taken up a position at Brienne, the very spot where he had received the rudiments of his early education, when, unexpectedly and while he was anxiously employed ina practical application of those military principles which first exercised the energies of his young mind in the College of Brienne, his attention was arrested by the sound of the church-clock. The pomp of his imperial court, and even the glories of Marengo and of Austerlitz faded for a moment from his regard, and almost from his recollection. Fixed for awhile to the spot on which he stood, in motionless attention to the well-known sound, he at length gave utterance to his feelings, and condemned the tenour of all his subsequent life, by confessing that the hours then brought back to his recollection were happier than any he had experienced throughout the whole course of his tempestuous career.-KIDD. AN INFANT'S PERIL. As event, which occurred near Briançon, will give some notion of the perils of mountain-life and field-sports in these regions (the French and Italian Alps). A peasant, with his wife and three children, had taken up his summer quarters in a châlet*, and was depasturing his flocks on one of the rich Alps which overhang the Durance. The oldest boy was an idiot, about eight years of age, the second was five years old, and dumb, and the youngest an infant. It so happened, that the infant was morning in the charge of his brothers, and the three had rambled to some distance from the chalet before they were missed. When the mother went in search left one A small cabin, or shed, for the summer. Alp, in its original acceptation, does not signify mountain-height, but mountain-herbage, fed off by flocks and herds sent to depasture there. of the little wanderers, she found the two elder, but could discover no traces of the baby. The idiot boy seemed to be in a transport of joy, while the dumb child displayed every symptom of alarm and terror. In vain did the terrified parent endeavour to collect what had become of the lost infant. The antics of the one, and the fright of the other, explained nothing. The dumb boy was almost bereft of his senses, whilst the idiot appeared to have acquired an unusual degree of mirth and expression. He danced about, laughed, and made gesticulations, as if he were imitating the action of one who had caught up something of which he was fond, and hugged it to his heart. This, however, was some slight comfort to the poor woman, for she imagined that some acquaintance had fallen in with the children, and had taken away the infant. But the day and night wore away, and no tidings of the lost child. On the morrow, when the parents were pursuing their search, an eagle flew over their heads, at the sight of which the idiot renewed his antics, and the dumb boy clung to his father with the shrieks of anguish then burst upon their minds, that and affright. The horrible truth the miserable infant had been carried off in the talons of a bird of prey, and that the half-witted boy was delighted at the riddance of an object of which he was jealous. On the morning in which the accident happened, an Alpine hun ter Whose joy was in the wilderness-to breathe The difficult air of the iced mountain's top, had been watching near an eagle's nest, under the hope of shooting the bird, upon her return to the eyry. After waiting with all the anxious perseverance of a true sportsman, he beheld the monster slowly winging her way towards the rock behind which he was con occasioned so much misery to his family; at the same time, expressing his thankfulness for that awakening lecture, which had raised a spirit of contrition within his soul, which would never let him rest till he had done his utmost to repair the evils of his past conduct, and effect a reconciliation with his heavenly as well as with his earthly Father. cealed. Imagine his horror, when, upon a nearer approach, he heard the cries and distinguished the figure of an infant, in her fatal grasp. In an instant his resolution was formed-to fire at the bird at all hazards, the moment she should alight upon the nest, and rather to kill the child, than allow it to be torn to pieces by the horrid devourer. With a silent prayer, and a steady aim, the mountaineer poised his rifle. The ball went directly through the head or the heart of the eagle, and in a minute afterwards this gallant hunter of the Alps had the unutterable delight of snatching the child from the nest, and bearing it away in triumph. It was dreadfully wounded by the eagle's talons in one of its arms and sides, but not mortally; and within twenty-four hours after Now so proud, self-willed, inexit was first missed, he had the satis-orable, thou couldst then only ask faction of returning it to its mother's arms.-GILLIES' Second Visit to the Vaudois. FILIAL PIETY. THE following passage, from a discourse by Dr Ogden, must be familiar to many of our readers, but it is one which imparts fresh pleasure on repetition, and by the young it cannot be read too often for their own sakes. The sermon in question is a memorable one, from the anecdote connected with it, and which we shall now relate. It is said that when Dr Ogden had returned home, after pronouneing this discourse, he was followed by a young student of the University, who had been one of his auditors, and who, having gained admittance to his presence, cast himself on his knees before him, Confessing the utter recklessness of his course of life, his deep ingratitude towards excellent parents, and his horror at the retrospect of his own misdeeds, which must have Stop, young man, we beg, a little to look towards thy poor parents; think it not too much to bestow a moment's reflection on those who never forget