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But this is evidently the point to which the British navy has now for some time attained; this the source of the anomalies and embarrassments which we have mentioned; and this, accordingly, the light in which we regard them. Our seamen's minds have been expanding in common with those of the age in which they live: they staggered a little at first under the weight of their new found wisdom, which but ill agreed with the circumstances in which their ignorance had before chiefly contributed to place them; and their officers, on the other hand, are still perhaps a little perplexed and embarrassed by those throes of intelligence which discompose them in that seat of authority in which they were once immoveable. But the worst is over, and every thing now combines to facilitate their passage through the remainder. It is indeed a very striking subject of contemplation to consider the minute preparation which, unconsciously on all hands, has paved the way for this consummation, The men first mutinied:-they were not altogether to blame for this, but it fixed public attention for a while on their situation, obtained an example of relaxation in their favour, and proved besides satisfactorily, that they were not yet ready for more. From that time down to the present, they have been the most faithful and loyal of subjects; most exemplarily patient and persevering under many hardships, some discouragements, and what is worst of all for men of their stamp to bear, the ennui of protracted but inactive service. Yet have they always

been making some way in their des tined course; their little finger was in, their arm has already more than followed, and now every thing seems ready for introducing their whole body. The officers, on the other hand, have not, as we have already intimated, been universally sensible of the change which was going on about them: they have borne, each his own burthen, as he might; carried along, all of them, by the stream of improve ment, backing and filling in its channel, unconscious of their own progress, unless when made occasionally sensible of the altered bearings of the land about them. And this has been fortunate for the cause, for it is of the very essence of human policy to rush too rapidly to its object; and it has not been unfortunate for themselves, for such have been the judgment and temper which they have throughout exhibited, scarcely one stray brother has been drawn in by the eddies, or cast ashore and wrecked amid the shoals of the times. But now they are almost at sea, and only wait for a rendezvous signal to make sail in concert. For this has their present long relaxation been given them, for this their habits of violence have been interrupted, and themselves been constrained to study the arts of peace. To the same end are their people now subdued by circumstances to more regularity than before; and their own clubs, Bible Societies, elections, and the whole apparatus of civil collision in which they are involved, been provided. That thus inveterate habits on both sides might be gradually but imperatively

• The elements of combustion were perhaps prepared, but, next to the agents of sedition from the shore, it was the Quota-men, as they were called, who fired the train. These were landsmen, volunteers furnished by the several counties, and lured by enor mous bounties, L.25, when the best seamen that could be impressed got either nothing, or at the most L.5; they were mostly better educated too than the regular hands-pen and ink gentry, unaccustomed alike to labour and restraint, and consequently prepa red to find every thing wrong. The celebrated chief delegate, Parker, was a fellow of this stamp; contributed, we may add, by our own "gude town." We are acquainted with a gentleman still residing here, who was accidentally present when he was first brought before the sitting magistrate, charged with an intention to fly the country to defraud his landlady, to whom he owed about L.18. His address was so good, and pretensions so high, the magistrate at first scrupled to issue the warrant to detain him, although he had no bail to offer. But at length he was committed, accepted the high bounty to obtain his release; and just eighteen months afterwards hoisted his rebel flag at the Nore.

We wish very much that some of the many surviving officers who held situations of rank and responsibility at that eventful period in the navy, would now, when details could do no harm, favour the world with their recollections on the subject. We are in possession of some anecdotes ourselves relating to it, which we should not scruple to pubfish, were nothing better offered. But they are hearsay, and it should be an eye-witness, and even an actor, who undertook the task.

broken; and new ground occupied by each, of necessity and of course.

It now remains then to trace the probable effects of so many causes, with their effects again, as we have already said, either as already developed, or likely progressively to appear. They naturally divide themselves under two heads, the changes which may thus be anticipated in the situation, and in the character of our seamen. And the first, strictly speaking, belongs to the present division of our subject, while the second would come in more appropriately when sailors are considered from under that eye of authority, which on board ship will always impose some restraint on their natural dispositions. As we have been led, however, now into a considerable detail, which was not at first anticipated, we shall postpone both to a future occasion.

