THE STEAM SHIP AND THE SAIL SHIP.

SAY what they will about their steam vessels, and they are all very well in their way, they are not half so handsome as a ship in full sail. I was born and brought up in a seaport-town, and I may be a little prejudiced in favour of the old sailing vessels, and yet I flatter myself that I can easily persuade any one that a noble ship going before the wind with her white sails full, mounting like a thing of life the hilly wave and going down gently into its watery valley again, and so keeping on its gallant course, is, to say the least, a far more beautiful object than the steamer with her pothery funnel pouring forth its smoky clouds. Besides the action of the engine is very unpleasant, and its great weight, together with the coals and water which feed it, cause the vessel to lie deep and heavy in the water, compelling her to receive the shock of the waves, which make her timbers creak as if they were all going to pieces. For these reasons, a sailing vessel will live, as the sailors say— that is, she will outride a storm in which a steamer might perish. But, as I said before, the steamer is all very well in her way, and will often perform her voyages in much less time than the sailing vessel, because she can still go on though wind and tide should be against her.

Yet, after all, give me a good tight and well-rigged English sailing ship. Once fairly started, away she goes! with

"A wet sheet and a flowing sea,

A wind that follows fast,

And fills the white and rustling sail,
And bends the gallant mast;

And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
While like the eagle free,

Away the good ship flies, and leaves
Old England on the lee."

Yes: I could stand for hours on the cliff and watch the movements of these white-winged messengers as they plough the mighty main, and pursue their unobstructed course along that highway of the nations. But sometimes, though delighted with the scene, I could not help indulging some such thoughts as these to flow through my mind-"Those vessels are beautiful objects, and the scene before me is exhilirating, but in those very vessels may be hearts sad and sorrowful. After all, the world on the sea is like the world on the land. There may be the outward appearance of splendour and beauty, but within there may be care, and anxiety, and vexation." And then I thought of some beautiful verses by HERVEY on that very subject, which, for the benefit of my young friends, I will now furnish:

THE CONVICT SHIP.

MORN on the waters! and purple and bright,
Bursts on the billows the flushing of light;
O'er the glad waves, like a child of the sun,
See the tall vessel goes gallantly on;

Full to the breeze she unbosoms her sail,

And her pennon streams onward, like hope in the gale;
The winds come around her, in murmur and song,
And the surges rejoice as they bear her along!
See! she looks up to the golden edged clouds,
And the sailor sings gaily aloft in the shrouds;
Onward she glides, amid ripple and spray,
Over the waters,-away, and away!
Bright as the visions of youth, ere they part,
Passing away, like a dream of the heart!
Who, as the beautiful pageant sweeps by,
Music around her, and sunshine on high-
Pauses to think, amid glitter and glow,
Oh! there be hearts that are breaking below!
Night on the waves !-and the moon is on high,
Hung, like a gem, on the brow of the sky,
Treading its depths in the power of her might,
And turning the clouds, as they pass her, to light!

THE YOUNG SOLDIER.

Look to the waters!-asleep on their breast,
Seems not the ship like an island of rest?
Bright and alone on the shadowy main,

Like a heart cherish'd home on some desolate plain!
Who, as she smiles in the silvery light,
Spreading her wings on the bosom of night,
Alone on the deep, as the moon in the sky,
A phantom of beauty- could deem, with a sigh,
That so lovely a thing is the mansion of sin,
And souls that are smitten lie bursting within?
Who, as he watches her silently gliding,
Remembers that wave after wave is dividing
Bosoms that sorrow and guilt could not sever,
Hearts which are parted and broken for ever?
Or deems that he watches, afloat on the wave,
The death-bed of hope, or the young spirit's grave.
'Tis thus with our life, while it passes along,
Like a vessel at sea, amid sunshine and song!
Gaily we glide, in the gaze of the world,
With streamers afloat, aud with canvas unfurl'd;
All gladness and glory, to wandering eyes,

Yet charter'd by sorrow, and freighted with sighs:—
Fading and false is the aspect it wears,

As the smiles we put on, just to cover our tears;

And the withering thoughts which the world cannot know Like heart-broken exiles, lie burning below,

Whilst the vessel drives on to that desolate shore,

Where the dreams of our childhood are vanish'd and o'er!

THE YOUNG SOLDIER.

I SAW him when an infant,
He hung upon the breast;
His father's hope, his mother's joy,
By every one caress'd.

I saw him in his childhood,

When playing in the street;

The people said, "A lovelier child We never sure shall meet."

I saw him when a young man,
Free, generous, and gay;
In stature tall and graceful,
Go cheerful all the day.

But I saw him in the beershop,
Entic'd by men of sin,
And there he lost his senses,
And trouble did begin.

For I saw him take a shilling
From men of craft and lies,
Who cheated him of liberty,
With words of fair disguise.

I saw him made an exile,

Far off from friends and home, And in a sickly climate,

He was constrain'd to roam.

I saw him marched o'er mountains, And through the burning plain; Who can describe the anguish,

That rack'd his heart and brain?

I saw him forc'd with comrades,
To face the frowning foe;

Alas! it was an awful day,
For thousands were laid low.

I saw him after battle,
Bereaved of a limb;

I saw him then a beggar,
I often think of him!