thee; recollect what they have done for thee; remember all-all indeed thou canst not. Alas! ill had been thy lot, had not their care of thee begun before thou couldst remember or know any thing. by wailing, and move them with thy tears, and they were moved. Their hearts were touched with thy distress; they relieved and watched thy wants, before thou knewest thine own necessities or their kindness. They clothed thee; thou knewest not that thou wast naked; thou askedst not for bread, but they fed thee; and ever since, in short (for the particulars are too many to be recounted, and too many surely to be all utterly forgotten,) it has been the very principal endeavour, employment, and study of their lives to do service to thee. And remember, (for this too is of moment,) it is all out of pure unfeigned affection. Other friends mostly expect their civilities to be repaid, and their kind offices returned with interest; but parents have no thoughts like these; they 'seek not thine but thee.' Their regard is real, and hearty, and undesigning; they have no reflex views on themselves, no oblique glances towards their own interest. If by all their endeavours they can obtain their child's welfare, they East Indiaman, commanded by Caparrive at the full accomplishment lain. Meriton, under able circumstances. That vessel formed part of a fleet under convoy, which had accidentally fallen of their wishes, they have no higher object of their ambition;-be thou but happy, and they are so. And now, tell me, is not some-in with a French squadron, to which thing to be done, I do not now say for thyself but for them? If it be too much to desire of thee to be good, and wise, and virtuous, and happy, for thy own sake, yet be happy for theirs. Think that a sober, upright, and, let me add, a religious life, besides the blessings it will bring on thy own head, will be a fountain of unfailing comfort to thy declining parents, and make the heart of the aged sing for joy. What shall we say? Which of these is the happier? The son that maketh a glad father, or the father blessed with such a son? Fortunate young man! who hast a heart open so early to virtuous delights, and canst find thy own happiness in returning thy father's blessing on his own head. And happy father! whose years have been prolonged, not, as it often happens, to see his comforts fall from him one after another, and to become at once old and destitute, but to taste a new pleasure, not to be found among the pleasures of youth, reserved for his age; to reap the harvest of all his cares, and labour in the duty, affection, and felicity of his dear child. His very look bespeaks the inward satisfaction of his heart. The infirmities of age sit light upon him; he feels Bot the troubles of life; he smiles at the approach of death; sees himself still living and honoured in the memory and the person of his son, his other dearer self, and passes down to the receptacle of all the living in the fulness of content and joy." H. M. NAVAL HEROISM. Ix September 1799, a French frigate was captured by the Exeter, they gave chase. In the course of the pursuit, the British ships were widely scattered, and the captain of the Exeter at last found that he was nearing a French frigate, the only other vessel in sight being the Bombay Indiaman, which was then very far astern. The position was critical, but the British officer, with great presence of mind, formed his determination, and running up alongside the enemy with all his ports up, he commanded him to surrender to a superior force. With this order, supposing himself under the guns of a ship of the line, the French captain instantly complied. Meriton gave him no time for deliberation, but sent an officer who brought him on board; and he delivered his sword to the English captain, in due form, on the quarter-deck. The Bombay Castle was still at a great distance, but on that vessel coming up, the prisoners were quickly taken out and divided. By this time the French captain began to recover from his surprise, and, looking very attentively at the little guns on the quarter-deck, asked Captain Meriton what ship it was to which he had surrendered? Meriton drily answered, "To a merchant-ship." The indignant Frenchman begged to be allowed to return with his people to the frigate, and fight the battle again; this humble request was refused. The French frigate mounted 36 guns, 12 pounders, and had 350 men. In November, 1800, the Company's ship Phoenix captured a French privateer of 16 guns, of heavy metal, and 132 men, which had had the hardihood to chase her. But, perhaps, the most memora ble affair in which the Company's ships were engaged, was that off Pulo d'Or in 1804. On the evening of the 14th of February, a valuable fleet of homeward-bound vessels, consisting of sixteen of the Company's ships, and eleven sail of country traders, fell in with the French squadron, under the command of Admiral Linois, comprising the Marengo 74, two 44-gun frigates, a corvette of 28 guns, and a brig, which had been sent expressly into the castern seas, for the purpose of harassing our commerce. Captain Dance, of the Company's ship Camden, who commanded the fleet, instead of ordering his ships to separate, and seek their safety in flight, wisely formed them, during the night, in line-ofbattle, and resolved to resist the attack of the enemy. As soon as day-light arrived, Captain Dance ordered his ships to hoist British colours and offer battle. After a good deal of manoeuvring, in which the French had great advantage from their superior sailing, although they seemed extremely reluctant to engage, they at last opened their fire upon the Royal George, our headmost ship, which was received with