It is in the very nature of precipitation to subject those who submit themselves to its guidance to confession of error and mistake. Captivated by the promise of our present task, we

rushed into it with a haste which, as our views opened on consideration, has made even our title now incongruous, for we no longer consider the moral and religious education at present bestowing on our seamen as a primary cause of almost any thing peculiar in their worldly prospects; it seems to us only a powerful agent in their behalf, evoked among others, by the peculiarities of the age, which it did not even precede in point of time. It does not appear necessary, however, to break the series to remedy this. Mere title is unimportant, and our objects continue substantially the same,―to trace, with as steady a hand as possible, the prospects of a profession in which we take the warmest interest, viewing them in connexion with that instruction now in course of dissemination among all its members; and to promote that dissemination as far as may lie in our power, by exhibiting the whole chain of improvement, of which it now, more than ever, seems to us to form but one link.




As, in the earlier Numbers of your Magazine, you gave an occasional insertion to articles relating to the exiled House of Stuart, I am induced to offer you a Birth-Day Ode, which, if it possesses no other merit, will at least tend to prove that the attachment to the fortunes of that ill-fated family, notoriously prevalent in the western counties of England in the year 1715, had not altogether subsided, when the chivalrous spirit of our northern neighbours gave more overt proofs of their fidelity. The original Ode is in the possession of the representative of a family of considerable station and consequence in this county, to whom it was transmitted by his Jacobite predecessor. The following fragment of a song, my mother, who is nearly connected with the same family, remembers often to have heard her nurse, who lived to a very advanced age, chaunt, in impotent defiance of the Usurper. The spelling is adapted to the pronunciation of our provincial patois, and will be easily recognized by a native Zummerzet.

"Az I war a gwaing by the zign o' the Blue Bell,

I zeed Major Metcalfe a gwaing to hell,

I upp'd wi' my boot, and I kick'd un in,

And I bid un make way for his Haniver King."

It may perhaps be necessary to state, that Major Metcalfe was Chamberlain to the "Wee, wee German Lairdie." For the style of the ballad I make no apology, as it is only offered in confirmation of the idea, that the feeling in behalf of the House of Stuart was not confined to the higher classes of society, unless indeed some deference is due to the fastidious palates of the Edinburgh Reviewers, whom I humbly beg to assure, that although I can admire, and can appreciate the devotion of those persons who sacrificed their all to that which they held to be the rightful cause, I am by no means a "Life and Fortune Man," on behalf of the doctrines of Passive Obedience, Divine Right, and NonResistance.

Dear, Mr North, your affectionate kinsman,

Somerset, August 23, 1821. VOL. X.

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The 20th of December, 1746.

Written by Dr ISAACS of Exeter.

Awhile forget the scene of woe, Forbid awhile the tear to flow,

The pitying sigh to rise;
Turn from the axe the thoughts away,
"Tis Charles that bids us crown the day,
And end the night in joys.

So, when black clouds and beating rain,
With storms the face of nature stain,

And all in gloom appears;
If Phoebus deign a short-lived smile,
The face of Nature charms awhile,

Awhile the prospect clears:

Come then, and whilst we largely pour
Libations to the genial hour,

That gave our Hero birth,
Let us invoke the tuneful Nine
To sing a theme, like them, divine,
To sing his race on earth!
How on his tender infant years
The careful hand of Heaven appears
To watch its chosen care;
Estranged from ev'ry foe to truth,
Virtuous affliction form'd his youth,
Instructive, though severe.

No sinful court its poison lent,
An early bane his life to taint,

And blast his young renown:
His father's virtues fire his heart-
His father's sufferings truth impart,
To form him for a throne.

How, at an age, when pleasure's charms Allure the stripling to her arms,

He form'd the great design, To assert his injured father's cause, Restore his suffering country's laws, And prove his right divine. How, when on Scotia's beach he stood, The wondering throng around him crowd, To bend the obedient knee; Then, thinking on their country chain'd, They wept at worth so long detain'd,

By Fate's severe decree.

How, when he moved, in sweet amaze,
All ranks in transport on him gaze,

E'en grief forgets to pine,
The wisest sage, or chastest fair,
Applaud his sense, or praise his air,

Thus form'd with grace divine.
How great in all the Soldier's art,
With judgment calm, with fire of heart,
He bade the battle glow :
Yet greater on the conquer'd plain,
He felt each wounded captive's pain,
More like a friend, than foe,

By good unmoved, in ills resign'd,
No change of fortune changed his mind,
Tenacious of its aim;

In vain the gales propitious blew,
Affliction's dart as vainly flew,

His mind was still the same.
Check'd in his glory's full career,
He felt no weak desponding fear,

Amidst distresses great;

By every want and danger prest,
No care perplex'd his manly breast,
But for his country's fate.

