wags, upon being asked the reason of his wearing so
many O's, said, that it was, because he owed for every
thing he had on. This was stolen from Sheridan, but as
it was applied in a different way,
it was decreed to be an
original joke, and all hands gave a hearty laugh, after
the Commodore and first Luff had set the example.

We made some few mistakes, not having seen the Kings of the world at home before, and one of our number capped the climax, by calling him, Mr. King. However, we got off pretty well, until it came round for us to take leave. Now, know ye, gentle readers, that you must never turn your backs upon royalty, but must bow yourselves out, and leave the possibility of your falling down stairs, to Providence. We began to bow out, I was in the rear rank, and had, as I said before, my long spurs on-with my eyes fixed upon the King, I scraped away, and all at once, I found myself plump against the Lord High Chamberlain, whom I gaffed with my rowels in each waxed boot. I heard the smothered exclamation of "Sacre Damn!" in French and English, and turning my head, perceived the seven foot bear, twisting his moustachios with one hand, and scratching his calves with the other. This is no time to swap jack-knives, or stand upon ceremony," thought I, so turning to the right-about, I left the audience chamber, and made my way for the porch, where I arrived some seconds before the others, almost convulsed with laugh

ter.

We next returned to our hotel, and then proceeded to the Mission-House. The house of Mr. King, was a curiosity. It had a little of every thing within its walls. Verde Antique, Parian Marble, blocks from the Acropolis, and stones from Jupiter's Temple, and above all, in the inside, it had a Greek mistress. We were kindly received by the lovely Greek, who still dressed in her conntry's costume, and at a signal, had sweet meats and cold water presented to us.

Athens. I placed my own there, near the names of Byron and Hobhouse, and rejoiced that I had put myself in a fair way to go down to posterity, in such noble company, in lamp-black. It was night before we reached our ship, and the cock had crowed, loud and long, on the Commodore's hencoop, before we closed our eyes in sleep.

The next day, King Otho came to see us. We had our yards mounted, the flag of Greece floating at our fore, and the officers on deck. As he came over the side, the band struck up a martial air,-the cannons thundered majestically, and died away on Hydra and Egina: and then the men on the yards sent forth three hearty cheers. The cheers of Freemen seemed to awaken the dying spirit of Greece, and a faint echo came back from the wild mountain pass and the solitary plain. The French vessels of war in the bay of Salamis, had the flag of Greece hoisted also, and a salute thundered along that desolate bay. Having gone through the military ceremonies, the Commodore invited the King and his suite below, to partake of a collation. The gunner, now, under the superintendance of the officer of the deck, prepared to surprise the King, by exhibiting the wonderful properties of a seven barreled gun, which carried seven hundred balls, and which only needed to be fired once, to set off the whole of the charges.

This treat was planned by the Commodore, some days before, and now, the curious bundle of gun-barrels, with ia swivel and standard, and a monkey-tail for a handle, was brought upon the quarter-deck, and made fast to the taffrail, the muzzle pointing towards the sea, and the monkey-tail towards the mizen-mast. King Otho having satisfied his royal appetite, ascended the ladder with the Commodore and his high officers in company. The King, mounted the starboard horse-block, and the Commodore the larboard, the seamen peeped from the forecastle, and the officers stood in the waist, The King's suite were at the companion rail, and silence reigned "All ready with the gun, sir," said the gunner touch ing his hat to the Commodore.

"Then fire away, quickly," said the Commodore in a whisper.

The gunner's yeoman now seized the monkey-tail. The gunner pulled the trigger, by means of a long string that was attached to it,-bang! bang! bang! went the

The Lady, herself, came to each one of us, with the sweet meats in a silver dish, and with a single silver spoon, put a mouthful inside of our lips, in regular order, commencing with the the Commodore, and ending with his clerk, A sip of water from a single tumbler was then given us, in succession, and conversation commenced. Many sage inquiries were then made about Athens and its wonders. One wanted to see the place where Troy stood, and another said, "He was in a great hurry to go upon Mecropolis and see the Hypar-gun, and then seven balls went off, in a lump, and a barrel thenon. Several curious discourses commenced upon the possibility of Demosthenes having a candle to put in his lantern before candle-wicking was known, and a great diversity of opinion arose, as to the precise quantity of air; required to fill the temple of the winds!