the utmost coolness, and not returned until she was enabled to get closer to her opponents. She then engaged, and bore the brunt of the action, until the Camden and Ganges joined her: but before any of the other ships could get up, the French Admiral hauled his wind and stood away to the castward, under all the sail he could set. Captain Dance immediately made a signal for a general chase, but, after a pursuit of two hours, finding the enemy gained on him, he very properly desisted. The conduct of the Company's officers and men on this memorable occasion, displayed a wonderful instance of our national character. The enemy's squadron might, according to the fair calculation of sea-fighting, have taken or destroyed half the British fleet. None of the latter had more than one hundred men-their heaviest metal 18pounders. The Marengo had at least 700 men, with a weight of metal on her lower deck which rendered her an overmatch for all the ships of that fleet, that could, at one time, have brought their guns to bear on her; and the two frigates were also very powerful vessels. Captain Dance, whose conduct is deserving of the highest praise that can be bestowed on a sea-offcer, was knighted by His Majesty on his return. The East India Company presented him with 20007. and a magnificent piece of plate, besides giving him a pension of 500l. a year forlife: and the Bombay Insurance Company presented him with 5000. All the other officers and seamen in the fleet were also liberally rewarded by the Company. In March, 1805, the most valuable fleet that ever sailed from the East, reached the Downs in safety, under the convoy of Admiral Rainier. It consisted of 39 ships, and was estimated in value at fifteen millions sterling. In a few years, the country will no longer have to boast of these "princely merchant-men." About 45 ships, of the collective burden of 70,000 tons, were, previously to the late Act of Parliament for opening the trade to China, employed in that capacity by the Company; but only seven of the old ships have sailed from London this season. The value of an East India ship was formerly about 50,000., but is now reduced to 10,0007, or 12,000/ The shipping that will henceforth be employed in our eastern trade, will be from 400 to 800 tons burden, A NOBLE SAILOR. THE people were bathing along side the ship in a calm at sea. It is customary on such occasions to spread a studding-sail on the water, by means of lines from the fore and main yard arms, for the use of those who either cannot swim, or who are not expert in this art, so very important to all seafaring people. Half a dozen of the ship's boys were floundering about in the sails, and sometimes even venturing beyond the leech rope. One of the least of these urchins, but not the least courageous of their number, when taunted by his more skilful companions with being afraid, struck out boldly beyond the prescribed bounds. He had not gone much further than his own length, how ever, along the surface of the fathomless sea, when his heart failed him, poor little man; and along with his confidence away also went his power of keeping his head above the water. So down he sank rapidly, to the speechless horror of the other boys, who, of course, could lend the drowning child no help. The captain of the forecastle, a tall, fine-looking, hard-a-weather fellow, was standing on the shank of the sheet anchor with his arms cross, and his well-varnished canvass hat drawn so much over his eyes, that it was difficult to tell whether he was awake or merely dozing in the sun, as he leaned his back against the fore-topmast backstay. The seaman, however, had Leen attentively watching the young party all the time, and rather fearing that mischief might ensue from their rashness, he had grunted out a warning to them from time to time, to which they paid no sort of attention. At last he desisted, saying they might drown themselves if they had a mind, for never a bit would he help them; but no sooner did the sinking figure of the adven turous little boy catch his eye, than, diver-fashion, he joined the palms of his hands over his head, inverted his position in one instant, and urging himself into swifter motion by a sharp push with his feet against the anchor, shot head foremost into the water. The poor lad sank so rapidly, that he was at least a couple of fathoms under the surface before he was arrested by the grip of the sailor, who soon rose again, bearing the bewildered boy in his hand, and calling to the other youngsters to take better care of their companion, chucked him right into the belly of the sail in the midst of the party. The fore-sheet was hanging in the calm, nearly into the water, and by it the dripping seaman scrambled up again to his old birth on the anchor, shook himself like a great Newfoundland dog, and then jumping on the deck, proceeded across the forecastle to shift himself. At the top of the ladder he was stopped by the marine officer, who had witnessed the whole transaction, as he sat across the gangway hammocks, watching the swimmers, and trying to get his own consent to undergo the labour of undressing. Said the soldier to the sailor, "That was very well done of you, my man, and right well deserves a glass of grog. Say so to the gun-room steward as you pass, and tell him it is my orders to fill you out a stiff nor-wester." The soldier's offer was kindly meant, but rather clumsily timed, at least so thought Jack: for though he inclined his head in acknowledgment of the attention, and instinctively touched his hat when spoken to by an officer, he made no reply till out of the marine's hearing, when he laughed, or rather chuckled out to the people near him, "Does the good gentle |