upon her innumerable pangs for the safety of her child,-the love which had united them still warmed and cheered their lot, and they had hope now, that as all was lost in Italy, that they might find a home in Margaret's native land, where friends were still many and still true. There was yet in store for them one serene hour before the sun went down. They were with their babe again; the many pangs they had endured for him, were requited by his healthy, lively looks, and hope set in their sails again to waft them homewards.

It was spring, and the resurrection of the world was seen in the vineyards and olive groves of Tuscany. Spring touched with gently-awakening fingers the myrtle and orange gardens of Florence, and the Apennines put off their windingsheets and saluted the rosy gleams of the morning sky. It is spring amid the grass, and grain, and blossoms on the banks of Arno; and spring, too, in the hearts of the happy three now turning their faces with new hopes towards the West. Heart-weariness at the reaction in Europe; desire of publishing to the best advantage the book whereby she hoped to do justice to great principles and brave men; the ruined hopes of Ossoli, whose private fortunes fell with the defeat of liberty; and, above all, yearning to be again among her family and early associations; were motives which drew Margaret back to her native land. Considerations of economy determined them, spite of many mis givings, to take a passage in a merchantman from Leghorn. There were many omens of the ill fate to befall them. People suggested the insecurity of a voyage of two months in a sailing vessel. Contemplating the voyage by way of France in the packet ship Argo, she requested a friend to make arrangement for the despatch of some of her effects left in Paris, in charge of Miss F———, when, taking up Galignani, she read: "Died, 4th of April, Miss F- -;" and turning the page, "The Wreck of the Argo," a somewhat singular combination There were notices, too, of the loss of the English steamer Adelaide, and of the American packet John Skiddy. "I shall embark," she says, more composedly in our merchant ship, praying fervently indeed that it may not be my lot to lose my boy at sea, either by unsolaced illness or amid

the howling waves; or, if so, that Ossoli, Angelo, and I may go together, and that the anguish may be brief." Their state rooms were taken, their trunks packed, their preparations finished, they were just leaving Florence, when letters came which, had they reached her a week earlier, would probably have induced them to remain in Italy. But Margaret had already by letter appointed a rendezvous for the scattered members of her family in July, and she would not break her engagement with the commander of the barque. This home tragedy, so sanctified with holy hope, sweet love, and heroism, was drawing to its close. The last scene, so terrible in its climax, is described by Mr. Channing with a graphic force and tenderness of feeling which it were sacrilege to alter or condense.

"THE VOYAGE.

"The seventeenth of May, the day of sailing, came, and the Elizabeth lay waiting for her company. Yet, even then, dark presentiments so overshadowed Margaret, that she passed one hour more in hesitation, before she could resolve to go on board. But Captain Hasty was so fine a model of the New England seaman, strong-minded, prompt, calm, decided, and courteous; Mrs. Hasty was so refined, gentle, and hospitable; both had already formed so warm an attachment for the little family, in their few interviews at Florence and Leghorn; Celeste Paolini, a young Italian girl, who had engaged to render kindly services to Angelino, was so lady-like and pleasing; their only other fellow-passenger, Mr. Sumner, of Boston, was so obliging and agreeable a friend; and the good ship herself looked so trim, substantial, and cheery,-that it seemed weak and wrong to turn back. They embarked; and, for the first few days all went prosperously, till fear was forgotten. Soft breezes sweep them over the smooth bosom of the Mediterranean; Angelino sits among heaps of toys, or listens to the seraphine, or leans his head with fondling hands upon the white goat, who is now to be his foster-parent, or in the captain's arms moves to and fro, gazing curiously at the spars and rigging, or watches with delight the swelling canvas; while, under the constant stars, above the unresting sea, Margaret and Ossoli pace the deck of their small ocean home, and think of storms left behind, -perhaps of coming tempests.