After hearing the Lord's Prayer in Greek, and a class of dark-eyed damsels of Attica, sing "Old Hundred," in modern Greek, we went out upon the Acropolis, Mr. King, and all. Roaming from spot to spot, we were surprised to find it sun-set before the ruins had been half explored. I entered one of the temples before I departed. A bank of earth, raised by the Turks, filled the centre, and the ceiling was covered with lamp-black from the smoke of their torches. Marked upon this black ceiling, were to be seen the names of every traveller who had visited

burst. Down went the gunner and his yeoman, on deck, and round turned the discharging piece, and looked us all in the face; ball after ball whistled over our heads, and then the piece began to shoot lower; at this sudden turn in the affair, the King and the Commodore, who were in danger every moment of being killed, stepped down about twelve steps at once, at the expense of rank and etiquette, and with the rest of us, brought the mizenmast between the unmanageable gun and their bodies. The sailors threw themselves on the deck and laughed ready to split their sides. The gunner, now reached up his hand, and by main force, slewed the muzzle round, and then bent it down, so that it would hit against the taffrail, as it started from side to side. Having been thus relieved from the danger that at one moment seemed so #

great, the whole company laughed heartily at the joke, and took more wine in the cabin, and then the King and his suite retired; the ship saluting as before.

The Commodore sent to King Otho, a mate to the cannon that had been used on the day of his visit, with a letter, extolling its merits to the skies, and informing him, that one such gun would enable him to conquer his enemies, with but few troops, in a siege. The King replied courteously, but seemed to think that the gun in battle, might do more injury to his own troops, than to those of the enemy, on account of the odd way it had of looking at its friends when it was excited.

This gun, the next year, upon the return of the ron, burst also, and put the worthy gunner on the pension list, for an extinguished eye and a cracked head. So much for seven hundred guns in one.

After spending a week in Athens, the "Constitution"; bade adieu to the hills of Attica, and stretched her white wings for the Levant. At evening, the Columns of Cape Colonne, gleamed in the moonlight. In the morning, they were lost in the distance, while the temples of Delos towered above her.

TIME.

BY THE REV. J. H. CLINCH.

TIME drops each day a chrystal screen
The Present and the Past between,
Whose thickening folds shut out at last,
Points brilliant once with Hope's gay light
And Joy's young sunshine round them cast,
But now all lost to Memory's sight,
Or dimly seen, if seen at all;-
Because the thin and glassy pall
Which thickens round us, day by day,
(Unlike the depths of summer air

Which still are clear, however blue)
Is dimmed with passion's darkling hue,
Or soiled by grief, or scratched by care,-
And thus at last is quenched the ray
Which still was bright when youth was gay.

And yet old Time doth well repay
The harm of shutting out the Past;-
Those chrystal lamine which stay
The piercing light on memory cast,
Were once between our eager sight
And that which in the Future lies;
Those folds which dim the Past to-night,
Are found in morning's rising light,
Removed to bid the Future rise
More clearly on the sight.

And thus through life the morrow brightens,
Just as to-day grows dim and gray;-
The peace which now the bosom lightens
Oft springs from griefs of yesterday,
For o'er the Past doth Memory sway,
And o'er the Future Hope preside,
The former grave, the latter gay,
The widow and the bride.

REPKINI, THE BRIGAND.

From unpublished sketches of Russia and other lands.

THE Russian character, from the harsh and difficult language with which it is invested, is but little known, although that country occupies so considerable a portion in the policy of governments; much, therefore, which is indigenous to that soil, and which best pourtrays its national character, is clouded in obscurity. It is not from the actions of cabinets, or the impressions receiv ed from diplomatic embassies, that you can correctly judge of the internal character of any people. It is squad-amongst the middling classes of society—the peasantry, and the working portion of the community that the national traits of a kingdom can be accurately defined. The serfs of Russia are, perhaps, the most degraded, the most ignorant of any race of human beings that are under the surveillance of a Christian government. A moral apathy pervades their whole body-a natural habit of bowing to oppression—a contented feeling with their immediate condition, and, singular to say, a love of country as fervent as any portion of humanity. It is but rare that a spirit of resistance is manifested to the despotic laws of the autocrat, knowing, too well, that his will is absolute, and that death, or worse, eternal banishment to Siberia, would be the punishment awarded to such resistance. Vast as the country is, yet so completely organized are its laws, so strictly administered in every quarter of this tremendous region, that the smallest act of rebellion, down to the pettiest crime, is discovered and punished in the most summary and merciless manner. One instance of a master spirit, who, for a considerable time evaded and set at defiance the civil and military authorities, is worth recording A young Russian, of the name of Repkini, with a mind alive to the degradation to which, as a serf, he was subjected, dared to oppose the mandate of one of the noblemen who had treated his sister in the most cruel manner. The young man, with a heart bursting with indignation, remonstrated upon his cruelty-this was enough to call down the wrath of his despotic master. He was seized, and sentenced to perpetual confinement in a mine upon the nobleman's estate. some means, however, he contrived to effect his escape, and taking to the forests, raised and organized a considerable band of followers, who, like himself deemed it better to brave the frown of justice, than live in the fetters of cruelty and degradation. For many months, this little but hardy band of peasants kept at bay the parties of soldiers sent to secure them. In almost every encounter, they proved victorious, and so famed did they become, that Repkini was looked upon as the Mazzaroni of Russia. His name was associated with all that was romantic-his picture was blazoned in almost every window, and his life and adventures were told in prose, and sung in ballads. At length the spirit of the government was aroused to a more extended view of his character, and the position which he had assumed. Despatching a powerful force, they surrounded the valley in which he and his little band were stationed. So completely were they hemmed in-so utterly deprived of

