do was to bang away upon Pepper and Billy, who rattled along at a great rate up hill and down, over the rough roads, so that if I had not been bewitched, I must have tumbled out to a certainty. When I came to the bridge at old Mangham's, the black dog, for I could see something black and shaggy under the goggle eyes, all at once jumped up and seated himself close by me on the bench, snatched the whip and reins out of my hands like lightning-then looking me in the face and nodding, he whispered something in my ear, and lashed away upon Pepper and Billy, till they seemed to fly through the air. From that time I began to lose my wits by degrees, till at last the smell of brimstone overpowered me, and I remember nothing till you found me this morning in the briers."

Here little Cobus concluded his story, which he repeated with several variations and additions to his wife, when he got home. That good woman, who, on most occasions, took the liberty of lecturing her good man, whenever he used to be belated in his excursions to the village, was so struck with this adventure, that she omitted her usual exhortation, and ever afterwards viewed him as one ennobled by supernatural communication, submitting to him as her veritable lord and master. Some people, who pretend to be so wise that they won't believe the evidence of their senses, when it contradicts their reason, affected to be incredulous, and hinted that the goggle eyes, and the brimstone breath, apertained to Cobus Yerks's great house-dog, which had certainly followed him that day to the village, and was found quietly reposing by his master, in the tuft of briers. But Cobus was ever exceeding wrath at this suggestion, and, being a sturdy little bruiser, had knocked down one or two of these unbelieving sinners, for venturing to assert that the contents of the stone jug were at the bottom of the whole business. After that, every body believed it, and it is now for ever incorporated with the marvellous legends of the renowned Buttermilk Hill.

WRITTEN IN A NOBLEMAN'S LIBRARY.

With eyes of wonder these gay shelves behold,
Poets all rags alive, now clad in gold;

In life and death one common fate they share,
And on their backs still all their riches wear.

SAINT OLAVE.

A MANKS LEGEND.

BY T. W. SHARPE, ESQ.

Magnus, King of Norway, having committed sacrilege, by opening the grave of St. Olave, he was commanded by the spirit of the offended saint, to perform the voluntary penance of quitttng the kingdom in thirty days. He resigned his crown, equipped a numerous fleet, collected a large body of troops, and quitted Norway at the time appointed. This prince having conquered many of the Western Isles, at length established himself in Man. Attempting afterwards the reduction of Ireland, he was surrounded by the natives, and slain, with the whole of his followers."

Olave, of rocky Norway's saints, the holiest and the best,
Entomb'd in tumuli enjoys a calm and peerless rest;
By all of heav'n's votaries in saintly rank renown'd,
As high in blessedness, and chief in holy missal crown'd.
The dead, in holy, stilly peace, the sacred dead repose,
Afar from earth's turmoil and grief, and all of sick'ning woes;
From racking pain, and withering pride, and avarice's care,
Secure they rest in solitude, unaw'd by sin or fear.

To sack the gloomy sepulchre of lately living clay,
From cheerful day and life remov'd, by dreaded death away,
Is crime indeed of blackest hue, deserving exile's fate,
From native climes ordain'd to feel, an outlaw's dreary state.
Could Norway's priest-despising chief, deem sacrilege a crime
Fitting for absolution, or, dark penance of set time?
That daring such all-dreaded sin, he gazes on the grave,
And tramples o'er the hallow'd dust of canoniz'd Ŏlave.
Lone sepulchre in holy earth- -sure wickedness so dire,
Of holy man and sacred place, incenses heaven's ire,
Can less than ever banishment from Norway's ice-bound land,
Stay sure revenge—pursuing fate—and justice awful hand.
Away he sails-the foaming seas as corsair now he laves,
Dauntless-heroic-daring winds, and man-entombing waves,
To visit other lands afar-to combat chiefs of fame,

In battle-field to spread around the dread of Norway's name.

Lone Mona's sea-girt isle he dares with spear and flashing

sword,

Usurping regal rule and right by power of private horde ;
Yet vengeance drear, and dark desert of direst actions, crave
A bloody death, a justice clear, a dark usurper's grave.

On Erin's lovely land he falls, awarded darksome doom,
When, ruffian-like, he dar'd profane the saintly Olave's tomb;
He leaves his conquests, kingdoms, crowns, and all of earthly

state,

To sleep in loneliness, and fill his dark predicted fate.

THE ADVENTURER.

The traveller who turns aside to pluck at every flower, or who sometimes hurries, and sometimes loiters, will find himself distanced at last by those who calmly pace on, and are neither diverted by difficulties, nor attracted by every casual appearance of temporary pleasure. This observation is fully verified by the restless disposition displayed in the character of the individual who forms the subject of the following sketch.

