common reward, the Endymion's name would have been added to our list of naval conquests; and in this unequal contest, if the enemy gained a ship, the victory was ours. That Commodore Decatur, as well during the chase, as through the contest, evinced great judgment and skill, perfect coolness, the most determined resolution and heroic courage; and that his conduct, and that of his officers and men, is highly honourable to the navy, and deserves the warmest gratitude of their country."

There is one circumstance so characteristic of the commodore, and so honourable to his crew, that it must not be omitted; and it cannot be better narrated than in the words of the court: "We think it due to Commodore Decatur, and his heroic officers and crew, to notice the proposition he made to board the Endymion, when he found she was coming up, (for the purpose of availing himself of her superior sailing to escape with his crew,) and the manner in which this proposition was received by his gallant crew. Such a design could only have been conceived by a soul without fear, and approved, with enthusiastic cheerings, by men regardless of danger."

The directness, the general intelligence, and the perfect coincidence of the evidence, as to every material point, is such as to leave the mind without the slightest shade of doubt as to the truth of their testimony-a conclusion which we think is, if possible, rendered more certain, by the evident reluctance, and personal hostility, of one of the witnesses.

The present publication is nothing more than a report of the proceedings of the court, together with the approbation of the Secretary of the Navy, &c. It certainly contains evidence enough, and more than enough, to justify the sentiments and opinions expressed by the court; if, however, more were wanted, it may be found in the account of the action drawn up and published at Bermuda, by the officers of the Pomone, which will be found to agree, in most particulars, with the statement of our officers. It differs only in representing the President as having struck to the Pomone alone, after the action with the Endymion, while the Tenedos was three miles astern; and this is a circumstance about which (as it was night, and in a moment of anxiety and confusion) fair and credible witnesses might easily differ. In fact, there can be no doubt on the subject: the President was taken by the British squadron, and not by the Endymion.

A Court of Inquiry has lately been held at New-York to investigate the conduct of Captain Elliot, in the battle on Lake Erie. It was called at the request of that officer himself, in consequence of some misrepresentations of his conduct in that action, contained in the proceedings of the British court-martial for the trial of Captain Barclay.

The opinion pronounced by the court is highly honourable to Captain Elliot.

We understand that the proceedings of this court will shortly be published.

The Hunting of Badlewe, a Dramatic Tale. 8vo. Edin. 1814. [From the Scottish Review.]

THIS is indeed a most extraordinary production, in which the faults and the beauties are almost equally indications of no common-rate talents. The hitherto unknown author has marked out a path for himself with all the boldness at least, if not with all the originality, of Shakspeare. Those infringements of dramatic rules, or, in other words, those transgressions of probability and good taste, into which that master of the art was betrayed by ignorance, allured by indolence, or hurried by the fervours of an impetuous imagination, the author seems to have adopted from choice; and whilst he flounders, in company with his great master, through all the fragments of broken unities, he certainly comes nearer to him in his most daring and unequalled flights than perhaps any modern poet. In order, therefore, to convey some idea of his excellencies, we shall give a short outline of the story, with such extracts as in our judgment, tend to establish the truth of our opinion. The scene opens with a conversation between Glen-Garnet and Kilmorack, who, as we learn from their own mouths, are part of a royal party of pleasure enjoying the amusement of stag-hunting in disguised dresses, and under feigned titles.

'Gar. This is a dull retreat!-What seek we here Amid this waste where desolation scowls,

And the red torrent, brawling down the linn,

Sings everlasting discord? where the mists,
Drizzly and dank, hang lingering on the bosom
Of the bleak wilderness; and winter's flag,
White as the speck upon the North's cold cheek,
Scutcheons the hill for ever?-Are our minds
Estranged from reason's guidance, thus to tilt
Against each principle and bold appeal
She makes to manhood?' P. 1.

In the course of this dialogue, Badenoch, another of the disguised nobles, joins the party, and gives the following spirited account of his success in the chace:

'Bad. At first his horns I saw,

Between me and the welkin, cut the wind;

So swift, they whistled in't, and play'd and toss'd
As light as the tall branchy fern when wav'd
By summer gale. My heart with ardour heav'd!
Anon he came, and belted the green hill
Swifter than ever raven scoop'd the air!

Proud of his matchless speed, he snuff'd the wind,
And bore his brow so high, as he disdain'd
The earth and heaven. I aim'd afar before him;
Just in the shadow of his bawsin'd ear

The arrow stuck-headlong he fell, then, rising,
Bolted aloft in air, as he would scale

The windows of the firmament. The bounds
He made adown the steep were aimless quite;
'Twas the last burst of life-the last exertion.
He flounder'd oft, till in the mead below
Grovelling he lay-His slender limbs, convuls'd,
Pawed the green sward, still struggling to proceed,
But his fair head, disgrac'd and crimson-dyed,

Refused to leave its flowery pillow more.' Pp. 4, 5.

