painful, undoubtedly, in viewing the productions of others, but he will also find the more exquisite satisfaction in those which he can approve. Such an one, as I have before said, will meet with success in all his undertakings, and find honor among men. He too is fitted to admire the perfections of Nature with the most exalted reverence. And who would not prefer pleasures so refined, though balanced by pain equally acute, to the torpid existence of him who possesses neither ?

It is one theory of beauty, not wholly unreasonable, that it consists in exact and suitable proportions. It is, perhaps, more a practical notion of the present day, that that is most admirable which answers best its end. Good taste combines the two, making all things proportional and symmetrical in all their parts, and then adapting them to their object and the appropriate occasion. We do not claim for it that it includes all that constitutes beauty or excellence, but that it is essential to both, and the means through which they are best perceived. We find it a quality first agreeable, then useful, then absolutely indispensable.

V.

Right ahead, sir!”

We were on the Banks of Newfoundland, and moving along with a fresh breeze to the eastward. The dense mist, which is continually generated upon these Banks, by the mingling of cold waters brought by northern winds from the polar regions, with the warm waters brought by the Gulf stream from the tropics, rested heavily upon the sea and completely enveloped our brig, concealing her head almost entirely from the helmsman. The tooting of fishermen's horns, coming through the fog from many points of the compass, gave notice of our proximity to the codfishing fleets which flock to these shoals at certain seasons of the year, from every seaport between Cape Cod and Belle Isle. These fishing crafts are generally small schooners, heavily built and noted for their weatherly qualities. They fish at

their anchors, and cover the Banks in such numbers as to lie in the direct path of merchantmen, bound to and from Europe by the "northern passage ;" and the only knowledge that the mariner has of their dangerous proximity is by these tooting horns, which, like the cries of children concealed in a forest, are unexplainable by the traveler who has never heard them before.

It was my morning watch on deck; and as the last response to my "where away?" came from the forecastle, I caught a momentary glimpse of the strange sail lying directly in our course, and, indeed, close aboard of us. I saw in an instant that we must go to leeward, or come in contact; in the latter case we should cut the fellow down, for he was evidently a small craft-a fisherman at his anchors, and all hands aboard fast asleep!

"Hard up with your helm!" I shouted at the top of my voice, determined to startle the whole watch. "Forward there! flatten in the head sheets and stand by the maintopsail braces!" While, at the same moment, I rushed to the trysail halyards, and down came the trysail with a run.

The maneuvre was successful. The good brig sprung to the call of her helm, and curveted away gracefully to leeward, just clearing the stern of the fisherman, whose watch had been roused rather unceremoniously-as a Cape Horn watch is sometimes, when a set of frozen topsails must be instantly close-reefed !-appearing in robe-dechemise, commonly called "shirt tails," a cold article not found in Webster, although found everywhere else!

Advising the sleepy fisherman to keep his eyes open, and be on the lookout when we should happen that way again, the brig was brought up to the wind, her canvas was filled, and she stood on her former course as though nothing had happened.

66

There was an old man on board our brig, who had been several voyages with us as sailmaker. Sailors, as you are aware, are always fond of nicknames; and messmates are soon known to each other only as "Tom," " Dick," "Harry," &c. But the white hairs of the old sailmaker, and his unassuming deportment, which his venerable experience by no means warranted, were universally respected by all hands; and no one ever ventured to address him by any more familiar term than Joseph-the only name by which he was known to the crew. Joseph had followed the seas for forty years, and was a thorough sailor. He had cruised in whalers and in men-of-war, and had stood in every grade of the merchant service. His nautical knowledge and experience was consequently very great. I never met with a man whose acquaintance with every variety of meteorological phenomena, as displayed upon the ocean, was so extensive as his. His predictions of the changes of weather were accurate and true. On soundings he could tell the depth of the water by its color, and the estimate of the log-line rarely varied from the estimate made by his eye. Indeed, Joseph was an exceedingly valuable acquisition to any ship's company. But he was unable to do heavy work, for he was old; his timbers were infirm, his plankings were falling off, his spars were weak,

