled the lieutenant-her beautiful eyes swimlost his leg on board Nelson's own ship in the bat-ming in tears, as if the spring-tide of sorrow was tle of Trafalgar, was active in his exertions for the almost desponding prisoner.

I was then but a boy, but I well remember the circumstances. The noble minded Captain Clay sat as president at the head of the table, and the other officers were ranged on each side, with the judgeadvocate at the bottom. On the left of this latter personage stood Montagu, in full uniform, but without the emblems of distinction, which he had received from the regent of Denmark. He still carried his left arm in a sling, and his forehead displayed a ruddy scar from a wound yet scarcely healed; his face was pale, from his long sickness and agitation, which Captain Clay no sooner observed, than he directed that the prisoner should be accommodated with a chair, behind which stood the provost-marshal, with his naked sword.

The court was opened, and the great cabin was immediately crowded in every part, whilst many a brilliant tear from the heart of sympathy hung on the eye-lids of the daring and intrepid tars, who loved a generous deed, and mourned its sad requital.

The charges were read and the witnesses called. The first was the officer to whom Montagu had given the command of the prizes; and his evidence was heard with pain by every member of the court, particularly as its main points were corroborated by those who were subsequently examined. The barge's crew confirmed that part of the testimony relative to their proceeding to Corsoer; but neither the respect due to the court, nor the fear of consequences could deter the sturdy but honest coxswain from giving free utterance to the fullness of his heart. He was a remarkably fine looking man; and, as he stood on the right of the judge-advocate, with his black handkerchief carelessly knotted round the collar of his white shirt, and his flaxen hair curling wildly over his face, he presented an admirable specimen of Britain's pride. Occasionally a glance of deep meaning was thrown towards the prisoner, who had long valued and esteemed this humble friend.

rushing from her heart."

"Witness," exclaimed the president, interrupting him—“ you must confine yourself to answer questions, without going into particulars.

"I wull, your honors! indeed I wull!" replied the coxswain; "but if you had only heard that sweet girl plead for a father's life-remember your honors, it was her father-and some of your honors, I dare say, has got lovely children—though God forbid that any on 'em should ever have to work such a traverse as she had-yes, your honors, it was her father-and, poor thing, she had no mother,"-and here the brave fellow's voice, which had become tremulous, wholly ceased, whilst a strong feeling of sympathy pervaded every soul present.

Witness, have you any thing more to say?" inquired the president.

"God bless your honor again and again for that kindness!" answered the coxswain. "Iknew you would never throw a poor tar slap aback for speak ing a bit of his mind. I've sarved my king, God bless him! many years, and some of your honors knows that Jack Tiller never wanted a tow-line when boarding an enemy! Captain England there will be a voucher for my experience in them 'ere matters, and so I think I can tell when a brave man does his duty; and as to Mr. Montagu, may I be-I beg pardon, your honors, but I was going to say if ever a seamen fought as a seamen should fight, it was Mr. Montagu! But, what's the worth of a heart that has no compassion for a signal of distress, and would leave a fellow creature to be wrecked, when a spare anchor would save 'em?"

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Attend, coxswain," said the president; “do you think the prisoner had any other motive in going over to Corsoer than that which you have mentioned?"

"Prisoner, your honors?" replied the coxswain doubtingly, and then, as if suddenly recollecting, he went on, "Oh aye, I understand now-you mean Mr. Montagu! As for his motives I can't speak, but I know he had his side-arms and pistols."

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Do you think that the cause of his quitting the prizes was pure generosity?" asked the president.

To expect or even command the coxswain merely to answer the interrogatories that were put to to him was out of the question; he reasoned in his own way upon the evidence he gave, and drew such a picture of the distress of the duteous daugh- "If it warn't, may I be-I beg pardon again, And who can ter, that there was scarcely a dry eye in the court. your honors," said the coxswain. It was the language of nature, in its most simple, tell when they see the big round tears following in but at the same time its most eloquent form-it was each other's wake down the cheeks of beauty; who a seaman appealing to the hearts of seamen in their can tell what tack they may stand on, or to what own peculiar way. point of the compass they may head?-a brave mar "God bless your honors!" said he, throwing out turns 'em into a sort of a language as quick as a his right arm, and advancing close to the table-marine turns into his hammock-there's no twist

ing 'em end for end, or convarting 'em deliberately into twice-laid."

"The lady must have been very beautiful to have produced so great a fascination," said a young member of the court.