For oh! the woes by Britain felt,
Had not atoned for Britain's guilt,

So will'd offended Heaven;
That yet awhile the usurping hand,
With iron rod should rule the land,

The rod for vengeance given.
But in its vengeance Heaven is just,
And soon Britannia from the dust
Shall rear her head again;
Soon shall give way the usurping chain,
And peace and plenty soon again
Proclaim a Stuart's reign.

What joys for happy Britain wait,
When Charles shall rule the British state,
Her sullied fame restore ;
When in full tide of transport tost,
E'en memory of her wrongs be lost,
Nor Brunswick heard of more.

The nations round with wondering eyes
Shall see Britannia awful rise,

As she was wont of yore.
And when she holds the balanced scale,
Oppression shall no more prevail,
But fly her happy shore.
Corruption, Vice on every hand,
No more shall lord it o'er the land,
With their Protector fled :
Old English virtues in their place
With all their hospitable race,

Shall rear their decent head.
In peaceful shades the happy swain,
With open heart and honest strain,
Shall hail his long-wish'd Lord,
Nor find a tale so fit to move
His listening fair one's heart to love,
As that of Charles Restored.
Though distant, let the prospect charm,
And every gallant bosom warm,

Forbear each tear and sigh! Turn from the one the thought away, 'Tis Charles that bids us crown the day, And end the night in joy.

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In my younger days, bell-ringing was much more in fashion among the young men of, than it is now. Nobody, I believe, practises it there at present except the servants of the church, and the melody has been much injured in consequence. Some fifty years ago, about twenty of us who dwelt in the vicinity of the Cathedral, formed a club, which used to ring every peal that was called for; and, from continual practice and a rivalry which arose between us and a club attached to another steeple, and which tended considerably to sharpen our zeal, we became very Mozarts on our favourite instruments. But my bell-ringing practice was shortened by a singular accident, which not only stopt my performance, but made even the sound of a bell terrible to my ears.

One Sunday, I went with another into the belfry to ring for noon prayers, but the second stroke we had pulled shewed us that the clapper of the bell we were at was muffled. Some one had been buried that morning, and it had been prepared, of course, to ring a mournful note. We did not know of this, but the remedy was easy. "Jack,” said my companion, "step up to the loft, and cut off the hat;" for the way we had of muffling was by tying a piece of an old hat, or of cloth (the former was preferred) to one side of the clapper, which deadened every second toll. I complied, and mounting into the belfry, crept as usual into the bell, where I began to cut away. The hat had been tied on in some more complicated manner than usual, and I was perhaps three or four minutes in getting it off; during which time my companion below was hastily called away, by a message from his sweetheart I believe, but that is not material to my story. The person who called him was a brother of the club, who, knowing that the time had come for ringing for service, and not thinking that any one was above, began to pull. At this moment I was just getting out, when I felt the bell moving; I guessed the reason at once-it was a moment of terror; but by a hasty, and almost convulsive effort, I succeeded in jumping down, and throwing myself on the flat of my back under the bell.

The room in which it was, was little more than sufficient to contain it,

the bottom of the bell coming within a couple of feet of the floor of lath. Atthat time I certainly was not so bulky as I am now, but as I lay it was within an inch of my face. I had not laid myself down a second, when the ringing began.-It was a dreadful situation. Over me swung an immense mass of metal, one touch of which would have crushed me to pieces; the floor under me was principally composed of crazy laths, and if they gave way, I was precipitated to the distance of about fifty feet upon a loft, which would, in all probability, have sunk under the impulse of my fall, and sent me to be dashed to atoms upon the marble floor of the chancel, an hundred feet below. I remembered for fear is quick in recollection-how a common clockwright, about a month before, had fallen, and bursting through the floors of the steeple, driven in the cielings of the porch, and even broken into the marble tombstone of a bishop who slept beneath. This was my first terror, but the ringing had not continued a minute, before a more awful and immediate dread came on me. The deafening sound of the bell smote into my ears with a thunder which made me fear their drums would crack.There was not a fibre of my body it did not thrill through: It entered my very soul; thought and reflection were almost utterly banished; I only retained the sensation of agonizing terror. Every moment I saw the bell sweep within an inch of my face; and my eyes-I could not close them, though to look at the object was bitter as death-followed it instinctively in its oscillating progress until it came back again. It was in vain I said to myself that it could come no nearer at any future swing than it did at first; every time it descended, I endeavoured to shrink into the very floor to avoid being buried under the down-sweeping mass; and, then reflecting on the danger of pressing too weightily on my frail support, would cower up again as far as I dared.