By

point, replied that he had been forbidden to afford him || And never quiet for a moment lay,

any succor. Great God, was it not enough to torture, but that it was deemed necessary to resort to a refinement upon the most barbarous inhumanity. "Were such the orders you received?" I inquired. "Was his sentence not fulfilled by the punishment of the knout?" No," replied he, “the sentence is― He is to be

left to die,' and even if he had recovered, I understood he would have been sent to Siberia. But a policy of the most inhuman species is always resorted to by

But broke the heart, which those tormentors dire, Sorrow and care had gnawed and made their food, Feeding with it their clam'rous serpent brood.

IV.

Ay, here they lie, as when they were alive,
With dim, deep eyes, like lamps, that of a night,

Afar within a narrow hall may rive

While, blue as seas wherein the Indians dive,

The darkness palpable-with cheek death-white,

The veins are swelling in the forehead's lightAnd, as the struggle were this moment o'er, Nostril and lip are slightly tinged with gore.

Y.

For these are they whose songs are now the food
And inspiration of a thousand souls:-
While this broad ocean, in its solitude,

government, and which was exemplified in the case
of Repkini, which is, that the unfortunate criminal, if he
can be neglected and denied the rights of humanity, so as
to expire in his dungeon, and fulfil the sentence of the
law to be left to die,' saves the expense of his trans-
portation to Siberia, and all further trouble which may
arise from his confinement there. Such was the fate of
this much-injured and murdered man-from opposition
to a villain who had wronged his beloved sister in the
most vital part. Power was paramount to virtue, wealth
to poverty, and from daring to assert the prerogative of
his manhood-the gift of his Creator, he was seized,||
manacled, and tortured-denied the common aid of
humanity, and left to expire in the agony of soul and
body, unpitied, unshriven and unwept.
"Murmured he not at the cruelty of his fate? Spoke The wrecks of noble hearts are lying here,

he of no kind one who was dear in his remembrance ?" I
asked of the jailor.

"Yes! My sister! my sister!' were the last words that he uttered," answered the callous keeper of the prison, with an air of the utmost carelessness.

Poor Repkini, one heart has a sigh for thee, one eye tear to weep for thy memory.

FANCIES ON FAME.

BY ALBERT PIKE.

I.

H.

"ONCE more upon the ocean!" Yet once more Launched in my slender barque of careless rhyme, Upon that deep, along whose sandy shore

Are scattered hopes and phantasies sublime,
Poets' imaginings, sweet Fancy's store,

The hopes of Youth, its follies and its crime-
And on this stormy sea I lift my sail,
And bend my cheek to catch the favoring gale.

II.

Here by a high and beaked promontory

Its name, Neglect-lie many a youngster dead;
Some, whose great griefs are told in piteous story,
And some, who ever from men's knowledge fled,
Working in cells and solitude for glory,

And seldom bent in sleep the weary head-
Then uttered to the world their burning songs;-
And some who hid, and some who told their wrongs.

III.

Ay, 'till their hearts withered and shrank away,
Scorching to embers with the genius-fire-

Or burst and scattered into bloody spray,

With the strong passion which did them inspire,

Laves their white feet, and still unceasing rollsThe dim monotony of its blue food

On their dead ears; they live in deathless scrolls-
Shelley and Keats, and Neele and Chatterton,
With Savage, Nature's most unlucky son.

VI.

Anear this ocean, this deep sea of Fame,
Shivered and broken, fire-consumed and sere,
The soul of sorrow, and the soul of flame:
The poet rests the conqueror ancar,

And unto both the world has given the name
Of men whose great Ambition was the bane
Which hurled them down, like gods, from their high fane.

VII.

Upon this sea I dare to steer my barque-
Bask in its calm, nor tremble at its storm-
Dart through its mist and terror like the lark,
And sing, like him, whene'er the sun is warm-
Ride on its waves, and to its breakers hark,

For the great waves that wreck the frigate's form,
Spare the small skiff that o'er the shallow glides,
And where the tall ships strike, it safely rides.

VIII.

Oh, Fame, thou beacon set amid the shoals,
Where, like the wrecker's light, thou lurest on
The mariner to death! Thou to the souls
Of poets and philosophers, the sun,
By which each one indites his golden scrolls,
Hoping that many an age his words will con.
It were but folly for my tongue to say
Thou hast not lured me, too, along my way.

IX.

For thee the poet from the world doth go,

And dries his heart up by the midnight lampFor thee the chemist sits, and weak and slow, Peers into Nature. Thou dost only stamp, And armies all the wide earth overflow,

Scale the grim breach, defend the desperate campFor thee the orator pours forth his lore,

And senates-nations quake his voice before.