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upon the downfall of Napoleon,—of him who had been the grand promoting cause of all the wars which it was intended to terminate,—it promised to be a lasting and a permanent peace. With this feeling, it was universally hailed as one of the most joyous events that had occurred for many years, and as the pledge of future happiness and prosperity; and, as was natural, the British nation was filled with gratitude towards those, who, under Divine Providence, had been the chief instruments in bringing it about.

Conspicuous amongst those who were thus regarded, stood the Duke of Wellington,—England's great General, who had baflled all the most consummate captains of Napoleon,—who had chased the enemy's armies from the territories of Spain and Portugal,—and, after liberating those nations from the hands of the spoiler, had finally planted the triumphant standard of our country on the soil of France itself. These services were willingly recognised and appreciated by his grateful countrymen; honours were heaped on him from all sides, and men taxed their ingenuity to devise modes in which they might best mark their gratitude to him. To this feeling, so universally displayed, is to be attributed the production of the Wellington Shield, one of the most magnificent works of art ever executed in the precious metals.

The merchants and bankers of London, desirous of especially recording their sense of his brilliant services, held a public meeting, at which it was determined to raise by subscription a sum of money, to be expended in the production of some grand memorial, at once worthy the acceptance of him whom it was intended to honour, and best calculated to testify the respect and admiration of those who were about to bestow it. A committee was appointed, to consider how these intentions might be most effectually carried irito operation, and to select the most fitting and appropriate from such designs as should be proposed. This committee consisted of the following gentlemen:

John Julius Anger-stein, E9q,
lieeston Long, Esq.
William Manning, Esq., M. P.
Jeremiah Harman, Esq.

J. W. Dennison, Esq., M. P.
John Dent, Esq., M. p.
John lnglis, Esq.
William Mellish. Esq., M. P.
William Holden, Esq., Secretary.

The plans presented for the approbation of the committee, were, as might have been expected, numerous, and such as required attentive consideration. At length, it was determined, that some grand work of art, executed in the precious metals, would form the most suitable gift that could be made.

Among the houses most distinguished for working in gold and silver, were those of Messrs. Rundell and Bridge, and Messrs. Green, Ward, and Green; and it happened, curiously enough, that the former were, at this time, occupied in making a model of the celebrated Shield of Achilles, from the design of the late John Flaxman, Esq., R.A., for his late MajestyGeorge the Fourth. This circumstance suggested the idea of that very work being admirably adapted to the purpose which the committee had to carry into effect. It was accordingly proposed, and the powerful recommendation of its intrinsic merits was strengthened by the consideration, that it would be more easy of execution than any other, inasmuch, as those who might perform it, were already engaged in a similar undertaking. These were weighty reasons, but, in the mean while, another plan had been matured, and its claims were now preferred with a still more powerful effect.

Anxious to obtain some original design, of decided merit, Messrs. Green and Ward were induced to apply to the eminent sculptor Francis Ciiantrey,

Esq., R. A., for his advice and assistance. The numerous occupations of this distinguished artist, did not permit him to undertake the., task; but, added he, "if there is a man in England who can assist you, that man is Stothard;" and, when informed that a copy of the Shield of Achilles had been suggested, he observed, " Surely, if it is to be a shield, let it bathe Shield of Wellington, not of Achilles." The hint was adopted, and the advice followed. Mr. Stothard was fortunately consulted, and he readily agreed to form a design for a " Shield of Wellington." The design was submitted to the Committee, and having been by them approved, was forthwith carried into execution*.

Owing, however, to the length of time which elapsed before the plan was matured, and to the delays caused by the difficulties of execution, it was not until the year 1822 that the whole work was completed. In the mean while, however, the subject had undergone the fullest consideration, the greatest care had been bestowed on the workmanship, and the result was the production of one of the finest specimens of art ever executed in the precious metals.

Description Of The Shield.

