Eustace, the monk, was found after long search hid in the hold of one of the captured ships: he offered a large sum for his ransom, so he might have his life spared, and offered also to enter into the service of the English king; but as he had rendered himself singularly odious, Richard, a bastard son of King John, killed him; and sent his head to young Henry as a brotherly offering, and as a proof of their important victory. Louis was so disheartened by this reverse, that he was glad to make peace upon such terms as were proposed to him; and receiving 15,000 marks for the release of the hostages whom the barons, who invited him, had put into his hands, he gave up such strongholds as were in his possession and returned to France.

A remarkable instance occurred some fifteen years afterwards of the feeling with which the people regarded this naval victory, that in its immediate consequences had delivered the country from the presence of a foreign foe. In the course of the civil commotions, by which the reign of Henry III. was disturbed, Hubert de Burgh became an object of persecution to the then prevailing faction; and being forcibly taken from the sanctuary in which he had sought for protection, at Brentwood, a smith was sent for to make fetters for him. But when the smith understood that it was for Hubert, Earl of Kent, he was called upon to perform the ignominious office, he refused to do it, uttering, says Speed, such words (if Matthew Paris do not poetise) as will show that honourable thoughts are sometimes found in the hearts of men whose fortunes are far from honour. For having first drawn a deep sigh, he said, "Do with me what ye please, and God have mercy on my soul; but as the Lord liveth, I will never make iron shackles for him, but will rather die the worst death that is. Is not this that Hubert that restored England to England? He who faithfully and constantly served John in Gascony, Normandy, and elsewhere, whose high courage, when he was reduced to eat horse-flesh, even the enemy admired? He who so long defended Dover Castle, the key of England, against all the strong sieges of the French, and by vanquishing them at sea brought safety to the kingdom? God be judge between him and you for using him so unjustly and inhumanly." It is to be regretted that this man's name has not been preserved; none of his contemporaries deserved a more honourable remembrance. It was at the risk of his life that he thus obeyed the impulse of an honest heart; and Hubert must have felt a prouder and worthier gratification at this brave testimony to his services than the largest

grant could ever have given him, with which he was rewarded in the days of his prosperity.-SOUTHEY.

"THE sea is His, and He made it." Its majesty is of God. What is there more sublime than the trackless, desert, all-surrounding, unfathomable sea? What is there more peacefully sublime than the calm, gentle heaving, silent sea? What is there more terribly sublime than the angry, dashing, foaming sea? Power resistless, overwhelming power, is its attribute, and its expression, whether in the careless, conscious grandeur of its deep rest, or the wild tumult of its excited wrath. It is awful when its crested waves rise up to make a compact with the black clouds, and the howling winds, and the thunder, and the thunderbolt, and they sweep on, in the joy of their dread alliance, to do the Almighty's bidding. And it is awful, too, when it stretches its broad level out to meet in quiet union the bended sky, and show in the line of meeting the vast rotundity of the world. There is majesty in its wide expanse, separating and enclosing the great continents of the earth, occupying twothirds of the whole surface of the globe, penetrating the land with it bays and secondary seas, and receiving the constantly pouring tribute of every river, of every shore. There is majesty in its fulness, never diminishing, and never increasing. There is majesty in its integrity, for its whole vast surface is uniform ;in its local unity, for there is but one ocean, and the inhabitants of any other meridian spot may visit the inhabitants of any other in the wide world. Its depth is sublime-who can sound it? Its strength is sublime-what fabric of man can resist it? Its voice is sublime, whether in the prolonged song of its ripple, or the stern music of its roar; whether it utters its hollow and melancholy tones within a labyrinth of wave-worn caves, or thunders at the base of some huge promontory; or beats against some toiling vessel's side, lulling the voyager to rest with its

wild monotony; or dies away with the calm and dying twilight, in gentle murmurs on some sheltered shore. What sight is there more magnificient than the quiet or the stormy sea? What music is there, however artful, which can be compared with the natural and changeful melodies of the resounding sea ?

Its beauty is of God. It possesses it, in richness of its own; it borrows it from earth, and air, and heaven. The clouds lend it the various dyes of their wardrobe, and throw down upon it the broad masses of their shadows as they go sailing and sweeping by. The rainbow leaves in it its many-coloured feet. The sun loves to visit it, and the moon, and the glittering brotherhood of planets and stars; for they delight themselves in its beauty. The sunbeams return from it, in showers of diamonds and glances of fire; the moonbeams find in it a pathway of silver, when they dance to and fro with the breeze and the waves through the livelong night. It has a light, too, of its own, soft and streaming behind a milky-way of dim and uncertain lustre, like that which is shining dimly above. It harmonizes in its forms and sounds both with the night and the day. It cheerfully reflects the light, and unites solemnly with the darkness. It imparts sweetness to the music of men, and grandeur to the thunder of heaven.-FIELD's Scrap Book.'