But the spirit of the beauteous Emily was stirred up, her mind was strengthened, her frame was nerved with energetic resolve; and, without seeing the condemned officer, she returned to the metropolis, and sought by every means within her power "Produced what, your honor ?" asked the cox- to influence the mercy of the crown in favor of swain, who immediately thought of the purse. Montagu. The letters from Denmark were but "Why, aye, she did press it on me to be sure, but little noticed by the regent, and the loss of lives I wouldn't touch a stiver; and as for her beauty, caused by the defalcation of the doomed one, was why your honor can judge for yourself." The cox-aggravated by the admiral; so that the only boon swain turned round to somebody who stood at a the supplicant could obtain was, that the life of the short distance behind him, enveloped in a boat- lieutenant should be spared. This, however, was cloak, and whom he now handed forward, to the renewed existence to herself, for whilst he lived great surprise of the court. Having done this, he she was prepared to share his lot whatever it might took his station respectfully by the side of the per- be; and the heavy weight which threatened to son he had introduced, and in a business like way crush the young bud of her future hopes, was reremoved the cloak, when Emily Zeyfferlein, in all moved from her heart. Yet the blow had been too her loveliness, stood revealed to their eager gaze. severe for the parent of the prisoner; his situation Expressions of admiration issued from every part had been incautiously disclosed to the fond mother, of the crowded cabin, but they were uttered only the tender fibres which bound her to the world were in an audible whisper. The president looked round severed; and she sank to the grave, with no child him in a state of perplexed embarrassment; the to close her eyes in death, and to see her laid in the members of the court rose from their seats with receptacle for perishing mortality. marked respect; and the junior captain, who was the nearest to her, immediately offered her his chair. Captain Wilkinson came round to her side, and offered kind encouragement, whilst ill repressed bursts of honest approval for several minutes issued from the bold tars without the cabin.

But who could paint the feelings or the look of Montagu at the wholly unexpected appearance of one who at that very moment occupied every thought of his heart!-it would be impossible. She looked imploringly towards the president; she tried to speak, but her voice faltered; yet her presence carried more energy and force with it, than all the powers of language. She had braved the elemental strife of winds and waves, and there, a devotee to gratitude and love, she stood ready to plead for her benefactor,

But this state of things could not be suffered to continue long. The president adjourned the court for a day; the prisoner was removed to his private cabin; and Emily was conducted by the worthy Captain Clay to his wife and family, till the sensation which had been created had somewhat subsided.

I must pass over the interview between the distressed Montagu and the fondly attached Emilyit was a mingling of delight with agony, a blending of smiles with tears. She had come to England, accompanied by her father, in a neutral vessel, and furnished with letters from the regent of Denmark to the ruler on the British throne. They had gained information at the Admiralty of the intended court-martial, and not a moment was lost in hastening to Sheerness,

On the following day, the sitting of the court was resumed. The trial proceeded. A verdict of Guilty was returned, and sentence of death passed upon the prisoner. Montagu heard it with every outward semblance of firmness-but oh! the agony of his heart! He had borne an irreproachable character-he had bravely fought for his countryhe had an aged mother, who prized him as her dearest and most cherished treasure-he loved and was beloved-and to die by an ignominious execution, with thousands of eyes to witness his degradation!! oh! the rush of thought was dreadful.

Montagu was dismissed from service. Every tie that had bound him to his country was broken. He returned with the devoted Emily to Copenhagen, changed his naine, married the lovely girl, and is at this moment a Danish admiral, high in the confidence of the monarch.

Our College Days.
Written in the Album of a College friend.

OUR college days! our college days!
A gladsome joyous dream!
Across the troubled stream of life,
A bright but transient beam,

Then throbbing youth with ardor glows,
And presses boldly on,

Resolved-though worlds his course oppose
To win the laurel crown.

How many a heart that gaily burns
With bright and joyous hope,
Will cease to love, to beat, to feel,
Beneath misfortunes stroke.

While on his brow, which lately bore
The impress of its God,

Will rest the chilling seal of death,
That dooms him to the sod.

Our college days! our college days!
How swiftly on they wear,
Like sparkling waves on ocean's bed
That gleam and disappear.

And oh! if e'er misfortunes chill,
Or anguish rends the heart,
If kindred souls are forced away,
And friends are doomed to part,
If grief o'erwhelm, or dangers press
And thicken round our ways,
Thy memory still we'll deeply bless,
Thrice happy college days!

Still will we think on those true hearts,
Knit by the cords of love,

And bound in one deep fellowship,
An union from above;

And pray that the blest boon be given

To share with them the joys of heaven. J. w.