Thb form of the shield is circular; the diameter being about three feet eight inches. It is composed, (speaking generally,) of two portions, a central compartment, and a broad border. The former is of burnished gold (or rather, silver richly gilt); it is convex, and radiating from the centre, in which is a concavity, containing a beautiful group of figures, in alto relievo, executed in deadened gold, and thus appearing extremely effective, from the radiant ground on which it rests. In the centre of this group, is seen the Duke of Wellington on horseback, the head of his charger forming the boss of the shield; and around him, on all sides, are represented the most illustrious of those officers who served under him, and among whom ure Lord Beresford, Lord Hill, tho Earl of Hopetoun, Lord Lyndoch, the gallant Sir Thomas Picton, who was slain at Waterloo, Sir Lowry Cole, and others. Above, is an allegorical representation of Fame, crowning the illustrious commander with the wreath of laurel; and beneath, at his feet, lies a figure, whose fallen emblems mark the downfall of tho usurper's despotism. Two other prostrate figures are also seen, the one with a dagger, the other with a torch, and representing the violence and the devastation, to which an end was so happily caused. The arrangement of this central group, is extremely effective; the principal figure has a due prominence, and the surrounding officers are well placed, without producing any effect of crowd or confusion.

The border is of deadened gold, and is divided into ten compartments, in each of which is represented, in basso relievo, one of the principal events in the Duke's military life, up to the general peace of 1814. Little was it then thought that the following year was to witness a battle, the greatest, both in itself and its results, that history ever recorded. The Battle of Waterloo, which took place in June, 1815, is thus excluded from this bright series; those comprised are as follows:—

Victory of Assave, (September the 23rd, 1803.)
Battle of Vimiera, (August tho 21st, 1808,)
Passage of the Douro, (May the 12th, 1809.)
Lines of Torres Vedras, (March the 6th, 1811.)
Badajoz taken by Assault, (April the fith, 1812.)
Battle of Salamanca, (July the 22nd, 1812.)
Battle of Vittoria, (June the 21st, 1813.)
Battle of the Pyrenees, Bourdeaux delivered, (1813.)
Entrance into Toulouse, (April the 12th, 1813.)
Dukedom of Wellington conferred, (1814.)

These great and glorious events are represented with equal beauty, spirit, and effect, in a series of historical compositions, surrounding the central compartment, and separated from each other by an appropriate column. The great size of the complete

• The designs for two beautiful Columns to support the Shield were afterwards furnished by K. Smirke, Esq.

shield renders it impossible to present, within our limits, a general and accurate view of the whole; our present engraving, therefore, represents only the centre group, and the radiated ground upon which it is placed. In future pages, we shall present separate engravings from the surrounding compartments, ten in number, and as every one of these is commemorative of a great event, each engraving will be accompanied by an historical narrative, in which occasion will be taken to explain the nature, importance, and results of the events themselves, and presenting collectively a brief history of the war in the Peninsula, from 1808 to 1814.

The two columns, designed by Mr. Smirke, and which stand one on each side of the shield, are intended to convey a representation of the fruits of the victories depicted on it. They are each about four feet three or four inches high, including the figures of Fame and Victory, by which they are respectively surmounted. The body of each column is formed by the trunk of a palm-tree, with a capital of leaves; it stands on a triangular base, and is surrounded in each instance, by three characteristic figures. Military trophies and weapons are heaped up at the angles of the base, as if indicating that there is no longer any need of them.

Around the base of the column which supports the figure of Victory, are resting three soldiers of the United Kingdom, a British Grenadier, a Highlander, and an Irish Light-infantryman, each holding the flag of his country, distinguished by the Rose, the Thistle and the Shamrock. The subjects in basso relievo on the base, are, Britannia awarding the laurel-wreath alike, to the army and the navy; a return to the full occupation of the useful and ingenious arts; and a festive dance, in which both old and young are gaily joining.

