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author of the "Vicar of Wakefield." It to render his country's laws, in reference to is certain that Washington Irving has culti- literature, more accordant with the spirit of vated style with as much care as did the the great republic of letters. There are essayists of the "Spectator" and "Tat-writers in America who aspirate for the ler; "but at the same time he has culti-nationality" of American literature, and vated those sentiments upon which style is seem as though they desired the invention essentially dependent. Style is abstractly of a new language, in order to destroy the the peculiar manner in which a writer de- popular vehicle by which their country's velopes his conception through the medium mind becomes conventionalized according to of language; but at the same time it pos- the model of British thought. Washington sesses attributes independent of words. Irving knows that so long as we speak the Words themselves are insufficient to cha- common language of Milton and Scott, and racterize the thoughts of a writer, and must so long as we can claim a common ancestry, possess some peculiarity of form and com- so long will there be community of literabination dictated by the writer's feelings, ture, which is the revelation of thought. and, when written, representative of those The primitive character of a great portion feelings, before they can be designated as a of the American continent will for a long peculiar style. Some styles are acquired, time preserve the primitive integrity of the others are spontaneous; the latter belongs red men, and support those peculiarities in to what is termed genius, and of that cha- the frontier whites which now distinguish racter is Washington Irving's. It was dic- them. These circumstances of themselves tated by his heart, modified by his taste, will sufficiently nationalize the literature and not only became the vehicle of his which seeks to illustrate frontier life, and conceptions, but of his sentiments also. the habits of the nation generally, in exWe know of no living author who resembles pression and thought, cannot fail to chaWashington Irving so much as Dickens in racterize the writers; but Washington sly humor and genial sympathies, and of no Irving knows, and many of the best writers dead one with whose modes of feeling, in America also know, that in political thought, and expression his so coincide as institutions, predilections, and speech, we with those of Sterne. No man in America are one-we do not differ in essence but in has sought so earnestly to create a friendly form-our authors do not write exclusively feeling with Great Britain as Washington for our own countrymen, although they Irving, and as an individual, perhaps no write against the spirit of literary piratage one has so eminently conduced to effect so in the United States-we are one people, patriotic and so noble a purpose. Although although two nations-and therefore the devotedly attached to his country, and noble author of " Bracebridge Hall "strives proud of his country's institutions, he was to perfect a union in thought by accelerating not wedded to the follies or crimes of his a just legislation in fact. We do not nation, nor had he any sympathy for the know whether most to admire the man, the demagogueism that was not only political but literary.

essayist, or the patriot; in all respects he stands out as a great moral, intellectual, The contents of his "Sketch-Book" had and political example, and yet he scarcely appeared in an American periodical, but it knows the sound of his own modest voice was left to the author to reap the advantage in literary coteries or in political clubs. arising from a re-publication of that popular work in this country, whose writers had VALUE OF MINERAL PROPERTY.-Mineral probeen less honorably and ceremoniously perty on the hills, which, when the Monmouthshire used by the "trade " of the United States. Canal and its tramroads were constructed, was only British booksellers were gentlemen as well worth 5s. an acre surface rent, soon increased in as British authors. They repudiated trans- The area of the Monmouthshire coalfield exceeds value to £1,500 an acre, or more, underground. atlantic piratage, they disclaimed all sym- 89,000 acres, and the various seams of coal that can pathy with it in their own land; and seeing be profitably worked are said to average fifty feet, and feeling this principle as an author, which produce a gross yield per acre of nearly Washington Irving sought to inoculate his 73,000 tons. The total quantity now worked annually is estimated at about 2,200,000 tons; at countrymen with it as a patriot. Superior which rate there is a sufficient supply left for the to the despicable subterfuge that would next 1,500 years. The net quantity available for sustain the rejection of an international export has been estimated at about 3,000,000,000 tons! Great Britain now annually consumes from copyright law upon the plea of British all her collieries about 21 million tons.-Cliffe's enmity to republican institutions, he sought Book of South Wales, second edition.

From Chambers Edinburgh Journal. THE DEATH OF MURAT.

THE SUN was gilding with its last rays the calm. surface of the Mediterranean on the evening of the 22d of August 1815, as two persons emerged from a rocky path which leads down to a small bay about five miles from Toulon. One was apparently a provincial lawyer of some substance; but the rank of his companion was less easy to discover. Though clothed in far more homely attire than the other, his commanding figure, his noble and military carriage, belied the poverty of his habiliments, while a brilliant smile playing around his lips seemed to mock the evident trepidation of his friend. Looking round to see that they were unobserved, the lawyer clambered up a slight eminence, and discharged a pistol. In a few moments more a boat, hitherto concealed by a jutting rock, suddenly swept round, and entered the bay, which was, however, so shallow, that she grounded some ten or twelve yards from the dry shingle. The instant she did so, three young men jumped out of her, and wading through the water, hastened towards the persons we have described. After brief salutations - supported by Donadieu, Langlade, and Blancard, three of the most promising young officers in the French navy, and followed by his late host the lawyer to the little bark that was to convey him away-Murat, for the noblelooking traveller was no less a personage, left the shores of his native kingdom never

to return.

