ern, whilst the commander-in-chief and his party went to the northern harbours, where the Pluto had preceded them, and at day-dawn on the 22nd, they landed to explore the neighbouring jungle, for the site of the settlement which had been formed by the East India Company in 1773, from which they had been driven by the Sooloo people, but which had been occupied a second time in 1803, and evacuated ultimately as a useless and unprofitable settlement. The British government have always maintained their clear right to this island, ceded to them by the King of Sooloo, on his being liberated from prison at Manilla, when that city was taken by Sir William Draper; and Balambargan is indisputably a British island, and part of the empire.

The position which the town had occupied was clearly traced by the rubbish, and brick, and mortar, scattered over a considerable surface, and the numerous broken scraps of crockery and glass gave sufficient evidence that here had been placed the houses, buildings, and defences erected by the settlers, but all are now silent and forlorn. In this dry season the soil was completely covered with sand, and the bush of a very scanty growth; nor could any indications of water be discovered. A long walk on the beach, in the direction of the southern harbour, led to no farther discovery than that some ridges of clay crossed the island, terminating at the shore in moderate altitude, and covered with trees of considerably larger dimensions than those near the site of the town. A complete detour of the harbour was made by the Pluto, from the paddle-boxes of which, the surrounding country being almost level with the sea, could be clearly distinguished as of the same sandy nature, but which, in all probability, is in the rainy season, a lagoon entirely covered with water. It had a poor and uninviting appearance. Several large baboons came to the beach, and, taking up their seat on some fallen trunk of a tree, gazed with great tranquillity at the Pluto as she passed along. Many tracks of the wild hog were seen on the beach, but on the whole, Balambargan is the last island I should select as my " Barataria."

A short visit was made to the adjacent island of Bangney, and a boat went up a river on the south-west quarter, running for several miles through low, flat, mangrove jungle, but descending in clear cascades from the hilly part of the island, which ranges entirely along the north-western division, and terminates at the north point in a very remarkable and beautiful conical peak, 2000 feet high, covered to the apex with evergreen wood. The south-eastern division is flat, and probably of the same mangrove jungle through which the boat ascended the river, after having with difficulty got over a flat bar at its entrance. On this expedition not a living animal was seen, not even a bird, but the elevated part of Bangney presented a far more inviting aspect than anything to be seen in Balambargan. True, there is no harbour, and, with the exception of the river alluded to, it is said to want water. The piratical prahus sometimes rendezvous here, in readiness to pounce on any unwary vessel passing through the Balabac Straits.

Let me express a hope that the British government will speedily alter the face of affairs in these seas, by supporting Mr. Brooke on the Sarawak, and, without loss of time, planting a similar colony on the shores of the bay of Malloodoo.

NEW YEAR'S EVE.

FROM THE GERMAN OF FREDERICH RICHTER.

BY H J. WHITLING.

It was the last night of the year; and from his lattice an old man gazed with a look of despair upwards to the bright and blue heaven, and downwards upon the tranquil, white-mantled earth, on which no human being was so joyless and sleepless as he.

His grave seemed to stand near him, covered, not with the green of youth, but with the snow of age. Nothing had he brought with him out of his whole life, nothing save his sins, follies, and diseases, a wasted body, a desolate soul, a heart filled with poison, and an old age of remorse and wretchedness.

And now, like spectres of the past, the beautiful days of his youth passed in review before him, and saddened memory was there, and drew him back again to that bright morning when his father first placed him at the opening paths of life, which, on the right, led by the sun-illumined track of virtue, into a pure and peaceful land, full of angels and harmony, of recompense and light, and on the left, descended by the darkling mole-ways of vice, into a black cavern, dropping poison, full of deadly serpents, and of gloomy sultry vapours.

Those serpents were already coiled about his breast, the poison was on his tongue, and he knew now where he was! Fairy meteors danced before him, extinguishing themselves in the churchyard, and he knew them to be the days of his folly.

