pense and dismay: "Seizing a sharp tomahawk, I made signs to the captain that I would attempt to cut away the wreck, follow me who dared. I mounted the weatherrigging; five or six hardy seamer followed me; sailors will rarely refuse to follow when they find an officer to lead the way. The jerks of the rigging had nearly thrown us overboard, or jammed us with the wreck. We were forced to embrace the shrouds with arms and legs; and anxiously, and with breathless apprehension for our lives, did the captain, officers, and crew, gaze on us as we mounted, and cheered us at every stroke of the tomahawk. The danger seemed passed when we reached the catharpens, where we had foot-room. We divided our work, some took the lanyards of the topmast rigging, I, the slings of the main-yard. The lusty blows we dealt were answered by corresponding crashes, and at length, down fell the tremendous wreck over the larboard gunwale. The ship felt instant relief; she righted, and we descended amidst the cheers and the congratulations of most of our shipmates." For this heroic deed, Lord James Townshend gave him a certificate, and reported him to have "conducted himself with so much courage, intrepidity, and firmness, as to merit his warmest approbation."

When he belonged to the Spartan, he was put in command of a boat, and cut out the Morning Star and Polly, privateers, from Haycock's Harbor, and likewise a revenue cutter and two privateers in Little River.

Mr. Marryat obtained his promotion as lieutenant in 1812, and in the following year was appointed to l'Espeigle, Captain J. Taylor, in the West Indies. Whilst on service in this vessel, he once more risked his life, in an unsuccessful attempt to save the life of a sailor who had fallen overboard in a heavy sea. Lieutenant Marryat was picked up, utterly exhausted, more than a mile and a half from l'Espeigle. Having burst a bloodvessel, he was left behind in the West Indies, in sick-quarters, and after a time was sent home invalided.

In January, 1814, he joined the Newcastle, 58, Captain Lord George Stuart, and led an expedition which was dispatched to cut out four vessels off New Orleans. This he did with a loss of one officer and twelve men. He acquired his commander's rank in 1815, and in 1820, commanded the Beacon, sloop, at St. Helena, from which he exchanged into the Roserio, 18, in which vessel he brought home duplicate despatches, announcing the death of Napoleon. He was

now actively engaged in the Preventive Service, in which he effected thirteen seizures. Appointed to the Larne, 18, in March, 1823, he sailed to the East Indies, where, until the Burmese war in 1825, he was fully employed as senior officer of the naval forces, the order of Commodore Grant being, that none should interfere with or supersede him. Sir Archibald Campbell, the commander-in-chief, was received on board the Larne at Calcutta, and Commander Marryat led the attack at Rangoon. When Captain Chads, of the Arachne, relieved him in September, 1824, he had lost nearly the whole of his ship's company. He now proceeded to Penang and Calcutta, returning to Rangoon in December, 1824, and in the following February sailed with the late Sir Robert Sale, of glorious memory, on an expedition to reduce the territory of Bassein. On his return in April, having successfully performed his perilous duty, he was promoted to a death vacancy, and commanded the Tees, which, on her arrival in England, he paid off.

Captain Marryat commanded the Ariadne in the Channel and Western Islands, from November, 1828, to November, 1830. Twice thanked for his services in the Burmese war by the Governor-general of India, he received three letters of thanks from Sir Archibaid Campbell, commander-in-chief of the forces, and was five times recommended by him. He was likewise thanked for his expedition with Sir Robert Sale, and was three times recommended and thanked by Commodore Coe. In June, 1825, he received the decoration of C. B., and—an honor, a record of which must not be omitted-he was presented with a medal by that admirable institution, the Humane Society, for his daring and humane exertions to save the lives of so many men. That Society has not on its list a name so worthy of honor as that f Marryat.

In 1837 the captain published " A Code of Signals for the Use of Vessels employed in the Merchant Service." That admirable invention is now in use in the royal and mercantile service, not only of this country but of foreign nations. He twice received the thanks of the Ship Owners' Society for it, and the publication having been translated into French in 1840, was brought under the notice of Louis Philippe, from whom he received the gold cross of the Legion of Honor.

In connection with this last distinction, we have a story to relate which we are sorry to feel ourselves constrained to tell, because it presents our late king in a light in which

it is not pleasant, and has not been customary, to regard him. William IV. had read and had been delighted with "Peter Simple." It was likely that so true and striking a picture of naval life and manners would have captivated a sailor. He expressed a wish to see the author. The captain, standing in an ante-room, in his favorite attitude, the king came forth, and observing him, asked a gentleman in waiting who he was. The captain overheard the question, and said, addressing the gentleman, "Tell his majesty I am Peter Simple." Upon this, the king came forward and received him graciously. Some time after this his majesty was waited upon by a distinguished member of the government, to request permission for the captain to wear the order conferred upon him by the King of the French, and to obtain, if not some further promotion, some higher distinction for one who had so long and ably served his country. The former request was granted as a matter of course; and as to the latter, the king said: You best know his services; give him what you please." The minister was about to retire, when his majesty called him back. "Marryat! Marryat! by-thebye, is not that the man who wrote a book against the impressment of seamen ?" "The same, your majesty." "Then he shan't wear the order, and he shall have nothing," said his majesty.