and he was expecting soon to be hauled up forever. So he had a watch below all night, and during the day he busied himself in mending and patching the brig's sails, quietly seated on the leeside of the quarterdeck, and never leaving his work unless directed. I was very fond of the old man, and was always pleased to see him about in a storm. He was on deck whenever it blew hard, though he was not reckoned with either of the watches. And the first thing he would do on coming up from below was to give his clean ducks the regular hitch of an old salt, and then plant himself with dignity to windward, and gaze steadfastly at the storm, which was playing boisterously with his venerable locks. He would gaze silently until he had read the storm completely, and then he was ready to bear a hand at anything. But he never volunteered his nautical knowledge; he kept it to himself until he was asked for it; and when he gave it, he always maintained that respect and deference which a good seaman habitually observes to his superiors in command, although they may be his inferiors in skill and experience. You may wonder why this old man continued to go to sea. It was because he could rest in content nowhere else; I suppose that he would pine away from mental agony, if compelled to stay ashore twelve months. The sea was his element; the ship was his home. His eventful life had been spent upon the great deep; he hoped there to end it and to be buried beneath its billows.

Joseph was on deck when the brig went to leeward to pass the fishing schooner; for it was his custom to turn out at four bells of the morning watch, and look at the weather, and get ready his day's work. And when the brig was once more making her course, and the helm had been relieved, and the decks were quiet, as I paced the weatherquarter, Joseph passed to leeward to spread out an old royal, for repairs. I respected the old sailor, and was glad to talk with him whenever circumstances permitted, for he possessed a vast fund of adventurous story which he had accumulated during a sea life of forty years, and which he was always willing to communicate at my request.

"Those fellows had a lucky escape, Joseph."

"Yes, sir," said the old man, touching his hat, "and they may thank the sharp eyes of the starboard watch, sir."

"Did you ever run anything down on these Banks ?" I asked, hoping to draw him into a narrative.

"Yes, sir. It was some twenty years ago, and I was first officer in the good ship Chevalier, Captain Gerry; we were eighteen days from Liverpool bound into Boston, with a heavy cargo of salt and hardware. It was a black night that we came on these Banks, sir, and it began to blow terribly hard from the northeast. The old man was a driver, sir, he always made quick passages, and he was in a hurry to get into Boston, for he had a nice family there. But before the starboard watch went below he had to shorten sail, which he did not like to do, so he only put the ship down to single topsails, sir, when they ought to have been double reefed, and only two of them at that. But the old ship steered wild, for she was deeply loaded, and

she bowled along full a dozen knots, sir, and the wind right over the quarter! Well, I had command of the deck, sir, when the watches were set, and was ordered to keep the ship to her course as long as she would make it good. But she staggered, sir, and I thought you might see her keel, every now and then, if you would just lay out on the jib-boom. I was afraid of these fishermen; I knew that they could neither scud nor ride at anchor in such a gale, and I thought we might cut some of them down while they were lying-to, for they are weatherly boats, you know, sir, and will lay-to like a duck, with only the smallest bit of a mainsail spread. There was some danger of ice, too, sir, as we had seen considerable of it the day before, and the spray that came on board was very cold. I did not like the manner the old man had of driving before such a gale and in such a pokerish spot, sir; but it was my duty to obey orders if I broke owners, and I kept the ship to her course, though I did not like the way she went along, for she complained terribly, and seemed to think she was abused. Well, it might have been about two bells, sir, I was standing aft by the wheel; we had two men steering the old ship, for she acted ugly, and it was all we could do to make her go along steady. I had my eye to windward, sir; the breeze seemed to freshen and the top of a sea would tumble over the quarter occasionally, and I began to think it was time to call the Captain and heave the ship to; when, all of a sudden, the ship lifted herself right up, sir, just like a whale in his last flurry, and made a bound, and a recoil, and a plunge, sir, and the topgallant masts, fore and aft, went off to leeward! I thought all the watch had gone too, sir, for I could see or hear nothing of them on deck, sir, and every thing was in confusion! I jumped to my feet, and heard terrible cries of distress going astern, but the ship seemed to be driving on as before! I shouted to the men on the forecastle, and we hove the ship to instantly, to see what was the matter. Well, sir, we had run right over a smack which was laying to, and we had cut her right in halves, sir! The old man came up, and all the starboard watch, and we hung out lanterns and threw overboard floats, for you know, sir, a boat could not live in such a sea. Well, we laid by till morning, but never a thing did we see of the poor fellows! Their's was a sad fate, sir," added the old sailor, with emotion. "Old Davy took them down to his locker without even calling the watch! I never cross these Banks, sir, without thinking of that smack, and hearing those terrible cries of distress floating off astern!"

