THE ADVANTAGES OF STEAM.

If Adam or old Archimedes could wake as from a dream, How the ancients would be puzzled to behold Arts, manufactures, coaches, ships, alike impell'd by steam; Fire and water changing bubbles into gold. Steam's universal properties are every day improving, All you eat, or drink, or wear is done by steam; And shortly it will be applied to every thing that's moving, As an engine's now erecting to write novels by the ream. Fine speeches in the parliament, and sermons 'twill deliver; To newspapers it long has been applied; In King's Bench Court or Chancery a doubtful question shiver With an argument already "cut and dried." Its benefits so general, and uses so extensive, That steam ensures the happiness of all mankind; We grow rich by its economy, and travel less expensive To the Indies or America, without the aid of wind.

Here we are, then, on board the steam boat, huge clouds of smoke rolling over our heads, and the reverberatory paddles of the engine just beginning to cut the bosom of Southampton Water. Every where the eye of the traveller feasts with delight upon the surrounding scenery and objects, while his cranium is protected from the too powerful heat of a summer's ~144~~sun by an elegant awning spread from side to side of the forecastle, and under which he inhales the salubrious and saline breezes, enjoying an uninterrupted prospect of the surrounding country. On the right, the marine villas of Sir Arthur Pagett and Sir Joseph Yorke, embowered beneath the most luxuriant foliage, claim the notice of the traveller; and next the antique ruins of Netley Abbey peep out between the portals of a line of rich majestic trees, bringing to the reflective mind reminiscences of the past, of the days of superstition and of terror, when the note of the gloomy bell reverberated through the arched roofs the funeral rite of some departed brother, and, lingering, died in gentle echoings beneath the vaulted cloisters, making the monkish solitude more horrible; but now, as Keate has sung,

"Mute is the matin bell, whose early call Warn'd the gray fathers from their humble beds; No midnight taper gleams along the wall, Or round the sculptured saint its radiance sheds."

At the extremity of the New Forest, and commanding the entrance to the river, the picturesque fort called Calshot Castle stretches forth, like the Martello Towers in the Bay of Naples, an object of the most romantic appearance; and at a little distance from it rises the stately tower of Eaglehurst, with its surrounding pavilions and plantations. To the westward is the Castle of Hurst; and now opens to the astonished traveller's view the Wight, extending eastward and westward far as the eye can compass, but yet within its measurement from point to point.

———"Here in this delicious garden is Variety without end; sweet interchange Of hills and valleys, rivers, woods, and plains; Now land, now sea, and shores with forests crown'd, Rocks, dens, and caves."

The coast presents a combination of romantic, pastoral, and marine beauties, that are deservedly the 145~theme of admiration, and certainly no spot of the same extent, in the three kingdoms, perhaps in the world, can boast of such a diversity of picturesque qualities, of natural charms, and local advantages—attractions which have justly acquired for it the emphatic distinction of the Garden of England. Every where the coast is adorned with cottages or villas, hill or vale, enriched by the most luxuriant foliage, and crowned in the distance by a chain of lofty downs; while in front the coasts of Gosport and Portsmouth, and that grand naval station for England's best bulwarks, Spithead, present a forest of towering masts and streamers, which adds much to the natural grandeur of the scene. As we near Cowes we are delighted with a variety of striking objects: The chaste and characteristic seat of Norris, the residence of Lord Henry Seymour, massive in its construction, and remarkable for the simplicity of its style and close approximation to the ancient castle. On the brow of the hill the picturesque towers of East Cowes Castle rise from a surrounding grove, and present a very beautiful appearance, which is materially increased upon nearer inspection by the rapid spread of the deep-hued ivy clinging to its walls, and giving it an appearance of age and solidity which is admirably relieved by the diversity of the lighter foliage. On the other side projects from a point westward Cowes Castle, the allotted residence of the governor, but now inhabited by the Marquis of Anglesey and his family, to whose partiality for aquatic sports Cowes is much indebted for its increasing consequence and celebrity. The building itself, although much improved of late, is neither picturesque nor appropriate; but the adjoining scenery, and particularly the marine villas of Lord Grantham and the late Sir J. C. Hippesley, have greatly increased the beauty of the spot, which first strikes the eye of a stranger in his progress to West Cowes from ~146~~Southampton Water. The town itself rises like an amphitheatre from the banks of a noble harbour, affording security and convenience for large fleets of ships to ride at anchor safely, or to winter in from stress of weather, or the repair of damages. But here ends my topographical sketches for the present. The inspiring air of "Home, sweet Home," played by the steward upon the key bugle, proclaims our arrival; the boat is now fast drawing to her moorings at the Fountain Quay, the boatmen who flock along-side have already solicited the care of my luggage, and the hand of my friend, Horace Eglantine, is stretched forth to welcome my arrival at West Cowes.

The first salutations over with my friend Eglantine, I could not help expressing my surprise at the sailor-like appearance of his costume. "All the go here, old fellow," said Horace; "we must start that long-tailed gib of yours for a nice little square mizen, just enough to cover your beam and keep your bows cool; so bear a hand, my boy, and let us drop down easy to our births, and when properly rigged you shall go on board my yacht, the Rover, and we will bear away for the westward. Only cast off that sky scraper of yours before the boom sweeps it overboard, and cover your main top with a Waterloo cap: there, now, you are cutter rigg'd, in good sailing trim, nothing queer and yawl-like about you." In this way I soon found myself metamorphosed into a complete sailor, in appearance; and as every other person of any condition, from the marquis downwards, adopted the same dress, the alteration was indispensably necessary to escape the imputation of being considered a Goth. Among the varied sports in which the nobility and gentry of England have at any time indulged, or that have, from the mere impulse of the moment and the desire of novelty, become popular, none have been more truly national and praiseworthy than the establishment of the Royal Yacht Club. The promotion 147~of aquatic amusement combines the soundest policy in the pursuit of pleasure, two points but rarely united; in addition to which it benefits that class of our artizans, the shipwrights, who, during a time of profound peace, require some such auxiliary aid; nor is it less patriotic in affording employment to sea-faring men, encouraging the natural characteristic of Britons, and feeding and fostering a branch of service upon which the country must ever rely for its support and defence in time of peril. To the owners it offers advantages and attractions which are not, in other pursuits, generally attainable; Health here waits on Pleasure,—Science benefits by its promotion,—friends may partake without inconvenience or much additional expense,—travel is effected with economy,—and change of scene and a knowledge of foreign coasts obtained without the usual privations and incumbrances attendant upon the public mode of conveyance. By a recent regulation, any gentleman's pleasure yacht may enter the ports of France, or those of any other power in alliance with England, exempted from the enormous exactions generally extorted from private and merchant vessels, as harbour and other dues,—a privilege of no mean consequence to those who are fond of sailing. In addition, there are those, and of the service too, who contend, that since the establishment of the Royal Yacht Club, by their building superior vessels, exciting emulation, and creating a desire to excel in naval architecture, and also by the superiority of their sailing, the public service of the country has been much benefited, particularly as regards our lighter vessels, such as revenue cutters and cruizers. This club, which originated with some gentlemen at Cowes in the year 1815, now comprises the name of almost every nobleman and gentleman in the kingdom who keeps a yacht, and is honoured with that of the sovereign, and other members of his family, ~148~~as its patrons. Cowes Harbour is the favourite rendezvous; and here in the months of July and August may be seen above one hundred fine vessels built entirely for purposes of pleasure, and comprising every size and variety of rigging, from a ship of three hundred tons burthen to the yawl of only eight or ten. It was just previous to that delightful spectacle, the regatta, taking place, when the roads and town presented an unusually brilliant appearance, that I found myself agreeably seated on board the Rover, a cutter yacht of about thirty tons, who, if she was not fitted up with all the superiority of many of those which surrounded me, had at least every comfortable and necessary accommodation for half a dozen visitors, without incommoding my friend Horace or his jovial crew.

I had arrived at Cowes a low-spirited weakly invalid, more oppressed in mind than body; but a few trips with my friend Eglantine to sea, on board the Rover, and some equally pleasant rambles among the delightful scenery which surrounds the bay of Cowes, had in one week's residence banished all symptoms of dispepsia and nervous debility, and set the master of arts once more upon his legs again. Some idea of my condition, on leaving alma mater, may be obtained by the following effusion of my Muse, who, to do her justice, is not often sentimental, unless when sickness presses her too close.

THE INVALID.

Light-hearted Mirth and Health farewell, Twin sisters of my youthful days, Who through life's early spangled dell Would oft inspire my humble lays.

Fancy, cameleon of the mind, The poet's treasure, life, and fame, Thou too art fled, with wreath to bind The budding of some happier name.

~149~~

Oppression's sway, or fortune's frown, My buoyant spirits once could bear; But now chimeras press me down, And all around seems fell despair.

With fev'rish dreams and frenzied brain, When Hecate spreads her veil, I'm crost; My body sinks a prey to pain, And all but lingering hope is lost.

With the return of health and spirits, Horace insisted I should write the "L'Allegro" to this "Il Penseroso" effusion. So, finding the jade had recovered her wonted buoyancy, I prayed her mount on gayest wing, and having spread her pinions to the sun, produced the following impromptu.