"But now Captain Hasty fell ill with the fever, could hardly drag himself from his state-room to give necessary orders, and lay upon the bed or sofa in fast-increased distress, though glad to bid Nino good-day, to kiss his cheek and pat his hand. Still the strong man grew weaker, till he could no longer draw from beneath his pillow his daily friend, the Bible, though his mind was yet clear to follow his wife's voice, as she read aloud the morning and evening chapter. But

alas for the stout brave seaman! alas for the young wife on almost her first voyage! alas for crew! alas for company! alas for the friends of Margaret !-the fever proved to be the confluent small-pox, in the most malignant form. The good commander had received his release from earthly duty,-the Elizabeth must lose her guardian. With calm confidence he met his fate, and, at eight o'clock on Sunday morning, June 3d, he breathed his last. At midnight, the Elizabeth had anchored off Gibraltar; but the authorities refused permission for any one to land, and directed that the burial should be made at sea. As the news spread through the port, the ships dropped their flags half-mast, and at sunset, towed by the boat of a neighbouring frigate, the crew of the Elizabeth bore the body of their late chief, wrapped in the flag of his nation, to its rest in deep water. Golden twilight flooded the western sky, and shadows of high-piled clouds lay purple on the broad Atlantic. In that calm, summer sunset funeral, what eye foresaw the morning of horror of which it was the sad forerunner?

"At Gibraltar they were detained a week by adverse winds, but, on the 9th of June, set sail again. The second day after, Ange lino sickened with the dreadful malady, and soon became so ill that his life was despaired of. His eyes were closed; his head and face swollen out of shape; his body covered with eruption. Though inexperienced in the disease, the parents wisely treated their boy with cooling drinks, and wet applications to the skin. Under their incessant care the fever abated; and, to their unspeakable joy, he rapidly recovered. Sobered and saddened, they could again hope, and enjoy the beauty of the calm sky and sea. Once more Nino laughs as he splashes in his morning bath, and playfully prolongs the meal which the careful father has prepared with his own hand; or, if he has been angered, rests his head upon his mother's breast, while his palm is pressed against her cheek, as, bending down, she sings to him. Once more he sits among his toys, or fondles and plays with the white-haired goat, or walks up and down in the arms of the steward, who has a boy of just his age at home now waiting to embrace him; or, among the sailors, with whom he is a universal favourite, prattles in baby dialect as he tries to imitate their cry to work the pumps and pull the ropes. Ossoli and Sumner, meanwhile, exchange alternate lessons in Italian and English. And Margaret, among her papers, gives the last touches to her book on Italy; or, with words of hope and love, comforts, like a mother, the brokenhearted widow. Slowly, yet peacefully, pass the long summer days, the mellow moonlit nights slowly, and with even flight, the good Elizabeth bears them safely onward. Four thousand miles of ocean lie behind; they are nearly home.

There are blind ways provided, the foredone Heart-weary player in this pageant world Drops out by, letting the main masque defile By the conspicuous portal ;-I am through, Just through.' BROWNING.

"On Thursday, July 15th, at noon, the

Elizabeth was off the Jersey coast, somewhere between Cape May and Barnegat; and, as the weather was thick, with a fresh breeze blowing from the east of south, the officer in command, desirous to secure a good offing, stood east-north-east. His purpose was, when daylight showed the islands of Neversink, to take a pilot, and run before the wind past Sandy Hook. So confident, indeed, was he of safety, that he promised his passengers to land them early in the morning at New York. With this hope their trunks were packed, the preparations made to greet their friends, the last good night was spoken, and with grateful hearts Margaret and Ossoli put Nino to rest, for the last time, as they thought, on ship-board,for the last time, as it was to be, on earth!

"By nine o'clock the breeze rose to a gale, which every hour increased in violence, till at midnight it became a hurricane. Yet, as the Elizabeth was new and strong, and as the commander, trusting to an occasional cast of the lead, assured them that they were not nearing the Jersey coast, which alone he dreaded, the passengers remained in their state-rooms, and caught such uneasy sleep as the howling storm and tossing ship permitted, utterly unconscious they were, even then, amidst perils, whence only by prompt energy was it possible to escape. Though under close-reefed sails, their vessel was making way far more swiftly than any one on board had dreamed of; and, for hours, with the combined force of currents and the tempests, had been driving headlong towards the sand-bars of Long Island. About four o'clock on Friday morning, July 16th, she struck, first draggingly, then hard and harder, on Fire Island Beach.

"The main and mizen masts were at once cut away, but the heavy marble in her hold had broken through her bottom, and she bilged. Her bow held fast, her stern swung round, she careered inland, her broadside was bared to the shock of the billows, and the waves made a clear breach over her with every swell. The doom of the poor Elizabeth was sealed now, and no human power could save her. She lay at the mercy of the maddened ocean.

