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REMARKABLE PRESERVATION FROM DEATH AT SEA, From Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine.

Mr. Editor,

I send you a translation of a most interesting letter, addressed to a German gentleman, now resident in Hamburg, from whom I received it, with permission to make what use of it I should think proper. I have trans.ated it most literally; and tho' perhaps rather long for your Miscellany, I was unwilling to weaken its effect by the omission of any passage. The writer is still living, a man of very rare endowments, and the author of several fine Poems.

DEAR FRIEND,

ου

YOU have often asked me to des

cribe to you on paper an event in my life, which, at the distance of thirty years I cannot look back to without horror. No words can give an adequate image of the miseries I endured during that fearful night, but I shall try to give you something like a faint shadow of them, that from it your soul may conceive what I must have suffered.

I was, you know, on my voyage back to my native country, after an absence of five years spent in unintermitting toil in a foreign land, to which I had been driven by a singular fatality. Our voyage had been most cheerful and prosperous, and on Christmas-day we were within fifty leagues of port. Passengers and crew were all in the highest spirits, and the ship was alive with mirth and jollity. For my own part I was the happiest man in existence. I had been unexpectedly raised from poverty to affluence-my Parents were longing once more to behold their erring but beloved Son, and I knew there was one dearer even than any parent, who had remained faithful to me through all my misfortunes, and would soon become mine for lite.

About eight o'clock in the evening, I went on deck. The ship was sailing upon a wind, at the rate of seven knots an hour, and there was a wild grandeur in the night. A strong snow-storm blew, but steadily and without danger; and now and then, wh n the struggling moonlight overcame the sleety and mis ty darkness, we saw, for some distance, round us, the agitated sea all tumbling with foam. There were no shoals to fear, and the ship kept boldly on her course, close-reeled, and mistress of the storm. I leant over the gunwale, ad

H.M.

miring the water rushing past like a

foaming cataract, when, by some unaccountable accident, I lost my balance, and in an instant fell overboard into the sea.

I remember a convulsive shuddering all over my body, aud a hurried leaping of my heart, as I felt myself about to lose hold of the vessel, and afterwards a sensation of the most icy chilliness from immersion into the waves, but nothing resembling a fall or precipitation. When below the water I think that a momentary belief rushed across my mind that the ship had suddenly sunk, and that I was but one of a perishing crew. I imagined that I felt a hand with long fingers clutching at my legs, and made violent efforts to escape, dragging alter me as I thought, the body of some drowning wretch. On rising to the surface, I recollected in a moment what had befallen me, and uttered a cry of horror which is in my ears to this day, and often makes me shudder, as if it were the mad shriek of another person in the extremity of perilous agony. Often have I dreamed over again that dire moment, and the cry I uttered in my sleep is said to be something more horrible than a human voice. No ship was to be seen. She was gone for ever. The little happy world to which, a moment before, I had belonged, had swept by, and I felt that God had flung me at once from the heart of joy, delight and happiness, into the uttermost abyss of mortal misery and despair. Yes! I felt that the Almighty God had done this, that there was an act, a fearful act of providence; and miserable worm that I was, I thought that the act was cruel, and a sort of wild, indefinite objectless rage and wrath assailed me,

and took for a while the place of that first shrieking terror. I gnashed my teeth and cursed myself,-and with bitter tears and yells blasphemed the name of God. It is true, my friend, that I did so. God forgave that wickedness. The Being whom I then cursed was in his tender mercy not unmindful of me, of me, a poor, blind, miserable, mistaken worm. But the waves dashed on me, and struck me on the face, and howled at me; and the winds yelled, and the snow beat like drifting sand into my eyes, and the ship, the ship was gone and there was I left to struggle, and buffet, and gasp, and sink, and perish, alone,unseen, and unpitied by man, and as I thought too, by the everlasting God. I tried to penetrate the surrounding darkness with my glaring eyes that felt leaping from their sockets, and saw, as if by miraculous power, to a great distance through the night, but no ship-nothing but white-crested waves, and the dismal noise of thunder. I shouted, shrieked, and yelled, that I might be heard by the crew, till my voice was gone, and that too, when I knew that there were none to hear me. At last I became utterly speechless, and when I tried to call aloud, there was nothing but a silent gasp and convulsion,

while the waves came upon me like stunning blows, reiterated and reiterated, and drove me along like a log of wood or a dead animal.

ken me.

