At

sea shall give up her dead, and the life of the world to come," &c. the commencement of this part of the service, one of the seamen stoops down, and disengages the flag from the remains of his late shipmate, while the others, at the words "we commit his body to the deep, project the grating right into the sea. The body being loaded with shot at one end, glances off the grating, plunges at once into the ocean, and egger od detour

west done if In a moment, like a drop of rain,

db altoHe sinks into its depths with bubbling groan,

of gou Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown."

This part of the ceremony is rather less impressive than the correspondent part on land; but still there is something solemn, as well as startling, in the sudden splash, followed by the sound of the grating, as it is towed along under the main-chains.'

Here follows a paragraph which is perhaps more strikingly characteristic of the author than any other in his book. We give it without comment: if the reader cannot sympathize with it, there is nothing more to be said: a Wordsworth or a Wilson would have turned it into exquisite poetry.

In a fine day at sea, in smooth water, and when all the ship's company and officers are assembled, the ceremony just described, although a melancholy one, as it must always be, is often so pleasing, all things considered, that it is calculated to leave even cheerful impressions on the mind."

Even Captain Hall, however, admits that a sea-funeral may sometimes be a scene of unmixed sadness; and he records the following as the most impressive of all the hundreds he has witBessed. It occurred in the Leander, off the coast of North America.

6

:

There was a poor little middy on board, so delicate and fragile, that the sea was clearly no fit profession for him but he or his friends thought otherwise; and as he had a spirit for which his frame was no match, he soon gave token of decay. This boy was a great favourite with every body-the sailors smiled whenever he passed, as they would have done to a child-the officers petted him, and coddled him up with all sorts of good things-and his messmates, in a style which did not altogether please him, but which he could not well resist, as it was meant most kindly, nicknamed him Dolly. Poor fellow!--he was long remembered afterwards. I forget what his particular complaint was, but he gradually sunk; and at last went out just as a taper might have done, exposed to such gusts of wind as blew in that tempestuous region. He died in the morning; but it was not until the evening that he was prepared for a seaman's grave..

I remember, in the course of the day, going to the side of the boy's hammock, and on laying my hand upon his breast, was astonished to find it still warm so much so, that I almost imagined I could feel the heart beat hoThis, of course, was a vain fancy; but I was much attached to my little companion, being then not much taller myself-and

I was soothed and gratified, in a childish way, by discovering that my friend, though many hours dead, had not yet acquired the usual revolting chillness.

6

In after years I have sometimes thought of this incident, when reflecting on the pleasing doctrine of the Spaniards-that as soon as children die, they are translated into angels, without any of those cold obstructions, which, they pretend, intercept and retard the souls of other mortals. The peculiar circumstances connected with the funeral which I am about to describe, and the fanciful superstitions of the sailors upon the occasion, have combined to fix the whole scene in my

memory.

Something occurred during the day to prevent the funeral taking place at the usual hour, and the ceremony was deferred till long after sunset. The evening was extremely dark, and it was blowing a treble-reefed topsail breeze. We had just sent down the top-gallant yards, and made all snug for a boisterous winter's night. As it became necessary to have lights to see what was done, several signal lanterns were placed on the break of the quarter-deck, and others along the hammock railings on the lee gangway. The whole ship's company and officers were assembled, some on the booms, others in the boats; while the main-rigging was crowded half way up to the cat-harpings. Overhead, the mainsail, illuminated as high as the yard by the lamps, was bulging forwards under the gale, which was rising every minute, and straining so violently at the main-sheet, that there was some doubt whether it might not be necessary to interrupt the funeral in order to take sail off the ship. The lower deck ports lay completely under water, and several times the muzzles of the maindeck guns were plunged into the sea; so that the end of the grating on which the remains of poor Dolly were laid, once or twice nearly touched the tops of the waves, as they foamed and hissed past. The rain fell fast on the bare heads of the crew, dropping also on the officers, during all the ceremony, from the foot of the mainsail, and wetting the leaves of the prayer-book. The wind sighed over us amongst the wet shrouds, with a note so mournful, that there could not have been a more appropriate dirge.

The ship-pitching violently-strained and creaked from end to end: so that, what with the noise of the sea, the rattling of the ropes, and the whistling of the wind, hardly one word of the service could be distinguished. The men, however, understood, by a motion of the captain's hand, when the time came-and the body of our dear little brother was committed to the deep.

So violent a squall was sweeping past the ship at this moment, that no sound was heard of the usual splash, which made the sailors allege that their young favourite never touched the water at all, but was at once carried off in the gale to his final resting-place!'

Naval and military authors have of late years increased and multiplied in a style that must make Malthusian critics shake in their slippers; but we, being of the old breed, are at no loss to

discover

discover that the usual compensatory process has been equally at work, and hail, with sincere satisfaction, the appearance of a monthly journal expressly devoted to this rising literature of the United Service, and conducted (if we may presume, as elder brothers, to say a word on such a subject) in a style that does honour to all concerned; with varied, not seldom with powerful talent, and uniformly, as far as we have observed, in a high, gallant, loyal, old English spirit. To such hands we may safely leave the many questions of professional controversy touched on" in these volumes; and consider our conscience, as to the general reader,' sufficiently cleared, when we assure him that throughout he will find them lively and diverting-that many detached passages of extraordinary beauty, as well as interest, will pull him up in the course of the perusal-and that, though we do not pretend to know why Captain Hall talks of his book as intended chiefly for young persons, it contains assuredly nothing that can do little people harm, and a great deal that is likely to do: them good.