At the first jar, the passengers, knowing but too well its final import, sprang from their berths; then came the cry of "Cut away," followed by the crash of falling timbers, and the thunder of the seas as they broke across the deck. In a moment more the cabin sky-light was dashed in pieces by the breakers, and the spray, pouring down like a cataract, put out the lights, while the cabin-door was wrenched from its fastenings, and the waves swept in and out. One scream, one only, was heard from Margaret's stateroom; and Sumner and Mrs. Hasty meeting in the cabin, clasped hands, with these few, but touching words: "We must die; let us die calmly. "I hope so, Mrs. Hasty." It was in the grey dusk, and amid the awful tumult, that the companions in misfortune met; the side of the cabin to the leeward had already settled under water, and furniture, trunks, and fragments of the skylight were floating to and fro; while the inclined

position of the floor made it difficult to stand, and every sea, as it broke over the bulwarks, splashed in through the open roof. The windward cabin walls, however, still yielded partial shelter, and against it, seated side by side, half leaning backwards, with feet braced upon the long table, they awaited what next should come. At first, Nino, alarmed at the uproar, the darkness, and the rushing water, while shivering with the wet, cried passionately; but soon his mother, wrapping him in such garments as were at hand, and folding him to her bosom, sang him to sleep. Celeste, too, was in an agony of terror, till Össoli, with soothing words and a long and fervent prayer, restored her to self-control and trust. Then calmly they rested side by side, exchanging kindly partings, and sending messages to friends, if any should survive to be their bearer. Meanwhile, the boats having been swamped or carried away, and the carpenter's tools washed overboard, the crew had retreated to the top-gallant forecastle; but as the passengers saw and heard nothing of them, they supposed that officers and crew had deserted the ship, and that they were left alone. Thus passed three hours.

At first

"At length about seven, as there were signs that the cabin would soon break up, and any death seemed preferable to that of being crushed among the ruins, Mrs. Hasty made her way to the door, and, looking out at intervals between the seas as they swept across the vessel's midships, saw some one standing by the foremast. His face was toward the shore. She screamed and beckoned, but her voice was lost amid the roar of the wind and breakers, and her gestures were unnoticed. Soon, however, Davis, the mate, through the door of the forecastle, caught sight of her, and, at once comprehending the danger, summoned the men to go to the rescue. none dared to risk with him the perilous attempt; but, cool and resolute, he set forth by himself, and now holding to the bulwarks, now stooping as the waves combed over, he succeeded in gaining the cabin. Two sailors, emboldened by his example, followed. Preparations were instantly made to conduct them to the forecastle, which, as being more strongly built, and lying further up the sands, was the least exposed part of the ship. Mrs. Hasty volunteered to go the first. With one hand clasped by Davis, while with the other each grasped the rail, they started, a sailor moving close behind. But hardly had they taken three steps, when a sea broke loose her hold, and swept her into the hatchway. 'Let me go,' she cried; your life is important to all on board.' But cheerily, and with a smile,* he answered, 'Not quite yet;' and, seizing in his teeth her long hair as it floated past him, he caught with both hands at some near support, and, aided by the seamen, set her once again upon her feet. A few moments more of struggle brought them safely through. In turn each of the passengers was helped thus laboriously across the deck, though as the broken rail and cordage had at one place fallen in the way, the passage was dangerous and difficult

Mrs. Hasty's own words, while describing the incident.

in the extreme. Angelino was borne in a canvass bag, slung round the neck of a sailor. Within the forecastle, which was comparatively dry and sheltered, they now seated themselves, and, wrapped in the loose overcoats of the seamen, regained some warmth. Three times more, however, the mate made his way to the cabin; once to save her late husband's watch for Mrs. Hasty; again for some doubloons, money-drafts, and rings in Margaret's desk; and, finally, to procure a bottle of wine, and a drum of figs for their refreshment. It was after his last return, that Margaret said to Mrs. Hasty, 'There still remains what, if I live, will be of more value to me than anything,' referring probably to her manuscript on Italy; but it seemed too selfish to ask their brave preserver to run the risk again.