Around the column, which is surmounted by Fame, are placed in quiescent attitudes, three soldiers, emblematic of three of the nations whose troops the Duke had commanded in the field, namely, a Portuguese, an Indian Sepoy, and a Spanish Guerilla, who are supposed to have bound a medallion of the Duke among the folds of their respective flags. Under each figure is a basrelief, describing the peaceful occupations of the several countries. Under the Guerilla, are Spanish peasants dancing, while the vine and the oxen denote the return of agriculture and the vintage. Under the Portuguese, the long-neglected vineyard appears restored to its productive harvest; and beneath the Sepoy, a Hindostanee family reposes in peace, under the protection of the British government, while a warrior is relating an account of the Battle of Assaye, by which the country was freed from the ravages of the Mahrattas. The guardians of this scene, are, a soldier of the 19th regiment of Dragoons, (which much distinguished itself in that battle,) a Sepoy, and a Mahratta captive.

We have now given a brief outline of this celebrated work, and referred to the warm commendations that from every side have been heapod upon its author (the veteran Stothard), and more especially, to the general applause of all competent judges. The difficulties which the artist had to encounter, were, indeed, of no ordinary kind; for he had to consider, in the formation of his designs, not only what might be beautiful and proper in itself, but what might, also, be practicable, and capable of being executed, in a material so difficult to be worked as that of which this splendid trophy is composed. How completely he has triumphed over them, at least, in so far as the central compartment of the shield is concerned, and how effectually he has avoided those faults of obscurity too commonly met with in allegorical representations, our readers will at once perceive, by inspecting the engraving which precedes this article. That the merits of the historical illustrations which occupy its border are not less conspicuous, will be equally evident from the engravings by which the future historical narratives will be illustrated.

PROVERBS. II.

Both good and bad, alike may choose,

To scorn my humble speech;
But Folly will alone refuse,

To do what Proverbs teach.—From the Greek.

PROvr.nns, say the Italians, bear age; and he who would do well, may view himself in them, as in a lookingglass. And again, A Proverb is the child of Experience. We need, therefore, make no apology for again devoting a portion of our columns to the subject, so soon after its first introduction. But the candid reader will make due allowances, if the selection of proverbs should seem imperfect; if some are left out that deserve to be put in, and on the other hand, if others, which strike him as less useful, are inserted. The fact is, the plainest arM most homely are often the best; and such as these may, on some critical occasions, suddenly present themselves to the mind even of the wise and good, so as to help them to act more carefully, or, as circumstances may be, more firmly and wisely, than they would have done, without such a timely adviser.

It is, however, for the benefit of the young and inexperienced, that these papers are chiefly intended. And would they but carefully read each in succession, and then give a few of those minutes which are generally lost every day in doing nothing, towards pondering and reflecting well upon them, the advantage derived would more than repay them for the trouble;, for they might thus learn (and who among us does not require this knowledge?) to become wiser and better. But in applying to these "dead counsellors" for the incentives to wisdom and virtue, it will be well to bear in mind, that Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of Lights.

12. Let nothing Affright ycu but sin.

This beautiful proverb is finely illustrated in the writings of Juvenal, who flourished at Rome, A.d. DO. Gifford, his translator, observes of him, in reference to his 13th Satire;—

"Juvenal is here almost a Christian. I say almost: for though his ignorance of' that light which was come into the world' did not enable him to number among the dreadful consequences of impenitent guilt, the certain punishment of the life to come; yet on every other topic that can alarm the sinner, he is energetic and awful beyond example. Perhaps the horrors of a troubled conscience were never depicted with such impressive solemnity as in this satire." Guilt still alarms, and conscience, ne'er asleep, Wounds with incessant strokes, " not loud but deep," While the vex'd mind, her own tormentor, plies A scorpion scourge, unmark'd by human ^res'. Trust me, no tortures which the poets feign, Can match the fierce, th' unutterable pain, He feels, who night and day, devoid of rest, Carries his own Accuser in his breast.—Juvenal, Sat. 13.

