for ten or twelve shillings, were on that day let for thirty or forty shillings, and to add to the scene, large parties had gone into Belem Castle, forgetting that the tide flowed round it, till going away, when dark, they found themselves prisoners except by taking boat, which many did, and paid handsomely for.

The Selector ·

OR,

CHOICE EXTRACTS FROM NEW WORKS

BURNS' BIRTH PLACE. Two miles from the town of Ayr, we came to the hut where Burns was born.

It is a low thatched building of a single story, forming the corner, and connected by the same roof with two or three others of a similar size. A trifling bribe prevailed on the driver of the dilly to stop, while my companion and myself examined the interior of this humble dwelling. A sign is affixed to the walls without, which bears the inscription which follows:"Burns' cottage.-Robert Burns, the Ayrshire poet, was born under this roof on the 29th January, 1759." Two small rooms occupy the whole floor of the house; in one of which, now used as a kitchen, is a recess where stood the bed in which the poet was born. The other apartment is furnished with some neatness, and boasts an engraved view of the dwelling, and a large painting of Burns, which from its size and style of execution, seems to have been intended for a tavern sign-board. The present occupier of the cabin, an elderly sawney-looking man, who seemed to have been never particularly abstemious in the use of whisky, said that it was in that room that he last saw

Burns, and then took a dram with him; adding, " poor fellow!" He seemed no

wise averse to repeating the draught even at this early hour: and, accordingly, leaving him enough for a double and triple potion, we mounted our seats and pursued our journey.-Bigelow's Leaves from a Journal.

BATTLE OF THE SHANNON

AND THE CHESAPEAKE. It is well known that during the last American war, the last we hope it will ever remain, Captain (afterwards Sir Philip) Broke, of the Shannon sent a challenge to Captain Lawrence of the Chesapeake; the challenge however did

not reach him; but the latter observing the Shannon outside of Boston, came out purposely to engage her.

The action commenced with becoming spirit on both sides; but the ships getting foul, the Shannon's position enabled her to sweep the whole range of the American's decks with her shot.

Captain Broke now saw that the Chesapeake's quarter-deck division were deserting their guns. He instantly called out, "Board!" and, accompanied by the first lieutenant and twenty men, sprang upon Here the Chesapeake's quarter-deck.

not an officer or man was to be seen. Upon her gangways, about twenty Americans made a slight resistance. These were instantly driven towards the forecastle; where a few endeavoured to get down the fore-hatchway, but in their eagerness prevented each other; a few fled over the bows, and reached the main deck through the bridle ports; and the remainder laid down their arms and submitted. Between thirty and forty of the first boarding party. These kept down Shannon's marines quickly followed the the men who were ascending the main hatchway, and answered a spirited fire,

still continued from the main and mizen the mean time, stormed by midshipman tops. The Chesapeake's fore-top was, in Smith and his top men, about five in number; who either destroyed or drove

on deck all the Americans there stationed. This gallant young man had deliberately passed along the Shannon's fore-yard, which was braced up to the Chesapeake's, also braced up; and thence into her top.

submitted, Captain Broke ordered one of After those upon the forecastle had his men to stand sentry over them, and sent most of the others aft, where the conflict was still going on. He was in the act of giving them orders to answer the fire from the Chesapeake's main top, when the sentry called lustily out to him. On turning round, the Captain found himself opposed by three of the Amerithe British then near them, had armed cans; who, seeing they were superior to themselves afresh. Captain Broke parried the middle fellow's pike, and wounded him in the face; but instantly received from the man on the pikeman's right, a blow with the but-end of a musket, which bared his skull, and nearly stunned him. Determined to finish the British commander, the third man cut him down with his broadsword, and, at that very instant, was himself cut down by one of the Shannon's seamen. Captain Broke and his treacherous foe now lay side by side; each, although nearly powerless, struggling to regain his sword,