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It records, after all, only a small portion of the author's professional career; and if we have been so well amused and edified with his sketches of nautical life between twelve and twenty, we may safely expect still better from the sequel of the story. The Mediterranean, the French coast, and this sharp observer's travels in Hindostan, and on the continent of Europe, are yet untouched; and we are glad he is to bring mature optics to such scenes. Certain novelists seem to consider it as a ruled point that Ho very exquisite interest can attach to human beings after they have passed the bloom of youth; but the readers of autobiography, and above all of nautobiography, must beg leave to dissent from this conclusion, however flattering to damsels of seventeen, and heroes who have not yet worn out their first razors.

ART. V.-1. Conspiration pour l'Egalité, dite de Babeuf; suivie du Procès auquel elle donna lieu, et des Pièces justificatives, &c. Par Philippo Buonarroti. 2 vols. Bruxelles. 1828. 2. Haute Cour de Justice. Copie des Pièces saisies dans le Local qui Babeuf occupoit lors de son Arrestation. 2 vols. à Paris. De l'Imprimerie Nationale. Nivôse, an V.

WELL FELL timed as the work of Philippo Buonarroti is, it may be considered not only as the most curious one which has appeared, concerning the French revolution, but as the most important also. ...,

The author was born at Florence, in the year 1760; and it

has

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has been said that he descended in a right line from Michael Angelo, but Michael Angelo was never married. That he was of that family, however, is certain; and when he had finished his course of studies at Pisa, the Grand Duke Leopold, who favoured him because of the illustrious name he bore, made him a knight of the order of St. Stephen, and offered him a place at court and a large pension. He accepted the order, but declined the place, because it would have been inconsistent with his literary pursuits; and it may be believed that he declined the pension also, for the desire of enriching himself seems never to have possessed him: his errors were of a very different kind. When the French revolution broke out, he entered into it with all the ardour of an Italian, and with a strength of character which showed that in that respect he had not degenerated from his great ancestor;-happy had it been if he had cultivated the same religious feelings, and been endued with equal sobriety and strength of mind. He made no secret of his opinions, and they were such, that a prince less generous than Leopold would not have been satisfied with banishing him from Tuscany, Corsica was the place to which he removed with his wife and children, and there he published a revolutionary journal entitled L'Amico della Libertà Italica. But when his old friend Salicetti was elected a deputy to the National Convention, Buonarroti was induced to accompany him to Paris, where he presently was enrolled as a member of the Jacobin Club'; and becoming intimately connected with the leading members of what was called the Mountain party, was sent back to Corsica as commissioner, with full powers, when a disposition was manifested by that island to throw off its subjection to France. That he failed in suppressing that disposition was not owing to any want of decision on his part; but he had to deal with men not more scrupulous as to means than himself. They attacked him in his house, and he thought himself fortunate in getting through a window, and making his escape from the island. Having returned to Paris with the reputation of one who was qualified for any service which required intrepidity and obduracy, he was sent with Maillot, as commissioner to Lyons, to suppress the insurrection in that city. But the Lyonese, who had already put to death their Jacobin mayor, seized these commissioners, put them in prison, tried and condemned them; and Buonarroti was only saved from execution by the entrance of the republican army into that unfortunate city.

It is said, that having thus for the second time escaped a violent death, he expressed a wish for an appointment to some more peaceable situation; but such a wish is not likely to have been

formed

formed by Buonarroti, than whom no man was ever less disposed to seek peace and ensure it:" and as little likely is it to have been expressed to Collot d'Herbois. That monster recommended him to his colleagues, Ricord and the younger Robespierre, who were then acting as Representative Commissioners with the army of Italy, and by them he was appointed, first, a member of the military tribunal of that army, and after the conquest of Piedmont in the following year, agent of the republic in all the conquered countries! In this office he is said to have acted with a disinterestedness as characteristic of the individual as it was extraordinary in any person so employed; for among that host of harpies, he never resorted to any means of acquiring riches, but, on the contrary, expended his salary in relieving those of his own party who were in need. On being asked why he preferred poverty to affluence, he replied, that if affluence had been his choice, he would not have left Florence. This appointment he held at the time of Robespierre's downfall; and not long afterwards, the party who had obtained the ascendency, knowing his principles and dangerous character, despatched orders for apprehending him, and sending him to Paris. Tureau, the representative at Nice, to whom these orders were addressed, wishing to give him an opportunity of escaping, exclaimed publicly, Voilà encore une victime du Fréronisme! and delayed executing them for several days. Buonarroti, therefore, was apprized of his danger; and his secretary advised him to decamp with the chest of the administration, which contained about 300,000 livres. But he chose the better part, waited patiently for his arrest, and was carried prisoner to Paris. Opinions were not then, as during the reign of terror, punished with death; his imprisonment was a measure of precaution, not of vengeance; and it could not have been rigorous, because he supported himself while a prisoner by teaching music. 'I find,' said he, that Rousseau was right, when he recommended to his Emilius the attainment of some art which might prove useful to him in time of need. I studied music for my recreation; I am now obliged to have recourse to it for my subsistence.'

A general amnesty for those who called themselves patriots restored him to liberty; the use he made of that liberty was to engage in Babeuf's conspiracy. Good fortune had prevented him throughout the revolution from being as atrocious in act as he was in intention; and as he had the reputation of a sincere and honourable man, even among those who thought him most erroneous, it was intimated to him by the ambassador of the grand duke, when he was arrested for that conspiracy, that if he would engage to return to Florence, and resume his rank there, the ambassador would intercede for him with the Directory, and his

sentence