13. A civil Answer to a rude speech costs not much, and is worth a great deal.

All are struck with the truth and beauty of the sentiment, so briefly, yet fully expressed, in Prov. xv. 1. A soft Answer turneth away wrath. And how much happier should we be, if wc put it oftener in practice! The above (13), is a proverb of the Italians, who, also, have this saying, "One mild word quenches more heat than a whole bucket of water."

14. Make a slow Answer to a hasty question.

"Let every man," says St. James, "be swift to hear, slow to speak."

15. Few men take his Advice who talks a great deal. And no wonder: for," he who knows but little, presently outs with it." And, though silence is not necessarily, nor in itself a proof of good judgment, excessive talkativeness shows a want of it. The following is an old Grecian adage, translated. "Tongue! whither goest thou? To build a city, and then to destroy it!" signifying, says Erasmus, that the tongue affords great blessings to mankind, and that the same member becomes

107—2

a cause of dreadful mischief. Our English poet, George Wither, who wrote in 1634, observes in his Emblems,

No heart can think to what strange ends,
The Tongue's unruly motion tends.

16. In vain does he ask Advice who will not follow it.
"Few things," says Dr. Johnson, "are so liberally

bestowed, or squandered with so little effect, as good advice."

17. He who will revenge every Affront means not to live long.

18. Forgiveness is the best revenge of an Affront. How different from the maxim of " An eye for an

eye, and a tooth for a tooth," is 1 Cor. xiii.

19. The best Armour is to keep out of gun-shot. This teaches us to avoid, as far as possible, all

occasions that lead to sin or to mischief of whatever kind, rather than be drawn into the current, fancying that we shall escape.

For an illustration of this, turn to the ancient fable of the Sirens, or, as Lord Bacon, in his Wisdom of the Ancients, interprets them, the Pleasures. "The habitation of the Sirens," says that wise author, " was in certain pleasant islands, from whence, as soon as out of their watch-tower they discovered any ships approaching, with their sweet tunes they would first entice and stay the people, and having them in their power would destroy thein. So great was the mischief they did, that these isles of the Sirens, even as far off as man can ken them appeared white with the bones of unburied carcasses. For the remedying of this misery, Ulysses, who was passing that way, caused all the ears of his company to bo stopped with wax, and made himself to be bound to the mainmast, with special commandment to his mariners not to bo loosed, albeit himself should require them so to do. But Orpheus disdained to be so bound,- and with a shrill and sweet voice, singing the praises of his Gods to his harp, suppressed the songs of the Sirens, and so freed himself from their danger. This," he adds, "is very grave and excellent. The first means to shun inordinate pleasures is to withstand and resist them in their beginninas and seriously to avoid all occasions that are offered to entice the mind. But a remedy, when these assail us, is found under the conduct of Orpheus: for they that chant and resound heavenly praises, confound and destroy the voices and incantations of the Sirens. And Divine meditations do not only in power subdue all sensual pleasures, but also faexceed them in sweetness and delight."

20. Avoid the pleasure that will bite to-morrow. The Italians have a similar proverb:—" Too dear is

the pleasure that is purchased with pain."

21. Better to go About than to fall into the ditch; Or, as we have heard it in the West of England

"The farthest way About is the nearest way home" This as a plain matter of fact, is, in the country, particularly where the unfrequented roads are bad, and the lanes Ions und narrow, well worthy of attention. But under this proverb is couched a piece of advice; To be quiet and patient, and neither rash nor violent in seeking any desired end Also, to be careful in a judgment or argument, how we get to a conclusion suddenly, or " as the crow flies."

22. The case is Altered, quoth Plowden.

This is a saying well known in Shropshire. Edmund Pbwden was a great common lawyer in the reign of Jihzabeth, born at Plowden, in Shropshire. The following circumstance is said to have given rise to the proverb • I lowden, on being asked by a neighbour, What remedy there was in law against a person, whose hogs had trespassed upon a certain piece of ground, answered, He might have a good remedy. But the other replying that they were his (Plowdens) hogs, "Nay, then, neighbour," quoth Plowden, "the case is altered!"

