was a British flag in remote seas, gave to the merchant the earnest of security and protection for carrying on his traffic. To prevent any danger, the sure way was to give no opportunity for attack, by keeping up a strong force wherever it was most probable it could in any case be meditated. On the particular station alluded to by the baronet, it was necessary to have a strong force for securing the safe custody of the individual confined there.

As to the establishment at home, it had been found, with a view to economy, it was better, instead of completely reducing the fleet and retaining only guard ships, to keep the guard ships at a very low rate, and to have at the same time other ships fit for service. It was a great advantage in every respect to have ships ready to be sent on foreign services at the shortest warning. He could not sit down without adverting to what had fallen from some gentlemen in the course of the debate, as to the jealousy to be entertained towards foreign powers increasing their navy. He would be sorry if, in the house, or out of the house, any inference was to be drawn to inculcate a belief that government entertained any feeling of jealously on this subject towards any foreign state. As to America, it had been said that the people of that country were jealous of us, and to a certain extent perhaps this was truth -but at the same time it was to be recollected, that in this country there exist great prejudices against America. (Hear, hear.) It was his most earnest wish to discountenance this feeling on both sides, and to promote between the two nations feelings of reciprocal amity and regard.

Certainly there were no two countries' interests more naturally and closely connected; and he hoped that the course which the government of each country was pursuing was such as would consolidate the subsisting peace, promote harmony between the nations, so as to prevent on either side the recurrence of any imputations against foreign governments, which, with whatever intention they might be thrown, were always productive of the worst consequences. Conjectures, on counsels not understood, were ignorantly hazarded even on matters unconnected with the affairs of this country. (Hear, hear!) He was happy that on this subject he had met with an ally in the gentleman opposite (Mr. Ponsonby) and hoped they would cordially cooperate in the encouragement of feelings of friendship and good will between America and this country. (Hear, hear!)

NAVAL OCCURRENCES, &c.

Loss of the United States' schooner Roanoke, off Cape Hatteras. Extract of a letter from sailing master Page to the navy department, dated February 21st, 1816.

"AT ten P. M. made Cape Hatteras light-and blowing heavy from E. to E. S. E. I immediately tacked to the northward, but found that we drifted

towards the shore, and shoaled our water fast. I then thought it prudent to tack to the southward, but missing stays, wore her. Still continuing to shoal our water in steering south, at twelve P. M. I attempted to tack again, but without effect. The vessel having now sternway almost two knots an hour, soon after struck on one of the shoals, so frequent off this cape. We however beat over, as we all thought, without any material injury; but before we could get her trimmed, she again struck, and bilged. I immediately had the main mast cut away, and made all sail forward, in hopes to get as close in as possible, the sea making a complete breach over her. We had a wretched night of it; and if it had been cold, should all have frozen to death. But I thank the Almighty we all escaped, and are now tolerably well."

The United States's frigate Java, captain O. H. Perry, arrived at Gibraltar, in seventeen days from Newport, and proceeded up the Mediterranean, to join the American squadron under commodore Shaw, at Port Mahon.

The Washington, seventy-four, captain Chauncey, is now ready for sea. The Macedonian frigate, captain Warrington, is only waiting the completion of her crew to proceed with Mr. Hughes to Carthagena, to demand the release of the American prisoners detained in custody by the general of the forces of king Ferdinand.

The Algerine brig captured by commodore Decatur, and retained by the Spaniards, had not been given up by the latest advices; and it is said that the application of Mr. Morris, our resident at Madrid, had been treated by the government with arrogant indifference.

The whole of the Algerine fleet was preparing for sea, and it was supposed would be out early in the spring. The fleet carries three hundred and thirtyfive guns. The Dey dont like the peace, particularly since the government of Malta assured him of the friendly disposition of his Britannic majesty, that is to say, his protection; and it is the current opinion of all the best informed officers there, that the departure of our squadron will be the signal for hostilities against the United States.