Every reader will make his own comment upon this. The work in question had been written by a man who had the best interests and the honor of his profession at heart, who had done much to maintain them, and whom the Earl of Dundonald-best known as Lord Cochrane, the hero of Basque Road-in a letter recently written, has thus characterized: "He was brave, zealous, intelligent, and even thoughtful, yet active in the performance of his duties." It is painful to expose one act of injustice on the part of a sovereign whose nature, in the main, was manly, upright, and generous.

In 1829, Captain Marryat turned his attention to authorship, and having published "The Naval Officer; or, Frank Mildmay," the reception of which gave him encouragement, he set to work with an earnestness and a zeal which he brought to all his undertakings. The King's Own," "Peter Simple," and "Jacob Faithful," followed each other in rapid succession. To these he added, in the course of a few years, "Japhet in search of a Father," Newton Forster," "Midshipman Easy," "The Pacha of Many Tales," "The Poacher," "The Phantom

Ship," "Snarley Yow; or, the Dog-Fiend," "Percival Keene," "Masterman Ready," "Poor Jack," "The Settlers," "Olla Podrida," Diary in America," in Two Parts; "Monsieur Violet's Adventures," &c. All these works obtained a considerable popularity, and even gained the author a reputa tion which very few modern writers of fiction have succeeded in acquiring.

It would be unprofitable to dwell upon the genius of Marryat as a novelist. His merits lie upon the surface, and are obvious to every man, woman and child, who take up one of his works and find themselves unable to lay it down again. He tells plainly and straightforwardly a story, tolerably well constructed, of diversified incidents, alive with uncommon characters, and, as his experience was large and had been acquired over a wide expanse, he had always something to tell which would excite curiosity or rivet attention. He had one quality in common with great men, and in which men of finer genius than himself have been deficient,-a thorough manliness of heart and soul, which, by clearly showing him what he was able to accomplish, preserved him against the perpetration of that sublime nonsense and drivelling cant which now-a-days often pass for fine writing and fine sentiment. "Peter imple" has been pronounced his best novel; but we confess we like "Jacob Faithful" at least as well; although we think it would have been better if the Dominie had been mitigated, who is rather an extravagance than an original, and if that passage had been discarded in which the parish-boy tells us he read Tacitus and Horace at a charity-school.

His "Diary in America" gave great offence on the other side of the Atlantic. We do not know whether the captain ever regretted it, but it was an ill-advised publication, and was certain, from its tone as well as its matter, to wound deeply a gallant and sensitive people, who, say what some few of them may to the contrary, are anxious to stand well in the estimation of the mother-country. But that this work was written with malice prepense against the Americans we cannot believe, for the author's venerable mother is a native of the United States; and it may be pleasing to our brother Jonathan to know, what we are pretty certain is the fact, that from that lady he inherited the energy of will and the vigor of mind which he displayed in all the occurrences of his life.

Captain Marryat had been seriously ill for more than a year, from the bursting of a succession of blood-vessels, which forbade all

"And yon rude remnants stand alone.
Sandal! thy wreck might well inspire,
In glowing breasts, a poet's fire;
And cold the heart, and strange the eye,
That could unheeded pass thee by.
How still!

I fear to climb thy turf-clad hill,
Or wander o'er thy hidden graves;
Where'er I gaze, the green sward heaves
In hillocks, and the dark bough waves
Its funeral plume of dusky leaves,
So gently o'er the sleepers here,
I would not trample on their bier !”

LEATHAM.

How rich in moral lessons are the ancient feudal strongholds of our ancestors? From ruined tower and ivied pillar, how strongly the lesson comes home to the heart, that the ancient brute-force dominion and mind-enslaving monuments of our forefathers are but the types of an epoch long since extinct. We see the decaying walls, built as if to defy Time, silently sinking beneath the hand of the spoiler, and almost outliving the recollections of the ancient times of which they are the memorials; and the moral of this finds its place in our hearts, and sanctifies the spot.

A few months since, accompanied by a friend, I visited Sandal Castle, which is situate about two miles from Wakefield. We started one afternoon in autumn, when the leaves were just beginning to fall. It was one of those sunny days, when the transition from autumn to winter is scarcely perceptible. We crossed the noble bridge of eight arches, which here spans the Calder, crowned by an ancient chapel, or chantry, erected most probably on the occasion of the battle of Wakefield, and proceeded onwards towards Sandal. There are two ways by which the traveller may reach the hill; the field way, which skirts the Pugneys, and the highway, up the Cock and Bottle Lane. We preferred the field way on this occasion; it proceeds through a long field, divided by the carriage-road, which leads to Mr. Shaw's mansion, Belle Isle-a very pleasant walk, by the way, until we reach the house, when