It is a great duty, to do as we would be done by, and to

Zl7inVftTn?°UrS?lve.s: but Poor human natures notion s that 'Chanty begins at home," and with too many it ends there also. However, the proverb is a good one, as showing that it is not consistent with justice for the same ,>erson to be both party and judge in a case. At the same time it is due to Plowdens memory, to add, that he was not likely to prevaricate so meanly: for CamDen calls him "a man second to none in his profession for honour and integrity. In choosing the name of a lawyer

«,?.„ r i° ?r°Verb' °urancestors> perhaps, merely t6ok ore of the most eminent of the time. M.

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KAONIFIED VIEW OF THE FRESII-WATEn POLYPI.

The first discovery of the Polypus was made by Monsieur Leeuwenhoeck, who, in the year 1703, presented an account of it to the Royal Society of London; but the discovery of its amazing property of reproducing the several parts, when divided and subdivided, so that each piece becomes in a little time a perfect animal, was not made till the year 1740, by Monsieur Trembley, at the Hague. That celebrated naturalist, in a letter to the then President of the Royal Society, gave an account of this animal, which he found in ditches attached to duckweed and other aquatic plants. Having some doubts whether it was a plant or an animal, he cut it in two, for the purpose of closer examination, and, to his astonishment, in a little time he found two perfect animals, the tail end having shot out a new head, and the head end a new tail! Scarcely believing his own eyes, he repeated the experiment upon the same animals, and with a similar result, for in a little time he had four perfect animals instead of one!

This account, with various other experiments, was laid before the Society, but it was deemed so improbable, that no one gave any credit to the story, until M. Trembley sent over some specimens, upon which experiments were tried with equal success; and the same animals were soon after found to be &s plentiful and common in this country as on the Continent.

It is not easy to say what is the size of this animal, as it possesses the power of contracting or dilating

• See Saturday Magaiint, Vol. II., pp. 82, 148, 206.

its body at pleasure, from the length of an inch and the size of a hog's bristle, to the shortness of the twelfth part of an inch, with a proportionate increase in thickness. Its body is round and tub-like, having at one end a head, surrounded with six, eight, ten, or more arms or feelers, with which it catches and conveys its prey to the mouth in the centre: and at the other end is the tail, by which it fixes itself to any thing at pleasure, by means of suction.

There have been many different species discovered, the most beautiful of which is the Plumed Polypus, which lives in a sheath or case under the duck-weed. All the species are found in clear running-water, adhering to sticks, stones, and water-plants: they subsist on insects, and are easily kept alive for a long time in glasses, by frequently changing the water, and feeding them with small red worms, found in the mud of ditches, or with other small insects.

The production of its young is different from the common course of nature in other animals, for these grow as it were from the side or any other part of the parent, in the form of a small pimple, which lengthens and enlarges every hour, and becomes, in about two days, a perfect animal, when it drops from the parent. Before it separates, however, it frequently has another growing from its side, and sometimes a third from the second, even before the first is separated, so that four generations are thus seen attached to each other. The voracity of these creatures is almost beyond belief, individuals having been known to swallow a worm nearly three times their own size.

This animal is first worm-shaped, and of the same kind of tender substance with the horns of a common snail. While adhering by one end, like a sucker, to water-plants and other substances, the head end, surrounded with its feelers, like rays diverging from a centre, draws towards its mouth the small worms or other insects which come within its reach. Its prey is sometimes swallowed with such avidity as to fly out again, but is secured by the feelers and returned to the mouth. After its food is digested in its stomach, it returns the remains of the substances on which it feeds through its mouth again, its whole body being nothing more than a kind of bag.

The Hydra Fusca may be turned inside-out, like a glove, when the stomach will become the outer skin, and the outer skin the lining of the stomach.