Once on board, he gave a letter to the worthy lawyer to despatch to his wife, who had secured a retreat in Austria; then fixing his eyes on the receding land, he continued in a standing position to gaze on the loved shores of France till night shut out the view.

"Would to Heaven we had more wind!" grumbled Langlade; 66 we might then pass the line of cruisers before daylight." And he began in true sailor-like style to whistle for a breeze.

"We shall have enough of it, and more than enough, before midnight," replied Donadieu.

"You are right," said Blancard, a more experienced sailor than either of the other two. "And if my advice were taken, his majesty would allow us to put back, and remain in the bay till the tempest is over."

For a time, however, the wind began obviously to fall off, and the boat scarcely moved through the waters. Murat, who felt no dread at the idea of a tempest, had scarcely moral courage enough to bear up against the horrors of a calm, and to hide. his annoyance, affected to sleep. Believing his slumbers to be real, his companions entered into conversation on the impossibility of such a vessel outliving the storm which, to their experienced senses, was now obviously brewing.

"Haul down!" cried Donadieu suddenly; and in the next instant the sail was lowered, together with the yard to which it was attached.

"What are you doing?" exclaimed the deposed monarch, starting up, and speaking in the voice of one accustomed to implicit obedience. "Do you forget that I am a king, and that I command you to proceed ?"

"Sire," replied Donadieu in a firm, yet respectful manner, "there is a Sovereign more powerful than your majesty, whose voice will soon be heard in the coming blast. Permit us, then, if yet within our power, to save your life."

At this moment a flash of lightning suddenly illumined the heavens, and a loud clap of thunder seemed to shake the very firmament. A slight foam quickly appeared on the surface of the ocean, and the little bark trembled like a thing of life. Murat at once saw the coming danger. He was now in his glory. He threw off his hat, and shaking back his long black locks, smiled as he stood up, and seemed to court the approaching war of the elements.

The storm rapidly burst out in all its fury. The howling wind, the flashing lightning, the thunder that seemed to rend the clouds immediately above their heads, would have inspired terror in any breast less brave than that of the exiled king. Donadieu for an instant put the helm up, and the boat, freed from restraint, like a wild animal shaking off its trammels, flew madly before the blast. In less than five minutes, however, the squall had passed away, and a lull succeeded.

"Is it over "asked Murat, surprised at the short duration of the tempest.

"No, sire; this is but a skirmish with

the advanced guard; the main body will come up to us presently."

In the next instant the prediction of the well-practised sailor was fulfilled. Before her head could be put to wind, the boat shipped a sea which half filled her.


Bale away, bale away; now is the time when your majesty can assist us."

Blancard, Langlade, and Murat, instantly set about the task. A more miserable group than the four persons in the boat presented could not be imagined. During three hours, they continued with little advantage, their arduous labor; and though the wind rather died away at daybreak, the sea continued rough and boisterous. Hunger also began to add its horrors to the scene. The provisions were entirely spoilt by salt water; the wine alone remained intact. This they eagerly swallowed out of the bottle. after one another. Langlade had fortunately some chocolate cakes in his pocket; Murat divided these into equal shares, and insisted on his companions taking their portions. They now steered for Corsica, but with little hopes of being able to reach it.

Alarmed lest a sudden squall should dismast them, they only ventured to set the jib during the day; and as night again set in, accompanied by torrents of rain, they found they had only got over about thirty miles. Murat, now fairly knocked up, threw himself on one of the benches and fell fast asleep, while the three intrepid sailors kept alternate watch during his slumbers, unwilling to confess even to each other their conviction that the frail boat must founder if no assistance arrived within four-and-twenty hours.

sal; then turning to one of his officers, he gave an order, which Donadieu could not overhear; but probably guessing his intentions from his gestures, he desired Langlade and Blancard to keep the boat off. This they did; which, being perfectly incomprehensible to Murat, he petulantly exclaimed, What are you about? What are you doing? Don't you see they are coming up to us?"

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"Yes, I see it plainly enough," replied Donadieu. Quick, quick, Langlade, Blancard! Yes, she's coming with a vengeance! That's it; steady now ;" and he suddenly seized the tiller and put it down. The boat spun round in a new direction. A wave carried her off just as the brig, suddenly tacking, drove past her within a few yards of her stern.

"Traitor!" furiously called out the king, now perceiving the wicked intention of the captain; "receive your reward;" and would have fired at him, but the powder having become wet during the night, the pistol refused to go off.

