former one, as ambassador, with reference to this question of French and English influence at Lisbon! He can recollect a case, within the last six years, when a French ambassador at Lisbon held language, on the subject of marching French troops into Portugal, so reprehensible, that he, Prince Polignac, was compelled to obtain from his government a satisfactory assurance in writing, (a verbal assurance was rejected,) that even if application should be made to France by the King of Portugal for aid, it would be refused; and further, that with regard to the ambassador himself, a dispatch had been sent to him," strongly disapproving of his conduct." He may remember, too, how nearly the peace of Europe was endangered by one rash step on the part of that ambassador, when, fortunately, the commander of a Spanish frontier garrison had the discretion not to obey his orders. Lastly, he may remember, that when he was informed by our government of these proceedings by the agent of his, and appeared to be ignorant of them, how unceremoniously incredulity was expressed as to the fact of his being really ignorant. Such was then the jealousy and indignation of England at the bare idea of French influence, or French interference, in Portugal. But alas! the short space of six years has been sufficient, not only to extinguish this jealousy, and calm this indignation, but to place France in the position of a mediator on behalf of England, in obtaining from Portugal the renewal of her former relations with that country. What a falling off from the proud sufficiency of our own power to obtain our own objects!

I know not what new lights may break in upon us, when the papers (ALL the papers, I hope) relating to our negotiations with the Courts of Lisbon and Rio Janeiro, are laid before Parliament. But unless they disprove what Ministers themselves have admitted, or unless Ministers have compromised their own character unnecessarily and unjustly, I think there can be but one opinion upon the subject of their proceedings. I dismiss from my consideration altogether the incidental questions of the affair at Terceira, the recognition of Donna Maria, and the

abandonment of the constitutional party. I will concede, hypothetically, that in all these points the course of the government has been marked by wisdom, and that neutrality has been no less its object than its policy. But I have yet to learn, that the honour of the country has been duly maintained; and that in adopting the ambiguous principle of disdaining to punish insults, because we despise the person who offers them, we have not established the precedent, the dangerous precedent, that there are insults, under given circumstances, to which we will submit. Mr Fox, who was no lover of war, held that the "honour of a country was the best justification for going to war;" and Mr Peel, in discussing the question of our transactions with Portugal, (March 10th,) gave to this maxim his unqualified assent. It remains, therefore, to be shewn by Ministers, in the papers they have promised to produce, whether (I use the words of Mr Peel himself) "the interests of this country obliged us to enter into a war, or to hold that menacing language, which, if disregarded, left no alternative but war?"

His Majesty, in his speech to Parliament, after lamenting that "he was unable to announce the prospect of a reconciliation between the princes of the house of Braganza," added, “ that he had not yet deemed it expedient to re-establish upon their ancient footing his Majesty's diplomatic relations with the kingdom of Portugal; but the numerous embarrassments arising from the continued interruption of these relations increased his Majesty's desire to effect the termination of so serious an evil." The Earl of Aberdeen, also, (Feb. 18th,) having done that justice to Don Miguel's character and conduct, which has been quoted, observed, "it was a point of minor importance to him whether Don Miguel were a Nero or a Titus; but it was a matter of much serious consideration what were to be our connexions with Portugal, looking to the interests of the two countries, and the basis upon which our mutual relations were to be founded, consistent with our honour, happiness, and true interests." Í agree with the Noble Lord, that it is a point of minor importance to us, whether Don Miguel be a Nero or a