The Marine Polypus is different in form from the Fresh-Water Polypus, but is nourished, and may be increased in the same manner; so that small pieces cut off of the body of the living animal, soon give indications, that they contain not only the principle of life, but the faculty of increasing and multiplying. In this class may be included the Corals, Corallines, Sponges, and some others. The more compact bodies, known by the appellations of star-stones, brain-stones, petrified fungi, and the like, which are brought from the East and West Indies, are also of the same origin. A beautiful species of this animal is found on our coasts, which from its form and colour, is called the Sea Anemone. It is of a truncated form, about an inch and half long, and an inch wide. It adheres firmly to the rocks or stones in the sea, having a multitude of feelers placed round the mouth. When these are expanded, it exhibits a form exactly like the anemony, the colours being bright purple, crimson, and scarlet. This animal is difficult to be kept alive, on account of its requiring a fresh supply of sea-water every day.

The Marine Polypi include also the various species of Madrepores, Millepores, Tubipores, Chain-Coral, &c, in all their endless and interestingvarieties. Theseform

the connecting link betwixt the animal and vegetable kingdoms, consequently ranking last in the scale of the former, and first in that of the latter. Here we see displayed in a wonderful manner the wisdom and power of that Being with whom it is equally easy to make a world, and to form an insect too small for the eye of man to perceive, and who has filled the air, the earth, and the sea, with animals and creeping things innumerable!

SIR STAMFORD RAFFLES,

Who passed many years of his life in different islands of the East Indies, zealously devoting himself to the welfare and improvement of the people under his government, often mentions in his letters his domestic happiness, and gives an affecting account, afterwards, of the sad reverse; when his children and friends fell a sacrifice to the climate, and he seemed left almost alone in a foreign land. The following extracts are taken from his Life and Correspondence, published by his widow.

The early part of his residence at Bencoolen, in Sumatra, in 1820, was, perhaps, one of the happiest periods in Sir Stamford's life; he was beloved by all those under his control; the natives and chiefs appreciated the interest he took in their improvement, and "placed implicit reliance upon his opinion and counsel.

The consciousness of being beloved, is a delightful, happy feeling, and Sir Stamford Rallies acknowledged with thankfulness, at this time, that every wish of his heart was gratified. Uninterrupted health had prevailed in his family, his children were his pride and delight, and they had already imbibed from him, the taste for natural history, which he so delighted to cultivate; this will not be wondered at, even at their early age, when it is added, that two young tigers and a bear, were for some time in the children's apartments, under the charge of their attendant, without being confined in cages, and it was a curious scene, to see the children, the bear, tho tigers, a blue mountain-bird, and a favourite cat, all playing together, the parrot's beak being the only object of awe to all the party.

Perhaps, few people, in a public station, led so simple a life. He rose early, and delighted in driving into the villages, inspecting the plantations, and encouraging the industry of the people: he always had his children with him as he went from one pursuit to another, superintending the draftsmen, of whom he had always five or six, engaged on subjects of natural history, or visiting the extraor linary collection of animals, who were always domesticating in the house. He seldom dined alone, considering the settlement as a family, of which he was the head, and the evening was spent in reading, music, and conversation • he never had any game of amusement in his house.

Amidst these numerous sources of enjoyment, however, he never forgot that the scene was too bright to continue unclouded, and often gently warned his wife, not to expect to retain all the blessings God in his bounty had heaped upon them at this time, but to feel, that such happiness once enjoyed, ought to shed a bright ray over the future, however dark and trying it might become. After three years of uninterrupted health and happiness, a sad reverse took place; the blessings most prized were withdrawn; the child most dear to the father's heart, whose brightness and beauty were his pride and happiness, expired after a few hours' illness; and from this time, until his return to England, sickness and death prevailed in his family: but God's Holy Spirit, enabled him to receive these afflictions with meekness, and to feel that they were trials of faith, not judgments of anger.

Of this child, Sir Stamford Raffles frequently speaks in his letters, in such terms as the following:—"Had this dear boy been such as we usually meet with in this world, time would, ere this, have reconciled us to the loss—but such a child! Had you but seen him, and known him, you must have doted; his beauty and intelligence were so far above those of other children of the same age, that he shone among them as a sun, enlivening and enlightening every thing around him."

