THE WRECK OF THE ORION.

This vessel ran on the rocks off Portpatrick, 18th June, 1830. One hundred and fifty persons were saved and fifty lost.]

Woe and confusion! horror and dismay!

Heard ye that shriek of anguish o'er the deep?

There men are battling in a fierce affray,

Then yielding fall in many a bloodless heap;

For, riding on his car of ocean-spray,

The tyrant Death invades the realms of sleep,

And those who calm in slumber's arms were lying,

Now gasping, gurgling strive-the drowning and the dying!

The feeble, guileless, wondering babe is there,

Its journey ended as it just began;

The maiden, tearing her dishevelled hair;

The lovely widow, speechless, pallid, wan;
Frenzied in misery, maddening with despair,

Shorn of his boasted strength stands shuddering man--
Ah, what avails that wild imploring call?

The vortex sucks them in-they founder all-all—all !

But, from the awful eddy soon emerging,

Many to shattered spars or rigging cling;
Some fainting fall, and in the waters surging,
Yield a fresh tribute to the ghastly king-

But look-oh, mercy, rowers strong are urging

Their welcome boats-hope, succour, life they bring!
Thrice fifty sufferers joyfully they save--

Fifty, alas, are lost, entombed beneath the wave.

O human Love! when even Death is near,

He slays not thee, uor floods thy flame can smother.
Husbands and wives, friends and companions dear,
By pain unsundered, labour for each other.
And when on shore the shipwrecked ones appear,
Then, to relieve each weary, shivering brother,
Warmth, raiment, food, are kindly, gladly given--

O carth, with all thy crime, thou still hast marks of heaven!

Death! thou didst rouse the sleepers; but the hour

Shall come when all "who sleep in death" shall wake;

A fiery ocean shall this earth devour,

Each to its centre Nature's orbs shall quake:

Then, great DELIVERER! never failing POWER!

Thy servants to thy home of glory take,

To live and reign for evermore with Thee,

66

Where Peace eternal smiles, and there is no more sea!"*

*Rev. xxi. 1.

SAMUEL COURT.

THE SAILOR.-FIRST THOUGHTS OF THE SEA.

We are, to a great extent, the creatures of circumstances, and it is interesting to notice the little incidents, the apparently trifling circumstances, which give the first impulse to one's course for life, and decide on the occupations of future days. Placed in contact with a certain order of society, having its opinions, and conversant with its mode of action and labour, we are sometimes drawn into perfect sympathy and oneness with it. Living in a certain locality, the scenes, and pastimes, and associations of childhood are often found to originate, mature, and deepen impressions, which, as youth draws on, give a fixed and undeviating direction to our acts and purposes. Accustomed to a certain kind of reading, who has not felt its secretworking influence, in giving definiteness to man's future career? The reader of fiction, of novels and romances, becomes inclined to a mode of existence where the incidents which compose it are always presenting something out of the usual order of things; the reader of battles and triumphs, of invasions and conquests, of military and warlike expeditions, becomes captivated with the life of a soldier,-to him, the gay uniform, the waving plume, the glittering sword, the swell of martial music, present irresistible charms; the reader of voyages, of adventures, of perils on the deep, is thereby induced to seek relationship with those who have their "way in the sea, their path in the great waters."

Some suc circumstances as we have just mentioned have directed the thoughts as resolutions of many a mind to the great world of waters; awakening love of maritime enterprise, which in its results has led to numberksinstances of naval intrepidity and mercantile advantage. Richard Falconer, merely listening from time to time to the adventures of his father, who had travelled much in his early days, became so interested and aroused, that he determined to be a sailor. Alexander Selkirk, the original of the well-known Robinson Crusoe, is said to have had his mind irresistibly directed to the sea, by the constant view of the vessels in Largo Bay,-his native place, and by constant association with the Largo fishermen. Horatio Nelson received his first impulse in this direction from an uncle, a captain in the navy; the tales of a sailor's life, related by him, so fired the imagination of his young nephew, that he resolved from that time to devote himself to the service of the sea. We can call to mind the days of childhood and youth, when our minds were captivated and delighted by the associations of a seafaring occupation. Born and bred in a sea-port, with the wide expanse of deep blue waters stretched before us, bounded only by the distant horizon, where heaven and sea meet, we remember the stirring scenes of our earlier days. There have we seen at times the bosom of the mighty ocean, like the surface of a tranquil lake, glittering in the rays of the meridian sun, or supporting, with tremulous sensibility, the beams of the lunar orb which "rules the night;" and at other times, lashed into tempest by the impetuous south-western, "the floods have lifted up their voice,' and spent their foaming indignation on the rock-bound coast. There OCTOBER.