NIGHT AT SEA.

It is the midnight hour;-the beauteous sea,
Calm as the cloudless heaven, the heaven discloses,
While many a sparkling star, in quiet glee,
Far down within the watery sky reposes.

As if the ocean's heart were stirred

With inward life, a sound is heard,

Like that of a dreamer murmuring in his sleep;

"Tis partly the billow, and partly the air,

That lies like a garment floating fair

Above the happy deep.

The sea, I ween, cannot be fanned

By evening freshness from the land,

For the land is far away;

But God hath willed that the sky-born breeze

In the centre of the loneliest seas

Should ever sport and play.

The mighty moon, she sits above,
Encircled with a zone of love,

A zone of dim and tender light,

That makes her wakeful eye more bright;
She seems to shine with a sunny ray,

And the night looks like a mellowed day!
The gracious mistress of the main
Hath now an undisturbéd reign,

And from her silent throne looks down,
As upon children of her own,

On the waves that lend their gentle breast
In gladness for her couch of rest.

WILSON.

Exceeded.

Conducive.

Hurricane.

WHEN We reflect on the number of curious monuments consigned to the bed of the ocean in the course of every naval war from the earliest times, our conceptions are greatly raised respecting the multiplicity of lasting memorials which man is leaving of his labours. During our last great struggle with France, thirty-two of our ships of the line went to the bottom in the space of twentytwo years, besides seven fifty-gun ships, eighty-six frigates, and a multitude of smaller vessels. The navies of the European powers, France, Holland, Spain, and Denmark, were almost annihilated during the same period, so that the aggregate of their losses must many times have exceeded that of Great Britain.

In every one of these ships were batteries of cannon constructed of iron or brass, whereof a great number have the dates and places of their manufacture inscribed upon them in letters cast in metal. In each there were coins of copper, silver, and often many of gold, capable of service, as valuable historical monuments; in each were an infinite variety of instruments of the arts of war and peace, many formed of materials, such as glass and earthenware, capable of lasting for indefinite ages, when once removed from the mechanical action of the waves, and buried under a mass of matter which may exclude the corroding action of seawater.

But the reader must not imagine that the fury of war is more conducive than the peaceful hum of commercial enterprise to the accumulation of wrecks of vessels in the bed of the sea. From an examination of Lloyd's lists, from the year 1793 to the commencement of 1829, it has appeared that the number of British vessels alone lost during that period amounted, on an

average, to no less than one and a half daily, a greater number than we should have anticipated, although we learn from Moreau's tables, that the number of merchant vessels employed at one time in the navigation of England and Scotland, amounted to about 20,000, having, one with another, a mean burden of 120 tons. Out of 551 ships of the royal navy lost to the country during the period above mentioned, only 160 were taken or destroyed by the enemy, the rest having either stranded or foundered, or having been burnt by accident: a striking proof that the dangers of our naval warfare, however great, may be far exceeded by the storm, the hurricane, the shoal, and all the other perils of the deep.-LYELL'S Geology.'

ONE unhappy incident had occurred to dash this great public triumph with a private grief. His brother Humphrey, removed from the Board of Prizes to the command of a frigate, saw his first real service in this most trying engagement, and in a moment of extreme agitation, failed in his duty. After the muster-call in the offing, whispers began to circulate through the fleet that the general's brother had not done his part like an English captain, and certain voices accused him openly of cowardice. Humphrey seems to have been one of those jovial, plastic, and good-natured men whom every one likes, and no one respects. Only a few months in the fleet, he was already a favourite with his brother officers; and when the accusation first rose against him, they tried to stifle it, and by every means in their power sought to prevent the affair from coming under the notice of a court-martial. But the great admiral was inexorable. Humphrey was his favourite brother; he was the next to him in age, and he had been his chief playfellow in boyhood; when on shore he always shared with him his house, his table, and his leisure; but above and before all private affection for this favourite brother rose up in his mind the stern sense of public duty. For years it had been his office to purge that navy of all ungodly, unfaithful, and inefficient officers, with a rigorous hand; and how could he spare his own flesh and blood? The captains went to him in a body, and endeavoured to show him that Humphrey's fault was a neglect rather than a breach of duty; and that the ends of justice would be met without the