Once I muttered to myself, "this is a dream, and I shall awake." I had often before dreamt of being drowned, and this idea of its being a dream so pressed upon me, that I vainly strove to shriek out, that the noise might awaBut oh! the transition, from this momentary and wild hope of its being all a dreadful dream, into the conviction of its reality! That indeed was something more hideous than a fanatic's thought of hell. All at once I felt my inmost soul throttled, strangled, and stifled, by an insupportable fear of death. That death, which to my imagination had ever appeared the most hideous, and of which I had often dreamt till the drops fell down my forehead like rain, had now in good 2U ATHENEUM VOL. 8..

truth befallen me; but dreadful as all my dreams had been, what were they all to this? I felt as if all human misery were concentrated in the speechiess anguish of my own one single beart.

All this time I was not conscious of any act of swimming; but I soon found that I had instinctively beep exerting all my power and skill, and both were requisite to keep me alive in the tumultuous wake of the ship. Something struck me harder than a wave. What it was I knew not, but I grasped it with a passionate violence for the hope of salvation came suddenly over me, and, with a sudden transition from despair, I felt that I was rescued. I had the same thought as if I had been suddenly heaved on shore by a wave. The crew had thrown overboard every thing they thought could afford me the slightest chance of escape from death, and a hencoop had drifted towards me. At once all the stories I had ever read of mariners miraculously saved at sea rushed across my recollection. I had an object to cling to, which I knew would enable me to prolong my existence. was no longer helpless on the cold-weltering world of waters; and the thought that my friends were thinking of me, and doing all they could for me, gave to me a wonderful courage. I may yet pass the night in the ship, I thought; and I looked round eagerly to hear the rush of her prow, or to see through the snow-drift the gleaming of her sails.

I

This was but a momentary gladness. The ship I knew could not be far off, but for any good she could do me, she might have been in the heart of the Atlantic ocean. Ere she could have altered her course, I must have drifted a long way to leeward, and in that dim snowy night how was such a speck to be seen? I saw a flash of lightning, and then there was thunder. It was the ship firing a gun, to let me know, if still alive, that she was somewhere lying to. But wherefore? I was separated from her by a dire necessity, by many thousand fierce waves, that would not let my shrieks be heard. Each succeeding gun was heard fainter and fainter, till at last I cursed the sound, that

scarcely heard above the hollow rumbling of the tempestuous sea, told me, that the ship was farther and farther off, till she and her heartless crew had left me to my fate. Why did they not send all their boats to row round and round all the night through, for the sake of one whom they pretended to love so well? I blamed, blessed, and cursed them by fits, till every motion of my soul was exhausted, and I clung in sullen despair to the wretched piece of wood that still kept me from eternity.

Was it not strange, that during all this time the image of my beloved friends at home never once flashed across my mind? My thoughts had never escaped beyond the narrow and dim horizon of the sea, at least never beyond that fatal ship. But now I thought of home, and the blessed things there, and so intensely bright was that flash of heavenly images, that for a moment my heart filled with happiness. It was terrible when the cold and dashing waves broke over me and that insane dreaming-fit, and awoke me to the conviction that there was nothing in store for me but an icy and lingering death, and that I who had so much to live for, was seemingly on that sole account most miserably to perish.

T

What a war of passions perturbed my soul! Had I for this kept my heart full of tenderness, pure, lofty, and heroic, for my best-beloved and Jong-betrothed? Had God kept me alive through fevers and plagues, and war and earthquake, thus to murder me at last? What mockery was all this? What horror would be in my grayhaired parents' house when they came to hear of my doom. "O Theresa! Theresa!" And thus I wept and turmoiled through the night. Sometimes I had little or no feeling at all-sullen and idealess. I wished myself drowned at once-yet life was still sweet; and in my weakened state I must have fallen from my frail vessel and been swallowed up, had I not, though even now I cannot remember when, or how, bound myself to it. I had done so with great care-but a fit of despair succeeding, I forgot the circumstance

entirely, and in that situation looked at myself with surprise and wonder.

