that his brig foundered off Portland December 27; encountering a strong gale, and shipping two heavy seas in succession, which hove the ship on her beamends. "Observing no chance of saving the ship, took to the long-boat, and within ten minutes of leaving her saw the brig founder. We were picked up the same morning by the French ship Commerce de Paris, Captain Tombarel."

Here, in a single column of a newspaper, what strange, touching pictures do we find of seamen's dangers, vicissitudes, gallantry, generosity! The ship on fire-the captain in the gale slinging himself in a bowline to stop the leak—the Frenchman in the hour of danger coming to his British comrade's rescuethe brigantine, almost a wreck, working up to the bark with the signal of distress flying, and taking off her crew of thirteen men: "We then proceeded on our course, the crew of the abandoned vessel assisting all they could to keep my ship afloat." What noble, simple words! What courage, devotedness, brotherly love! Do they not cause the heart to beat and the eyes to fill?

This is what seamen do daily, and for one another. One lights occasionally upon different stories. It happened, not very long since, that the passengers by one of the great ocean steamers were wrecked, and, after undergoing the most severe hardships, were left, destitute and helpless, at a miserable coaling port. Among them were old men, ladies, and children. When the next steamer arrived, the passengers by that steamer took alarm at the haggard and miserable appearance of their unfortunate predecessors, and actually remon

strated with their own captain, urging him not to take the poor creatures on board. There was every excuse, of course. The last-arrived steamer was already dangerously full; the cabins were crowded; there were sick and delicate people on board-sick and delicate people who had paid a large price to the company for room, food, comfort, already not too sufficient. If fourteen of us are in an omnibus, will we see three or four women outside and say, "Come in, because this is the last 'bus, and it rains?" Of course not; but think of that remonstrance, and of that Samaritan. master of the Purchase brigantine!

In the winter of '53 I went from Marseilles to Civita Vecchia in one of the magnificent P. and O. ships, the Valetta, the master of which subsequently did distinguished service in the Crimea. This was his first Mediterranean voyage, and he sailed his ship by the charts alone, going into each port as surely as any pilot. I remember walking the deck at night with this most skillful, gallant, well-bred, and well-educated gentleman, and the glow of eager enthusiasm with which he assented when I asked him whether he did not think a RIBBON or ORDER would be welcome or useful in his service.

Why is there not an ORDER OF BRITANNIA for British seamen? In the Merchant and the Royal Navy alike, occur almost daily instances and occasions for the display of science, skill, bravery, fortitude in trying circumstances, resource in danger. In the First Number of the Cornhill Magazine a friend contributed a most touching story of the M'Clintock expedition, in the dangers and dreadful glories of

which he shared; and the writer was a merchant captain. How many more are there (and, for the honor of England, may there be many like him!)—gallant, accomplished, high-spirited, enterprising masters of their noble profession! Can our fountain of Honor not be brought to such men? It plays upon captains and colonels in seemly profusion. It pours forth not illiberal rewards upon doctors and judges. It sprinkles mayors and aldermen. It bedews a painter now and again. It has spirted a baronetcy upon two, and bestowed a coronet upon one noble man of letters. Diplomatists take their Bath in it as of right; and it flings out a profusion of glittering stars upon the nobility of the three kingdoms. Can not Britannia find a ribbon for her sailors? The Navy, royal or mercantile, is a Service. The command of a ship, or the conduct of her, implies danger, honor, science, skill, subordination, good faith. It may be a victory, such as that of the Sarah Sands; it may be discovery, such as that of the Fox; it may be heroic disaster, such as that of the Birkenhead; and in such events merchant seamen, as well as royal seamen, take their share.

Why is there not, then, an Order of Britannia? One day a young officer of the Euryalus may win it; and, having just read the memoirs of LORD DUNDONALD, I know who ought to have the first Grand Cross.

ON the 18th day of April last I went to see a friend in a neighboring Crescent, and on the steps of the next house beheld a group something like that here depicted. A news-boy had stopped in his walk, and was reading aloud the journal which it was his duty

to deliver; a pretty orange-girl, with a heap of blazing fruit, rendered more brilliant by one of those great blue papers in which oranges are now artfully wrapped, leant over the railing and listened; and opposite the nympham discentem there was a capering and acuteeared young satirist of a crossing-sweeper, who had left his neighboring professional avocation and chance of profit in order to listen to the tale of the little newsboy.

That intelligent reader, with his hand following the line as he read it out to his audience, was saying, "And-now-Tom-coming up smiling-after his fall-dee-delivered a rattling clinker upon the Benicia Boy's-potato-trap-but was met by a-punisher on the nose-which," etc., etc.; or words to that ef fect. Betty at 52 let me in while the boy was reading his lecture; and, having been some twenty minutes or so in the house and paid my visit, I took leave.

The little lecturer was still at work on the 51 doorstep, and his audience had scarcely changed their position. Having read every word of the battle myself in the morning, I did not stay to listen farther; but if the gentleman who expected his paper at the usual hour that day experienced delay and a little disappointment, I shall not be surprised.

I am not going to expatiate on the battle. I have read in the correspondent's letter of a Northern newspaper that in the midst of the company assembled the reader's humble servant was present, and in a very polite society, too, of" poets, clergymen, men of letters, and members of both houses of Parliament." If so, I

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