Titus; I further agree with him that it is of much greater importance to know what are to be our future relations with Portugal: but I do not agree with him, if he would hence infer or maintain, that the restoration of those relations is the only, or the principal, thing we have to look to. And I am quite sure of this, that whenever these relations are now restored, whenever the " numerous embarrassments arising from their interruption," are removed, whenever Don Miguel condescends that the connexion between the two countries shall be re-established upon its ancient footing, if that should ever be the case, (which I much doubt,) under the auspices of France-the arrangement will be infinitely less satisfactory in itself, less durable in its nature, less beneficial in its consequences, less honourable in its character, than if it had been demanded

at the point of the sword. An ambassador, who could have pointed with one hand to the conditions we required, and with the other, to a British squadron in the Tagus, would have required nothing which Dou Miguel would have refused, and would have obtained nothing which Don Miguel would have ventured to revoke or neutralize. If there be one description of persons in whom, more than another, it is necessary to intimidate by "menacing language," it is such a person as the Earl of Aberdeen described-"false, treacherous, and perfidious;" and I venture to assert, that if "menacing language" had been employed, Mr Peel's nervous apprehensions of the alternative, would have been in no danger of being realized; for they who are accessible only to such appeals, are the very last in the world by whom they are likely to be " disregarded,"

THE TORCH was lying at anchor in Bluefields Bay. It was between eight and nine in the morning. The land wind had died away, and the seabreeze had not set in-there was not a breath stirring. The pennant from the mast-head fell sluggishly down, and clung amongst the rigging like a dead snake, whilst the folds of the St George's ensign that hung from the mizen-peak, were as motionless as if they had been carved in marble.

The anchorage was one unbroken mirror, except where its glasslike surface was shivered into sparkling ripples by the gambols of a skipjack, or the flashing stoop of his enemy the pelican; and the reflection of the vessel was so clear and steady, that at the distance of a cable's length you could not distinguish the water-line, nor tell where the substance ended and shadow began, until the casual dashing of a bucket overboard for a few moments broke up the phantom ship; but the wavering fragments soon reunited, and she again floated double, like the swan of the poet. The heat was so intense, that the iron stancheons of the awning could not be grasped with the hand, and where the decks were not screened by it, the pitch boiled out from the seams.

The swell rolled in from the offing in long shining undulations, like a sea of quicksilver, whilst every now and then a flying fish would spark out from the unruffled bosom of the heaving water, and shoot away like a silver arrow, until it dropped with a flash into the sea again. There was not a cloud in the heavens, but a quivering blue haze hung over the land, through which the white sugarworks and overseers' houses on the distant estates appeared to twinkle like objects seen through a thin smoke, whilst each of the tall stems of the cocoa-nut trees on the beach, when looked at steadfastly, seemed to be turning round with a small spiral motion, like so many endless screws. There was a dreamy indistinctness about the outlines of the hills, even in the immediate vicinity, which increased as they receded, until the blue mountains in the horizon melted into sky. The crew were listlessly spinning oakum, and mending sails, under the shade of the awning; the only exceptions to the general languor were Johncrow the black, and Jackoo the monkey. The former (who was an improvisatore of a rough stamp) sat out on the bowsprit, through choice, beyond the

shade of the canvass, without hat or shirt, like a bronze bust, busy with his task, whatever that might be, singing at the top of his pipe, and between whiles confabulating with his hairy ally, as if he had been a messmate. The monkey was hanging by the tail from the dolphin-striker, admiring what Johncrow called "his own dam ogly face in the water."-" Tail like yours would be good ting for a sailor, Jackoo, it would leave his two hands free aloft-more use, more hornament too, I'm sure, den de piece of greasy junk dat hangs from de Captain's taffril.-Now I shall sing to you, how dat Corromantee rascal, my fader, was sell me on de Gold Coast.

"Two red nightcap, one long knife, All him get for Quackoo, For gun next day him sell him wifeYou tink dat good song, Jackoo?" Chocko, chocko," chattered the monkey, as if in answer. "Ah, you tink so-sensible_honimal!-What is dat? shark?—Jackoo, come up, sir don't you see dat big shovelnosed fish looking at you? Pull your hand out of the water, Garamighty!" The negro threw himself on the gammoning of the bowsprit to take hold of the poor ape, who, mistaking his kind intention, and ignorant of his danger, shrunk from him, lost his hold, and fell into the sea. The shark instantly sank to have a run, then dashed at his prey, raising his snout over him, and shooting his head and shoulders three or four feet out of the water, with poor Jackoo shrieking in his jaws, whilst his small bones crackled and crunched under the monster's triple row of teeth.