THE CONVALESCENT.

Welcome, thou first great gift below, Hygeian maid, with rosy glow, Thrice welcome to my call. Let misers hug their golden store, I envy none the servile ore; To me thou art all in all.

Thou spring of life, and herald fair, Whose charm dispels disease and care, And yields a summer joy, All hail! celestial seraph, hail! Thou art the poet's coat of mail, His mirth without alloy.

There is a prepossessing something in the life of a sailor which improves the natural attachment of Englishmen to every thing nautical; so much so, that I never heard of one in my life who was not, after a single trip, always fond of relating his hair-breadth perils and escapes, and of seizing every opportunity to display his marine knowledge by framing his conversation ship shape, and decorating his oratory with a few of those lingual localisms, which to a landsman must be almost unintelligible without the aid of 150~a naval glossary. A fortnight's tuition under the able auspices of my friend Horace had brought me into tolerable good trim in this particular; I already knew the difference between fore and aft, a gib, a mainsail, and a mizen;could hand a rope, or let go the foresail upon a tack; and having gained the good opinion of the sailing captain, I was fast acquiring a knowledge how to box the binnacle and steer through the Needle's Eye. But, my conscience! as the Dominie says, I could never learn how to distinguish the different vessels by name, particularly when at a little distance; their build and rigging being to my eye so perfectly similar. In all this, however, my friend Horace was as completely at home as if he had studied naval architecture at the college; the first glance of a vessel was quite enough for him: like an old sportsman with the pedigree of a horse or a dog, only let him see her, through his glass head or stern, or upon a lee lurch, and he would hail her directly, specify her qualities and speed, tell you where she was built, and who by, give you the date of her register, owner's name, tonnage, length and breadth of her decks, although to the eye of the uninitiated there was no distinguishing mark about her, the hull being completely black, and the rigging, to a rope, like every other vessel of the same class. "For instance," said Horace, "who could possibly mistake that beautiful cutter, the Pearl? See how she skims along like a swan with her head up, and stern well under the wind! Then, look at her length; there's a bowsprit, my boy! full half the measurement of her hull; and her new mainsail looks large enough to sweep up every breath of wind between the sea and the horizon. Then only direct your fore lights to her trim; every rope just where it should be, and not a line too much; and when she fills well with a stiff breeze, not a wrinkle in all her canvas from the gib to the gaff topsail. Then observe how she dips in the bows, and what a breadth she ~151~~has; why she's fit for any seas; and if the Arrow ever shoots past her, I'll forfeit every shot in my lockers." "Avast there! master Horace," said our master at the helm, who was an old Cowes pilot, and as bluff as a Deal sea-boat; "the Pearl is a noble sailer; but a bird can't fly without wings, nor a ship run thirteen knots an hour without a good stiff breeze. If the light winds prevail, the Arrow will have the advantage, particularly now she's cutter rigged, and has got the marquis's old mainsail up to take the wind out of his eye." "Ay, ay," said Horace, "you must tell that story to the marines, old boy; it will never do for the sailors." "Mayhap, your honours running right a-head with the Pearl, and betting your blunt all one way; but, take an old seaman's advice; may I get no more rest than a dog-vane, or want a good grego{1} in a winter's watch, if I don't think you had better keep a good look-out for the wind's changing aft; and be ready to haul in your weather-braces, and bear the back-stays abreast the top-br'im, ere the boatswain's mate pipes the starboard-watch a-hoy." "Tush, tush, old fellow," said Horace, with whom I found Lord Anglesey's cutter stood a one at Lloyd's. "May my mother sell vinegar, and I stay at home to bottle it off, if I would give a farthing per cent, to be ensured for my whole risk upon the grand match! Mind your weather roll, master—belay every inch of that. There now; look out a-head; there's the Liberty giving chase to the Julia, and the Jack-o'lantern weathering the Swallow upon every tack. His Grace of Norfolk won't like that; but a pleasure hack must not be expected to run against a thorough-bred racer. There is but one yawl in the club, and that is the little Eliza, that can sail alongside a cutter; but then Sir George Thomas is a tar for all weathers—a true blue jacket—every thing so snug—cawsand rig—no topmasts—all so square and trim, that nothing of his bulk can

1 A watch-coat.

~152~~beat him." In this way my friend Eglantine very soon perfected me in nautical affairs, or, to use his expression, succeeded in putting a "timber head in the ship;" and the first use I made of my newly acquired information was to pen a jeu d'esprit, in the way of a circular in rhyme, inviting the members of the Royal Yacht Club to assemble in Cowes-roads. The whim was handed about in MS., and pleased more from its novelty than merit; but as it contains a correct list of the club at this period, and as the object of the English Spy is to perpetuate the recollections of his own time, I shall here introduce it to the notice of my readers.



A CIRCULAR,

ADDRESSED TO THE MEMBERS OP THE ROYAL YACHT CLUB.

Come, lads, bend your sails; o'er the blue waters thronging, In barks like the sea-mew that skims o'er the lave; All you to the Royal Yacht squadron belonging, Come, muster at Cowes, for true sport on the wave.{1} First our king,{2} Heaven bless him! who's lord of the sea, And delights in the sport of the circling wave, Commands you attend him wherever ye be, Sons of ocean, ye loyal, ye witty, and brave. Here Anglesey,{3} Waterloo's hero, shall greet ye;

1 The club generally assemble in Cowes-roads about the middle of July to commence their aquatic excursions, which are continued

until after the Regatta in August.

2 His Majesty is graciously pleased to honour the club by becoming its patron.

3 The Marquis of Anglesey is a principal promoter of this truly British sport, and resides with his family at Cowes Castle during the season. The Pearl cutter, 113 tons, and the Liberty cutter, 42 tons, are both his property.

~153~~

The Pearl, and the Liberty, cutters in trim, The Welds {4} in the Arrow and Julia too meet ye, The match for eight hundred affording you whim. Here Grantham{5} his Nautilus, steer'd by old Hollis, Shall cut through the wave like a beautiful shell; And Symonds{6} give chase in the yawl the Cornwallis, And Webster{7} the Scorpion manage right well; And Williams{8} the younger, and Owen{9} his dad, From the shores of Beaumaris have run the Gazelle; And Craven{10} his May-fly wings o'er like a lad That is used to the ocean, and fond of its swell. Come, lads, bear a hand—here's Sir George hove in sight, With his little Eliza{11} so snug and so trim; Tan sails, cawsand rigg'd—for all weather she's tight; You must sail more than well, if you mean to beat him. Then steady, boys, steady—here's Yarborough's{12} Falcon, A very fine ship, but a little too large; And here is a true son of Neptune to talk on, Vice-Admiral Hope,{13} K.CB. in his barge.

4 Joseph and James Welds, Esqrs., of Southampton, the wealthy and spirited owners of the Arrow yawl, 85 tons, and the Julia, 43 tons. These gentlemen evince the greatest spirit in challenging and sailing any of the club.

5 Lord Grantham, Nautilus, Cutter, 103 tons, a new and very fast sailer.

Owner Vessel Class Tons

6 Capt. J. C. Symonds, R.N. Adm. Cornwallis Yawl 22

7 Sir Godfrey Webster Scorpion, Cutter 110

8 T. P. Williams, Esq., Hussar, Schooner, 120 and the Blue-eyed Maid, Cutter, 39

9 Owen Williams, Esq. Gazelle Cutter 87

10 Earl Craven May-fly Yawl 39

11 Sir George Thomas, Bart. Eliza Yawl 34

12 Lord Yarborough Commodore Falcon Ship 335

13 Vice-Admiral Sir W. Johnston Hope, K.C.B., who is here in one of the Admiralty yachts.

~154~~

Come, lads, spread your canvas for health and for pleasure, For both are combined in this true British sport; Come, muster in Cowes-roads without further leisure, Blue jackets and trowsers for dresses at court. See Deerhurst{14} his Mary sticks to like a lover, And Lindegren's{15}Dove wings it over the main; Powell's {16} Briton, 'tis very well known, is a rover, In Union the Pagets{17}must ever remain; Here's Smith's {18 }Jack o'lantern and Chamberlayne's Fairy,{19} Earl Harborough's{20} Ann, and F. Pake's Rosabelle{21} Lord Willoughby's {22} Antelope, Penleaze's {23}Mary, And Gauntlet's{24}Water-sprite sails very well. Come, jolly old Curtis,{25} bear up in your Emma, Eight cheerily laden with turtle and port; And Melville{26} set sail if you'd scape the dilemma Of being too late for our aquatic sport. See Norfolk {27}already is here in the Swallow, And the Don Giovanni a challenge has sent, Which Lyons {28} accepts, and intends to beat hollow, That is if the Londoner should not repent.