when a marine dispatched the American with his bayonet. Captain Broke was not the only sufferer upon this occasion; one of his men was killed, and two or three were wounded. Can it be wondered, if all that were concerned in this breach of faith fell victims to the indignation of the Shannon's men? It was as much as their commander could do, to save from their fury a young midshipman, who, having slid down a rope from the Chesapeake's fore-top, begged his protection. Mr. Smith who had also descended from the fore-top, and a seaman, were at this time helping the Captain on his legs. The seaman, while tying a handkerchief round his commander's head, called out, (pointing aft,) "There, Sir, there goes up the old ensign over the yankee colours." The Captain saw it hoisting, (with what feelings may well be imagined,) and was instantly led to the quarterdeck, where he seated himself upon one of the carronade-slides.

The gallant first lieutenant of the Shannon, (George T. L. Watt) was struck on the head with a grape-shot from one of that ship's fore-mast guns, while in the act of hoisting the British colours over the American. Another gun was discharged, unfortunately, before the officer commanding that division knew of the Chesapeake's surrender; and three or four of the Shannon's men shared the la mented fate of Mr. Watt, besides several being wounded. Even after the British colours were flying on board the Chesapeake, some of her men kept firing up the main hatchway, and killed a British marine. It was then, and not till then, that Lieutenant (Charles Leslie) Falkiner, who was sitting on the booms, very properly directed three or four muskets that were ready, to be fired down. Captain Broke, from his seat upon the carronadeslide, told him to summon them to surrender, if they desired quarter. He did SO. They replied, "We surrender ;" and all hostility ceased. Soon after this, Captain Broke's senses failed him from loss of blood; and the Shannon's jolly boat arriving with a supply of men, (the two ships having separated, owing to the Chesapeake's quarter-gallery giving way,) he was carried on board his own ship.

Between the discharge of the first gun, and the period of Captain Broke's boarding, eleven minutes only elapsed; and, in four minutes more, the Chesapeake was completely his. Hundreds of spectators from Boston and the surrounding neighbourhood holding their watches in their hands, were astonished at the speedy termination of the firing; and the fact of the Shannon's first lieutenant having

THE ROYAL EXCHANGE.—A

WELL-KNOWN LADY.

ON the walls around the interior of the piazza, placards and advertisements of all descriptions are exhibited in every variety of form, to catch the gazer's eye. According to the professions which they severally contain, all the wants and wishes of mankind can be supplied, all the disorders incident to humanity can be cured, all the evils prevalent in society can be prevented. It is your own fault if you be burned in your bed; for here is the fire-escape. It is the shipwrecked seaman's fault if he be drowned; for there is the life-preserver, or, what is much more efficacious in many a mariner's opinion, the precious child's caul," which may be had of Mrs. Prigging's of Rotherhithe, for the moderate price of ten guineas!" Here is a facetious nota bene from Van Butchel the younger, and there a modest notification from the knight of the Medical Board. But amongst all these, there is "no medicine to a mind diseased." Look at the only female figure in the place, sitting on the bench by the side of my master. She is dressed in deep mourning, with a reticule on her finger. Her cheeks and even her lips are painted; and she fancies herself a lady of wealth and high degree. Some years ago she had an only brother, a clerk in the Bank of England, who was the chief support of herself and their widowed mother: his premature death reduced them to poverty, and deranged the intellects of his sister. She has continued to appear in black ever since, and cannot forego the professional idea that her brother left her a handsome fortune, the illusive receipt of which is with her the occupation of every day. For this purpose she is assiduous in her visits to the Bank: the clerks, who are acquainted with her misfortunes, humanely fall in with her humour; and she is chiefly supported by their eleemosynary contribu tions, which she benignantly considers as part of a dividend that is her due in behalf of her deceased relative. She is now looking at a dirty Goldsmith's Almanack, to see if it be one of the numerous red-letter days, that prevent her, as she says, from transacting business at the Bank. With these she is in general as well acquainted as any clerk in the establishment. She remarked, while restoring the ruddy calendar to its old

station in her pocket, "that she could do no business at the Bank to day;" and, with a gracious courtesy to all around, she twisted her reticule on her finger, and departed. I could not avoid ejaculating, "Alas! poor human nature !"-Aureus; or the Life and Opinions of a Sovereign.