The scaling of the windows of heaven is perhaps too lofty a simile for the vaulting of a wounded stag. From this conversation it appears that Badenoch, a licentious profligate, has a plot upon the virtue of Matilda, Lord Crawford's fair but proud and suspected wife, who is

'Elegant, comely, and tall,

As is the poplar's stem; and her dark locks,
Half curling o'er her eagle eye, appear
Like ebon wreaths on polished ivory,' P. 7.

With whom the milder graces of Annabel, the daughter of Sir
John Drummond, are finely contrasted by Kilmorack,

The chaste snow

That falls o'er night, when neither smoke nor steam,

No, not the smallest atom is afloat

To grime its breast, is not more pure than she.' P. 8.

Badenoch, who is well named, after boasting of his seventeen mistresses, is found to be the seducer of Elenor, the daughter of the Earl of March, and who is now attending him in the dress and the character of a page. Annabel is pleased with the courtly manners and address of the knights, but particularly with Kilmorack. Sir Ronald, one of the party, in order to warn the unsuspecting Annabel of her lover's base designs, narrates the following beautiful incident:

'Once on a lovely day,-it was in spring,

I rested on the height of that dread cliff
That overlooks old Stirling. All was gay;

The birds sung sweet; the trees put forth their leaves,
So pale, that in the sun they look'd like blossoms:
The wild thyme and the violet deck'd the sward
On which I lay, scenting the air with sweets.
Some children wandered careless on the hill,
Selecting early flowers. My heart rejoic'd,
For all was glad around me. One sweet maid
Came tripping near, eyeing, with gladsome smile,
Each little flower that bloom'd upon the hill;
Nimbly she pick'd them, minding me of swan
That feeds upon the waste. I blest the girl!
She was not maid nor child, but of that age
"Twixt both, when purity of frame and soul
Awaken dreams of beauty born in heaven.
Deep in a little den, within the cliff,

A flowret caught her eye-it was a primrose
Fair flaunting in the sun. With eager haste,
Heedless of risk, she clamber'd down the steep,

Pluck'd the wish'd flower-and sigh'd; for when she saw
The depth she had descended, then she woke
To sense of danger. All her flowers she dropt,
And tried to gain the height, but tried in vain!
I hasted to her rescue; but, alas!
I came too late!

Anna. O God! and did she fall?

Rom. Yes, lady; far, far, down on rocks below
Her lovely slender form was found at rest!
I saw her, middle air, fall like a seraph
From out the firmament. The rooks and daws,
That fled their roost in thousands at the sight,
Curtain'd her exit from my palsied eye
And dizzy brain. O! never will that scene
Part from my heart; whene'er I would be sad,
I think of it.' Pp. 20-22.

Soon after this conversation, we find Lord March, in search of his runaway daughter Elenor, falling in with an honesthearted shepherd, who makes him acquainted with her un

happy story, and affords him shelter under his humble roof. With this shepherd Lord March holds the following interesting conversation:

'Shep. If you had loved a wife, to you more dear
Than is your own existence, would you list
To see her very virtues, by the power

Of studied, deep deceit, turned to her bane,
And point to paths of ill? To see her love
Estranged from you, and her unweeting heart
Lured into slumbers of depravity?

Or say you had a daughter, knight, the child
Of your breathed vows; one bred beside your knee,
Who wont to sit thereon, and clasp your arm
In her young bosom, climb your chair, and throw
Her little arms around your neck, and kiss you!
Nay, say that daughter were your only hope,
The sole remaining comfort of your age,
You tremble! had you ever a daughter, sir?

Mar. Yes, yes, O yes!-I had a daughter.

Shep. Then you can judge. But did you love that daughter? 'Mar. Love her?- yes; He who perceives the heart Knows how I loved her.-(Aside) O eternal Heaven,

What bears he on? my soul's in agony.

Shep. Could you endure to see that innocent

Vilely betrayed, disgraced, and then thrown out
Derisive on a cold injurious world?

Could you bear this, sir?-For my part I cannot;
No, and I will not bear it. I will go,

And dare such things!-What, are you weeping too!

Then you are good, and God will bless you for it.

'Mar. Shepherd, I do much long to meet those men. Shep. Then so do I. Come, we'll go seek them straight. 'Mar. I fain would balk discovery -If thou

Wilt lend me thy attire, then will we go

And meet them forthwith.' Pp. 45, 46.

The shepherd and earl, sallying out in search of Badenoch, March meets him in the pass,they come to an explanation, fight, and, by the most infamous treachery, March is killed. The shepherd returns to his cottage and to Elenor-the now fatherless Elenor, betwixt whom and the old shepherd this conversation ensues:

'Elen. Do not hear, nor see them coming, Sir?

Old Shep. They've not had time; they will be here anon. Be comforted, dear lady.

Elen. The weight that hangs upon my heart to-night

Is all unbrookable-would it were broke!

The dead have peace and rest! Have they not, shepherd?
Old Shep. Yes, they have rest; peace to their souls,
Sweet lady.