Owner Vessel

14 Viscount Deerhurst Mary

15 J. Lindegren, Esq. Dove.

16 J. B. Powell, Esq. Briton

17 Right Hon. Sir A. Paget Union

18 T. A. Smith, jun. Esq. Jack o'lantern

19 W. Chamberlayne, Esq. Fairy

20 Earl of Harborough Ann

21 F. Pare, Esq. Rosabelle

22 Lord Willoughby do Broke Antelope

23 J. S. Penleaze, Esq. Mary

24 Captain J. Gauntlet Water Sprite

25 Sir William Curtis, Bart. Rebecca Maria, Yawl, 76 tons. and Emma, Schooner, 132 tons.

26 Lord Melville Admiralty Yacht 100

27 Duke of Norfolk Swallow Yawl 124

28 Captain Edmund Lyons (the polar navigator) had just launched the Queen Mab.

~155~~

But look, what a crowd of fine yachts are arriving! The Elizabeth,{29 }Unicorn,{30} Cygnet,{31} and Jane,{32} The Eliza, Sabrina,{33} Madora,{34} all striving To beat one another as coursing the main. A fleet of small too, at anchor are riding; The Margaret{35} Sapphire,{36} the Molly,{37} and Hind,{38} The Orion,{39} and Dormouse{40} and Janette{41}abiding The time when each vessel shall covet the wind. Then, boys, bend your sails, and weigh for our regatta, We've a Sylph?{42 and a Rambler{43} and a Merry Maid,{44} A Syren{45} a Cherub{46} a Charlotte{47} and at her A Corsair(48} who looks as if nothing afraid. Here the Lord of the Isles{49} and freebooter Rob Roy,{50} By a Will o' the Wisp{51} are led over the deep;

29 J. Fleming, Esq. Elizabeth

30 H. Perkins, Esq. Unicorn,

31 J. Reynolds, Esq. Cygnet

32 Hon. William Hare Jane

33 James Maxie, Esq. Sabrina

34 H. Hopkins, Esq. Madora

35 Hon. William White Margaret

36 James Dundas, Esq. Sapphire

37 Lieutenant-Colonel Harris Charming Molly

38 Capt. Herringham, R.N. Hind

39 James Smith, Esq. Orion

40. P. Peach, Esq. Dormouse

41 Capt. C. Wyndham, R.N. Janette

42 R. W. Newman, Esq. Sylph

43 J. H. Durand, Esq. Jolly Rambler

44 Joseph Gulston, Esq. Merry-maid

45 T. Lewin, Esq. Syren

46 T. Challen, Esq. Cherub

47 John Vassall, Esq. Charlotte

48 Corbett, Esq. Corsair

49 Colonel Seale Lord of the Isles

50 W. Gaven, Esq. Rob Roy

51 E. H. Dolatield, Esq. Will o' the Wisp

And the Highland Lass{52} blushes a welcome of joy, As alongside the Wombwell{53} she anchors to sleep. Here the Donna del Lago{54} consorts with Rostellan,{55} To the New Grove,{56} Lord Nelson{57} Louisa {58} attends, Galatea{59} runs a Harrie{60} in chase of the Erin,{61} And here with the Club List my Circular ends.

Owner Vessel Class Tons

52 Lieut.-Gen. Mackenzie Highland Lass Yawl 25

53 T. Harman, Esq. Wombivell Cutter 33

54 S. Halliday, Esq. Lady of Die Lake Yawl 42

55 Marquis of Thoruond Rostellan Schooner 60

56 John Roche, Esq. New Grove Cutter 24

57 Reverend C. A. North Lord Nelson Cutter 75

58 Arch. Swinton, Esq. Louisa Yawl 24

59 C. R. M. Talbot, Esq. Galatea Schooner 179

60 Sir R. J. A. Kemys Harrier Schooner 36

61 T. Allen, Esq. Erin Schooner 94

~156~~

"A right merrie conceit," said Horace, "and a good-humoured jingle that must be gratifying to all mentioned, and will serve as a record of the present list of the Yacht Club to future times. We must petition the commodore to enter you upon the ship's books as poet-laureate to the squadron: you shall pen lyrics for our annual club-dinner at East Cowes, compose sea-chants for our cabin jollifications, sing the praises of our wives and sweethearts, and write a congratulatory ode descriptive of our vessels, crews, and commanders, at the end of every season; and your reward shall be a birth on board any of the fleet when you choose a sail, and a skin-full of grog whenever you like to command it. So come, old fellow, give us a spice of your qualifications for your new office; something descriptive of the science of navigation, from its earliest date to the perfection of a first-rate man of war."

~157~~

THE PROGRESS OF NAVIGATION,

AN ORIGINAL SONG;

Dedicated to the Members of the Royal Yacht Club.

In the first dawn of science, ere man could unfold The workings of nature, or valued dull gold; Ere yet he had ventured to dare ocean's swell, Or could say by the moon how the tides rose and fell; A philosopher seated one day on the brink Of the silvery margin thus took him to think: "If on this side the waters are girted by land, What controls the wide expanse, I'd fain understand." Thus buried in thought had he ponder'd till now, But a beautiful nautilus sail'd to and fro; Just then a sly breeze raised the curls from his eyes, And he woke from a dream to extatic surprise. O'er his head a huge oak spread a canopy round, Whose trunk being hollow, he levell'd to ground; With a branch form'd a mast, and some matting a sail, And thus rudely equipp'd dared the perilous gale; Of the winds and the waves both the mercy and sport, His bark was long tost without guidance to port, And the storms of the ocean went nigh to o'erwhelm, When the tail of the dolphin suggested a helm. Ry degrees, the canoe to a cutter became, And order and form newly-moulded the same, Ropes, rigging, and canvas, and good cabin room, A bowsprit, a mizen, a gib, and a boom. From the cutter, the schooner, brig, frigate arose; Till Britons, determined to conquer their foes, Built ships like to castles, they call'd men of war, The fame of whose broadsides struck terror afar. Now boldly, philosophy aided by skill, Bent his course o'er the blue waters sailing at will, But dubious the track, for as yet 'twas unknown How to steer 'twixt the poles for a north or south zone,

~158~~

Till the magnet's attraction, by accident found, Taught man how the globe he could traverse around; New worlds brought to light, and new people to view, And by commerce connected Turk, Christian, and Jew. All this while, father Neptune lay snug in his bed, Till he heard a sad riot commence o'er his head, Folks firing, and fighting, and sailing about, When his godship popp'd up just to witness the rout; It happen'd in one of those actions to be When Europe combined fought the isle of the sea, And, as usual, were conquer'd, sunk, fired, or run, That old Neptune acknowledged each Briton his son. "From this time," said his godship, "henceforth, be it known, Little England's the spot for the ocean-king's throne; And this charter I grant, and enrol my decree, That my brave sons, the Britons, are lords of the sea."

"There's nothing like a good song," said Horace, "for conveying information on nautical subjects, or promoting that national spirit which is the pride and glory of our isle. I question if the country are not more indebted to old Charles Dibdin for his patriotic effusions during the late war, than to all the psalm-singing admirals and chaplains of the fleet put together. I know that crab Gambier, and the methodist privateers who press all sail to pick up a deserter from the orthodox squadron, do a great deal of mischief among our seamen; for as Corporal Trim says, 'What time has a sailor to palaver about creeds when it blows great guns, or the enemies of his country heave in sight? a sailor's religion is to perform his duty aloft and do good below; honour his king, love his girl, obey his commander, and burn, sink, and destroy the foes of his country.' Here we have an occasional exhibition of this sort on board the depot vessel in the harbour, when the Bethel flag ~159~~is hoisted, and the voice of the puritan is heard from East Cowes to Eaglehurst; as if there were not already conventicles enough on shore for those who are disposed to separate themselves from the established church, without the aid of a floating chapel, furnished by the government agent to subvert the present order of things. On this point, you know, I was always a liberal thinker, but a firm friend to the church, as being essential to the best interests of the state. An old college chum of ours, who has been unusually fortunate in obtaining ecclesiastical preferment, thought proper to send me a friendly lecture in one of his letters the other day on this subject, to which I returned the following answer, and put an end to his scruples, as I think, for ever: I have entitled it

THE UNIVERSALIST.

'to a friend who questioned the propriety of his religious opinions.

'You ask what creed is mine? and where I seek the Lord in holy prayer? What sect I follow? by what rule, Perhaps you mean, I play the fool? I answer, none; yet gladly own I worship God, but God alone. No pious fraud or monkish lies Shall teach me others to despise; Whate'er their creed, I love them all, So they before their Maker fall. The sage, the savage, and refined, On this one point are equal blind: Shall man, the creature of an hour, Arraign the all-creative Power? Or, by smooth chin, or beard unshaved, Decree who shall or not be saved? Presumptuous priests, in silk and lawn, May lib'ral minds denounce with scorn; The reason's clear—remove the veil, Their trade and interest both must fail.

~160

I hold that being worse than blind, Where bigotry usurps the mind; And more abhor him who for pelf, Denouncing others, damns himself. Look round, observe creation's work, From Afric's savage to the Turk; Through polish'd Europe turn your eye, To where the sun of liberty On western shores illumes the wave, That flows o'er many a patriot's grave; As varied as their skin's the creed, By which they hope they shall succeed In presence of their God, to prove Their claim to his eternal love; A claim that must and will have weight, No matter what their creed or state. By modes of faith let none presume To fix his fellow-creature's doom.'"