That I had awful thoughts of the Eternity into which I felt gradually sinking, is certain; but it is wonderful how faintly I thought of the future world. All such thoughts were overthrown by alternate hope and despair connected with this life. Once, when I had resigned myself to death, and was supplicating the mercy of our Redeemer, I thought I heard the shrill cry of sea-birds flying over my head-and instantly I returned again to the hope of life. O for such wings! but mine I thought were broken, and like a wounded bird I lay floating powerlessly on the waves.

The night before I had had a severe rheumatism in my head, and now remembered that I had somewhere about me a phial of laudanum. I swallowed the whole of it-and ere long a strange effect was produced. I fell into a delirium, and felt a wild pleasure in dancing along over the waves. I imagined myself in a vessel and on a voyage, and had a dreamy impression that there was connected with it something of glory. Then I believed, in a moment after, that I had been bound, thrown overboard, and forsaken, by a mutinous Crew. As these various fancies alternated, I recollect, in my delirium, bursting out into loud peals of laughtersinging to myself—and buzzaing with a mad kind of enjoyment. Then,suddenly, a cold tremulous sickness would fall on me-a weight of sadness and despair. Every now and then there camne these momentary flashings of reality; but the conviction of my personal identity soon gave way to those wilder fits, and I drifted along through the moonless darkness of the roaring night, with all the fierce exultation of a raving madman. No wonder. The laudanum, the cold, the wet, the dashing, the buffetting, the agony, were enough to account for all this, and more than my soul dare even now to shadow out to her shuddering recollection. But as God pitied the miserable, so also bas he forgiven the wicked thoughts of that unimaginable night.

During one of these delirious fits, whether it was a dream or a reality I know not, but methought I heard the most angelical music that ever breathed from heaven. It seemed to come on the winds to rise up from the sea-to melt down from the stormy clouds. It was at last like a full band of instrumental music, soft, deep, wild, such as I have heard playing on board a ship of war. I saw a white gleam through the snow-I heard a rushing noise with the music, and the glorious ghost of a ship went roaring past me, all illuminated with lamps-her colours flyingevery sail set, and her decks crowded with men. Perhaps a real ship sailed by with festivity on board. Or was it a vision? Whatever it was, I felt no repining when it passed me by; it seemed something wholly alien to me; the delirium had swallowed up all fear, all selfishness; the past and future were alike forgotten, and I kept floating along, self-questioned no longer, assured that I was somehow or other a part of the waves and the tempest, and that the wonderful and beautiful vision that had sailed by me was an aboriginal Creature of the Ocean. There was unspeakable pride and grandeur in this delirium. I was more intensely conscious of a brightened existence than I ever was in the most glorious dream, and instead of fearing death, I felt as if I were immortal.

This delirium, I think, must have gradually subsided during a kind of sleep, for I dimly recollect mixed images of pain and pleasure, land and sea, storm and calm, tears and laughter. I thought I had a companion at my side, even her I best loved; now like an angel comforting me, and now like my self needing to be comforted, lying on my bosom cold, drenched, despairing, and insane, and uttering, with pale quivering lips, the most horrid and dreadful imprecations. Once I heard, methought, a voice crying from below the waves, "Hast thou forgot Theresa?" And looking down, I saw something like the glimmering of a shroud come slowly upwards, from a vast depth, to the surface of the water. I

It

stooped down to embrace it, and in a
moment a ghastly blue-swollen face,
defeatured horribly, as if by gnawing
teeth of sea-monsters, dashed against
mine; and as it sank again, I knew
well to whom belonged the black
streaming hair. But I awoke. The
delirium was gone, and I was at once a
totally different creature. I awoke in-
to a low, heartless, quaking, quivering,
fear-haunted, cowardly, and weeping
despondency, in which all fortitude was
utterly prostrated. The excitement
had worn out my very soul.
A corpse
rising out of a cold clammy grave could
not have been more woe-begone, spirit-
less, bloodless. Every thing was seen
in its absolute dreadful reality. I was
a Castaway-no hope of rescue.
was broad day-light, and the storm had
ceased; but clouds lay round the hori-
zon, and no land was to be seen. What
dreadful clouds! Some black as pitch,
and charged with thunder: others like
cliffs of fire; and here and there all
streamered over with blood. It was
indeed a sullen, wrathful, and despair-
ing sky. The sun itself was a dull
brazen orb, cold, dead, and beamless.
I beheld three ships afar off, but all
their heads were turned away from me,
For whole hours they would adhere
motionless to the sea, while I drifted
away from them; and then a rushing
wind would spring up, and carry them
one by one into the darkness of the
stormy distance. Many birds came
close to me, as if to flap me with their
large spreading wings, screamed round
and round me, and then flew away in
their strength, and beauty, and happi-
ness.