THE SILLER CROWN.

A SCOTCH BALLAD,
By the Honourable Miss Stuart.
O! YE shall walk in silk attire,
And siller ha'e to spare,
If ye'll consent to be my bride,
Nor think on Donald mair!
Ah! wha wou'd buy a silken gown
With a poor broken heart?
And what's to me a siller crown
Gin frae my lad I part!"

The mind whose ev'ry, wish is pure
Far dearer is to me;

And ere I'm forc'd to break my aith
I'll lay me down and dee!
For I ha'e pledg'd my virgin-troth
Brave Donald's fate to share,
And he has gi'en to me his heart,
With a' its virtues rare!

His gentle manners won my heart,
He, gratefu', took the gift;
And, shou'd I gang to seek it back,
It wou'd be waur than theft!
For longest life can ne'er repay

The love he bears to me;

And ere I'm forc'd to break my aith,
I'll lay me down and dee!

SCYLLA.

Star.

As the breadth across this celebrated strait has been so often disputed, I particularly state, that the Faro Tower is exactly six thousand and forty-seven English yards from that classical bugbear, the Rock of Scylla, which, by poetical fiction, has been depicted in such terrific colours, and to describe the horrors of which, Phalerion, a painter, celebrated for his nervous representation of the awful and the tremendous, exerted his whole talent. But the flights of poetry can seldom bear to be shackled by homely truth, and if we are to receive the fine imagery, that places the summit of this rock in clouds brooding eternal mists and tempests that represents it as inaccessible, even to a man provided with twenty hands and twenty feet, and immerses its base among ravenous sea-dogs;-why not also receive the whole circle of mythological dogmas of Homer, who, though so frequently dragged forth as an authority in history, theology, surgery, and geography, ought, in justice, to be read only as a poet. In the writings of so exquisite a bard, we must not expect to find all his representations strictly confined to a mere accurate narration of facts.

Moderns of intelligence, in visiting this spot, have gratified their imaginations, already heated by such descriptions as the escape of the Argonauts, and the disasters of Ulysses, with fancying it the scourge of seamen, and, that in a gale its caverns 66 roar like dogs;" but I, as a sailor, never perceived any difference between the effect of the surges here, and on any other coast, yet I have frequently watched it closely in bad weather. It is now, as I presume it ever was, a common rock, of bold approach, a little worn at its base, and surmounted by a castle, with a sandy bay on each side.-Smyth's Sicily.

CHARYBDIS.

OUTSIDE the tongue of land, or Braccio di St. Rainiere, that forms the harbour of Messina, lies the Galofaro, or celebrated vortex of Charybdis, which has, with more reason than Scylla, been clothed with terrors by the writers of antiquity. To the undecked boats of the Rhegians, Locrians, Zancleans, and Greeks, it must have been formidable; for, even in the present day, small craft are sometimes endangered by it, and I have seen several men-of-war, and even a seventy-four-gun ship, whirled round on its surface; but, by using due caution, there is generally very little danger or inconvenience to be apprehended. It appears to be an agitated water, of from seventy to ninety fathoms in depth, circling in quick eddies. It is owing probably to the meeting of the harbour and lateral currents with the main one, the latter being forced over in this direction by the opposite point of Pezzo. This agrees, in some measure, with the relation of Thucydides, who calls it a violent reciprocation of the Tyrrhene and Sicilian seas, and he is the only writer of remote antiquity I remember to have read, who has assigned this danger its true situation, and not exaggerated its effects. Many wonderful stories are told respecting this vortex, particularly some said to have been related by the celebrated diver, Colas, who lost his life here; I have never found reason, however, during my examination of this spot, to believe one of them.-Ibid.