"A truce with religion, Horace," said I; "it is a controversy that generally ends in making friends foes, and foes the most implacable of persecutors: with the one it shuts out all hope of reconciliation, with the other breeds a war of extermination; so come, lad, leave theology to the fathers—we that have liberal souls tolerate all creeds. More hollands, steward: here's a glass to all our college acquaintance, not forgetting grandmamma and the pretty nuns of Saint Clement's. Where the deuce is all that singing we hear above, steward?" "On board the Transport, your honour." "Ay, I remember, I saw the poor devils embark this morning, and a doleful sight it was—one hundred of my fellow-creatures, in the prime of life, consigned to an early grave, transported to the pestilential climate of Sierre Leone: inquire for them three months hence, and you shall find them—not where they will find you—but where whole regiments of their predecessors have been sacrificed, on the unhealthy shores—victims to the false policy of holding what is worse than useless, and of enslaving the original owners of the soil.

~161~~Liquor, and the reflection of their desperate fortunes, have driven them mad, and now they give vent to their feelings in a forced torrent of wild mirth, in which they would bury the recollections of those they are parted from for ever. On the beach this morning I witnessed a most distressing scene: wives separated by force from their husbands, and children torn from the fond embraces of parents whose parting sighs were all they could yield them on this side the grave. 'Push off the boat, and, officer, see that no women are permitted on board,' said the superintending lieutenant of the depot, with a voice and manner hard and unfeeling as the iron oracle of authority. My heart sickened at the sight, and the thrilling scream of a widowed wife, as she fell senseless on the causeway, created an impression that my pitying Muse could not resist recording.

'THE SOLDIER'S WIPE.

'There's a pang which no pencil nor pen can express, A heart-broken sigh which despondency breathes, When the soul, overcharged with oppressive distress, Of the tear of relief the sad bosom bereaves. 'Twas thus on the shore, like a statue of grief, The wife of the soldier her babe fondly press'd; Not a word could she utter, no tear gave relief, But sorrow convulsively heaved her soft breast. Now nearer she presses—now severed for life The waves bear the lord of her bosom from view; Distraction suspends the red current of life, And she sinks on the beach as he sighs out adieu.'"

"Zounds, old fellow, how sentimental you are growing!" said Horace: "you must read these pathetic pieces to the marines; they will never do for the sailors. Here, steward, bear a hand, muster the crew aft, and let us have a tune, Jack's Alive, Malbrook, or the College Hornpipe;" an order that was quickly carried into execution, as most of the ~162~~men on board I found played some wind instrument, the effect of which upon the stillness of the water was enchantingly sweet. During the occasional rests of the band, Horace sung one of those delightful melodies, written in imitation of Moore, for which he was celebrated when a boy at Eton.

THE EVENING TIDE.

Tune—" The Young May Moon." Whither so fast away, my dear? The star of Eve is bright and clear, And the parting day, as it fades away, To lovers brings delight, my dear: Then 'neath night's spangled veil, my dear, Come list t' the young heart's tale sincere; Yon orb of light, so chaste and bright, Love's magic yields within her sphere. Then through the shady grove, my love, Let's wander with the cooing dove, Till the starry night, to morning's light, Shall break upon our wooing, love. As life's young dream shall pass, my love, Together let us gaily row, And day by day, in sportive play, Enjoy life's Meeting gloss, my love.



It was on one of those warm evenings in the month of July, when scarcely a zephyr played upon the wanton wave, and the red sun had sunk to rest behind the Castle turrets, giving full promise of another sultry day, that our little band had attracted a more than usual display of promenaders on the walk extending from the Fort point to the Marine Hotel. With the report of the evening gun, or, as Horace termed it, the admiral's grog bell, we had quitted the cabin, and mustering our little party upon deck, suffered the Rover to drift nearer in shore with the tide, that we might enjoy the gratifying spectacle of more closely observing the young, the beautiful, and the ~163~~accomplished elegantes who traversed to and fro upon the beach to catch the soft whispers of the saline air.

At the Castle Causeway a boat had just landed a group of beautiful children, who appeared clinging round a tall well-formed man, in a blue jacket and white trowsers, resting a hand upon each of two fine boys dressed in a similar style: he walked on, with a slight affection of lameness, towards the Castle entrance, preceded by three lovely little female fairies, who gambolled in his path like sportive zephyrs.—"There moves one of the bravest men, and best of fathers, in his majesty's dominions," said Horace—"the commander of the Pearl." "What," said I, "the Marquis of Anglesey?" "The same—who here seeks retirement in the bosom of his family, and without ostentation enjoys a pleasure, which, in its pursuit, produces permanent advantage to many, and enables others, his friends and relations, to participate with him in his amusements. We are much indebted to the marquis for the promotion of this truly British sport, who with his brothers, Sir Charles and Sir Arthur, were among the first members of the Royal Yacht Club. The group of blue jackets to the left, whom the marquis recognised as he passed, consist of that merry fellow, Sir Godfrey Webster, who lias a noble yacht here, the Scorpion; the commander of the Sabrina, James Manse, Esq. another jovial soul; the two Williams's, father and son, who have both fine yachts in our roads; Sir Charles Sullivan; and the Polar navigator, Captain Lyons, who has just launched a beautiful little boat called the Queen Mab, with whom he means to bewitch the Don Giovanni of London." "Who is that interesting female leaning over the railings in front of the Gothic house, attended by a dark pensive-looking swain, with a very intelligent countenance? Methinks there is an air of style about the pair that speaks nobility; and yet I have observed ~164~~they appear too fond of each other's society to be fashionables." "That is the delightful Lady F. L. Gower and her lord: I thought you would have recognised that star instantly, from the splendid picture of her by Lawrence, which hangs in the Stafford Gallery at Cleveland-house. The elegant group pacing the lawn in front of the castellated mansion, on this side of Lord Gower, is the amiable Countess of Craven and her family: the earl, that generous and once merry-hearted soul, I lament to hear, is a victim to the gout; but it is hoped a few trips on board the May-fly will restore him to health, and the enjoyment of his favourite pursuit." "By my soul, Horace," said I, "here comes a splendid creature, a very divinity, my boy: I' faith just such a woman as might melt the heart of a corsair." "By my honour you have hit the mark exactly," replied Eglantine, "for she is already the corsair's bride, and Corbett feels, as he ought to do, not a little proud of his good fortune. The raven-haired Graces accompanying that true son of Neptune, Sir George Thomas, are daughters of the baronet, and, report says, very accomplished girls. Now by all that's fascinating and charming, hither comes the beautiful Miss Seymour, Mrs. Fitzherbert's protege, and his Majesty's little pet—an appellation I have often heard him salute her by. The magnificent-looking belle by her side is a relation, the charming Mrs. Seymour, acknowledged to be a star of the first magnitude in female attractions. The three portly-looking gentlemen whose grog-blossomed visages speak their love of the good things of this world are the Admirals Scott and Hope, and that facetious of all funny senators, Sir Isaac Coffin. If you are an admirer of the soft and the sentimental, of the love-enkindling eye, and Madonna-like expression of countenance, observe that band of Arcadian shepherdesses in speckled dresses yonder—Bristol diamonds of the first and purest ~165~~water, I assure you; and their respected father, the wealthy proprietor of Miles's-court, Bristol, may well be delighted with his amiable and beauteous daughters. The little dapper-looking man in the white hat yonder is the liberal, good-tempered Duke of Norfolk; and the dashing roue by his side, the legitimate heir to his title, is the Earl of Surrey, whose son, the young Baron of Mowbray, follows hand in hand with Captain Wollaston, an old man-of-war's man, who sails the Swallow cutter. The female group assembled in front of the King's-house are the minor constellations from East Cowes, and the congregated mixture of oddities who grace the balconies of the Pavilion boarding-house comprise every grade of society from the Oxford invalid to the retired shopkeeper, the Messieurs Newcomes of the island." "A rich subject for a more extended notice," said I, "when on some future occasion I visit Margate or Brighton, where the diversity of character will be more numerous, varied, and eccentric than in this sequestered spot." As the evening advanced, the blue-eyed maid of heaven spread forth her silvery light across the glassy surface of the deep, yielding a magic power to the soul-inspiring scene, and, by reflection, doubling the objects on the sea, whose translucent bosom scarcely heaved a sigh, or murmured forth a ripple on the ear; and now, amid the stillness of the night, we were suddenly amused with the deep-sounding notes of the key-bugle reverberating over the blue waters with most harmonious effect. "We are indebted to that mad wag, Ricketts, for this unexpected pleasure," said Horace; "he is an amateur performer of no mean talent, and delights in surprising the visitors in this agreeable manner." "Rover, a-hoy," hailed a voice from the shore; off went our boat, and on its return brought an accession to our party of half a dozen right merry fellows, among whom was that choice spirit, Henry Day, whose facetious powers of oratory and whim are ~166~~universally esteemed, and have often afforded us amusement, when enjoying an evening among the eccentrics of London and the brilliants of the press, who assemble for social purposes at the Wrekin. The Days are too well known and respected as a family of long standing in the island to require the eulogy of the English Spy, but to acknowledge their hospitality and kindness he penned the following tribute ere he quitted the shores of Vectis.

LOVE, LAW, AND PHYSIC.

