LESSON CXXII.

The Shipwreck.-WILSON.

HER giant form

O'er wrathful surge, through blackening storm,
Majestically calm, would go

Mid the deep darkness white as snow!
But gentler now the small waves glide
Like playful lambs o'er a mountain's side.
So stately her bearing, so proud her array,
The main she will traverse for ever and aye.

Many ports will exult at the gleam of her mast!

-Hush! hush! thou vain dreamer! this hour is her last.

Five hundred souls in one instant of dread

Are hurried o'er the deck;

And fast the miserable ship

Becomes a lifeless wreck.

Her keel hath struck on a hidden rock,

Her planks are torn asunder,

And down come her masts with a reeling shock,

And a hideous crash like thunder.

Her sails are draggled in the brine

That gladdened late the skies,

And her pendant that kissed the fair moonshine

Down many a fathom lies.

Her beauteous sides, whose rainbow hues

Gleamed softly from below,

And flung a warm and sunny flush

O'er the wreaths of murmuring snow,
To the coral rocks are hurrying down,
To sleep amid colors as bright as their own.
Oh! many a dream was in the ship

An hour before her death;

And sights of home with sighs disturbed
The sleeper's long-drawn breath.
Instead of the murmur of the sea,
The sailor heard the humming tree,
Alive through all its leaves,

The hum of the spreading sycamore
That grows before his cottage-door,
And the swallow's song in the eaves.
His arms enclosed a blooming boy,
Who listened with tears of sorrow and joy

4

To the dangers his father had passed;
And his wife-by turns she wept and smiled,
As she looked on the father of her child
Returned to her heart at last.

—He wakes at the vessel's sudden roll,
And the rush of waters is in his soul.
Astounded the reeling deck he paces,
Mid hurrying forms and ghastly faces;—
The whole ship's crew are there.
Wailings around and overhead,
Brave spirits stupified or dead,
And madness and despair.
Now is the ocean's bosom bare,
Unbroken as the floating air;
The ship hath melted quite away,
Like a struggling dream at break of day.

No image meets my wandering eye,

But the new-risen sun and the sunny sky.

Though the night-shades are gone, yet a vapor dull
Bedims the waves so beautiful;

While a low and melancholy moan
Mourns for the glory that hath flown.

LESSON CXXIII.

Dr. Slop and Obadiah, meeting.-STERNE.

IMAGINE to yourself, a little squat, uncourtly figure of a Dr. Slop, of about four feet and a half, perpendicular height, with a breadth of back, and a sesquipedality of belly, which might have done honor to a sergeant* in the horse-guards.

you

Such were the outlines of Dr. Slop's figure, which—if have read Hogarth's analysis of beauty, (and if you have not, I wish you would ;)—you must know, may as certainly be caricatured, and conveyed to the mind by three strokes as three hundred.

Imagine such a one,-for such, I say, were the outlines of Dr. Slop's figure, coming slowly along, foot by foot, waddling through the dirt upon the vertebræ of a little diminutive pony, of a pretty color-but of strengthalack! scarce able to have made an amble of it, under such a fardel, had the roads been in an ambling condition. They were not.—Imagine to yourself, Obadiah mounted upon a

*Pron. săr'-gent.

strong monster of a coach-horse, pricked into a full gallop, and making all practicable speed the adverse way.

Pray, Sir, let me interest you a moment in this description. Had Dr. Slop beheld Obadiah a mile off, posting in a narrow lane directly towards him, at that monstrous rate,— splashing and plunging like a devil through thick and thin as he approached, would not such a phenomenon, with such a vortex of mud and water moving along with it, round its axis, have been a subject of juster apprehension to Dr. Slop in his situation, than the worst of Whiston's comets? -To say nothing of the nucleus; that is, of Obadiah and the coach-horse.-In my idea, the vortex alone of them was enough to have involved and carried, if not the doctor, at least the doctor's pony, quite away with it.

What then do you think must the terror and hydrophobia of Dr. Slop have been, when you read (which you are just going to do) that he was advancing thus warily along towards Shandy Hall, and had approached within sixty yards of it, and within five yards of a sudden turn, made by an acute angle of the garden wall,-and in the dirtiest part of a dirty lane,—when Obadiah and his coach-horse turned the corner, rapid, furious,-pop,-full upon him!-Nothing, I think, in nature can be supposed more terrible than such a rencounter,- -so imprompt! so ill prepared to stand the shock of it as Dr. Slop was!