At first my fears were mere matter of fact. I was afraid the pullies above would give way, and let the bell plunge on me. At another time, the possibility of the clapper being shot out in some sweep, and dashing through my body, as I had seen a ramrod glide

through a door, flitted across my mind. The dread also, as I have already mentioned, of the crazy floor, tormented me, but these soon gave way to fears not more unfounded, but more visionary, and of course more tremendous. The roaring of the bell confused my intellect, and my fancy soon began to teem with all sort of strange and terrifying ideas. The bell pealing above, and opening its jaws with a hideous clamour, seemed to me at one time a ravening monster, raging to devour me; at another, a whirlpool ready to suck me into its bellowing abyss. As I gazed on it, it assumed all shapes; it was a flying eagle, or rather a roc of the Arabian story-tellers, clapping its wings and screaming over me. As I looked upward into it, it would appear sometimes to lengthen into indefinite extent, or to be twisted at the end into the spiral folds of the tail of a flying-dragon. Nor was the flaming breath, or fiery glance of that fabled animal, wanting to complete the picture. My eyes inflamed, blodshot, and glaring, invested the supposed monster with a full proportion of unholy light. It would be endless were I to merely hint at all the fancies that possessed my mind. Every object that was hideous and roaring presented itself to my imagination. I often thought that I was in a hurricane at sea, and that the vessel in which I was embarked tossed under me with the most furious vehemence. The air, set in motion by the swinging of the bell, blew over me, nearly with the violence, and more than the thunder of a tempest; and the floor seemed to reel under me, as under a drunken man. But the most awful of all the ideas that seized on me were drawn from the supernatural. In the vast cavern of the bell hideous faces appeared, and glared down on me with terrifying frowns, or with grinning mockery, still more appalling. At last, the devil himself, accoutred, as in the common description of the evil spirit, with hoof, horn, and tail, and eyes of infernal lustre, made his appearance, and called on me to curse God and worship him, who was powerful to save me. This dread suggestion he uttered with the full-toned clangour of the bell. I had him within an inch of me, and I thought on the fate of the Santon Barsisa. Strenuously and desperately I defied him, and bade him be gone. Reason, then, for a moment,

resumed her sway, but it was only to fill me with fresh terror, just as the lightning dispels the gloom that surrounds the benighted mariner, but to shew him that his vessel is driving on a rock, where she must inevitably be dashed to pieces. I found I was becoming delirious, and trembled lest reason should utterly desert me. This is at all times an agonizing thought, but it smote me then with tenfold agony. I feared lest, when utterly deprived of my senses, I should rise, to do which I was every moment tempted by that strange feeling which calls on a man, whose head is dizzy from standing on the battlement of a lofty castle, to precipitate himself from it, and then death would be instant and tremendous. When I thought of this, I became desperate. I caught the floor with a grasp which drove the blood from my nails; and I yelled with the cry of despair. I called for help, I prayed, I shouted, but all the efforts of my voice were, of course, drowned in the bell. As it passed over my mouth, it occasionally echoed my cries, which mixed not with its own sound, but preserved their distinct character. Perhaps this was but fancy. To me, I know, they then sounded as if they were the shouting, howling, or laughing of the fiends with which my imagination had peopled the gloomy cave which swung over me.

You may accuse me of exaggerating my feelings; but I am not. Many a scene of dread have I since passed through, but they are nothing to the self-inflicted terrors of this half hour. The ancients have doomed one of the damned, in their Tartarus, to lie under a rock, which every moment seems to be descending to annihilate him, and an awful punishment it would be. But if to this you add a clamour as loud as if ten thousand furies were howling about you-a deafening uproar banishing reason, and driving you to madness, you must allow that the bitterness of the pang was rendered more terrible. There is no man, firm as his nerves may be, who could retain his courage in this situation.

In twenty minutes the ringing was done. Half of that time passed over me without power of computation,the other half appeared an age. When it ceased, I became gradually mor quiet, but a new fear retained me. knew that five minutes would elaps

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