As an example of the character and feeling of the natives, Lady Raffles relates, that when she was almost overwhelmed with grief, lor the loss of their favourite child,—unable to bear the sight of her other children— unable to bear even the light of the day,—humbled upon her couch with a feeling of misery,—she was addressed by a poor, ignorant, native woman, of the lowest class, (who had been employed about the nursery,) in terms of reproach not to be forgotten, "I am come, because you have been here shut up many days in a dark room, and no one dares to come near you. Are you not ashamed to grieve in this manner, when you ought to be thanking God, for having given you the most beautiful child that ever was seen? Were you not the envy of every body? Did any one ever see him, or speak of him, without admiring him; and instead of letting this child continue in this world, till he should be worn out with trouble and sorrow, has not God taken him to heaven in all his beauty? What would you have more? For shame 1 leave off weeping, and let me open a window," w

In subsequent letters, Sir Stamford says, "We have this morning buried our beloved Charlotte. Poor Marsden was carried to the grave not ten days before,—within the last six months, we have lost our three eldest children; judge what must be our distress. We have now only one child left. Wo were, perhaps, too happy, too proud of our blessings; and if we had not received this severe check, we might not sufficiently have felt and known the necessity of an hereafter. The Lord's will be done, and we are satisfied."

When his public duties permitted Sir Stamford Raffles to return to England, which had become absolutely nesessary for his health, ho embarked on board the Fame, the unfortunate fate of which, is described in the following letter.

"We embarked on the 2nd of February, 1824, in the Fame, and sailed at daylight for England with a fair wind, and every prospect of a quick and comfortable passage. The ship was every thing we could wish; and, having closed my charge at Bencoolen much to my satisfaction, it was one of the happiest days of my life. We were perhaps too happy, for in the evening came a sad reverse. Lady Raffles had just gone to bed, and I had thrown off half my clothes, when a cry of 'Fire! fire!' roused us from our calm content, and in five minutes the whole ship was in flames. I found that the fire had its origin immediately under our cabin. 'Down with the boats.'—' Lower Lady Rallies.'—' Give her to me,' says one;—' I'll take her,' says the captain.—' Throw the gunpowder overboard.'—' It cannot be got at; it .is in the magazine close to the fire.'— 'Push off, push off,—stand clear of the after part of the ship.'

"All this passed much quicker than I can write it. We pushed off, and as we did so, the flames burst out of our cabin-window, and the whole of the after-part of the ship was in flames. Wo hailed the boat which pushed off from the other side;—' Have you all on board?' 'Yes, all, save one.'—' Who is he?' 'Johnson, sick in his cot.' —' Can we save him?' 'No, impossible.'—At this moment the poor fellow, scorched I imagine by the flames, roared out most lustily, having run upon deck. The captain pulled under the bowsprit of the ship, and picked the poor fellow up. The alarm was given at about twenty minutes past eight; there was not a soul on board at halfpast eight, and in less than ten minutes after, she was one grand mass of fire, the masts and sails in a blaze, and rocking to and fro, threatening to fall in an instant. 'There goes her mizen mast: pull away-my boys: there goes the gunpowder.—Thank God! thank God!'

"To make the best of our misfortune, we availed ourselves of the light from the ship to steer our course to the shore. She continued to burn till midnight, when the saltpetre which she had on board took fire, and sent up a brilliant and splendid flame, illuminating the horizon tor fifty miles round, and casting that kind of blue light over us which is, of all others, most horrible.

"At about eight or nine in the morning we saw a ship standing out to us from the roads; and here certainly came a minister of Providence, in the character of a minister of the gospel, for the first person I recognised was one of our missionaries. When we landed, and drove back to our former home, no words can do justice to the feeling, sympathy and kindness with which we were hailed; there was not a dry eye around us, and loud was the cry of ' God be praised!'

