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ragments; and showed me how it happened that a cylinder, swimming in a vortex, offered more resistance to its suction, and was drawn in with greater difficulty, than an equally bulky body of any form whatever.

66 There was one startling circumstance which went a great way in enforcing these observations, and rendering me anxious to turn them to account: and this was, that every revolution we passed something like a barrel, or else the yard or the mast of the vessel; while many of those things which had been on our level when I first opened my eyes upon the wonders of the whirlpool were now high up above us, and seemed to have moved but little from their original station.

"I no longer hesitated what to do. I resolved to lash myself securely to the water cask upon which I now held, to cut it loose from the counter, and to throw myself with it into the water. I attracted my brother's attention by signs, pointed to the floating barrels that came near us, and did everything in my power to make him understand what I was about to do. I thought at length that he comprehended my design; but whether this was the case or not, he shook his head despairingly, and refused to move from his station by the ring-bolt. It was impossible to reach him; the emergency admitted of no delay: and so with a bitter struggle I resigned him to his fate, fastened myself to the cask by means of the lashings which secured it to the counter, and precipitated myself with it into the sea, without another moment's hesitation.

"The result was precisely what I had hoped it might be. As it is myself who now tell you this tale, as you see that I did escape, and as you are already in possession of the mode in which this escape was effected, and must therefore anticipate all that I have further to say, I will bring my story

quickly to conclusion. It might have been an hour or thereabout after my quitting the smack, when, having descended to a vast distance beneath me, it made three or four wild gyrations in rapid succession, and bearing my loved brother with it, plunged headlong, at once and forever, into the chaos of foam below. The barrel to which I was attached sunk very little farther than half the distance between the bottom of the gulf and the spot at which I leaped overboard, before a great change took place in the character of the whirlpool. The slope of the sides of the vast funnel became momently less and less steep. The gyrations of the whirl grew gradually less and less violent. By degrees the froth and the rainbow disappeared, and the bottom of the gulf seemed slowly to uprise. The sky was clear, the winds had gone down, and the full moon was setting radiantly in the west, when I found myself on the surface of the ocean, in full view of the shores of Lofoden, and above the spot where the pool of the Moskoeström had been. It was the hour of the slack; but the sea still heaved in mountainous waves from the effects of the hurricane. I was borne violently into the channel of the Ström, and in a few minutes was hurried down the coast into the 'grounds' of the fishermen. A boat picked me up,-exhausted from fatigue, and (now that the danger was removed) speechless from the memory of its horror. Those who drew me on board were my old mates and daily companions; but they knew me no more than they would have known a traveler from the spirit-land. My hair, which had been raven-black the day before, was as white as you see it now. They say too that the whole expression of my countenance had changed. I told them my story; they did not believe it. I now tell it to you; and I can scarcely expect you to put more faith in it than did the merry fishermen of Lofoden."


ALEXANDER POPE, one of the most famous poets of England, was born at London in 1688; died at Twickenham in 1744. He started to make verses when but a small child and wrote an "Ode on Solitude" before he was twelve years of age. When he was fifteen he had an acknowledged place among the poets of his age. Between eighteen and twenty-one he wrote "The Pastorals." Pope was of a supersensitive nature and real or supposed slights were most bitterly avenged by his pen. He was a master of satirical writing and as a few lines set all London laughing, his dislike was feared by public men and critics of his works. Possessing an extensive acquaintance with Greek and Latin authors he filled his pages with classical allusions, so skilfully placed, that they do not appear inapt or forced. Those who followed him in his peculiar style, as a usual thing, made a failure of it. His translation of Homer's Illiad is a great piece of literary work, but it is more Pope than Homer. "The Rape of the Lock," shows how quickly he caught some trivial incident of social life, and used it to mildly caricature fashionable foibles of his day.


(From the "Rape of the Lock")


ND now unveiled the toilet stands displayed, Each silver vase in mystic order laid. First, robed in white, the nymph intent adores, With head uncovered, the cosmetic pours A heavenly image in the glass appearsTo that she bends, to that her eyes she rears.


The inferior priestess, at her altar's side, Trembling begins the sacred rites of pride; Unnumbered treasures ope at once, and here The various offerings of the world appear; From each she nicely culls with curious toil. And decks the goddess with the glittering spoil. This casket India's glowing gems unlocks, And all Arabia breathes from yonder box. The tortoise here and elephant unite, Transformed to combs-the speckled and the white. Here files of pins extend their shining rows; Puffs, powders, patches, bibles, billet-doux. Now awful beauty puts on all her arms; The fair each moment rises in her charms, Repairs her smiles, awakens every grace, And calls forth all the wonders of her face; See, by degrees, a pure blush arise, And keener lightnings quicken in her eyes. The busy sylphs surround their darling care, These set the head, and these divide the hair; Some fold the sleeve, while others plait the gown; And Betty's praised for labors not her own.

BELINDA AT THE WATER-PARTY (From the "Rape of the Lock" Canto II)

'OT with more glories in the ethereal plain

o'er the purple main,

Than, issuing forth, the rival of his beams,
Launched on the bosom of the silver Thames,
Fair nymphs and well-drest youths around her shone,
But every eye is fixed on her alone.

On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kiss, and infidels adore.
Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose,
Quick as her eyes, and as unfixed as those;

Favors to none, to all she smiles extends;
Oft she rejects, yet never once offends.
Bright as the sun, her eyes on gazers strike,
And, like the sun, they shine on all alike.
Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride,
Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide;
If to her share some female errors fall,

Look on her face, and you'll forget them all.

This nymph, to the destruction of mankind, Nourished two locks which graceful hung behind In equal curls, and well conspired to deck With shining ringlets the smooth ivory neck. Love in these labyrinths his slave detains, And mighty hearts are held in slender chains. With hairy springes we the birds betray, Slight lines of hair surprise the finny prey, Fair tresses man's imperial race insnare, And beauty draws us with a single hair. The adventurous Baron the bright locks admired; He saw, he wished, and to the prize aspired. Resolved to win, he meditates the way, By force to ravish, or by fraud betray; For when success a lover's toil attends, Few ask if fraud or force attained his ends.



ATHER of all! in every age,
In every clime adored,

By saint, by savage, or by sage-
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!

Thou first great Cause, least understood,
Who all my sense confined

To know but this: that Thou are good,

And that myself am blind;

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