stances, he would certainly never pardon him should it come to his ears that he had dishonoured him by turning his castle into a house of entertainment by the receipt of money. Our mode of travelling was as follows:-our cavalcade was generally in motion by five o'clock, having taken a cup of coffee or breakfasted before we started, according to the distance of the first resting place. We pursued our journey at the rate of about three miles and a half an hour. Lthe count, and myself, occasionally leaving the party to ascend an eminence, or visit spots in the neighbourhood worthy of attention. Our morning's task was usually finished between ten and eleven o'clock, before the heat became oppressive. When we next stopped, we threw ourselves on our mattresses for an hour or two, and we invariably slept on them at night, except when received in private houses. We also took a light meal prepared by the cook overnight. At four P. M. we again set forward, and travelled till about eight, when we put up for the night, took supper, which was our principal meal, and retired to rest. (To be continued.) 66 LA FÉE. A POLITICAL SONG." ONCE on a time there lived a sprite, Then tell us, fairy, bright and bland, Do tell us where you hide your wand. She also had a sapphire car, In this she roamed the country round, Then tell us, fairy, bright and bland, Our fairy had a favourite king, All that a fairy hand could bring; This sovereign's ministers, All honest men, who lived in peace, Who watched the flock-not stole the fleece Were also gifts of her's. Then tell us, fairy, bright and bland, Do tell us where you hide Dec. 1835.-VOL. XIV.NO. LVI. your wand. EE This sovereign had his judges too, Who taught their lordships what to do, Then tell us, fairy, bright and bland, She touched the sovereign's crown, that he The fairy's power confessed. And whilst the king was thus endeared, Then tell us, fairy, bright and bland, Do tell us where you hide your wand. Alas! to some delicious bower This fairy now repairs, For things are changed, not right but power, The sovereign sceptre bears. The nations all around us groan, And if our lot, and ours alone, Be happier than theirs, Still tell us, fairy, bright and bland, Do tell us where you hide your wand. JOHN WARING. TO A PORTRAIT OF S― M————, Esq. M.P. PART with thee ?-never!-what my lot may be, Or if joy round me throws its brightest spell, Part with thee?-never!-for no charm of face, Part with thee ?-never!-let the cold ones sneer, And doing good thy greatest luxury; Thy direst foes in vain thy actions scan, We insert this for the fervid honesty of its feeling. THE LIFE OF A SUB-EDITOR.1 BY THE SUB-EDITOR. SHORTLY after the illegal suspension of the Habeas Corpus, that I recorded in the last number, the portion of the navy stationed in the West Indies became actively employed in the conquest of those islands still in the possession of the French. Some fell almost without a struggle, others at much expense of life both of the military and naval forces. As every one who could find a publisher, has written a book on all these events, from the capture of the little spot Deseada to the subduing the magnificent Island of Gaudaloupe, and the glorious old stone-built city of Domingo, I may well be excused detailing the operations. Among other bellicose incidents that varied the dull monotony of my life, was the beating off a frigate equal in force to our own; though I believe that we were a little obliged to her for taking leave of us in a manner so abrupt, though we could not certainly complain of the want on her part of any attention for the short and busy hour that she stayed with us, for she assisted us to shift all our topmasts, and, as before she met us, we had nothing but old sails to display, she considerately decorated us with a profusion of ribands gaily fluttering about our lower masts, and the topmasts that were gracefully hanging over our sides. We were too polite and well bred not to make some return for all these petits soins. As, between the tropics, the weather is generally very warm, we evinced a most laudable anxiety that she should be properly ventilated, so we assiduously began drilling holes through and through her hull; and I assure the reader, that we did it in a surpassingly workman-like manner. But, in the midst of this spirited exchange of courtesies, our Gallic friend remembered that he had, or might have, another engagement, so he took his leave; and, as he had given so many reasons to prevent our insisting to attend upon him, we parted, en pleine mer, leaving us excessively annoyed that we were prevented from accompanying him any farther. In Captain Reud's despatches he stated, and stated truly, that we beat him off. Why he went, I could not understand; for, excepting in the shattered state of his hull, and more particularly in a sad confusion of his quarter gallery, with his two aftermost main-deck ports, he sailed off with his colours flying, and every sail drawing, even to his royals. But the French used to have their own method of managing these little matters. But let us rapidly pass over these follies, and hasten to something more exquisitely foolish. And yet I cannot. I have to clear away many dull weeds, and tread down many noxious nettles, before I can reach the one fresh and thornless rose, that bloomed for a short space upon my heart, and the fragrance of which so intoxicated my senses, 1 Continued from p. 305. that, for a time, I was under the blessed delusion of believing myself happy. I had now been two years and a half in the West Indies, and I was fast approaching my eighteenth year. At this period we had taken several English West Indiamen. There was a fearful, a soul-harrowing, yet a tender tale, connected with one of these recaptures. It should be told, for the honour of that sex, whom to honour is man's greatest glory; but not now-nor in this life. Yet it ought to be narrated; and I here record my vow, that