getting under weigh with the tide, he was put on shore at Lowestoft in Suffolk, and immediately despatched a messenger to Yarmouth with the sad tidings of the fate of the yawl and the rest of her crew.

Being now safely housed under the roof of a relative, with good nursing and medical assistance, in five days from the time of the accident, with a firm step he walked back to Yarmouth, to confirm the wonderful rumors circulated respecting him, and to receive the congratulations of his friends and kindred. The knife, which he considers as the great means of his being saved, is preserved with great care, and in all probability will be shewn a century hence by the descendants of this man. It is a common horn-handled knife, having one blade about five inches long. A piece of silver is now riveted on and covers one side, on which is the following inscription, giving the names of the crew of the yawl when she upset :-" Brown, Emmerson, Smith, Bray, Budds, Fenn, Rushmere, Boult :-Brock, aided by this knife, was saved after being 7 hours in the sea, 6th Oct. 1835."

"It was a curious thing, Sir," said Brock, as I was listening to his extraordinary narrative, "that I had been without a knife for some time, and only purchased this two days before it became so useful to me; and having to make some boat's tholes it was as sharp as a razor."

I know not what phrenologists might say to Brock's head, but I fancied, whilst studying his very handsome face and expression of countenance, that there I could see his heart: his bodily proportions, excepting height, are Herculean, standing only 5 ft. 5 in. high; his weight, without any protuberance of body, is 14st.; his age at the time spoken of was 31: his manners are quiet, yet communicative; he tells his tale neither tainted by bombast, nor any claptrap to awaken the sympathies of those of the "Wrexhill School" that have flocked about him. In the honest manliness of his heart he thus addressed me just before parting :"I always considered Emmerson a better swimmer than myself; but, poor fellow! he did not hold out long. I ought to be a good living chap, Sir, for three times have I been saved by swimming. What I did on this night, I know I could not have done of myself: I never asked for anything but it was given me."

One trait more, which he did not tell me, and I have done.—A very good subscription was made for the widows and children of Brock's unfortunate companions, and a fund being established for their relief, the surplus was offered to him. This was his answer :-" I am obliged to you, Gentlemen, but, thank GOD! I can still get my own living as well as ever, and I could not spend the money that was given to the fatherless and the widow."

In contemplating the feat of this extraordinary man, it must appear to every one that his bodily prowess, gigantic as it is, appears as dust in the balance compared with the powers of his mind. To think, and to judge rightly, under some of the most appalling circumstances that ever surrounded mortal man-to reject the delusive for the more arduous to resolve and to execute-form such a combination of the best and rarest attributes of our nature, that where are we to look for them in the same man? This was the question that proposed itself to me as I took my departure from his cabin; and thus (to my own satis

faction) did I answer it. I have lived to see Nelson, Wellington, and Brock-of such a character it is written

"Non ille pro caris amicis

Aut Patria timidus perire."-Hor.

For one day I had tasted enough of adventure. Nothing else could mix with Brock's story; but on the following morning, before I took leave of the town of Great Yarmouth, I amused myself in the churchyard (the only place of sepulture for above 20,000 inhabitants), finding out the memorials of those who had perished by the "battle and the breeze," the records of which in this great sea-port are here thickly scattered around. After perusing many of great interest, I came to one which either public or private spirit has hitherto preserved from the destroyer, the head-stone being firmly supported by oak and iron, and the inscription shewing that at no very distant date the hand of some "Old Mortality" has been busy with the lettering-a record that we trust may endure with the wooden walls of Old England! Hoping that all your readers may enjoy the same sort of feelings that I experienced on reading it, without further preface it is presented.

Sacred to the Memory of

DAVID BARTLEMAN,

Master of the brig❝ Alexander and Margaret," of North Shields, who on the 31st day of January 1781, on the Norfolk coast, with only three 3-pounders and ten men and boys, nobly defended himself against a cutter carrying eighteen 4-pounders and upwards of 100 men, commanded by the notorious English Pirate FALL, and fairly beat him off. Two hours afterwards the enemy came down upon him again when totally disabled. His mate, Daniel M'Auley, expiring with the loss of blood, and himself dangerously wounded, he was obliged to strike and r insom. He brought his shattered vessel into Yarmouth with more than the honors of a conqueror, and died here in consequence of his wounds on the 14th day of February following, in the 25th year of his age. To commemorate the gallantry of his son, the bravery of his faithful mate, and at the same time mark the infamy of a savage pirate, his afflicted father, Alexander Bartleman, has ordered this stone to be erected over his honorable grave.

""Twas great,

The foe, though strong, was infamous,
The foe of human kind.

A manly indignation fired his breast,

Thank God my son has done his duty."

The hoary-headed sexton, whilst I was copying this inscription, approached me: he remembered as a boy going with crowds to see Bartleman's vessel, which, as he said, was riddled to a mere wreck, pointed out the spot in the harbor where she was moored, and the house in which the hero expired. Amongst many severe wounds he had received, one in the foot proved fatal; a shot had struck part of his large shoe buckle into his foot, which gangrened and produced lock-jaw.

A WANDERER.

THE MOORS*.

THE MOORS! the moors! the bonny brown moors!

Shining and fresh with April showers!

