Newton Forster

ontinue to write, as Tony Lumpkin says, not to please my good-natured friends, "but because I can't bear to disappoint myself;" for that which I commenced as an amusement, and continued as a drudgery, has ended in becoming a confirmed habit.

So much for the overture. Now let us draw up the curtain, and our actors shall appear upon the stage.

Chapter II

"Boldly I venture on a naval scene, Nor fear the critics' frown, the pedants' spleen. Sons of the ocean, we their rules disdain. Hark!--a shock Tears her strong bottom on the marble rock. Down on the vale of death, with dismal cries, The fated victims, shuddering, roll their eyes In wild despair--while yet another stroke With deep convulsion rends the solid oak, Till like the mine in whose infernal cell The lurking demons of destruction dwell, At length, asunder torn, her frame divides, And crushing, spreads in ruin o'er the tides." FALCONER.

It was in the dreary m