I now felt myself indeed dying. A calm came over me. I prayed devoutly for forgiveness of my sins, and for all my friends on earth. A ringing was in my ears, and I remember only the hollow fluctuations of the sea with which I seemed to be blended, and a sinking down and down an unfathomable depth, which I thought was Death, and into the kingdom of the eternal Future.

I awoke from insensibility and oblivion with a hideous racking pain in my

head and loins, and in a place of utter darkness. I heard a voice say, "Praise the Lord." My agony was dreadful, and I cried aloud. Wan, glimmering, melancholy lights kept moving to and fro. I heard dismal whisperings, and Dow and then a pale silent ghost glided by. A hideous din was over head, and around me the fierce dashing of the waves. Was I in the land of spirits? But why strive to recount the mortal pain of my recovery, the soul-hum

bling gratitude that took possession of my being? I was lying in the cabin of a ship,and kindly tended by a humane and skilful man. I had been picked up apparently dead and cold. The hand of God was there. Adieu, my dear friend. It is now the hour of rest, and I basten to fall down on my knees before the merciful Being who took pity upon me, and who, at the intercession of our Redeemer, may, I hope, pardon all my sins. Yours, &c.

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THE SPIRIT'S BLASTED TREE.
From the Gentleman's Magazine.

FEW
years ago was to be seen on
the road-side near Nannau, in Me-
rionethshire, the seat of Sir R. W.
Vaughan, Bart. M. P. a large hollow
oak known by the name of the "Spirit's
blasted Tree" (Ceubren yr Ellyill).
The event which gave rise to so ghostly
an appellation, is preserved by tradition
among the mountain peasants in this part
of Merionethshire, and founded on a
deadly feud that subsisted between the
celebrated "wild, irregular Glyndwr *,"
and his kinsman Howel Sele, then resi-
dent at Nannau. When Owen took
up arms against the English, his cousin
Howel, who possessed great influence
in the country where he lived, declined
to embrace a cause which, though per-
haps laudable, and somewhat conform-
able to the rude spirit of the times, he
foresaw would be unsuccessful, and
bring down upon his country increased
rigour and oppression. His refusal
provoked the choleric Chieftain, and laid
the foundation of an enmity which,
though not immediately conspicuous,
was not the less inveterate.

"Owen and this Chieftain had been long at variance. I have been inform ed that the Abbot of Cymmer Abbey,

near Dolgellen, in hopes of reconciling them brought them together, and to all appearance effected his charitable design. While they were walking out, Owen observed a doe feeding, and told Howel, who was reckoned the best archer of his day, that there was a fine mark for him. Howel bent his bow, and pretending to aim at the doe, suddenly turned and discharged the arrow full at the breast of Glyndwr, who fortunately had ar mour beneath his clothes, so received no hurt. Enraged at this treachery, he seized on Sele, burnt his house, and hurried him away from the place; nor could any one ever learn how he was disposed of till forty years after, when the skeleton of a large man, such as Howel, was discovered in the hollow of a great oak, in which Owen was supposed to have immured him in reward of his perfidy."

This oak, the terror of every peasant for miles round *, remained in its place till within these few years, when one morning after a very violent storm, it was discovered, to the great regret of its worthy proprietor, blown to the ground, and its superannuated vitality destroyed for ever. All that could be

The present very respectable proprietor of Nannau is a descendant of Owen's, whose family name was Vychan, now modernized and softened into Vaughan, and not Glyndwr.

"And to this day the peasant still

With cautious fear avoids the ground;

In each wild branch a spectre sees,

And trembles at each rising sound."

Ceubren yr Ellyll, or the Spirit's blasted Tree, a Legendary Tale.

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