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have we beheld the merchantman, laden with the rich produce of other lands, enter port after her long adventurous voyage, seeming, with her expanded sails and increasing speed, to participate in the joy of the mariner returning to his native country; and there have we beheld the battle-ship, with her bristling cannon and snowy canvas, like an immense avalanche, gliding to her destined waters, while the farewell salute, multiplying itself by repeated echoes, has gradually died away amidst encircling hills, or over the bosom of the deep. These varying and stirring scenes of the port, presenting to our awakened imagination a glimpse only of what the sailor knows, has rapt the mind into enthusiastic ardour, and induced the exclamation, "Oh that I were a sailor-boy!”

We have, moreover, been associated with those who "go down to the sea in ships, and do business in great waters, who see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep;" and we remember perfectly well with what intense interest we listened to the tales of the bold and intrepid, the adventures of the shipwrecked mariner, the exploits of the daring and enthusiastic, the pastimes and amusements of the jovial crew. And whilst the ear has been arrested, and the imagination nourished by narratives of perils amongst monsters of the deep, romantic expeditions, terrific encounters, hair-breadth escapes, joyous and unexpected occurrences, the very soul within us has thrown itself into the midst of these stirring incidents, and linking itself to the ideal excursions originated, has again and again expressed the desire, “ I would I were a sailor-boy!" In addition to this, a course of reading has had its share of influence in directing the mind to the sea. Accident, as some are accustomed to consider it, or, as we should regard it, one of those minute circumstances which enter into the arrangements of the great plan of Divine Providence, has brought in our way the life of some naval commander, the maritime discoveries of some child of the ocean, the roving adventures of some robber on the seas, the exploring route of some gallant mind, or the naval encounters of some contending powers. The mind, always eager for that which is rare, novel, exciting, has greedily devoured the welcome repast; to the imaginative faculties it has been as fuel to the fire, the love of the strange and marvellous has been fostered, the sea becomes the anticipated field of exploration, and books, of the order referred to, being still supplied, the desire of maritime enterprise grows with the growth, and strengthens with the strength of the human spirit. The resolve is thus made, the decision matured within-" I shall be a sailor-boy."

At length, as time rolls on, the period arrives when a decisive step must be taken,-the days of the school-boy are drawing to a termination, and the disciplined youth must now adopt the course which will be to him a means of livelihood and of future support. With some, the resolutions of the school-boy are thrown into another mould, and circumstances lead to the pursuit of a life less characterised by stirring incident, and the land instead of the sea becomes the scene of labour; but, with others, first resolutions are unchanged, and a permanent direction is given to a seaman's life. Now the secretly-cherished purpose is revealed,-how is it received? In some cases, the parent's

sanction is readily given; but in others, a parent's heart is grieved, and a mother's entreaty aims to change the purpose of a beloved child.

Then other occupations are pointed out; a lucrative profession, a profitable business, a situation in the office, at the counter, in the workshop, at the mart, or any employment where the associations of home are retained unbroken, and the perils and accidents of life lessened. All these, under every inviting and attractive aspect, are urged by parental solicitude, but all in vain; to the enthusiastic ardour of the would-be sailor boy, everything but the sea is tame, insipid, spiritless: advice is disregarded, persuasions are useless, argument has no weight-" I must be a sailor!"

