through the air, itself a speck upon the wide and weltering sea, and of its visiting the furthermost parts of the earth, there is something of grandeur in the thought. When we hear of the "spectre-bark," whose dark and distant form is seen by the lightning's sheeted glare, and seen but for an instant, as it flies before the gale with every sail set, while the foam of the wave is of a dazzling brightness in the blaze; we own that there is no story of superstition to equal it. But when we look upon it with respect to a passage, and I fear that I shall never be able to regard it in any other light,--as a place in which we are "cabined, cribbed, confined" for months, in which space is measured by the inch, and fresh water by the drop; when we think that the captain has calculated on us for a profit, ranking us with the rest of his cargo-consisting of sundries, or hides, or tallow, or Cape wine, the vessel no longer "walks the waters like a thing of life," but, stript of every ideal charm, remains for ever a thing of coarse reality.

No, it is all hateful; and a voyage is one of

the shadows in life's picture that gives relief to its lights. It has been laid down by some, that the occupations of the blessed in the next world will be but a shadow of what made their happiness in this; I trust the converse of their proposition does not hold good, or I shall decidedly be sent to sea for my peccadillos, and put on board some convict ghost-ship lying in the offing, to be taught the lesson of humility, that nothing can teach so well; for there we are made to feel what dependent creatures we are, that a calm can depress, a breeze excite, and a dinner render amiable. Think of undergoing eternal rancid butter, bad biscuit, tainted water, and milkless tea and coffee; and for ever to hear no sounds but the rattling of the sails and the straining of the ropes; and to see near us only the disconsolate hens thrusting their scraggy necks out of the coops, and the consumptive-looking pigs and sheep in the longboat, while all around is sea and sky interminable, the distant line of the horizon being at times broken by blue misty clouds, mocking the straining eye with the hope of a mountain

coast; and to hear from the shadowy spectre of a captain, in answer to the question, "When shall we reach shore ?" the dead eternal, "Never!"

I have said, that this is a letter of recollections and coming from the region of the wild superstition of the Flying Dutchman, and knowing my taste for such tales, you would be surprised that I should have heard no legend connected with it. The following I had from an intelligent young naval officer to whom it occurred. The facts were given without any attempt at effect; and, as far as my memory allows, I will repeat them as I heard them; though I fear that it can scarcely be considered as an appearance of the visionary vessel whose cruising ground is round the Cape, as this, I am told by sailors, can be explained without having recourse to the supernatural. Their solution I will not give, thinking of the story as Sir Lucius O'Trigger of the quarrel, "that it is very pretty as it stands, and explanation will but spoil it."

"I had command of the W ———, a small brig,

U

and was cruising off Madagascar, on the lookout for slave ships :-it was near two o'clock in the day, when I discovered a sail between us and the coast. We saw it clearly, myself and the two midshipmen, and determined to keep her in sight, and to watch, but without altering our course, or appearing to notice her; she still continued to creep along the shore, and then, as if suddenly perceiving us for the first time, hoisted more sail. I now felt certain that it was a slaver, and bore down upon her. We had to tack, in order to clear a reef of rock that ran far out; still, however, we were gaining, when, on her making a small headland, I said, 'Do you still see her?' to a young officer, whose glass was directed towards her. No, she has disappeared behind that point, and it was so suddenly, that I think she must have struck her masts and lowered her sails, to lie concealed.' I am certain now she is a slaver,' I said, and she shall not escape us.' We reached the headland, which formed one of the boundaries of a small bay, in which I felt certain

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the vessel must be; but the evening was coming on, the coast was wild and rocky, and I brought my brig to anchor at the mouth, so that nothing could get out unseen, while I waited for the rising of the moon. A dead calm came on after sunset, and not a sound was to be heard on that lonely coast. Before the moon was up, I had out a boat and four men, and taking my pistols, jumped into her, leaving these directions with the elder midshipman, that should I fire one pistol, he should send a boat in the direction of the report; but should it be repeated, he should send both boats and every man that could be spared. I went and examined every creek, every small inlet of the bay, every rock beneath the shadow of which a boat might have lain concealed. The moon had risen, and gleamed with its cold, pale light on that rocky bay; and when, after a silent search of nearly three hours, I rowed for the brig, and, on approaching, saw her small deck covered with men, a strange feeling came over me. Something has happened!' I said. 'Have