"And did you never learn who it was you ran down?"

No, sir; nobody knows to this day who those poor fellows were that the old Chevalier sent to their long account! She was a fine ship, sir, that old Chevalier, and many a lucky run she made when I was aboard of her. Why, sir, she was crossing these Banks one night in winter, it blew a tremendous gale right in our teeth, with snow and a heavy sea running. Before the watches were set, we hove the ship to under a close-reefed maintopsail and forespencer, and made every thing snug for the night, and I took charge of the

deck. The old ship, sir, was a fine sea-boat; she rode like a Mother Carey, and wouldn't allow any water to board her. She was as comfortable a craft in a storm, as ever floated. But she is gone now, sir; some giddy young fellow piled up her timbers on the Bahamas, and I thought I had lost a friend, sir, when I heard she was dead. Well, sir, as I was going to tell you, the watch had not more than got below, when the lookout on the forecastle sang out, Sail close aboard, on the weather bow! I instantly put the helm up, sir, and gave orders to let the ship pay off. But the stranger did exactly the same thing, and we came together with an awful crash, just abaft the fore chains. The old ship trembled, sir, you must know, and I thought her last struggle had come. But the fellow soon went adrift from us, leaving his forerigging on our decks. The old Chevalier had no notion of giving up the ghost, sir, and she swung back upon a sea and came down again upon the stranger, cutting him right amidships! We could do nothing with the old ship, sir, she seemed to be mad and determined to crush the fellow. It was a small bark and she was sinking; we got our lanterns over the side and helped the crew climb aboard. But there was one poor fellow that we could not get up; he grasped a rope's end hanging over the bows and called to us to haul him up. But before we could get him up, sir, the old ship plunged down again upon the bark, and crushed the poor fellow right between the vessels! It was a horrible thing, sir! We suffered badly in our spars, stove in our bows, and lost our anchors. We sounded the pumps, but the ship was as dry as she was when she slid from the stocks. Well, sir, we lay by till morning, and saw the wreck of the poor bark go down to the bottom! Now, sir, there is few people that think we sailors suffer any such things. The landsmen know nothing about the perils of the ocean, sir; I have seen much of them in my life."

The brig had been running on a taut bowline all the morning; but I observed that the wind was now veering around to the South'ard and West'ard, and it was necessary to trim ship; so leaving the old sailmaker to patch up the royal, I attended to the immediate duties of the deck.

The perils of a seaman's life are, as Joseph said, little realized by landsmen. In your luxurious and comfortable home, you take up the daily sheet, and read of melancholy disasters at sea; of floating fragments of wrecks; of ships that sailed gallantly from port and have never been heard from; of the sailor washed from the yardarm, or pitched from the giddy masthead to sink, in angry waters, "unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown;" of his death in foreign climes by burning fevers, by the hands of barbarous savages, by hunger, and by cold; of his bones whitening the cannibals' shore, or the dungeons of a foreign prison. But you realize little of the magnitude of these perils and distresses, and consequently give the sailor little of your sympathy. Missionary ships spread their canvas to carry the Glad Tidings to the heathen, and the prayers of all Christians follow after them. But because of ignorance, perhaps-no prayer goes up for the ad