A Sketch.

proud and haughty being, arrayed in all the gaudy finery of a princess, was the once innocent and lovely Eliza?

"I did not think of seeing you so soon," said she, with a coldness that chilled the heart of Edward.

WHEN Our affections are once fixed on an object, it is vain to attempt to banish it from our memory. We may flee from the scenes of our blighted hopes and unreciprocated affections, in the hope that time and absence will obliterate from our minds the image of our loved one-but in moments of "Nor would you have seen me," replied Edward, reflection, when the thought of home and the dear" had I heard from you since your departure. Why, ones we left behind, crosses our bewildered ima- Eliza, have you not written to me?" gination, we think of her we once loved, and weep at our own desolation. The profligate libertine and the cold hearted philosopher, may smile at the idea of love. I envy not their principles-I care not for their sneers. This is the magic influence in lovely women, that twines itself around our hearts and enchants our senses; let the spell be broken-our fondly cherished prospects blighted, and our hearts become seared and cold as the iceclad mountain.

was

Edward Delancy was a noble youth, and ill-deserved the fate that befel him. He possessed a mind richly cultivated, and an education far superior to his years. He was about seventeen years of age, when he became acquainted with Eliza Delmont. She was a young lady of rare accomplishments, and extremely beautiful. She idolized by Edward, and his feelings appeared to be reciprocated by her, she was young, had seen little of the world, and consequently her mind was not sufficiently matured to realize the solemnity of her engagement. She thought she loved Edward, nor did she believe there was the being on earth that could supplant his image in her heart. Had she never left the bowers of peace under her own paternal roof, her affections would have remained firm, and Edward would have continued happy.

She had often been solicited by her aunt, who resided in New-York, to spend the Summer with her, and, at length was prevailed upon to comply. It was indeed hard, very hard for the young lovers to separate-it was like tearing the only living tendril from their hearts-yet they would soon meet again—and then, they could write often and thus hear from each other. After renewing vows of eternal love and constancy, they parted.

Edward felt desolate indeed-the only amusement that occupied his attention was in writing to the fond object of his heart. Eliza had now been absent nearly a month, and Edward had received no letter. He became impatient-what could it mean?-She was in health, for her parents had received several communications from her, in which she expressed her delight in her new situation-but she never mentioned even the name of Edward. Had she forgotten him in the society of the foppish coxcombs of the city? Impossible, he thought. But to remain in this horrid suspense was worse to be endured, than a knowledge of the truth, though it came in its most hideous shape-he therefore determined to visit her and know his fate. Accordingly, in less than two months from the time of Eliza's departure, Edward was on his way to New York. On ringing the bell, a servant came to the door, of whom he inquired if Miss Delmont was within. He was answered in the affirmative, and ushered into the parlor, which was fitted up in the most splendid style. In a few moments Eliza entered-but how altered-was it possible that this!

Why, indeed, I have been so much engaged since I have resided here, that I could scarcely find time to write to my parents, much less my acquaintances."

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Acquaintances! Eliza, you kill me with your cold indifference. Am I not dearer to thee, than a common acquaintance? Have you not sworn to love me through weal and through woe? you so soon forgotten that sacred vow?

Have

"'Twas rashly made," said she "at a time when passion held predominence over reason. Now I would have you think no more of me—I can never be yours."

"Then farewell! I ask not your hand, unaccompanied by your heart. May you bestow it on some one who will render you happy, even as you have rendered me miserable-and may no sting of remorse, nor pang of conscience for the past, ever enter thy bosom to mar thy peace of mind. Farewell, forever."

He returned to his native home-but the light and buoyant spirit of youth had given place to a deep and settled melancholy; his proud soul scorned to bend beneath the weight of sorrow, yet it was evident, his peace of mind had fled forever. He left the land of his nativity, to seek for happiness in a foreign country, and fell a victim to an insalubrious climate.

But where is Eliza? Is she happy? Go ask yon polished marble, for 'tis all that now remains to tell her sad story. For a while she sported in coquetish gayety among the city belles, but shortly after, fell beneath the cruel wiles of a perfidious libertine. She died of—a broken heart.

A COCKNEY'S RURAL

A NARRATIVE.

SPORTS.