When the wild birds sing

The return of Spring,

And the gorse and the broom
Shed the rich perfume

Of their golden bloom,

'Tis a joy to revisit the bonny brown moors.
Aloft in the air floats the white sea-mew,

And pipes his shrill whistle the grey curlew
And the peewit gambols around her nest,

;

And the heath-cock crows on the mountain's crest;
And freely gushes the dark brown rill

In cadence sweet from the lonely hill;
Where, mingling her song with the torrent's din,
As it bubbles and foams in the rocky linn,
Twitters and plunges the water-crow

In the pool where the trout are springing below;
And the lambs in the sun-shine leap and play
By their bleating dams in the grassy brae,
With a withered thorn for their trysting place,
To mark the goal where their foot-prints trace
The narrow course of their sportive race.
Oh! know ye the region in Spring more fair
Than the banks and the glens of the moorland bare?

The moors! the moors! the fragrant moors!
When the heather breaks forth into purple flowers!
When the blazing Sun

Through the Crab hath run,

And the Lion's wrath

Inflames his path,

What garden can vie with the glowing moors!
The light clouds seem in mid air to rest
On the dappled mountain's misty breast,
And living things bask in the noon-tide ray
That lights up the Summer's glorious day;
Nor a sough of wind, nor a sound is heard,
Save the faint shrill chirp of some lonely bird-

Save the raven's croak, or the buzzard's cry,
Or the wild bee's choral minstrelsy,

Or the tinkling bell of the drowsy flock,

Where they lie in the shade of the cavern'd rock:

*By the Hon. T. H. LIDDELL.-From Mr. Scrope's " Art of Deer Stalking."

VOL. XIX. SECOND SERIES.-No, 111.

X

But when the last hues of declining day
Are melted and lost in the twilight grey,

And the stars peep forth, and the full-orbed moon
Serenely looks down from her highest noon,
And the rippling water reflects her light

Where the birch and the pine-tree deepen the night :
Oh! who but must own his proud spirit subdued

By the calm of the desert solitude;

So balmy, so silent, so solemnly fair,

As if some blest spirit were riding the air,

And might commune with man on the mountain bare!

The moors! the moors! the joyous moors!
When Autumn displays her golden stores :
When the morning's breath

Blows across the heath,
And the fern waves wide

On the mountain's side,

'Tis gladness to ride

At the peep of dawn o'er the dewy moors!

For the sportsmen have mounted the topmost crags,
And the fleet dogs bound o'er the mossy hags,

And the mist clears off, as the lagging sun

With his first ray gleams on the glancing gun,
And the startled grouse and the black cock spring
At the well-known report on whirring wing.
Or wander we north, where the dun deer go,
Unrestrain❜d o'er the summits of huge Ben-y-gloe;
And Glen Tilt and Glen Bruar re-echo the sound

Of the hart held to bay by the deep-mouthed blood-hound,
And the eagle stoops down from Schechallien to claim,
With the fox and the raven, his share of the game.
But a cloud hath o'ershadow'd the forest and waste,
And the Angel of Death on the whirlwind has passed,
And the coronach rings on the mountains of Blair,
For the Lord of the woods and the moorlands bare!

The moors! the moors! the desolate moors!
When the mist thickens round, and the tempest roars!
When the Monarch of Storm

Rears his giant form,

On some rock-built throne

That he claims for his own,

To survey the wild war on the desolate moors!

For the winds are let loose, and the sound is gone forth To awaken the troops of the frozen North!

And the lightning, and hailstone, and hurricane fly,
At a wave of his arm, through the dark rolling sky;
And his footsteps are trampling the fog and the cloud
That envelop the earth in a funeral shroud;
And the sheep and the shepherd lie buried below
The wide-spreading folds of his mantle of snow;
And the breath of his nostrils encumbers the wood;
And his fetters of crystal arrest the flood;

And he binds in its fall the cataract,

And makes level the gulf of the mountain tract;
Till his work is complete-and a dread repose
Broods o'er a boundless waste of snows;
And the wild winds bewail in whispers drear
The decay and death of the by-gone year!

THE SURREY HOUNDS, AND OTHER MATTERS.
BY NEPTUNE.

Sir Edmund Antrobus's Stud, Hounds, and Kennel-Difficulty of procuring Horses for the Field acquainted with their Business-Tuition of Young Stock-Hints to Breeders-London the Mart for good Horses-Difficulty of selling equal to that of procuring sound young HorsesTricks at Commission Stables-Masters of the Surrey Hounds-Mr. Turner's successful Method of Firing, and his Brother's (of Regent Street) of Nerving Horses-Extraordinary Feats performed by hard Riders-Metropolitan Sportsmen, &c.

I LITTLE thought, when my last article on Foreign Studs appeared in your pages, it would have been so long a period before I again addressed you; but the truth is, I have been a severe sufferer from ill health, and, excepting during the last two months, have been unable to get about on horseback; and what renders my situation more irksome is, that at the moment I am writing this at my friend's house, I hear the cry of the hounds in the kennel, which is only half a mile off, and yet I am unable to venture out to follow them; and though the county of Surrey does not rank very high in the estimation of fox-hunters, yet, during the half dozen times in my life that I have hunted in it, while partaking of the hospitality of my friend in this neighbourhood, I have always found them attended by some most excellent Sportsmen, and some very good sport has been shewn. The crowd of Cockneys which it has been the habit to represent as the constant attendants of these hounds has been very much exaggerated, and I have reason to believe, since the opening of the Railway, Northampton and its neighbourhood draw off a great many from the metropolitan districts, to the very great satisfaction of the Masters of these hounds.

I shall not attempt to give you any account of the country, so much has been written on the subject; but this I may be allowed to say, that I have seen most of the best packs in England, and nowhere can be a more efficient and better conducted pack of hounds in any respect than