In Vectis' Isle three happy Days By any may be seen: First, James, who loves by social ways To animate mirth's scene; An honest lawyer, Henry, next With speech and bottle plies you; And when by fell disease perplex'd, Charles physics and revives you. "Love, law, and physic," here combine To claim the poet's praise: May fortune's sunbeams ever shine On three such worthy Days.

A few more songs and a few more grogs brought on the hour of ten; and now our friends having departed to their homes, Horace and myself took a turn or two upon deck, smoked out our cigars, conjured up the reminiscences of our school-boy days, and having spent a few moments in admiration of the starry canopy which spread its spangled brightness over our heads, we sought again the cabin, drank a parting glass to old friends, turned into our births, and soon were cradled by the motion of the vessel into sweet repose. The events of the former evening, the novelty of the scene, and, above all, the magnificence of Nature, as she appeared when viewed from sea, in her diurnal progress through the transition ~167~~of morning, noon, and night, all inspired my Muse to attempt poetic sketches of the character of the surrounding island scenery. A delightful pleasure I have endeavoured to convey to my readers in the following rhymes.

MORNING IN THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

When o'er the foreland glimmering day Just breaks above the eastern lulls, And streaks of gold through misty gray Dispels night's dark and vap'rous chills; Then, when the landsman 'gins to mow The perfumed crop on grounds above, And sailors chant the "yeo, heave yeo," Then young hearts wake to life and love. When still and slow the murmuring swell Of ocean, rising from his throne, O'erleaps the beach, and matin's bell To prayer invites the college drone; Then, when the pennant floats on high, And anchor's weigh'd again to rove, And tuneful larks ascend the sky, Then young hearts wake to life and love. When, by unerring nature's power, Creation breaks the spell of night, And plants their leaves expand and flow'r, And all around breathes gay delight; Then when the herdsman opes his fold To let the merry lambkin rove, And distant hills are tipt with gold, Then young hearts wake to life and love,

~168~~

NOON IN THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

When toiling 'neath meridian sun The boatman plies the lab'ring oar, And sportive nymphs the margin shun Of ocean's pebble-parched shore; Then when beneath some shadowy cliff, O'er-hanging wood, or leafy vale, The trav'ller rests, haul'd up the skiff, Then lovers breathe their am'rous tale. When Nature, languid, seems to rest, Nor moves a leaf, or heaves a wave, And Zephyrs sleep, by Sol caress'd, And sportive swallows skim the lave; Then, when by early toil oppress'd, The peasant seeks the glen or dale, Enjoys his frugal meal and rest, Then lovers breathe their am'rous tale. When close beneath the forest's pride The upland's group of cattle throng, And sultry heat dissevers wide The feather'd host of tuneful song; Then when a still, dead, settled calm O'er earth, and air, and sea prevail, And lull'd is ev'ry spicy balm, Then lovers breathe their am'rous tale.

~169~~

EVENING IN THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

When twilight tints with sober gray The distant hills, and o'er the wave The mellow glow of parting day Crimsons the shipwreck'd sailor's grave; Then when the sea-bird seeks the mast, And signal lights illume the tower, And sails are furl'd, and anchors cast, Then, then is love's delicious hour. When o'er the beach the rippling wave Breaks gently, heaving to and fro, Like maiden bosoms, ere the knave Of hearts has ting'd their cheek with woe; Then, when the watch their vigils keep, And grog, and song, and jest have power To laugh to scorn the peril'd deep, Then, then is love's delicious hour. When Cynthia sheds her mystic light In silv'ry circles o'er the main; And Hecate spreads her veil of night O'er hearts that ne'er may meet again; Then, Anna, blest with thee, I stray 'Mid scenes of bliss—through nature's bower; While eve's star guides us on our way, Then, then is love's delicious hour.

It has often been observed by inquisitive travellers, that in most of our country villages not only the three best houses are inhabited by the lawyer, the parson, and the doctor, but three-fourths of the whole property of the place is generally monopolized by the same disinterested triumvirate: however true the satire 170~may be in a general sense, it certainly does not apply to Cowes, where the liberal professions are really practised by liberal minds, and where the desire to do good outweighs the desire to grow rich. But the good people of Cowes are not without their nabobs; for instance, the eastern shores of the river are under the dominion of Lord Henry Seymour and Mr. Nash, who there rule over their humble tenantry with mild paternal sway. On the western side, the absolute lords of the soil are Messrs. Bennett and Ward: the first, like other great landed proprietors, almost always an absentee; and the last somewhat greedy to grapple at every thing within his reach. "Who does that fine park and mansion belong to?" said a stranger, surveying Northwood from the summit of the hill. "King George," replied the islander. "And who owns the steam-boats, which I now see arriving?" "King George," reiterated the fellow. "And who is the largest proprietor of the surrounding country?" "King George." "Indeed!" said the stranger, "I was not aware that the crown lands were so extensive in the Wight. Have you much game?" "Ees, ees." "And who is the lord of the manor?" "King George." "And these new roads I see forming, are they also done by King George?" "Ees, ees, he ought to gi' us a few new ones, I think; bekase Ize zure he's stopped up enou of our old ones." "What, by some new inclosure act, I suppose?" "Naye, naye, by some old foreclosure acts, I expect." "Why, you do not mean to say that our gracious sovereign is a money-lender and mortgagee?" "No; but our ungracious king be the', and a money-maker too." "Fellow, take care; you are committing treason against the Lord's anointed." "Ees, ees, he be a 'nointed one, zure enou," retorted the fellow, laughing outright in the traveller's face. "Sirrah," said the offended stranger, "I shall have you taken before a justice." "Ees, ees, Ize heard o' them ere chaps at East Cowes, but Ize ~171~~not much respect for 'em." "Not care for the magistrate!" "Lord love you,—you be one of the Mr. Newcome, Ize warrant me; why, we've gotten no zuch animal here, nothing o' sort nearer as Newport; and lawyer Day can out-talk the best of them there, whenever he likes." "There must be some mistake here," said the stranger, cooling a little of his choler: "did you not tell me, fellow, that the king of England owned all the land here, and the steam-boats, and the manor, and the town, and the people, and—————-." "Hold, hold thee there," said the islander; "I said, King George; and here he comes, in his four-wheeled calabash, and before he undertakes to give us any more new roads, I wish he'd set about mending his own queer ways" However strong the current of prejudice may run against Squire Ward in the island, among a few of the less wealthy residents, it must be admitted, that he is hospitable even to a proverb, a sincere and persevering friend, and a liberal master to his tenantry: the Christmas festivities at Northwood, when the poor are plentifully regaled with excellent cheer, smacks of a good old English custom, that shall confer upon the donor lasting praise, and hand down his name to posterity with better chance of grateful remembrance than all his mine of wealth can purchase; there are some well authenticated anecdotes in circulation of George Ward, which prove that he has, with all his eccentricities,

"A tear for pity, and a hand, open as day, to melting charity."

To his enterprising spirit Cowes is indebted for much of its present popularity, the facility of travelling to and from the island being greatly aided by the steamboats (his property) from Portsmouth and Southampton; but much yet remains to be done by the inhabitants themselves, if they wish to secure their present high partronage, and increase with succeeding seasons the number of their visitors. The promenade, admirably situate for the enjoyment of the sea ~172~~breeze, and the delightful spectacle of a picturesque harbour filled with a forest of beautiful pleasure yachts, is of an evening generally obstructed by the assemblage of a juvenile band of both sexes, of the very lowest description, who render it utterly impossible for the delicate ear of female propriety to hazard coming in contact with their boisterous vulgarities. The beautiful walk round the Castle battery is wholly usurped by this congregated mass of rabble; and yet the appointment of a peace-officer, a useful animal I never once saw at Cowes, would remove the objection, and preserve a right of way and good order among the crowd that would at least render it safe, if not pleasant, to traverse the extended shore. The visit of their royal highnesses the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge to John Nash, Esq. the eminent architect, at East Cowes Castle, gave a new lustre to the enchanting scene, and afforded the English Spy a favourable opportunity for completing his sketches of the scenery and character of the island. Among the festivities which the presence of the royal visitors gave birth to, the most attractive and delightful was the grand dejeune a la fourchette, given at St. Lawrence by the commodore of the Yacht Club, the Right Honourable Lord Yarborough. The invitations to meet the royal party were very general, including all of note and respectability on the island, and extending to the number of six hundred persons, for whom a most liberal and princely banquet was prepared upon the lawn of a delightful cottage, near his seat of Appuldurcombe. The spot selected for this entertainment was situated under a bold line of cliffs, extending in a semicircular form for above a mile in length, and inclosing one of the most romantic of nature's variegated scenes, abounding with hill, and dale, and rich umbrageous foliage, delightfully increased by the inspiring freshness of the sea breeze, and the unbroken view of the Channel in front, and ~173~~rendered still more attractive and picturesque by the numerous tents and temporary pavilions which had been erected for the accommodation of the visitors, spreading over a line of ground like an encampment in the Pyrenees, a similitude of feature that was more powerfully increased when the well-concerted echo of the signal bugles resounded from hill to hill, and the cannon's loud report, from the battery beneath, reverberating through the surrounding hill and dale, proclaimed for many a mile the gladsome tidings of the approach of royalty. The scene was, beyond description, magnificent; the assemblage of fashionables included a long list of noble and distinguished persons, who, on the approach of the duke and duchess, congregated upon an eminence, immediately opposite the entrance to the lawn, and by their loyal cheers, and smiles, and birthday suits, gave honest welcome to their monarch's brother, and in the fulness of their hearty zeal, paid a grateful tribute to their absent king. The ungenial state of the morning's weather had prevented many of the yachts from coming round, but a few jolly hearts had weathered the Needles, and displayed their loyalty by decorating their vessels with all the colours of all the nations of the world. At an appointed signal the tents were thrown open, and the royal party having retired to the pavilion, the company sat down to an entertainment, where a profusion of choice wines and viands covered the extended line; then commenced the interchange of bright eyes and soft sayings, and the rosy blush of maiden beauty tinged the cheek of many a sylphic form as the accomplished beau challenged the fair to wine with him, and many a heart from that day's sportive scene shall date the first impression of the soveieign passion which blends with life's red current all of happiness or misery here below. The repast over, the company again met the royal party and promenaded on the lawn, and while thus ~174~~engaged, a new delight was prepared for them—a scene not less congenial than peculiar to the English character, and one which may well uplift that honest pride of country which ever animates a Briton's heart. The tables being again replenished, the peasantry of the surrounding districts were admitted and regaled with unrestricted hospitality.