"The rascal has taken us for pirates, and would have run us down," said Donadieu. "Alas! what is to be done?" The water now began to gain upon them very fast; the last exertion had still more opened the planks of the unfortunate bark; and during the next ten hours, the crew were forced to keep baling out with their hats.

Towards evening another sail was descried. Every stitch of canvas was set, and the little boat made for her. It now became a matter of time. The water was pouring in each moment with increased power. Whether they could reach the As day slowly broke, Donadieu perceived vessel before the frail bark foundered, bea vessel within a few miles, and in his de- came now an object of great doubt. Donlight cried out with such energy, that the adieu recognised in the felucca they were ex-king of Naples started up from his slum- approaching a post-office packet plying bebers. The helm was instantly put down; tween Toulon and Bastia. Langlade being every sail was set; and the boat quickly acquainted with the commander, instantly bore up for the stranger, who evidently was hailed him; and though the distance was a small merchant brig en route from Corsica far beyond the ordinary reach of the human to Toulon. Langlade, in the meantime, voice, yet impelled by fear of instant affixing the king's cloak to the end of a boat death, his hail was so shrill as to be clearly hook, kept waving it, in order to attract the heard on board the packet. The water was notice of the people on board the brig. In now rising fast; the king was already up to this he succeeded; and in less than half an his knees; the boat began to roll about unhour the two vessels lay within fifty yards of able to advance. She had become watereach other. The captain appeared on the logged, when two or three strong cords deck. Murat hailed him, and offered him were thrown from the vessel. One of these a considerable sum if he would receive him-fortunately fell in the little craft; the king self and his three companions on board, and caught hold of it, and was dragged into the convey them to Corsica. The commander packet; Blancard and Langlade followed seemed to listen attentively to the propo-his example: Donadieu remained the last;



as he snatched the rope thrown to him, and [ he feared to trust the native troops in an
rose up, the wretched boat gave one lurch, attack on a sovereign once so popular.
and disappeared for ever! Five minutes
later, and these four men must have foun-
dered with her.

Murat had scarcely reached the deck when a man, suddenly bursting from his companions, came and threw himself at his feet. It was a Mameluke that he had brought with him from Egypt. Presently the Senator Casabianca, Captain Oletta, a nephew of the Prince Baciocchi, Boerco, and others crowded round him, addressing him by the style of "your Majesty." Murat thus found himself suddenly surrounded by a little court. His sorrows, his exile, seemed to have been engulphed with the little boat, and he now began to believe himself again Joachim I., king of Naples.

Uncertain, however, of his reception in Corsica, Murat assumed the title of Count Campo Mello, and under this name landed at Bastia, on the 25th of August. The precaution, however, was useless. In less than three days every one was aware of his presence; and so great was the enthusiasm that the ex-king left the town, fearful his appearance amongst them might cause public commotion.

Having removed to Viscovato with his three friends and the Mameluke, he immediately sought out one of his old officers, General Franceschetti, whose house became his residence. As soon as the king's arrival was generally known, numbers both of of ficers and men, who had already served under him, flocked to his standard, and in a few days Murat found himself at the head of nine hundred men. The three sailors, Langlade, Blancard, and Donadieu, now took leave of him, and returned to France, in spite of his entreaties to the contrary. They had clung to the unhappy exile-they refused to follow the steps of the exulting king.

On the 28th, the expected answers to his despatches arrived. They were brought over by a Calabrese named Luigi, who stated himself to have been sent by the Arab Othello, who from illness was unable to return. These letters, sent by the minister of police in Naples, strongly advised him to make a descent on Salerno, and urged his instant adoption of this measure. Deceived by their apparent truth and candor, Murat set sail with three vessels for that port, where Ferdinand had already posted three thousand Austrian troops, as

Off the island of Capri a storm overtook them, which drove them as far as Paola, a little bay about thirty miles from Cosenza. Here they remained at anchor till the 6th of October, but on the 7th, Murat received clear intimation that no reliance was to be placed on his allies in the other vessels.

General Franceschetti took advantage of this momentary overshadowing of his bright visions to advise him to give up his perilous enterprise, and accept the asylum offered by the emperor of Austria, in whose dominions his wife had already found shelter. The ex-king listened with attention. At this moment the General perceived a sailor sleeping in a corner of the deck close to them; and fearful that they had been overheard, they went up to him: it was Luigi. Crouched on a coil of rope, he seemed to slumber soundly. The interrupted conversation went on, and ended by Murat consenting to the proposition of the general. It was agreed that they should pass through the Straits of Messina, double Cape Spartivento, and enter the Adriatic. This settled they separated for the night.