But may not a consideration of sacrifices, of perils, of arduous duties, change the sea-ward disposition? The paternal roof, hallowed spot of earliest associations, must be left, and the comforts and luxuries of home yield to the coarse, hard fare of the sailors' messroom-maternal sympathy, with her watchful eye and guardian hand, ministering spirit in affliction, must be exchanged for the rough usage and careless deportment of beings cradled in the storm, nursed in the tempest-to brothers and sisters the sad farewell is to be uttered, and if afterwards the tear rolls down the cheek, or the heart sighs at the recollection of home, the cold taunt or the jeering laugh are the kind of sympathy he may expect; and then the numberless acts of service which call for hard labour and intrude on sweet repose, can he sacrifice the many comforts and the quiet repose of land for all this? Yes; he is ready to forego all for his plighted course-the pain of departure is alleviated by the anticipated joy of return-the onerous duties, the sleepless watches, the over-taxed energy of the physical frame are amply recompensed, in his estimation, by contact with the mysterious and varied changes of ocean-life; and then, to return, as he hopes, with the tale of marvellous adventures and with the rich prize of laborious energy, will be more than compensatory for all his privations.

The sea has its storms and the vessel may have its shipwreck. There are times, and those not rare but frequent, when the raging winds, in wild, frantic ardour rushing on the mighty deep, lash into foam and raise to heaven the ponderous waves; when the proud barque, struggling in vain against the combined strength of wind and water, is now lifted on the giddy tremulous height of the mountain billow and anon plunged into the wide-gaping abyss beneath-while the electric fluid, fitfully taking every variety of course, darts with indignation on the labouring vessel, and the awful thunder rolling over the agitated sea shakes every timber beneath the perplexed mariner. In these awful and terrific scenes many a noble barque has been entombed in the fathomless deep, or flung remorselessly on the rocky coast, and many a noble, intrepid, self-sacrificing crew has been immolated to the storm. What says our young aspirant to this? How awful and affecting! Far from a parent's sight, to be swallowed up in the ocean, leaving none to carry back the sad tidings; or plunged on the inhospitable shore, to suffer wretchedness and perish from hunger. But he can anticipate no such alarming destiny, possible, and even probable, though it be. Storms he expects, but his imagina

tion carries him to the topmost wave in proud exultation, and descends with him into the depths again to rise unhurt. Shipwreck he may have, but in his foreseeing eye he is always among the fortunate ones who gain the shore, and to whom a guardian angel is ever near. Indeed, the very thought of battling with the elements, and of measuring his skill with the power of the tempest, awaken such thrilling interest that he longs to be gone.-" I must be a sailor-boy." Will nothing, then, avail, to turn thy purpose? Must thou to the sea? Are parents and kindred and friends constrained to yield to thy ardent love of the waters? Is thy resolve inflexible? Then go, brave youth! baptised for the sea; go to thy betrothed element— she calls thee to her bosom. Go! but let the fear of God, the beginning of wisdom, go with thee. The God of the land is also the God of the sea. In all thy future steps remember-" Thou, God, seest me;" and, amidst the perils and tempests of the deep, call to mind that Almighty Being who "commandeth and raiseth the stormy wind which lifteth up the waves thereof." "The voice of the Lord is upon the waters; the God of glory thundereth; the Lord is upon many waters."

We would that thy resolve were directed at the same time to another voyage. Our life is a sea. Eternity is our destination. The Gospel of a free salvation will bear us safely to the heavenly port. Apply thy firm, resolute, unintimidated mind to this voyage. Here are sacrifices of earthly things, storms of affliction and trial, but thy nurtured spirit, divinely aided, will be equal to all. Whilst sailing under "the flag which has braved a thousand years the battle and the breeze," remember that glorious banner of the cross, with which the Christian mariner sails securely over hostile seas, and at length enters, with triumph and joy, the haven of eternal rest.

"Jesus, at thy command,
I launch into the deep,
And leave my native land,
Where sin lulls all asleep.

For thee I fain would all resign,

And sail to heaven with thee and thine."

British Christians! inhabitants of the sea-girt isle! your treasures, your comforts, your luxuries, are brought over the sea. Your defence and protection, under God, are the wooden walls of Old England. Remember the sailor. Bear on your hearts, at the throne of grace, the sailor-boy, whose resolute spirit throws him into the number of that class which sacrifices so much for you. Pray that the God of the Seas may take the youthful mariners of our country into his spiritual family and beneath his gracious protection.

J. H. B.

THE TRIALS OF SHIPMASTERS.

To the remark, that all classes of men have their trials and difficulties, most certainly that of shipmasters forms no exception. It would seem as if the recent movements in California increased those trials and difficulties a