And round the gay board cheerful Industry shone, In a pureness and brightness to wealth oft unknown; 'Twas a feast where a monarch might wish to preside, For the cottager's comfort's his country's pride; And Benevolence smiled on the heart-moving scene, And music and beauty enlivened the green, While the labourer, gratefully raising the glass, Gave his king, then his donor, his dame, and his lass.

The commodore's liberality is proverbial; he had sold his old yacht, the Falcon, and the new vessel was not likely to be launched this season, yet he would not forego the pleasure of a grand fete, and as it could not be given on board his own ship, according to annual custom, he seized upon this opportunity of the royal visit to unite Loyalty and Friendship under one banner, and it must be recorded, that he displayed an excellence of arrangement which left no wish ungratified. An excursion round the island, sailing in a westerly direction, is one of most delightful amusement to a lover of the picturesque; the circuit is nearly eighty miles, every where presenting new features of the most beautiful variety and romantic scenery, a voyage we made in the Rover in about eight hours. Clearing Sconce Point, which is the first object worthy notice from Cowes, you perceive the cottage, battery, and residence of Captain Farrington on the rise of the hill, and beyond are Gurnet and Harness Bays closely succeeding one another, the shores above being well diversified with foliage and richly cultivated grounds. From this station the coast gradually sinks towards Newtown River, where the luxuriant woods of Swainton are perceived rising in the distance, crowned by ~175~~Shalfleet church and a rich country as far as Calbourne, the landscape bounded by a range of downs which stretch to the extremity of the island. The coast at Hamsted, the farm estate of John Nash, Esq. presents a very bold outline, and approaching Yarmouth, which has all the appearance of an ancient French fort, the view of the opposite point, called Norton, is very picturesque, presenting a well-wooded promontory, adorned with numerous elegant residences; from this spot the coast begins to assume a very bold, but sterile aspect, composed of steep rugged slopes, and dull-coloured earthy cliffs, till the attention of the voyager is suddenly arrested by the first view of the Needle rocks, situate at the termination of a noble promontory called Freshwater cliffs, which extend along a line of nearly three miles, and at a part called Mainbench are six hundred feet above the sea level, in some places perpendicular, and in others overhanging the ocean in a most terrific manner; at the extreme point, or Needles, is the light-house, where the view of the bays and cliffs beneath is beyond description awfully sublime, and the precipices being covered with myriads of sea-fowl of all description, who breed in the crannies of the rocks, if called into action by the report of a gun fill the air with screams and cries of most appalling import; the grandeur of the scene being much increased by the singularly majestic appearance of the Needle rocks, rearing their craggy heads above the ocean, and giving an awful impression of the storms and convulsions which must have shaken and devoured this once enormous mass. Their present form bears no resemblance to their name, which was derived from a spiral rock, about one hundred and twenty feet high, that fell in the year 1764, and left the present fragments of its grandeur to moulder away, like the base of some proud column of antiquity. On the opposite coast is Hurst Castle, a circular fort, built by Henry ~176~~the Eighth; and on the north side of the promontory is Alum Bay, the most beautiful and unique feature of the sea cliffs of Albion. For about a quarter of a mile from the Needles the precipice is one entire glare of white chalk, which curves round to, and is joined by a most extraordinary mixture of vertical strata, composed of coloured sands and ocherous earths blending into every variety of tint, and so vivid and beautiful in colour, that they have been not unfrequently compared to the prismatic hues of the rainbow. It was on this spot the Fomone, a frigate of fifty guns, returning home, after an absence of three years, with some Persian princes on board, in June, 1811, struck upon the rocks and went to pieces: the appearance of a wreck, in such an extraordinary situation, must have formed a combination of grand materials for the painter, that would be truly sublime. At Saint Catherine's, in the cliffs, is the gloomy ravine called Blackgang Chine, which should be visited by the traveller at sunset, when the depth of shade materially increases the savage grandeur of its stupendous and terrific effect. Tradition reports, that the awful chasm beneath was formerly the retreat of a gang of pirates, from which it derived its name. The total absence of vegetation, and the dusky hue of the soil, combined with the obvious appearance of constant decay, the dismembered fragments, and the streamlet to which it owes its origin, falling perpendicularly over a ledge of hard rock from above seventy feet high, producing a wild echo in the cavity beneath, all conspire to render it the most striking and astonishing of Nature's wildest works. The view off the Sand Rock presents the tasteful marine villas of Sir Willoughby Gordon and Mrs. Arnold, whose well-cultivated grounds and rich plantations reach down to the sea shore. Saint Lawrence brings to view the romantic cottage of Lord Yarborough, succeeded by Steep Hill, the lovely retreat of the late Earl Dysart; ~177~~the romantic flank of Saint Boniface Down, and in the distance the fairy land of Bonchurch, whose enchanting prospects and picturesque scenery have so often called forth the varied powers of the painter and the poet, where sportive nature, clothed in her gayest vest, presents a diversified landscape, abounding with all the delightful combinations of rural scenery, of rich groves, and dells, and meads of green, and rocks, and rising grounds; streams edged with osiers, and the lowing herd spread over the luxuriant land. As you approach East End, you perceive an extensive scene of devastation, caused by the frequent landslips near to Luccombe Chine, and the romantic chasm of Shanklin, from which spot Sandown comes next in view, and sailing under the towering Culver cliffs we arrive at the eastern extremity of the island. At Bimbridge a very dangerous ledge spreads out into the sea, and gaining Brading Haven the old church tower of Saint Helen's proclaims you are fast gaining upon that delightful watering-place, the town of Ryde, whose picturesque pier, shooting forth into the ocean, and covered with groups of elegant visitors, forms an object of the most pleasing description. From this point the whole line of coast to Cowes wears a rich and highly-cultivated appearance, being divided into wood, arable, and pasture lands, diversified by the villas of Earl Spencer, Mr. G. Player, and Mr. Fleming, when, having passed Wooten Creek, the next object is Norris Castle; and now, having cleared the point, you are once more landed in safety at the Vine Key, and my old friend, Mrs. Harrington, whose pleasant countenance, obliging manners, and good accommodation, are the universal theme of every traveller's praise, has already made her best curtsy to welcome you back to Cowes.

The regatta was, indeed, a glorious scene, when the harbour was literally filled with a forest of masts and streamers, the vessels of the Royal Yacht ~178~~Club spread forth their milk white canvas to the gale, many of those who were riding at anchor being decorated from head to stem, over-mast, with the signal colours of most of the squadron and the ensigns of the different nations. On the shore, and round the castle battery, the congregated groups of lovely females traversed to and fro, and the witchery of blight eyes and beauteous faces upon the manly hearts of the sons of Neptune must have been magically triumphant. The Pearl beat the Arrow, and the Julia the Liberty,—thus equalizing the victory between the contending parties. The procession of the pilot boats, about forty in number, was a very animated scene; and in the sailing match of the succeeding day, our little craft, the Rover, came in second, and received the awarded prize. The race ball at East Cowes gave the young and fair another opportunity of riveting their suitors' chains, and the revels of Terpsichore were kept up with spirit until the streaking blush of golden morn shone through the dusky veil which Hecate spreads around the couch of drowsy night. But the day of parting was at hand; the last amusement of the time was a match made between Captain Lyon and a Mr. Davey, of London, to sail their respective yachts, the Queen Mab and the Don Giovanni, upon the challenge of the last mentioned, a stipulated distance, for a sum of two hundred guineas—an affair which did not, to use a sporting phrase, come off well, for the Don most ungallantly refused to meet his fair opponent; and being wofully depressed in spirits, either from apprehension of defeat, or sea sickness, or some such fresh water fears, the little Queen was compelled to sail over the course alone to claim the reward of her victory.

