men, agriculturists, and miners. The Minerva, on board of which were embarked abont four hundred persons, was commanded by M. de Chaumareys, who appears to have been wholly unworthy of his station. In the course of the voyage the smaller ships parted company, and the Medusa was left alone.

In consequence of a most disgraceful obstinacy and want of seamanship on the part of the captain, the vessel ran upon the bank of Arguin, which lies off the northern part of the Senegambian coast. The crew was immediately thrown into the most dreadful consternation. “ Here,” says one of them, in his narrative, “you might see features shrunk and hideous; there a countenance wbich had assumed a yellow and even greenish hue; some men seemed thunderstruck and chained to their place, without strength to move. When they had recovered from the stupefaction with which they were at first seized, numbers gave themselves up to excess of despair; while others uttered imprecations on those whose ignorance had been so fatal to us.”

When the men had a little recovered from the first shock, they began to make efforts for getting the vessel off the reef. Their exertions, bowever, were awkward, ill-directed, and consequently ineffectual. They were continued for two days, and were then relinquished in despair. On the night of the third day, a heavy gale arose, the sea ran high, and the ship bulged. The keel broke in two, the rudder was unshipped, and, as it still held to the stern by the chains, every wave made it act as a battering ram against the vessel, to the destruction of which it materially contributed. At this critical period, when order and union were so needful, a mutiny broke out, excited by some of the soldiers, who persuaded their comrades that it was intended to leave them in the frigate, while the crew escaped in the boats. The governor and the officers, however, succeeded in bringing back the soldiers to their duty.

As the boats were not sufficiently capacious to contain the sailors and troops, a raft was hastily and unskilfully constructed, while attempts were making to Jiberate the frigate. When, by the bulging of the ves·sel, all hope was at an end, it became necessary to resort to this clumsy contrivance. The same carelessness

and want of foresight, which had marked all the past proceedings, still prevailed at this important moment. No arrangements for embarking were made; no care was taken to secure a proper supply of provisions. All was confusion and fear. "Some boats had not above twenty-four pounds of biscuit, a small cask of water, and very little wine. The raft, which was designed to carry a hundred and fifty persons, had a pretty large quantity of wine, and some water, but not a single barrel of biscuit. A bag containing twenty-five pounds of biscuit, which was thrown from the vessel at the instant of departure, and the contents of which were converted into a paste by the sea-water, was the sole resource of the unfortunate navigators on the raft.

On board the six boats were two hundred and thirtythree persons. On the raft were a hundred and twenty soldiers and officers, twenty-nine sailors and passengers, and one woman. Seventeen were abandoned on the wreck : some too intoxicated to be moved, some despairing of the safety of the boats. The embarkation was effected in the utmost disorder, but no lives were lost. Mr. Correard, who was to have gone in one of the boats, but who nobly refused, because his men were on the raft, and who was one of the very few who retained any presence of mind, suggested to the captain the necessity of providing proper instruments and charts on board the raft, and was told that every thing which could possibly be wanted there had been provided, and that a naval officer would be sent to assume the command. This, however, was a falsehood, there being neither chart, compass, nor naval officer.

The ship was quitted on the morning of the fifth of July, the coast being then distant not inore than twelve or fifteen leagues. It was settled that the raft should be taken in tow by the boats; and it seems certain, that, with proper exertion, the whole might have reached the shore within six-and-thirty hours. But those who navigated the boats were now guilty of an act of the most atrocious cruelty and baseness towards their wretched comrades. Scarcely had they rowed two leagues from the wreck before, one by one, they cast off the tow-lines, aba udoned the raft to its fate, and made the best of their way to the shore. It was some time before the victims could believe that they were really deserted; but they were, at length, too well convinced of the melancholy truth.

