silver wake, across which a guard
boat would now and then glide, like a fairy thing, the arms of the men
flashing back the red light.

Beyond the influence of the hot smoky glare, the glorious planet reassumed
her sway in the midst of her attendant stars, and the relieved eye
wandered forth into the lovely night, where the noiseless sheet lightning
way glancing, and ever and anon lighting up for an instant some fantastic
shape in the fleecy clouds, like prodigies forerunning the destruction of
the stronghold over which they impended; while beneath, the lofty ridge of
the convent-crowned Popa, the citadel of San Felipe bristling with cannon,
the white batteries and many towers of the fated city of Carthagena, and
the Spanish blockading squadron at anchor before it, slept in the
moonlight.

We were civilly received by the captain, who apologized for the discomfort
under which we must pass the night. He gave us the best he had, and that
was bad enough, both of food and wine, before showing us into the hut,
where we found a rough deal coffin lying on the very bench that was to be
our bed. This he ordered away with all the coolness in the world. "It was
_only_ one of his people who had died that morning of _vomito_, or yellow
fever." "Comfortable country this," quoth Splinter, "and a pleasant
morning we have had of it, Tom!"

_Blackwood's Magazine._

* * * * *

DIRGE.

Green be the turf o'er thy head,
Light lie the earth on thy breast,
Peaceful and calm be thy sleep,
Till thou'rt called to rejoice with the blest.

Though we weep, yet we joy at thy lot,
Though we mourn thee, we yet can resign,
Though we sorrow, 'tis not without hope,
Though we lose thee, forbear to repine.

From the cares and the pains of this world
Thy beatified spirit is free,
'Twould be selfish in us to deplore,
For we know that thy God is with thee.

_Royal Lady's Magazine._ No. 1.

* * * * *

THE REBELLION IN STOCK POGIS.

_Answer to Mrs. Jones's Letter in Hood's Comic Annual_.[1]

Padinton third Janeary 1831.

Dr. Mrs. Jones,--I take Pin in hand to Scratch you a few Remarks in return
for your kind Pestle: it however gav me a sevear Blow to hear of my deer
frends Roofall Sitawayshun: keep up your Spirits, do my deer Frend, I dout
not in your next I shall hear you have taken to your Old Rum again down
stairs and find the Windy-Pains in a Hole