On the following morning (the 8th October) the king desired the commander, Barbara, to steer for Messina. Barbara replied that he was ready to obey his majesty, but that, being in want of provisions and water, it would be advisable to go and fetch them. The king acceded, but refused to give certain passports and safeguards which he had in his possession, and which Barbara demanded as an authority, and without which he positively refused to proceed. Murat commanded him. He continued obstinate; when the ex-king, impatient at his disobedience, and unaccustomed to be thwarted, threatened to strike him; but on a sudden altering his determination, he ordered his troops to get under arms, and desired the commander to lay to.

Murat jumped into the boat accompanied by twenty-eight individuals, amongst whom was Luigi, and rowed towards the shore Arrived there, General Franceschetti was about to spring out of the boat, when Murat stopped him, crying, "I'll be the first to tread the soil of my dominions ;" and passing the general, he leaped on shore.

He was dressed in the full uniform of a general officer. He wore white pantaloons and top-boots; a belt, in which he had placed a pair of magnificent pistols; and a

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cocked hat, richly embroidered, the cockade | where a bridge now exists bearing his name. being affixed to it by a knot of nine splen- Seeing Trenta Capelli advance towards him, did brilliants. In his right hand he bore he instantly cried, "Will you exchange his own ensign. The clock of Pizzo struck your captain's epaulettes for those of a genten as he disembarked. eral officer? If so, cry Long live Joachim! and follow me with your brave band to Monteleoni."

"Sire," quickly replied the other, "we are the faithful subjects of King Ferdinand. We come to seize, not to accompany you. Surrender yourself, therefore, and prevent an unnecessary effusion of blood."

Murat procceded straight to the town, which was only about a hundred yards off. Here he found, it being Sunday, the whole population assembled in the market-place. No one recognized him. They stood in mute astonishment, gazing at the brilliant uniforms that approached them. The exking, however espied an old sergeant whom At this moment a pistol was discharged he remembered as having served in his guard by the opposite party, and seeing no hope at Naples. He walked straight up to him, of conciliation, General Franceschetti orand placing his hand on his shoulder, de- dered his men to fire. In an instant the manded, "Travalla, do you know me?" discharge was returned, and the combat beReceiving no reply, he added, "I am Joa- gan, not, however, with the slightest chance chim Murat! I am your king! Be yours the of success on the side of the exiled king, honor of first shouting Long live Joachim!" who could only offer about twenty-five men The king's suite instantly took up the cry, to oppose five hundred. Presently several and shouted it loudly forth. But the Cala- fell on both sides, and the peasants, headed brese, amongst whom there seemed a grow-by Trenta Capelli, pressed on. To cut ing feeling of discontent, remained perfectly mute. The king seeing this foretold an approaching conflict, and turning again to Travalla, said, "Well, then, if you won't cry long life to me, at least find me a horse, and I will instantly make you a Captain." Travalla immediately turned away. He entered his cottage, and did not appear again that day.

Every moment fresh crowds of peasants poured in; but not a single demonstration of sympathy could Murat elicit from them. A bold push now could alone save him. "On, on to Monteleoni!" cried he; and placing himself at the head of his little band, he rushed towards the road which leads to that town. The people drew aside to allow him to pass.

through this mass was impossible, while in the rear of the little body retreat was rendered utterly impracticable by a precipice, of about thirty-five feet. Murat did not hesitate; he threw himself down this acclivity, and fortunately falling on the sand beneath, arose unhurt, and plunged into a little wood which skirted the shore. General Franceschetti, and his aid-de-camp. Campana were equally fortunate.

The instant the trio emerged from the cover of the trees, they were saluted by a volley from above, but happily without effect. On reaching the shore, they found that the boat which had brought them to land had again put to sea, and had rejoined the three vessels, which, far from coming to his aid, had set every sail, and were making Scarcely, however, had he left the market-off as rapidly as possible. The Maltese place, than the mob began to recover from Barbara had repaid the monarch's threat by their stupor; and a young man named now betraying him. He carried off with George Pellegrino suddenly appeared arm-him not only all the fortune of the exiled ed with a musket, and began shouting, king, but in thus abandoning him, crushed "To arms, to arms!" The crowd echoed his last hope. the cry; and in another moment every one A fisherman's bark was lying high and sought his dwelling, and armed himself as dry on the land: it became Murat's only best he could. On the arrival of Captain chance of escape. If they could only get it Trenta Capelli of the gendarmerie of Cos- afloat, they might yet be saved, for none enza, who happened to be in Pizzo, and dared to leap the precipice in pursuit, and whom Pellegrino had gone in search of, he the regular descent was some distance found two hundred persons in the market-round. The three fugitives used their square, bearing different weapons, who, on every exertion to push the boat into the his placing himself at their head, immedi- water. The agony of despair gave them ately gave chase to their ex-king. increased strength, and they had nearly Murat, seeing them coming, ordered a succeeded, when a sudden shout caused halt, and prepared to meet them at a spot them to look round. The populace headed

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