What could Dr. Slop do ?- -he crossed himself- -Pugh! -but the doctor, Sir, was a Papist.-No matter; he had better have kept hold of the pommel.-He had so; nay, as it happened, he had better have done nothing at all; for in crossing himself he let go his whip, and in attempting to save his whip between his knee and his saddle's skirt, as it slipped, he lost his stirrup,-in losing which he lost his seat; and in the multitude of all these losses (which, by the by, shew what little advantage there is in crossing) the unfortunate doctor lost his presence of mind. So that without waiting for Obadiah's onset, he left his pony to its destiny, tumbling off it diagonally, something in the style and manner of a pack of wool, and without any other consequence from the fall, save that of being left (as it would have been) with the broadest part of him sunk about twelve inches deep in the mire.

Obadiah pulled off his cap twice to Dr. Slop ;- -once as he was falling, and then again when he saw him seated.-Illtimed complaisance!—had not the fellow better have stopped

his horse, and got off, and helped him? Sir, he did all that his situation would allow ;-but the momentum of the coachhorse was so great, that Obadiah could not do it all at once; he rode in a circle three times round Dr. Slop, before he could fully accomplish it any how; and at last, when he did stop the beast, it was done with such an explosion of mud, that Obadiah had better have been a league off. In short, never was a Dr. Slop so beluted, and so transubstantiated, since that affair came into fashion.

LESSON CXXIV.

Heroic Self-Denial.-LITERARY Gazette.

DARK burned the candle on the table at which the student of divinity was reading in a large book: "It all avails nothing, and nothing will ever come of it," said he fretfully to himself, and closed the volume, "I shall never become a preacher, I may study and tire myself as much as I will! The first sermon, in which I shall certainly hesitate, will without doubt render all this trouble vain; for do not I myself know the timidity and the peculiar misfortune which accompany me in every undertaking?"

He now took from his dusty shelves a MS. and set himself down to read: it was an account of Rome, and particularly of St. Peter's Church, which was described with all the enthusiasm of an artist. He suddenly rose, and clapping his hands together, said with transport, "O heaven, I must certainly see all this myself!"

But how? one does not get to Rome for nothing; the finan'ces of the good student were in a very bad condition, and however carefully he examined and fumbled through all his pockets, he collected only a few pence, which certainly were not sufficient to pay his expenses to Rome. He went to bed quite restless, and even forgot to put out his candle, which at other times he never omitted; but during this uneasy night, he thought of means to accomplish his purpose. The next morning he fetched an old clothes man, and sold every thing except the dress he had on, and a single shirt for change which he put in his pocket.

The s1

which he got from the greedy Israelite for all

he had, was not much, and yet honesty, a virtue which he Dossessed in the highest degree, demanded of him to pay his few small debts. After he had performed this duty in the most conscientious manner, he counted up his remaining property, and was pleased on finding himself the possessor of five dollars, because he hoped with this sum, and with strict frugality, to travel to Rome and back again.

He now, therefore, began his journey in the highest spirits, and wandered over fertile Germany with heartfelt joy, at the beauties of nature in his beloved country. How did Italy's mild and balsam'ic airs refresh him! how did he indulge all his senses in the contemplation of the delightful scenes that crowded on him from every side! and how did his heart thrill with bliss when he beheld the towers of Rome shining in the misty distance! Long did he stand gazing and enraptured, and a tear of joy stood in his eyes; he walked on, lost in thought, and towards evening he reached a hill at the foot of which the Queen of Cities, illumined with gold and purple, by the blush of the evening sky, lay in the most glorious splendor. He seated himself upon the summit of the hill, and turned his eyes constantly, with the most heartfelt longing, towards the object of his secret wishes.

After his soul had satiated itself with this delightful picture, he at length thought of examining his stock of money, that he might see how much he could spare in Rome in examining the captivating wonders, without depriving himself of the necessary means for his journey back. When he had counted it, he found that he had just spent the half of it, viz. two dollars and a half. Of course he had been frequently obliged, in the pursuit of his journey, to beg a night's lodging and dinner from the clergymen on the road, to be able to reach so far upon so trifling a sum, but never did he receive money or ask alms. If, then, he would return to his native country without begging, he must not see Rome, and he had, in fact, the heroic self-denial to form this resolution on the spot. He, therefore, remained for that night on this hill, saw the moon and stars rise over the much-beloved Rome; he listened with silent delight to the chime of the church bells in the stillness of the evening, and when the morning sun, rising in the east, tinged the domes and towers of the city with red, he "cast one longing, lingering look behind," and began in silent musing his journey home.