Nothing can be imagined more appalling than the situation in which they were now placed: in the open sea, without provisions, crowded so closely together that it was impossible for them to move, and the raft sunk so low in the water, that those who were fore and aft were submerged to the middle of their bodies. Rage, and the desire of vengeance, now for awhile took entire possession of their minds; and, being convinced that they had been deliberately deserted, they swore to gratify their revenge to the utmost, whenever they arrived on shore. Then, again, sinking into despondency, the sailors and soldiers foreboded every thing that was horrible, and gave vent to their feelings by groans and lamentations. At last, the remonstrances and soothings of the officers restored to them some degree of calmness, Search was made for the compass and charts, but they were not to be found. This circumstance, particularly the want of a compass, almost plunged the officers themselves into despair. Mr. Correard, however, recollected that he had seen a pocket-compass in the possession of one of his men. The finding of this inspired them with fresh hopes, which were too speedily destroyed. After the lapse of a few hours the compass was lost, by falling through one of the numerous interstices of the raft, and the rising and setting of the sun became thenceforth the only guide whereby to direct their course.

Having left the frigate without taking any food, they now began to feel severely the effects of hunger. They, therefore, mixed up their biscuit-paste, which had been wetted by the salt-water, with a little wine; and, humble as it was, this was the best meal which they had during the whole time that they were on the raft. After this refreshment their minds were somewhat more tranquil. The stimulus, however, by which they principally supported their spirits, was the bope of being soon enabled to revenge ihemselves on those who had so treacherously deserted them, against whom they incessantly burst forth into the most violent imprecations. In the course of the day they got up a

mast, and hoisted a sail, which, from the faulty con, struction of the raft, proved to be of little utility.

The night closed on them, and brought with it additional horrors. The darkness was extreme, the wind began to rise, and the sea to swell. Most of the men, unused to the motion of a vessel, were incapable of standing, and were violently thrown against each other; they could barely resist the waves by holding ropes, which were fastened to the spars, or by lashing themselves to the timbers. At midnight the gale increased, and the sea ran more high. The roaring of the billows, and the howling of the wind, were mingled with the cries, prayers, groans, and curses, of the devoted sufferers on the raft. « This whole night,” says M. M. Savigny and Correard, “ we struggled against death, holding firmly by the ropes, which were strongly fastened. Tossed by the waves from the back to the front, and from the front to the back, and sometimes precipitated into the sea; suspended between life and death; mourning over our misfortunes, certain to perish, yet contending for a fragment of existence with that cruel element, which threatened to swallow us upSuch was our situation till day-break. Dreadful situa. tion! How is it possible to form of it an idea, which does not fall jafinitely short of the reality!"


For the Pocket Magazine.


.....“ The thought of death indulge,
Give it its wholesome empire; let it reign,
That kind chastiser of the soul, in joy !"

YOUNG. THAT life is uncertain, and death unavoidable, is a maxim which, though all admit to be true, all seem willing to forget. It is a maxim which has been so often reiterated, that none can be ignorant of it; and if any were disposed to disregard it, the perpetual oc

currence of its fulfilment might be sufficient for its establishment as an eternal truth.

Granting, then, that it be true, is it not a matter of such consequence as to demand our most serious at. tention? Can any one bestow on it even the slightest consideration, without feeling its importance, without perceiving that, regarding it merely as relating to a complete removal from this world, and all its concerns, independently of the reward or punishment which is to follow, it is a point of the utmost importance? Can any one refect, as on a matter of no concern, on the being separated from all those whom he loves, and by whoin he is beloved ? Can he disregard the tears which will be shed, and the sighs which will burst from the bosoms of those whom filial or fraternal affection bave bound to him? Can he think, unmoved, that he will no more augment their joy, 'or soothe their grief? that whatever danger may tbreaten them, he can no longer lend his assistance to avert it? and that whatever blessings may conjoin to make them happy, will be embittered by ihe reflection that he is not a sharer in them? He who can think on this without emotion, is more or less than man. Yet these are the consequences of that event, the occurrence of which to every one is certain, and the period at which it shall take place unknown. Can it be denied, then, that this is a matter demanding our most serious attention ?

But the departure from this world, however affection or friendship may endear it to us, must ever be considered, by the virtuous, as a cause of joy, since it removes them from regions of darkness and of sin, to realms of light and of purity. Surely, then, he why wishes to make even his death contribute to the happiness of those whom he loved while living, will so conduct himself in this life, as to leave no anxious doubtings on their minds, with respect to his welfare in the life eternal. He will act so, that at the end he may look back with tranquillity, and forward with rapture; without regret for the past, or fear for the future. But the disposition of mind necessary for the · attainment of a life, productive of this desirable conclusion, cannot be acquired except by a frequent and serious consideration, and a firm conviction of the

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