He saw a star fly from heaven, and fall dimmed and dissolving to the earth. That," said he, "is myself," and the serpent fangs of remorse pierced still more deeply his bleeding heart.

His excited fancy now showed him sleep-walkers gliding away from house-tops, and the arms of a giant windmill threatened to destroy him. He turned, he tried to escape,-but a mask from the neighbouring charnel-house lay before him, and gradually assumed his own features.

While in this paroxysm, the music of the opening year flowed down from the steeples-falling upon his ear like distant anthemshis troubled soul was soothed with gentler emotions. He looked at

the horizon, and then abroad on the wide world, and he thought on the friends of his youth, who, better and more blest than himself, were now teachers on the earth, parents of families, and happy men! In this dreamy retrospect of the days of his youth, the fantastic features of the mask seemed to change; it raised itself up in the charnel-house, and his weeping spirit beheld his former blooming figure placed thus in bitter mockery before him.

He could endure it no longer,-he covered his eyes,-a flood of scalding tears streamed into the snow,-his bosom was relieved, and he sighed softly, unconsciously, inconsolably-"Only come again, youth, come only once again!"

AND IT CAME AGAIN! for he had only dreamt so fearfully on that new year's night. He was still a youth. His errors alone had been no dream, and he thanked God that while yet young he could turn from the foul paths of vice into the sun-track which conducts to the pure land of blessedness and peace.

CAREER OF THE HERO OF ACRE.

WITH A PORTRAIT OF SIR SIDNEY SMITH,

SIR SIDNEY SMITH was one of those heroes whose impulsive character seems to identify them with romance rather than history. Sent to sea at an unusually early period, he had only received as much education as served to stimulate his feelings without maturing his judgment, and the desultory course of reading he chose for his own instruction, exalted his imagination beyond the due proportion of that attribute to the reasoning powers. He entered the navy in 1775, being then little more than eleven years of age, and was barely fourteen when he was wounded in an action between British and American frigates. Among his companions as a midshipman, was the late William IV; they both served under Sir George Rodney in the battle off Cape St. Vincent, and Smith was a lieutenant in the still more memorable engagement of the 12th of April 1782, when Rodney achieved a conquest, rather than a victory, over Count de Grasse, in the West Indian Seas.

In 1789 Captain Smith, whose promotion had been very rapid, obtained leave of absence for the purpose of making a tour to the northern courts, but he does not appear to have gone farther than Stockholm. Here similarity of disposition procured him the friendship of the chivalrous King of Sweden, Gustavus III., then engaged in a war with Russia, and in a far more dangerous struggle against his own feudal aristocracy. Though unable to obtain permission from his own government to enter into the Swedish service, Captain Smith accompanied Gustavus through the campaign of 1790, acting more as a confidential adviser than a disinterested spectator. He saw the plans which Gustavus had judiciously formed, and which, if acted upon, would have been completely successful, utterly frustrated by the disaffection and incapacity of the Swedish naval officers. Never was there a more signal instance of men allowing the feelings of party to triumph over those of patriotism; adequately supported, Gustavus might have seized St. Petersburg; deserted and betrayed, he had to tremble for Stockholm. Even thus he concluded no inglorious peace, and he shewed his gratitude for the services of Sidney Smith, by sending him the Swedish Order of the Sword, at the close of the war. The English court sanctioned the honour, and the ceremonial of investiture was performed by George III. at St. James's.

Sir Sidney Smith was sent on a special mission to Constantinople, apparently to examine the adequacy of the Turkish power to resist a Russian invasion. He was summoned home in consequence of the breaking out of the war with revolutionary France; and observing at Smyrna a number of British seamen wandering about, he engaged them as volunteers, and having purchased a small vessel, hasted to join Lord Hood, who had just taken possession of Toulon. The unhappy result of that occupation is known to history; it is only necessary to state that the burning of the ships, stores, and arsenal, which had unaccountably been neglected to the latest moment, was the work of Sir Sidney Smith, who volunteered it under the disadvantage of there being no previous preparation for it whatever. As he was at this time an officer on half