Will Ramble, on quitting his studies, at the age of eighteen, was taken into the counting-house of a West-Indian merchant. His relations augured well to his success in commerce, from his known talents and activity. In any situation he might have shone; but he chose rather to dazzle for a moment, than to preserve a clear and steady light. He became master of all the routine of the counting-house in less than twelve months, and at the same time was tired of its employ.

Why, thought our hero, should he be longer confined to ledgers and waste-books? here he had nothing more to learn. His solicitation to be permitted to take a trading voyage for the benefit of his employer, overcame both the merchant and his own relations. He was soon equipped, and set sail for the West Indies, in raptures at the idea of seeing the world. A storm, however, which he had to encounter before clearing the channel, gave him no very favourable opinion of the felicity of sailor's life; but the storm vanished, and, with it, his sense of danger and uneasiness. The remainder of the voyage was

barren of occurrences. He landed in due time in the island of Jamaica, to which the vessel was bound; and in consequence of his eagerness to visit the new scenes which presented themselves, his hurry, and his neglect of proper precautions, he soon fell sick of the endemial fever of the West Indies, and with difficulty escaped the grave. Our adventurer now began to reflect on his imprudence, regretted his having left the counting-house to encounter needless dangers, and began to form resolutions of checking his natural propensity for change. The vow formed in illness, and under restraint, is seldom observed when health returns. Young Ramble felt all the vagaries of his natural disposition as soon as he recovered. He made himself speedily acquainted with the management of sugar plantations, and with the West-India trade in general; but, as he possessed a heart of melting benevolence, the taskmaster met with his unqualified detestation-the situation of the slave awakened his most indignant feelings.

He soon became disgusted with a traffic, in which blood was shed without pity, and whips were the reward of toil. He saw the ship freighted with pleasure, and bade adieu to these islands without regret. He had a pleasant voyage, returned full of information, and had obtained the credit of prudent and dexterous management; but he was sick of what he had seen; and for once, goodness of principle united with versatility of disposition to induce him to relinquish this branch of commerce, at least. But there were numerous other avenues to wealth in the mercantile profession. Had not our hero been tired of the whole, he might have selected parts that would have suited almost any taste, and gratified the principles of any mind.

For some time, however, he had set his heart on being a soldier. When his connexions found that his resolution in this respect could not be shaken, they procured a liberation from his original engagements, and purchased a pair of colors for him. He joined his regiment, which was quartered in the country, strutted in a laced coat and cockade, and thought himself the happiest fellow alive. So he was, for a few weeks; but here he found that he had little to learn, and less to practise, and his mind revolted at the idea of quiet; he found it necessary to be doing something, and in conformity to this principle, he exchanged into a regiment, just about to sail for the East Indies.

A new scene, and a new quarter of the globe, again pleased and attracted his fancy. He anticipated the greatest felicity from his new change; but fortune determined otherwise. The ship in which he had embarked was wrecked on the Maldivia Islands. He singly preserved life by swimming; but could save few of those accommodations that render it delightful. As he hated idleness, as much as he disliked any constant employ, he set about providing the means of subsistence with all possible diligence, ingratiated himself with the natives, and became a mighty favourite with their chief. Had not the thought of being cut off from polished society disturbed him, he might have been happy still. For a short space, he did not form any particular plan for effecting his deliverance. He, indeed, kept a good look-out for any ship that might pass; but such a chance was rare. At last he bethought himself of attempting something. He persuaded the Maldivians that he could teach them to build ships. The bait took-in a few weeks the first vessel was constructed;she was strong, but of rude formation; and all were eager to see her launched, and to try her on the waves. Young Ramble selected the best mariners, as well as those who appeared friendly to his interest, to have the honor of this experiment. He had fortunately saved a compass, and other necessaries, from the wreck; and had privately laid in a small stock of provisions. The vessel sailed to a miracle; all were delighted with this nautic excursion; and by degrees they lost sight of land. Now was the critical moment! his associates wished to return; he distributed some liquors among them, and made a feint to tack about; but the wind being pretty high, and blowing off the shore, this could not be effected. He veered on another tack with no better success, as he wished to be delivered. At length, no person, except himself, knew the direction of the shore they had left.

Night coming on, he steered by the compass, and kept his companions in good humour, by telling them there was no doubt of their landing next morning. In the mean while, he made the best of the wind and the time; and, as no one could presume to direct the course of the vessel but himself, all were fearful of interfering; and, on the third day, he providentially landed near Cape Comorin.

From thence our hero undertook a long journey to Fort St. George, where he was soon replaced in his rank, and sent