the curls of the hair-Luff, sir, luff, we will run him aboard on his weather quarter."

your

"The fool must be lying-to!" returned the lieutenant. “Even witches fail of common sense at times!

way he has his head, sir?"

Do you see which

"I see nothing but the light. It is so dark that our own sails are scarcely visible—and yet I think here are his yards, a little forward of our lee beam."

""Tis our own lower boom. I got it out in readiness for the the other tack, in case the knave should ware. Are we not running too full?"

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"Luff you may a little,-luff, or we shall crush him!"

As this order was given, Ludlow passed swiftly forward. He found the boarders ready for a spring, and he rapidly gave his orders. The men were told to carry the brigantine at every hazard, but not to offer violence unless serious resistance was made. They were thrice enjoined not to enter the cabins; and the young man expressed a generous wish that, in every case, the Skimmer of the Seas might be taken alive. By the time these directions were given, the light was so near that the malign countenance of the seagreen lady was seen in every lineament. Ludlow looked in vain for the spars, in order to ascertain in which direction the head of the brigantine lay; but trusting to luck, he saw that the decisive

moment was come.

"Starboard, and run him aboard!—Away there, you boarders, away! Heave with your grapnels; heave, men! with a long swing, heave! Meet her with the helm-hard down-meet her steady!" was shouted in a clear, full, and steady voice, that seemed to deepen at each mandate which issued from the lips of the young captain.

The boarders cheered heartily, and leaped into the rigging. The Coquette readily and rapidly yielded to the power of her rudder. First inclining to the light, and then sweeping up towards the wind again, in another instant she was close upon the chase. The irons were thrown, the men once more shouted, and all on board held their breaths in expectation of the crash of the meeting hulls. At that moment of high excitement, the woman's face rose a short distance in the air, seemed to smile in derision of their

attempt, and suddenly disappeared. The ship passed steadily ahead, while no noise but the sullen wash of the waters was audible. The boarding-irons were heard falling heavily into the sea, and the Coquette rapidly overrun the spot where the light had been seen, without sustaining any shock. Though the clouds lifted a little, and the eye might embrace a circuit of a few hundred feet, there certainly was nothing to be seen within its range but the unquiet element, and the stately cruiser of Queen Anne floating on its bo

som.

Though its effects were different on the differently constituted minds of those who witnessed the singular incident, the disappointment was general. The common impression was certainly unfavourable to the earthly character of the brigantine, and when opinions of this nature once get possession of the ignorant, they are not easily removed. Even Trysail, though experienced in the arts of those who trifle with the revenue laws, was much inclined to believe that this was no vulgar case of floating lights and false beacons, but a manifestation that others besides those who had been regularly trained to the sea were occasionally to be found on the waters.

They both were hush'd, the voice, the chords,-
I heard but once that witching lay:

And few the notes, and few the words,
My spell-bound memory brought away;

Traces, remembered here and there,

Like echoes of some broken strain

Links of a sweetness lost in air,

That nothing now could join again.

Ev'n these, too, ere the morning, fled;
And, though the charm still linger'd on,
That o'er each sense her song had shed,
The song itself was faded, gone ;—

Gone, like the thoughts that once were ours,
On summer days, ere youth had set;
Thoughts bright, we know, as summer flowers,
Though what they were, we now forget.

In vain, with hints from other strains,
I wooed this truant air to come,-
As birds are taught, on eastern plains,
To lure their wilder kindred home.

In vain ;—the song that Sappho gave,
In dying, to the mournful sea,
Not muter slept beneath the wave,
Than this within my memory.

At length, one morning, as I lay

In that half-waking mood, when dreams Unwillingly at last give way

To the full truth of day-light's beams,

From which had breath'd, as from a shrine
Of song and soul, the notes I sought,-
Came with its music close to mine;

And sung the long lost measure o'er,—
Each note and word, with every tone

And look, that lent it life before,-
All perfect, all again my own!

Like parted souls, when, 'mid the blest,

They meet again, each widow'd sound

Through memory's realm had wing'd in quest
Of its sweet mate, till all were found.

Nor ev'n in waking, did the clue,

Thus strangely caught, escape again;
For never lark its matins knew

So well as now I knew this strain.

And oft, when memory's wondrous spell
Is talk'd of in our tranquil bower,

I sing this lady's song, and tell
The vision of that morning hour.

From the Casket.

Anecdotical Gleanings.

ADMIRAL SIR T. HOBSON.

This extraordinary man was born at Bonchurch, in the Isle of Wight.

He was left an orphan, at a very early age, and apprenticed by the parish to a tailor, a species of employment ill suited to his enterprising spirit. As he was one day sitting alone on the shopboard, casting his eyes towards the sea, he was struck with the appearance of a squadron of men of war coming round Dunnose; and, following the first impulse of his fancy, he quitted his work and ran down to the beach, when he cast off the painter from the first boat he saw, jumped on board, and plied the oars so well, that he quickly reached the Admiral's ship, where he entered as a volunteer, turned the boat adrift, and bade adieu to his native place. Early the next morning, the Admiral fell in with a French squadron, and, in a few hours, a warm action commenced, which was fought on both sides with equal bravery. During this time, Hobson obeyed his orders with great chearfulness and alacrity, but after the fight had continued for above two hours, he became

E

extremely impatient, and enquired of the sailors who were near him, what was the object for which they were contending. On being told that the action must continue until the white rag at the enemy's mast head was struck, our young hero exclaimed, “ oh, if that's all, my lads, I'll see what I can do." At this moment, the ships were engaged yard-arm and yard-arm, and obscured in the dense smoke of the guns. Young Hobson, taking advantage of this circumstance, determined either to hawl down the enemy's colours, or perish in the hazardous attempt. He accordingly mounted the shroud, and was not perceived by the enemy; he now walked the horse of the main yard, gained that of the French Admiral, and, ascending with a remarkable agility to the main-topgallant-mast head, struck and carried off the French flag, with which he retreated; and, at the moment he regained his own ship, the British tars shouted " Victory," without any other cause than that the enemy's flag had disappeared. The crew of the French ship being thrown into confusion, in consequence of the loss of their colours, ran from their guns, and while the Admiral and officers, equally surprised at the event, were endeavouring to rally them, the British tars seized the opportunity, boarded the vessel, and took her. Hobson, at this juncture, descended the shrouds, with the French Admiral's flag wound round his arm, and displayed it triumphantly to the sailors assembled upon the main deck, who received him and his prize with the utmost rapture and astonishment. This heroic action being mentioned on the quarter deck, Hobson was ordered to attend there; and the officers, far from giving him credit for his gallantry, gratified their envy by brow beating him, and threatened him with a severe punishment for his audacity; but the Admiral, on hearing of the exploit, observed a very opposite conduct. My lad," said he, addressing young Hobson, I believe you to be a brave young man; from this day I order you to walk the quarter deck; and, according to your future conduct, you shall obtain my patronage and protection." Hobson soon convinced his generous patron, that the countenance shewn him, was not mis-placed. He went rapidly and satisfactorily through the several ranks of the service, until he became an Admiral.

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