Clifton meadows, below Aylesbury, the inoonlight sparkled on the bright and thickly-crusted snows with peculiar splendour. Far off, the faint but perpetual roar of the icy river was heard, and the dark forests beyond it were dimly seen in the distance, like a heavy cloud in the western horizon. The intermediate country presented only a few solitary trees, and, save that here and there a rugged group of overgrown shrubbery was seen above the snow, one wide and vast uncultivated waste appeared. It was a night in which the fancy of an honest German could not fail to conjure up a thousand phantoms; his shrieking ghosts cried from the crevices of every sapless tree; his witches rode on the pale moonlight moonbeams, in the distant and scarcely perceptible mist that spread a thin veil over the beautiful stars; and the wandering spirits of his departed friends peeped like premature resurrectionists from behind every thicket.

The hour of eleven had drawn nigh, and the watchful family that inhabited the crazy cabin on the borders of this barren country, had extinguished their blazing pine lights, buried up their fires, and sprinkled over the smoking ashes the spoonful of salt, the magic virtues of which dispersed the ghostly train, and ensured them a peaceful rest; when two travellers passed along the broken road that leads from the village towards the ford above the falls. One bore the appearance of an old man, infirm with age; his broad-brimmed hat hid his face, but some thin grey locks waved around his shoulders, and he leaned forward on his jaded horse like one suffering with fatigue or decrepitude; behind him was the appendage of a stranger, a large black portmanteau, which swelled with the treasure it contained. The other was an athletic young man, whom the good people distinguished to be a hardy woodman, who sometimes acted as guide to travellers, and sometimes, for he had some science, run out patented lands, and was, withal, better acquainted with the country than any man in it. He led the old man's horse sometimes, and sometimes ran before to break the road.

The cottagers thought they discovered traits of mystery in this; and as every thing that partook of mystery boded mischief, according to their conceptions, they followed the midnight travellers across the barrens with their eyes, until they disappeared, and then lay several anxious hours dreaming of murder, and robbery, and blood. More than once they thought they heard the piercing cry of despair, mingling with the roar of the water-fall;

and more than once discovered symptoms in the dusky room that spoke of death without.

But the woodman was in the village before sunrise; he reported that he had put the stranger safely across the ford, and left him to pursue his journey. Suspicion was hushed for the moment, for the character of the young man was good: the traveller was known to have possessed money, but he had been called down the river on business of such urgent importance, that it was necessary for him to reach the lower ford that night, and he had with difficulty prevailed on Hurlbut to accompany him to the western road. Who the stranger was none knew, and thus far all was fair. But he never reached the ford, and no trace was heard of him from that night. Suspicion was once more awakened, and Hurlbut maintained, when questioned on the subject, a guarded and scornful silence. The fortune-tellers were consulted, and they anathematized the woodman. Signs were attended to, with all the formality of judicial inquiry, and even these condemned the unfortunate young man.

When spring came, it was discovered that a large oak tree, celebrated for its age and majesty, did not put forth a leaf. It grew near a by-road which led to the river below the fall; and as no other cause could be assigned for its blighted appearance, it was attributed to one which now met the popular suspicion among the Germans. They called it the blasted tree; and located the place where the stranger's blood was shed beneath its branches. Withered by the hot breath of murder, they declared it should bloom again, whenever the murderer should be brought to justice, and its blood sprinkled on its dry roots.

Five years passed away, and old impressions and vague suspicions grew stronger as years departed; Hurlbut was now surrounded by a young and dependant family; but superstition had fixed an indelible mark upon his character, and he was followed by the eye of jealousy, which watched his actions, his countenance, and his words, while it shunned his association. The man became restless and unhappy; he felt sensibly the weight of a sullied reputation, and though he had disregarded it for years, he began to sink under its influence into moroseness and disquietude.