if I live, and I have the heart to go through it, and my dear will resolve me that one incubus of a doubt that has hung heavily on my heart for these fiveand-twenty years, that that tale shall be told, that man may admire, and wonder, and weep. In one of these retaken merchant vessels there was found, as the French prize-master, and now of course our prisoner, a mercurial little fellow of the name of Messurier. He was very proud of the glory of his nation, and still prouder of his own. As France possessed many historians, and Monsieur Adolphe Sigismund Messurier but one, and that one himself, of course he had the duty of at least three hundred sçavans thrown upon his own shoulders: he performed it nobly, and with an infinite relish. Now, when a person who is given to much talking is also given to much drinking, it generally happens, injurious as is the vice of the grog bottle, that the vice of the voluble tongue is still worse. When in his cups, he told us of the scores that he had slain, counting them off by threes and fives upon his fingers, his thumbs indicating captains, his forefingers first lieutenants, and so on with the various grades in our service, until the aspirants, or middies, were merely honoured by his little finger as their representative. We only laughed; and asked him, if he had been so destructive to the officers, how many men had fallen by the puissance of his arm. It seemed that these latter were too numerous and too ignoble to be counted; for that question was always answered with a bah! and a rapidly passing over the extended palm of his left hand with his open right one. But when, one evening, he mentioned that he could pilot a frigate into the inland waters from whence swarmed the crowd of schoonerprivateers that infested the islands, and by their swift sailing to windward, eluded our fastest ships, we laughed still, and I did something more; I reported this boast to Captain Reud. "Then," exclaimed my valorous little Creole, "by all the virtues of a long eighteen, he shall take in his Majesty's frigate Eos." Whenever he protested by a long eighteen, in the efficacy of whose powers he had the most implicit reliance, we might look upon the matter as performed. The next morning, whilst Monsieur Messurier was solacing his aching head with his hands, oblivious of the events of the preceding evening, he was feelingly reminded of his consummate skill in pilotage. He then became most unnaturally modest, and denied all pretensions to the honour. Now Captain Reud had no idea that even an enemy should wrap up his talent in a napkin, or hide his light under a bushel, so he merely said to him, "You must take my ship in." When the captain had made up his mind, the deed generally trod upon the heels of the resolve. Poor man! he was always in want of something to do, and thus he was too happy to do anything that offered excitement. Monsieur Messurier was in despair; he prayed and swore alternately, talked about sacrificing his life for the good of his country, and told us, in a manner that convinced us that he wished us to believe the absurdity, that honour was the breath of his nostrils. However, the captain was fully intent upon giving him the glorious opportunity of exclaiming with effect, Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. Not knowing the strength of the stronghold that it was our intention to surprise, Captain Reud cruised about for a few days, until he had collected another frigate, a sloop of war, and two eighteen gunbrigs, the commanders of all being of course his juniors. Having made all necessary arrangements, one beautiful morning we found ourselves close off the iron-bound and rocky shores of the east end of St. Domingo. We ran along shore for a couple of hours, when we perceived an opening in the lofty piles of granite, that frowned over the blue ocean. This was the entrance into the harbour where lay our destined prizes. Captain Reud, taking the responsibility into his hands, had determined to lead in. The charts were minutely examined, but they gave us no hope. The soundings laid down were so shallow, and the path so intricate, that, by them, we wondered much how even a privateer schooner could make the passage in safety. To a frigate drawing three-and-twenty feet of water, the attempt seemed only a precursor to destruction. We hove-to; the captains of the other vessels were signalled on board, and with them and our first lieutenant and master, a sort of council of war was held; and as every one present gave his voice against the attempt, our skipper's mind was made up directly. He resolved to go in, trusting to the chapter of accidents, to a gracious Providence, and Monsieur Messurier upon the foreyard, with a seamen with a pistol at each ear to scatter his brains the moment the ship struck. The weather was brilliant, the wind moderate and fair, when we bore up for the mouth of the passage. It was something at once ludicrous and painful to witness the agony of our pilot in spite of himself. Between oaths, protestations, and tremors, the perspiration of terror flowing down his face, mingled with his tears, he carried the ship with a precision that proved, at least in that matter, that he was no vain boaster. But we had scarcely advanced a few hundred yards within the gorge, than I had eyes only for the sublimity of the scenery that opened itself in succession as we passed. The water was as smooth as the cheek, as bright as the smile, and as blue as the eye of our first love. Indeed, it was deeply, beautifully blue," as Lord Byron saith to that deeply we owed every thing. The channel was so narrow, that in many places there was not sufficient room to tack the ship, even if she could have turned within her own length, and, in two remarkable points, we had not sufficient width to have carried our studding sails. At one singularly romantic spot of this pass, the rocks far above our mast-heads leant over towards each other, and |