And now the sports of the season being brought to a conclusion, and the rough note of old Boreas and the angry groanings of Father Neptune giving token of approaching storms, I bade farewell to Vectis, my ~179~~friend Horace transporting me in his yacht to Southampton Water. Reader, if I should appear somewhat prolix in my descriptions, take a tour yourself to the island, visit the delightful scenery with which it abounds, participate in the aquatic excursions of the place, and meet, as I have done, with social friends, and kind hearts, and lovely forms, and your own delightful feelings will be my excuse for extending my notice somewhat beyond my usual sketchy style.

FAREWELL TO VECTIS.

Blest isle, fare thee well! land of pleasure and peace, May the beaux and the belles on thy shores still increase: How oft shall my spirit, by absence opprest, Revisit thy scenes, and in fancy be blest, In the magic of slumber still sport on thy wave, And dream of delights that I waken to crave. Farewell, merry hearts! fare ye well, social friends! Adieu! see the Rover her canvas unbends; Land of all that is lovely for painting or verse, Farewell! ere in distance thy beauties disperse, Now Calshot is passed, now receding from view, Once more, happy Vectis, a long, last adieu.



PORTSMOUTH IN TIME OF PEACE.

~180~~

Where now are the frolicsome care-killing souls, With their girls and their fiddlers, their dances and bowls? Where now are the blue jackets, once on our shore The promoters of merriment, spending their store? Where now are our tars in these dull piping times? Laid up like old hulks, or enlisted in climes Where the struggle for liberty calls on the brave, The Peruvians, the Greeks, or Brazilians to save From the yoke of oppression—there, Britons are found Dealing death and destruction to tyrants around; For wherever our tars rear the banner of fame, They are still the victorious sons of the main.

A Trip to Portsmouth on board the Medina Steam-Boat—The Change from War to Peace—Its Consequences—The Portsmouth Greys—The Man of War's Man—Tom Tackle and his Shipmate— Lamentation of a Tar—The Hero Cochrane—An old Acquaintance—Reminiscences of the past—Sketches of Point- Street and Gosport Beach—Naval Anecdotes—"A Man's like a Ship on the Ocean of Life."

"Bear a hand, old fellow!" said Horace Eglantine one morning, coming down the companion hatchway of the Rover: "if you have any mind for a land-cruise, let us make Portsmouth to-day on board the steamer, while our yacht goes up the harbour to get her copper polished and her rigging overhauled." In earlier days, while yet the light-heartedness of youth ~181~~and active curiosity excited my boyish spirit, I had visited Portsmouth, and the recollection of the scenes I then witnessed was still fresh upon my memory. The olive-branch of peace now waved over the land of my fathers; and while the internal state of the country, benefited by its healing balm, flourished, revived, invigorated and prosperous, Portsmouth and Gosport, and such like sea-ports, were almost deserted, and the active bustle and variety which but now reigned among their inhabitants had given way to desolation and abandonment: at least such was the account I had received from recent visitors. I was, therefore, anxious from observation to compare the present with the past; and, with this view, readily met the invitation of my friend Horace Eglantine. The voyage from Cowes to Portsmouth on board the steam-boat, performed, as it now is, with certainty, in about an hour and a half, is a delightful excursion; and the appearance of the entrance to the harbour from sea, a most picturesque and imposing scene. The fortifications, which are considered the most complete in the world, stretching from east to west, on either side command the sea far as the cannons' power can reach. Nor is the harbour less attractive, flanked on each side by the towns of Gosport and Portsmouth, and filled with every description of vessel from the flag-ship of England's immortal hero, Nelson, which is here moored in the centre, a monument of past glory, to the small craft of the trader, and the more humble ferry-boat of the incessant applicant, who plys the passenger with his eternal note of "Common Hard, your honour."

One of my companions on board the Medina was an old man of war's man, whose visage, something of the colour and hardness of dried salmon, sufficiently indicated that the possessor had weathered many a trying gale, and was familiar with all the vicissitudes of the mighty deep. With the habitual roughness of 182~his manners was combined a singular degree of intelligence, and he evinced a disposition to be communicative, of which I found it very agreeable to avail myself. On approaching the harbour, my attention was arrested by the sight of a number of boats rowed by men arrayed in a grotesque uniform of speckled jackets, whose freights, to judge from appearances, must have been of no common weight, as the rowers seemed compelled to use a degree of exertion little inferior to that employed by galley-slaves. I inquired of my nautical Mentor who these men were, and in what description of service they were occupied. "Them, master," replied he, releasing the quid from his mouth, and looking with his weather-eye unutterable things; "they are the Portsmouth Greys." My countenance spoke plainly enough that this reply had by no means made me au fait to the subject of my question, and my informant accordingly proceeded—"Shiver my timbers, mate, they are as rum a set, them boat's crews, as ever pulled an oar—chaps as the public keeps out of their own pocket for the public good; and it's been but just a slip, as one may say, between the cup and the lip, as has saved a good many on 'em from being run up to the yard-arm. Some on 'em forgot to return things as they found rather too easy, and some, instead of writing their own name, by mistake wrote somebody's else's; so government sent 'em here, at its own charge, to finish their edication. You see the floating academy as is kept a purpose for 'em," said he, pointing to the receiving-hulk for the convicts at this station, which was lying in the harbour: "them as is rowing in the boats," added the talkative seaman, "has been a getting stones, and ballast, and such like, for the repairs of the harbour; they does all the rough and dirty jobs as is to be done about the works and place—indeed, we calls 'em the Port Admiral's skippers." I now fully understood the import of the term Portsmouth Greys, which had before been an enigma to ~183~~me; and comprehended that the unhappy beings before me were of

The ill-fated children of suff'ring and sin, With conscience reproaching and sorrow within; Bosoms that mis'ry and guilt could not sever, Hearts that were blighted and broken for ever: Where each, to some vice or vile passion a slave, Shared the wreck of the mind, and the spirit's young grave. Whose brief hist'ry of life, ere attain'd to its prime, Unfolded a volume of madness and crime, Such as leaves on the forehead of manhood a stain Which tears over shed seek to blot out in vain; A stain which as long as existence will last, Embitt'ring the future with thoughts of the past.

I might have indulged much longer in these reflections, but my musing mood was interrupted by the Medina reaching her destination, and we disembarked safely at Portsmouth Point.



On landing, the worthy veteran, who had, by his confabulation during the voyage, claimed, in his own opinion, a right of becoming my companion for a time, a privilege which, in such a scene, and at such a place, it will easily be believed I was not averse from granting him, proceeded along with me carpere iter comites parati, up Point Street, and at one of the turnings my friend made a sudden stop. "My eyes!" he exclaimed, "may I perish, but that is my old messmate, Tom Tackle. Many's the can of flip we've scuttled while on board the Leander frigate together; and when we were obliged to part convoy and go on board different ships, there was above a little matter of brine about both our eyes." At this moment Tom Tackle came up with us: the warmth of affection with which his old shipmate had spoken of him had interested me not a little in his favour, and his mutilated frame spoke volumes in behalf of the gallantry he had displayed in the service of his country. One eye was entirely ~184~~lost; one coat-sleeve hung armless by his side; and one vanished leg had its place superseded by a wooden substitute. I gazed upon the "unfortunate brave" with mingled pity and veneration; yet, so true is the observation of the ancient,

"Res sunt humanae flobilo ludibrium"

That is, human feelings and affairs are a singular compound of the ludicrous and the lamentable, that I could not avoid giving way to my mercurial disposition, and congratulating my fellow-voyager on the ease with which he had recognized his old comrade by his present remaining half. "Lord help your honour!" said he, "a seaman's weather-gauge is made for squalls—foul weather or fair—in stays or out of trim—sailing all right before the wind, or coming up under jury-masts; he's no tar that cannot make out an old friend at a cable's length, and bring to without waiting for signals of distress. Shiver my timbers, if I should not know my old messmate here while there's a timber rib left in his hulk, or a shoulder-boom to hang a blue jacket on. But, my toplights, Tom!" continued he, "where's all the girls, and the tiddlers, and the Jews, and bumboat-women that used to crowd all sail to pick up a spare hand ashore? Not a shark have I seen in the harbour, and all the old grog-shops with their foul-weather battens up and colours half-mast." "All in mourning for Mr. Nap, shipmate," said Tom; "we've had no fun here since they cooped him up on board the Bellerophon, and stowed him away at St. Helena. All the Jews have cut and run, and all the bumboat-women retired upon their fortunes; the poor landlords are most of them in the bilboes at Winchester: and as for a pretty girl—whew!—not such an article to be had at Point now, either for love or money: and all this comes of the peace—shiver my odd forelight! mate, if it lasts much longer, it will be the ruin of the navy.