we diverge from the Calder, and proceed through the Pugneys, a large tract of valley ground, part of which was formerly the river's bed, which has recently been turned into another channel; the ground, therefore, is still damp, from defective drainage. Here a ditch, of great depth, a remnant of the original channel of the Calder, still remains, near the side of the foot-path, and is noted principally for being the spot where a young gentleman, the son of a Wakefield banker, was drowned one afternoon, whilst stoning frogs with his brothers. He fell into the water, and his brothers, terrified in the highest de gree, started for aid to the neighboring town. Of course, on their return, life was extinct. Here, again, we diverge from the foot-path which skirts the Pugneys, and proceed in a north-easterly direction, through some meadows, until we get into a lane, which branches out into the Cock and Bottle Lane. In this lane is a good house, beautifully situated, but woefully desolate, which has a legend connected with it. The tale runs thus: A lady who resided in this house was very much addicted to card-playing; and in defiance of the admonitions and reproofs of her friends, would even play on the Sabbathday. One Sunday, whilst engaged in dealing the cards with a young gentleman, a casual visitor at the house, she was struck dead, or died in a fit in her chair. Her partner was so shocked, that he shut himself up in a monastery for the remainder of his life, to endeavor to atone, by a life of penitence, for the thoughtless part he had played in this drama. Since then-so the surrounding cotters say-the evil spirit of this lady walks the house. No one lives long in it, they are all so disturbed by this apparition; and it now presents a desolate spectacle, all the windows being broken, and an unearthly stillness reigning in and about it:

"A residence for woman, child, and man,

A dwelling-place, and yet no habitation: A house; but under some prodigious ban Of excommunication.

At the end of this bye lane we arrive at the conjunction of the two roads; and proceeding up the main road a few yards, brings us to the stile which incloses the castle domain. We climb over the stile, formed of the roots of an old tree, which overhangs the road, and are at once by the ruins of the castle. The castle appears to have been built on a series of hills, and the whole building inclosed by a moat, which still remains, though nearly dry. Crossing the moat, we leave the ruins of the castle on our left, and proceed up the side of the steep hill, which must have almost sheltered the castle. Indeed, a tradition says, that this hill was thrown up in one night, by ten thousand soldiers, when the castle was attacked by the Parliamentary army, to shield it from the constant fire which was kept up from a battery placed on Lowe Hill, about two miles off. At the top, a noble expanse of country presents itself. We see the Calder meandering along in a half-circle below us, and lit up like burnished gold by the last rays of the departing sun. For miles around, a beautiful prospect is obtained. In the far-off distance is perceptible the spire of Wakefield steeple, and a few of the houses of the outskirts, and all around, wood and vale in beautiful succession, reward the traveller for his trouble in ascending it. The moat which formerly encompassed the castle winds round the bottom of the hill, and noble trees crown its declivity and its surrounding heights. Leaving this hill we turn to the ruins. Only a portion of the walls, but that portion of massive thickness, is now perceptible. The rest has fallen beneath the stern hand of Time. The historical recollections which cling to this castle are very interesting. Here took place the battle of Wakefield, described by Shakspeare in his King Henry VIth. Also in the time of the Protectorate, this castle bore some part in the struggle. Every one recollects the wars of the Roses. The Duke of York, after making a treaty with Henry VI. allowing

him the privilege of wearing his crown until his death, but after that, to descend to the Duke of York and his heirs, went into the north, and arrived at his castle of Sandal on the 21st December, 1460. In the mean time the Queen Margaret, having discovered from King Henry the concessions his timidity had allowed him to make, was naturally indignant at the disclosure, and collecting a large army followed the Duke of York, and overtook him at Sandal. Here, on the 30th December, 1460, the battle of Wakefield was fought. The Duke of York's army amounted only to about 5,000 or 6,000 soldiers, while the queen's numbered 20,000. The duke was taken prisoner, and all his soldiers cut in pieces. Even in this fight, the issue might have been different, had the Duke of York waited within the walls for reinforcements. But his courage, which had borne away the palm in the continental tournaments, would not allow him thus to be bearded in his stronghold by a woman-general. He drew out his troops, and a defeat was, of course, the result. York was taken prisoner, and his youngest son, the Duke of Rutland, was slain by Lord Clifford, as he was endeavoring to escape from the field with his priest tutor. He had even gained Wakefield bridge, when the vengeful Clifford overtook and slew him. Some historians affirm that this chapel on the bridge was erected by King Edward, who took part in the battle of Sandal, in memory of his unfortunate brother of Rutland. Certain it is, that in Domesday Book mention is made of the revenue depending from certain lands, appertaining to two priests, for constant prayers for the souls of the slain in this battle; and this fact gives additional probability to the statement. The chapel has, however, undergone curious metamorphoses since that period, having been employed successively as an exchange, a warehouse, an old clothes shop, a flaxdresser's shop, a news room, a cheese-cake house, a dwelling-house, a corn-factor's office, and a tailor's shop. More recently, however, within the last few years, subscriptions for an entire re-building of the edifice, with a view to its being re-opened as a place of worship, were collected, and with so much success, that in 1846 the treasurers appointed to receive the subscriptions thought themselves justified in beginning the work, and at this date, 1848, it is now completed, and forms perhaps one of the most complete specimens of the modern Gothic style of architecture within a considerable distance. Divine service is now performed in it every