There was opportunity now to learn their situation, and to discuss the chances of escape. At the distance of only a few hundred yards appeared the shore, a lonely waste of sandhills, so far as could be seen through the spray and driving rain. But men had been early observed gazing at the wreck, and, later, a waggon had been drawn upon the beach. There was no sign of a life-boat, however, or of any attempt at rescue; and about nine o'clock it was determined that some one should try to land by swimming, and, if possible, get help. Though it seemed almost sure death to trust one's self to the surf, a sailor, with a life preserver, jumped overboard, and, notwitstanding a current drifting him to leeward, was seen to reach the shore. A second with the aid of a spar followed in safety; and Sumner, encouraged by their success, sprung over also; but, either struck by some piece of the wreck, or unable to combat with the waves, he sank. Another hour or more passed by; but though persons were busy gathering into carts whatever spoil was stranded, no life-boat yet appeared; and after much deliberation, the plan was proposed, and, as it was then understood, agreed to, that the passengers should attempt to land, each seated upon a plank, and grasping handles of rope, while a sailor swam behind. Here, too, Mrs. Hasty was first to venture, under the guard of Davis. Once and again during their passage the plank was rolled wholly over, and once again was righted, with its bearer by the dauntless steersman; and when at length tossed by the surf upon the sands, the half-drowned woman still holding, as in death-struggle, to the ropes, was about to be swept back by the under-tow, he caught her in his arms, and with the assistance of a bystander, placed her high upon the beach. Thus twice in one day had he perilled his own life to save that of the widow of his captain, and even over that dismal tragedy his devotedness casts one gleam of light.

"Now came Margaret's turn; but she steadily refused to be separated from Ossoli and Angelo. On a raft with them she would boldly have encountered the surf, but alone she would not go. Probably, she had appeared to assent to the plan for escaping upon planks with the view of inducing Mrs. Hasty to trust herself to the care of the best man on board;

had been unfortunately bereaved of the genius of Carrel-then, still more untowardly followed by Godfroy Cavaignac, whose demises left an immeasurable gap in the destinies of French Democracy. The National is the chief claim on which the worth and renown of Marrast rests, although there can be no doubt that he also energetically co-operated with the endeavours of the great Republican Propaganda. The character of that world-known journal and its editor is thus portrayed by Lamartine: "We all know what the National was-a daily masterpiece of jokes, sarcasms of Parliamentary tableaux, of political justice and injustice; oft of Atticism, sometimes of statesmanship." Still it was, perhaps, after all, such an organ which could but prompt the French people to throw off, once again, Royalty, which had shown itself distasteful to modern France in all and every form. The observation of Lamartine, that "the Revolution of 1848 had surprised Marrast, like everybody else," is surely at least naïve. "Let us state here a truth. This Revolution, with which he had so often played as long as it but remained a plaything of his mind and of his party, made him reflect and deliberate as soon as it appeared imminent, serious, face to face." But there was no more time. The 24th of February, 1848, destroyed the last dynasty of France; and amongst the members of the Provisional Government Armand Marrast was one of the most conspicuous. No fairer task had ever devolved on any set of public men, than that which fell to the lot of the Provisional Government of France in 1848. A fine and appropriate mixture of character and mind was here to be met with; and if there had been any predominance, it was that of hope and enthusiasm. Still it is moderation which M. Lamartine chiefly praises in his late colleague, Marrast. It is difficult to pronounce on such a body of men, and to characterise events at such proximity of time. It is, however, inactivity and indecision which are to be reproached to those men; and as M. Lamartine has, in his memoirs, adverted to the venality brought forth on one or more occasions against M. Marrast, we may as well say that this charge is one hinted at with respect to that whole body:

rumours, which may well be stated, as nothing but the revelations of many a subsequent year, will ever set this matter at rest, as has been now the case with Mirabeau.

When the various rôles of the members of the Provisional Government were distributed, Marrast was named National Keeper of the property of the late Civil List; and, as we now know, that the property of the Orleans family amounted to more than one hundred millions of francs, that situation might be called a delicate and tempting one. Thus it came that Marrast was soon stigmatised as the revolutionary Montalivet, and relinquished this place for that equally important one of the Maire de Paris. Here, also, the accounts of the Civic Budget, amounting to fortyseven million francs, were not made according to the wishes of straightforward people. It had been generally reproached to the men of the National, that they wanted to monopolise all public situations, after which, however, there is always a great scramble with our French neighbours. When the Paris Police was to be organised after a new plan (April, 1848), a contention arose between Marrast, as Maire of the city, and Caussidière, Prefect of Police, as it seems that both wanted to pack that body with men of their own pick and patronage. Although Lamartine, in the Panegyric of his late colleague, especially puts forth the moderation of Marrast, still, there is no doubt that he efficiently co-operated in the attempt at a revolutionary expedition against Belgium. He was also one of those members of the Provisional Government, who strongly assisted Louis Blanc in becoming President of the Government Commission of the Working Classes.