185~~How I long to hear the sound of the boatswain's whistle once more! 'Up hammocks, boys—clear the decks, and prepare for action! 'that's the way to live and be merry; then the music of a good broadside pouring into an enemy's under-works, and cutting her slap in two between wind and water—that's glory, my christian! May I never taste grog again, if we are not all ruined by the peace. There's only one fighting fellow left of the old stock of commanders, and they have turned him out of the navy lest he should infect the psalm-singers. Look out a-head there, shipmate; d'ye see that fine frigate, the Peranga, now lying oft' Spithead, and can you ever forget Basque Roads and the gallant Cochrane? I just got a glimpse of his figure head t'other morning, coming up Point here; so I hauled to and threw my shattered hulk slap across his headway, lowering my top-gallants as I passed round under his bows. 'Officer,' said he, 'you and I should know one another, methinks.' 'Success attend your honour,' said I; 'do you remember your master-gunner when you captured the Spanish galleon, who carried away a spar or two in the action?' 'What, Tom Tackier said he: 'Heaven help thee, lad! I'd give the bounty of a good boat's crew if I could put you into sailing-trim and commission again; but here, officer, is something to drink to old acquaintance with, and if you can find your way on board the Peranga to-morrow, I'll take care they don't throw you over the ship's side before you have had a skinfull of grog: 'so seizing fast hold of my single tin with both his grappling-irons, I thought he would have shook it out of the goose-neck at parting; and when I went on board next day, he treated me like a port-admiral, and sent me on shore with every cranny well-filled, from my beef-tub to my grog-bucket, and put a little more of the right sort o' stuff" in my jacket pockets to pay harbour dues with. That's the commander for me! And now I hear, after having taken 186~and destroyed all the Spanish king's navy, he's off to give the Grand Signor a taste of his quality. My forelights! how I should like to see him with his double rows of grinders wide open, bearing down upon a whole fleet of Mussulmen—there'd be weeping, and wailing, and gnashing o' teeth among the Turks! I wouldn't give my wooden pin for the whole of the Grand Sultan's flotilla. But come, shipmate, may I never want 'bacca, if we don't drink his health, and that 'ere gemman you've taken in tow shall join us, if he likes." I was too much amused to desire to part company just yet, and the good-humoured tars perceiving my bent, linked themselves to each arm, and in this way, laughing at the curiosity we provoked, did our party reach the middle of Point-street, and brought ourselves to anchor under the head of old Admiral Benbow, where Tom assured us we should be supplied with the best of grog and ship-stores of the first quality. Horace had proceeded to escort some ladies, whom he met with on board the steamboat, to the house of a friend in the High-street, where I had appointed to meet him in the space of an hour. Sitting myself down therefore with my two jovial associates, I determined to humour the frolic which had brought me into the society of such eccentric characters. "Shiver my timbers! Jem," said the one-legged mariner, "but you never make any inquiries after Betsy Bluff, among your other old friends. It's true, the wench has got spliced again, to be sure; but then, you know, she waited three years, and had the log-books overhauled first." "Ay, ay, Tom, so they say she did; but I never believed 'em: howsomedever, that wasn't the worst of it; for having got my will and my power in her possession, she drew all my pay and prize-money, and when at last I got home from an enemy's keeping, I had not a shot left in the locker to keep myself. But the mischief did not end even there, for she disgraced me, ~187~~and the British flag, by marrying a half-starved tailor, and setting him up in the Sally port with the money that I had been fighting the enemies of my country for. May I never get groggy again, if I couldn't have forgiven her freely if she'd taken some honest-hearted fellow, like yourself, in tow, who had got disabled in the service, or consorted with a true man of war's man, all right and tight; but to go and lash herself alongside of such a crazy land lubber as this ninth degree of manhood—may I never taste 'bacca again if Bet's conduct is bearable! She's no wife of mine, Tom; and when I go to pieces, a wreck in this world, may I be bolted into old Belzy's caboose if she shall be a copper fastening the better for Jem Buntline!" During the recital of this story the countenance of the old tar assumed a fiery glow of honest indignation, and when he had finished the tale, his fore lights gave evident signs that his heart had been long beating about in stormy restlessness at the remembrance of his wife's unfaithfulness. "Cheer up, messmate," said Tom; "I see how the land lies. Come, fill your pipe, and I'll sing you the old stave I used to chant on Saturday nights, when we messed together on board the Leander.

A man's like a ship on the ocean of life, The sport both of fair and foul weather, Where storms of misfortune, and quicksands of strife, And clouds of adversity gather. If he steers by the compass of honour, he'll find, No matter what latitude meets him, A welcome in every port to his mind, And a friend ever ready to greet him. If love takes the helm in an amorous gale, Of the rocks of deception beware, Steer fairly for port, and let reason prevail, And you're thus sure to conquer the fair. For the Bay of Deceit keep a steady look out, Steer clear of the shoals of distress,

~188~~

Yet ever be ready to tack and about When the black waves of misery press. Like a vessel, digest out in all colours, d'ye see, Are the virtues and vices of life: Blue and red are the symbols of friendship and glee, White and black of ill-humour and strife. True worth, like true honour, is born of no clime, But known by true courage and feeling, Where power and pity in unison chime, And the heart is above double dealing."



"Ay, Tom, now you're on the right tack—a good song, and a jovial friend, and let the marines blubber about love and lullaby, it'll never do for the sailors. As we are overhauling old friends, do you remember Charley Capstan, the coxswain's mate of the Leander V "Shiver my timbers, but I do; and a bit of tough yarn he was, too: hard as old junk without, and soft as captain's coop meat within. Wasn't I one of the crew that convoyed him up this very street when returning from a cruise off the Straits, we heard that Charley's old uncle had slipt his cable, and left him cash enough to buy out and build a ship of his own? That was a gala, messmate! There was Charley, a little fat porpoise, as round as a nine-pounder, mounted on an eighteen gallon cask of the real Jamaica, lashed to a couple of oars, and riding astride, on his messmates' shoulders, up to the Point. Then such a jolly boat's crew attended him, rigged out with bran new slops, and shiners on their topmasts, with the Leander painted in front, and half a dozen fiddlers scraping away 'Jack's alive,' and all the girls decked out in their dancing dresses, with streamers flying about their top-gallants, and loose nettings over their breastworks—that was a gala, messmate! And didn't Charley treat all Point to the play that night, and engage the whole of the gallery cabin for his own friends' accommodation; and when the reefers in the hold turned saucy, didn't you and two or three more ~189~~drop down upon 'em, and having shook the wind out of their sails, run up the main haliards again, without working round by the gangway?" "Right, Tom, right; and don't you remember the illumination, when we stuck up ten pound of lighted candles round the rim of the gallery before the play began, and when Jane Shore was in the midst of her grief, Charley gave the signal, and away they went, like a file of marines from a double broadside, right and left, tumbling about the ears of the reefers and land lubbers in the chicken coops below? Those were the days of glory, messmate, when old Jack Junk, who had never seen a play before, took it all for right down arnest matter o' fact; and when poor Mrs. Shore came to ask charity of that false-hearted friend of hers, what was jealous of her, and fell down at the door, overcome by grief and hunger, poor Jack couldn't stand it no longer; so after suffering the brine to burst through the floodgates of his heart, till he was as blind as our chaplain to sin, he jumped up all at once, and made for the offing, blubbering as he went, 'May I be blistered, if ever I come to see such cruel stuff as this again!' Then didn't Stephen Collins, and Kelly, and Maxfield, the three managers, come upon deck, and drink success to the Leander's crew, out of a bucket of grog we had up for the purpose, and the ould mare of Portsmouth sent his compliments to us, begging us not to break our own necks or set fire to the playhouse? Another glass, Jem, to the crew of the Leander: don't you remember the ducking ould Mother Macguire, the bum-boat woman, received, for bringing paw-paw articles on board, when we came in to refit?" "May I never want 'bacca, if I shall ever forget that old she crocodile! Wasn't it her that brought that sea-dragon, Bet Bluff, on board, and persuaded me to be spliced to her? shiver her timbers for it!" "Avast there! messmate," said Tom: "when you ~190~~can't skuttle an enemy, it's best to sail right away from her hulk before she blows up and disables her conqueror. May I never get groggy, if I shall ever forget the joke between you and the old Sheenie, when you threatened to throw him overboard for selling you a dumb time-keeper. 'Blesh ma heart,' said the Jew, while his under works shook like a cutter's foresail going about, 'how could you expect de vatch to go well, ven de ship vas all in confushion?' an excuse that saved him from sailing ashore in a skuttle-bucket." "Have you weathered Gosport lately?" inquired Jem: "there used to be a little matter of joviality going forward there upon the beach in war time, but I suppose it's all calm enough now." "All ruined by the peace; and all that glorious collection of the kings and queens of England, and her admirals and heroes, which used to swing to and fro in the wind, when every house upon the beach was a grog-shop, are past, vanished, or hanging like pirates in tatters; the sound of a fiddle never reaches their ears; and the parlour-floors, where we used to dance and sing till all was blue, are now as smooth and as clean as the decks of Lord Nelson's flag ship, the Victory, which lies moored in our harbour, like a Greenwich pensioner, anchored in quiet, to drop to pieces with old age. You may fire a nine-pounder up the principal street at noon-day now and not hurt any body; and if the peace lasts much longer, horses may graze in their roads, and persons receive pensions for inhabiting the vacant houses." The period within which I had promised to join Horace Eglantine had now elapsed. It was no easy task to separate myself from my nautical friends, and the amusement they had afforded me demanded some acknowledgment in return; calling, therefore, for a full bowl of punch, we drank success to the British navy, toasted wives and sweethearts, honoured our gracious king, shook ~191~~hands at parting, like old friends, and having promised to renew my acquaintance before I left Portsmouth, I bade adieu to jolly Jem Buntline and what remained of his noble messmate, the lion-hearted Tom Tackle.