Whilst this small tragedy was acting—and painful enough it was to the kind-hearted negro-I was looking out towards the eastern horizon, watching the first dark-blue ripple of the sea-breeze, when a rushing noise passed over my head.

I looked up and saw a gallinaso, the large carrion-crow of the tropics, sailing, contrary to the habits of its kind, seaward over the brig. I followed it with my eye, until it vanished in the distance, when my attention was attracted by a dark speck far out in the offing, with a little tiny white sail. With my glass I made it out to be a ship's boat, but I saw no one on board, and the sail was idly flapping about the mast.

On making my report, I was desired to pull towards it in the gig; and as we approached, one of the crew said he thought he saw some one peering over the bow. We drew nearer, and I saw him distinctly. "Why don't you haul the sheet aft, and come down to us, sir?"

He neither moved nor answered, but, as the boat rose and fell on the short sea raised by the first of the breeze, the face kept mopping and mowing at us over the gunwale.

"I will soon teach you manners, my fine fellow! give way, men”and I fired my musket, when the crow that I had seen rose from the boat into the air, but immediately alighted again, to our astonishment, vulture-like with outstretched wings, upon the head.

Under the shadow of this horrible plume, the face seemed on the instant to alter like a hideous change in a dream. It appeared to become of a deathlike paleness, and anon streaked with blood. Another stroke of the oar-the chin had fallen down, and the tongue was hanging out. Another pull-the eyes were gone, and from their sockets, brains and blood were fermenting, and flowing down the cheeks. It was the face of a putrefying corpse. In this floating coffin we found the body of another sailor, doubled across one of the thwarts, with a long Spanish knife sticking between his ribs, as if he had died in some mortal struggle, or, what was equally probable, had put an end to himself in his frenzy ; whilst along the bottom of the boat, arranged with some shew of care, and covered by a piece of canvass stretched across an oar above it, lay the remains of a beautiful boy, about fourteen years of age, apparently but a few hours dead. Some biscuit, a roll of jerked beef, and an earthen water-jar, lay beside him, shewing that hunger at least could have had no share in his destruction, but the pipkin was dry, and the small watercask in the bow was staved, and empty.

We had no sooner cast our grappling over the bow, and begun to tow the boat to the ship, than the abominable bird that we had scared settled down into it again, notwithstanding our proximity, and began to peck at the face of the dead boy. At this

moment we heard a gibbering noise, and saw something like a bundle of old rags roll out from beneath the sternsheet, and apparently make a fruitless attempt to drive the gallinaso from its prey. Heaven and earth, what an object met our eyes! It was a fullgrown man, but so wasted, that one of the boys lifted him by his belt with one hand. His knees were drawn up to his chin, his hands were like the talons of a bird, while the falling in of his chocolate-coloured and withered features gave an unearthly relief to his forehead, over which the horny and transparent skin was braced so tightly that it seemed ready to crack. But in the midst of this desolation, his deep-set coal-black eyes sparkled like two diamonds with the fever of his sufferings; there was a fearful fascination in their flashing brightness, contrasted with the deathlike aspect of the face, and rigidity of the frame. When sensible of our presence he tried to speak, but could only utter

"

a low moaning sound. At length Aqua, aqua '-we had not a drop of water in the boat. "El muchacho esta moriendo de sed-Aqua."

We got on board, and the surgeon gave the poor fellow some weak tepid grog. It acted like magic. He gradually uncoiled himself, his voice, from being weak and husky, became comparatively strong and clear. "El hijo-Aqua para mi pedrillo-No le hace para mi-Oh la noche pasado, la noche pasado!" He was told to compose himself, and that his boy would be taken care of. "Dexa me verlo entonces, oh Dios, dexa me verlo"-and he crawled, grovelling on his chest, like a crushed worm across the deck, until he got his head over the port-sill, and looked down into the boat. He there beheld the pale face of his dead son; it was the last object he ever saw-" Ay de mi!" he groaned heavily, and dropped his face against the ship's side-He was dead.