On the 16th of March, 1848, the two elements that divided Paris, were, for the first time, openly opposed to each other. The higher counter-revolutionary party was represented by the Bonnets à poil, the Grenadier and Voltigeur of the National Guard, about 6,000; which were then opposed by 200,000 of the Proletariat. They met on the above day, and proceeded to the Hôtel de Ville, to require the Provisional Government to withdraw the decree issued in favour of equality. They were received by Messrs. Marrast and Arago, when the former stated, in

The

reply to this remonstrance, that it was the object of Government to establish the principle of Republican equality, and to maintain unity and fraternity between all citizens. Another similar event took place on the 16th of April, when 20,000 Proletarians rose in opposition to the existing order of things, held, however, in check by 40,000 wellarmed National Guards. Lamartine and Marrast received the deputation of the latter, and brought things to a momentary equilibrium. A great, but according to some opinions, an anomalous day, was the 20th of April, the fête de fraternité, when the 200,000 armed men of Paris passed en revûe before the members of the Provisional Government, and received their colours at their hands. But everything became now absorbed by the ensuing election for the National Assembly, to be nominated by universal suffrage. elections took place on Easter Sunday, and the Assembly first met on the 4th of May. Six days later the Provisional Government divested itself of its functions; and, as Marrast had not been then named a member of the Assembly, he was reduced to the office of Maire of Paris. It was only on the 5th of June following that he was elected in the Assembly, filling a vacancy of a double election. He was made Rapparteur of the Constitution, and shortly after President of the National Assembly-thus attaining one of the highest places in the councils of the Republic. We cannot duly value the services and the general tact of Marrast in the fulfilment of his arduous task, but by alluding to the triste composition of this generalsuffrage body. If M. Lamartine places (albeit wrongly) the exertions of the tribune rather low, these men possessed mostly not even the faculty of verbiage and the common tact for the decorum of a National Assembly. They got a little better in succession; but their first ittings reminded one of the pejora tempora of Tacitus. M. Lamartine says, in his way, that "Marrast developed there a new gift of his intelligence,the gift of governing an assembly by its self-respect, and ruling it by respecting it in its turn." In the situation of a President of a National Assembly, M. Marrast displayed that love of show and representation he had ever manifested since his acquiring rank and power. His concerts, balls, and receptions were

splendid in the extreme. His guests danced on a soil, still steaming with the blood of thousands of their fellowcitizens. But everything requires nerves and genius,-even the possession of power. M. Marrast palpably sunk under the weight of that elevation he had once coveted. His heart even seemed not strong enough for the emotions concomitant on an elevated situation. He cringed and quailed under this anomalous gift of circumstances. A malady of the heart developed itself. None but could pity the dejected appearance of the now great man, compared with the exuberant animus of him, when appropriately located in the bureaux of the National. When the Constitution of 1849 had come to life, Marrast gradually faded from the memory of his countrymen and of that of Europe, until his death, 10th March, 1852. His funeral was attended by Cavaignac, Marie, and other friends; but no oration was pronounced, on account of the pressure of time. M. Marrast was of a short figure, and his features unhandsome at first sight. Only when he became animated or smiled, appeared that solar flash on his face which distinguishes all vigorous-minded men, good and bad. Repose to his ashes! Futurity will, we fear, handle him severer even than we may have done on this occasion. Nature and history are equally inexorable, and men ought to guard against neglecting their great rules and precepts.

J. L.

JOHN PYE SMITH, D.D., LL.D., F.R.S., F.G.S., &c., &c., &c. JOHN PYE SMITH was born in 1774, at Sheffield: his father, Mr. John Smith, was a bookseller in that town. The son received the name which distinguishes him from all other Smiths, from the Rev. Mr. Pye, a Dissenting minister in the town, at whose meeting-house the family worshipped. We can give but few indications of the manner in which young Pye Smith passed through his tender years and his succeeding youth up to the age of manhood; but this we can affirm, books were very early his tutors and his pleasures: he had an insatiable thirst for learning in all its branches, and was now laying the foundation of an extensive and accurate scholarship. He was early the subject of a piety which hallowed his long life, and threw