"The loss I have to regret beyond all is the whole of my

drawings, between two and three thousand, all my collections, descriptions, and papers of every kind: and to conclude, I will merely notice, that there was scarce an unknown animal, bird, beast, or fish, or an interesting plant that we had not on board. All, all has perished; but thank God, our lives have been spared, and we do not repine."

The morning after the loss of all that he had been collecting for so many years, Sir Stamford recommenced sketching his large map of Sumatra, set all his draftsmen to work in making new drawings, despatched a number of people into the forests to collect more animals, and neither murmur nor lamentation ever escaped his lips; on the contrary, on the following sabbath, he publicly returned thanks to Almighty God, for having preserved the lives of those who had been in such imminent danger.

Sir Stamford Raffles again embarked for England, in April, and arrived in safety by the Mariner, in August; in less than two years after his return, he was seized with apoplexy, and died in London, in

1826.

The following beautiful lines on the Grave, were written by Herbert Knowles, a youth, who soon afterwards was laid in the grave himself. His life had beeu eventful and unfortunate, till his great merits were discovered by persons able to appreciate them, and willing to assist the author, lie was then placed under a kind and able instructor, and arrangements had been made for supporting him at the University; but he had not enjoyed that prospect many weeks, before it pleased God to remove him to a better world. The reader will remember that they are the verses of a 6chool-boy, who had not long been taken from one of the lowest stations of life, and he will then judge what might have been expected from one capable ot writing with such strength and originality, upon so trite a subject. But had he published volume after volume, he would never have established a surer claim to remembrance, than he has made good by these stanzas.

LINES WRITTEN IN THE CHURCHYARD OF RICHMOND. YORKSHIRE; BY HERBERT KNOWLES.

* It Is good for us to be hero: If thou wilt, let us make here three talwrimcli'S, oue for Thee, aud one for Moses, ami one for Elias.' Matt. *vii. 4.

Metiiinks it is good to be here,
If thou wilt, let us build: but for whom!

Nor Elias nor Moses appear.
But the shadows of eve that encompass the gloom.
The abode of the dead, and the place of the tomb.

Shall we build to Ambition: Oh, no!
Affrighted he shrinketh away:

1'or, see, they would pin him below
In a small narrow cave, and begirt with cold clay,
To the meanest of reptiles a peer and a prey.

To Beauty? Ah, no! she forgets
The charms which she wielded before;

Nor knows the foul worm that he frets.
The skin which but yesterday fools could adore
For the smoothness it held, or the tint which it wore.

Shall we build to the purple of Pride?
The trappings which dizen the proud?

Alas! they are all laid aside:
And here's neither dress nor adornment allowed,
But the long winding-sheet, and the fringe of the shroud.

To Riches? Alas! 'tis in vain.
Who hid, in their turns have been bid:

The treasures are squandered again.
And here, in the grave, arc all metals forbid.
But the tinsel that shone«on the dark coffin-lid.

To the pleasures which Mirth can afford?
The revel, the laugh, and the jeer?

Ah! here is a plentiful board,
But the guests are all mute as their pitiful cheer,
And none but the worm is a reveller here.

Shall we build to Affection and Love?
Ah no! they have withered and died,

Or fled with the spirit above.
Friends, brothers, and sisters are laid side bysidi,
Yet none have saluted, and none have replied.

Unto Sorrow? The dead cannot grieve,
Not a sob nor a sigh meets mine ear.

Which compassion itself could relieve!
Ah sweetly they slumber, nor hope, love, nor fear;
Peace, peace, is the watch-word, the only one here.

Unto Death, to whom monarchs must bow?
Ah, no! for his empire is known,
. And here there are trophies enow;

Beneath the cold dead, and around the dark stone.
Are the signs of a sceptre that none may disown.

The first tabernacle to Hope we will build,
And look for the sleepers around us to rise!

The second to Faith, which ensures it fulfill'd;
And the third to the Lamb of the great sacrifice,
W ho bequeathed us them both when he rose to the skies

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