I was lately invited by a French gentleman to pass a few weeks with him at his chateau in the Aucerrois, at fifty leagues from Paris. As I am fond of the country, and Monsieur De V, moreover, being an excellent fellow, I did not long hesitate in accepting his invitation. Ah! when I pronounced the fatal "Oui," little did I suspect that, by the uttering of that one word, I had devoted myself to a week of bitter suffering.

earth would open and hide me in its deepest recesses. I, who had never in my life caught a flounder! I, who had never pulled a trigger, to the annoyance of beast or bird! I, who had never performed any very extraordinary equestrian feat, suddenly called upon "to witch the world with noble horsemanship," and sustain the sporting credit of England!-I, who am the exact antipode to Colonel Th-n, and stand at opposite points The evening of our departure arrived. We of pre-eminence with him; he being the very best took the diligence to Auxerre. At intervals, during sportsman in the world, and I the very worst,—a our nocturnal progress, I was saluted with a friend- superiority which, in each case, leaves competition ly tap on the back, accompanied with the excla- so far behind, that I have sometimes been proud of mation, "Ah, ca, mon ami, nous nous amuserons, mine. Now it availed me nothing. What would j'espere." This brought to my mind pleasant anti-I not have given for my great opposite's dexterity cipations of my friend's clumps, his meadows, and his silver streams. Daylight opened to us the prospect of a delightful country. Every now and then a hare scampered across the road, or a partridge winged its way through the air. On such occasions Monsieur De V- would exclaim, "Vois-tu, ca, mon cher ?" his eyes sparkling with delight. This I attributed to his fondness for roasted hares and partridges, and promised myself a plentiful regale of them; little did I foresee the torments these reptiles were to occasion me. On our arrival at Auxerre, owing to some unusual delays on the road, we found we were too late for the regular coach to Vilette, the place of our destination. "C'est un petit malheur," said my companion, (a Frenchman is so happily constituted that he seldom encounters a grand malheur): "It is but fifteen leagues to Vilette, and at nine this evening we'll take the Patache."

I passed the whole of the day after iny arrival on a sofa, and at night I slept soundly. The next morning, after arranging my writing materials on a table, I selected a book as my intended companion in my rambles, put a pencil and paper into pocket, that I might secure sach bright ideas as I doubted not the country would inspire, and went into the breakfast room. A party of ladies and gentlemen, visitors at Vilette, were already assem

bled.

my

The repast ended, this was Monsieur De V's address to me: "Maintenaut, mon cher, nous nous amuserons. You are an Englishman, consequently a fine sportsman. You will find here every thing you can desire. Fishing-tackle, dogs, guns, horses-par exemple, you shall ride Hector while you stay-no one here can manage him, but you'll soon bring him to reason. Allons? we'll ride today. Sacristi! Hector will fly with you twelve leagues an hour! Only remember, that as we shall not be equally well mounted, you must keep him in a little, that we may not lose the pleasure of your conversation by the way." Then turning to some others of the party, he said, The English are in general, better horsemen than we; il n'y a pas de comparaison, Messieurs: vous allez voir."

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This was an unexpected blow. I wished the

of hand, his precision of eye, his celerity of foot!
How did I envy him his power of riding more
miles in a minute than any horse could carry him!
How did I yearn to be able, like him, to spit with
a ramrod a dozen partridges flying, or angle with
six hooks upon the same line, and simultaneously
catch a pike of twenty pounds weight with each!
These were vain longings, and something was
necessary to be done.
equestrian honor of England was confided to my
keeping, and depended on my exertions that day;
and with the desperate reflection that, at the worst,
I should be quits for a broken neck, I went with
the rest into the court-yard, where the horses were
waiting for us. I must here beg permission to
digress; for that my readers may fully appreciate
the horrors of my situation, their attention to my
equestrian memoirs is indispensable. I will be as
brief as possible.

It seemed to me that the

Till somewhat of an advanced period of my life, learning to ride, had always appeared to me a su perfluous part of education. Putting one foot into the stirrup, throwing the other across the saddle, and sitting astride it, as I had seen many persons do, seemed to me to be the mere work of intuition, common matter of course, as casy and as natural to man as walking. Having principally inhabited the capital, horse-riding, as a thing of necessity, had never once occurred to me. sidered it as a recreation; and my journeys, either of business or pleasure, I had always performed in carriages. Thus I had attained the age of manhood-confirmed manhood, reader!-without ever

I had never con

having mounted a horse; and this, not from any suspicion that I was incompetent to the task, nor from any unwillingness to the effort, but simply, as I have said, from never having experienced the necessity of so doing.

It happened that I was chosen one of a numerous party to Weybridge, in Surrey. On the eve of our departure, it was discovered that all the places in the carriages would be occupied by ladies: each man, except myself, was provided with a horse, and the important question arose"How is P*. to get there?" It was soon settled,