About this time, some huntsmen in the pursuit of game which had sheltered in the blasted tree, cut it down, and, lo! from the old trunk fell the withered bones of a human being; they were examined by an anatomist, and declared to be the perfect

parts of the skeleton of a man, whom they judged might have been deposited there four or five years before. An opening in the trunk, some distance from the ground, confirmed the probability of the story. The Germans, and their neighbours, too, caught it up eagerly, and the fate of the unfortunate woodman seemed fixed. He fled the storm he saw gathering, but in a month returned and surrendered himself up for trial.

The excitement of the populace man high; and as the day fixed for his trial drew near, the hopes of his acquittal vanished. The mass of the people were sure of his guilt, and they collected the evidence against him with an activity and zeal which savoured rather of the spirit of bitter persecution, than of a love of justice. I leave the reader to imagine for himself the feelings of a tender wife, and six destitute little children, as they looked forward through the gathering cloud to the day that was to fix his destiny, while I hasten to the crowded court-room, and the solemn arraignment of the husband and father for the crime of murder.

The prisoner stood pale and dejected, but silent and resigned, at the bar, and answered with a calm and steady voice, "Not Guilty," to the charge. He was asked if he had counsel; he answered in the negative, and requested that assistance might be assigned him. The judge cast his eyes round the court, as if carelessly in search of some one, on whom to lay what, as his manner seemed to indicate, he thought a hopeless task, when an old gentleman, whose presence amid the throng had not been noticed, rose and introduced himself as Mr. an eminent

lawyer of the city. The court bowed respectfully, and a look of astonishment was visible on every face, when he asked the privilege of acting as the defendant's counsel.

the court.

It was granted, however, unhesitatingly, and he resumed his seat. When the witnesses had been heard on the side of the prosecution, he rose and addressed He recollected the prisoner; he remembered, that on the night on which the evidence went to fix the murder, he had employed the prisoner in the capacity of a guide, and was conducted by him over the ford; that he missed his way, and did not reach the lower ford to which he had intended to go, but travelled by another direction to the city. In regard to the bones so mysteriously found, he had two evidences to prove, he said, that the very physician who pronounced them human and of five years' decay, and who was a bitter enemy of the defendant, had placed them there himself;

that they had for many years before decked a corner of his study; the first was a boy who assisted in placing them there, and the second was the aperture in the trunk of the tree itself, which, at the entrance, was not more than five inches in diameter, and, therefore, utterly incapable of admitting a human body. He sat down with acclamations of astonishment; the proof went on; the defendant was acquitted without an argument, and the corrupt and revengeful physician just escaped from the village time enough to save his neck.

This is the story of the blasted tree. It has a moral. How dangerous is superstition! how carefully should circumstantial evidence be examined, and how cautiously weighed! how false and how deceptive the idea, that what is generally believed is infallibly the right!

SPIRIT OF THE

Public Journals.

THE SHERWAHRAY HILLS IN INDIA

THE Sherwahray Hills, according to tradition, derive their name from a famous Sennasse, who flourished above 1,000 years ago; the people seldom call them by their proper name, but by one signifying the "good hill," "holy hill," &c. They are situated six miles to the north of Salem, and to their very basis the country is in the highest state of cultivation. From the bottom to the encamping ground at the top is seven miles; the ascent is in general so easy, as to permit of a person being carried up either in a ton-jon or on horseback.

The height of these hills was very correctly taken by Captain Cullon, during that gentleman's barometrical observations in 1819, by which Salem was found to be 1,070 feet above the level of the sea, and half way up the hill. At a village where persons go up in general to breakfast, it was found to be 1,970 feet above Salem, and the encamping ground at the top 3,530. Flagstaff Peak, near the encampment, 3,783, and a hill with a pagoda, about four miles and a half from the camp, was found to be 4,190; the height therefore of the encampment above the sea is 4,600 Flagstaff Peak

Hill with Pagoda

4,850 5,260

From all sides of the table-land the eye is delighted with the most extensive and splendid scenery, and the clusters of gigantic trees, combined with the rich green of the fields of young millet, recall to