THE TARS OF COLUMBIA.*
YE generous sons of Freedom's happy climes,
Think, while you safely till your fruitful fields,
Of him, th' avenger of Oppression's crimes,

Who ploughs a soil which blood and danger yields.
Remember still the gallant tar, who roams,

Through rocks and gulfs, the ocean's gloomy vast;
To quell your foes, and guard your peaceful homes,
Who bides the battle's shock and tempest's blast.
Think, while you loll upon your beds of down,
And mingle with Affection's cheering train,
How he's exposed to winter's chilling frown,
Without a kindred soul to soothe his pain.

When seated by your joy-diffusing fire,

Some dreary, dark, tempestuous, howling night,
Let Fancy's strong, adventurous wing aspire,
And poise o'er ocean on aerial height.—

*The author will, we hope, pardon us for a few trifling alterations we have made.

Thence view the rolling world of waves below-
Survey the barks that bear our daring tars,
As round them Neptune's howling whirlwinds blow,
And rend their sails, and crash their yielding spars;
Lo! where the lashing surges, foaming high,

Convulse the groaning vessel's sturdy frame;
With lightning torches snatch'd from the vex'd sky,
Destruction's angel whelms her all in flame.

Fierce thunders burst-the starless welkin glares-
No aid is near the lamp of hope expires-
Terrific Death his haggard visage bares,

And ocean monsters fly the raging fires.

Behold the gallant crew, Columbia's sons!

Who've boldly torn the British banner down,
And faced the mouths of her exploding guns;
E'en now they scorn to sully their renown!
Though nought but one dark waste of billows wide
Meet their unweeping eyes-and, ere an hour
Has flown one hundredth part away, the tide

Must quench their breath; their spirits do not cower!

They feel, with joy, they've serv'd their country well,
And lift an honest orison to heaven;

Their homes upon their dying accents dwell,

And as they sink, they hope their sins forgiven.

Behold that head with glory circled bright!

As it descends, the waves around it glow;
'Tis Blakeley's! he that halo gained in fight,
When Britain's standard fell beneath his blow.

Though watery mountains roll upon his breast,
And scaly millions gambol in his grave;
Yet shall his spirit shine among the blest,
And fame embalm his memory on the wave.
But see! where yonder floating fragments blaze,
A lonely, lingering sailor still survives!
From his frail plank he casts a hopeless gaze,

Yet still for life with the rough sea he strives.

Far on the tumbling deep the hero's tost

Ere long the tempest flags, and dawn appears; The sun rolls up the sky, "all, all, are lost!"

He cries," my comrades brave!"-thence gush his tears.

The wearied billows sink in slumbers mild,

And on their sparkling bosoms dolphins play; With lusty arms he stems the watery wild,

And thinks on friends and country far away.

A thousand tender feelings swell his heart

His wife's, and babe's, and kindred's dear embrace, Shoots through his bosom like a burning dart,

At thought, that they no more shall see his face.

His eye around the wide expanse he strains,
In hopes some passing vessel to descry;

Ploughing the waste of ever waving plains,
That at far distance meet the bending sky.

And not a whitening surge is seen to rise

In the waste distance, and towards him roll, But seems a friendly sail to his dim eyes, Bringing sweet hope to cheer his sinking soul. Alas, poor sailor!-'tis no help for thee!

It comes the foaming herald of the storm.-
"Tis not the whitening canvass that you see,
But the white winding-sheet to wrap thy form.

In pomp majestic, on his billowy throne,
Far in the west Day's radiant sov'reign glows;
His cheering sway the finny nations own,

As o'er the deep his golden splendour flows.

Their frolics wild the hapless sailor views,

As round him, through the brine, they flounce and frisk: Then, on the western glories seems to muse,

Until the sun withdraws his flaming disk.

Now, hear the plaint his heart in sadness pours

"While pleasure sparkles through the swarming main, Illumes yon heaven, and robes my native shores; I'm thrown adrift, the sport of direst pain!

O! that, when in the battle fray I stood,

And strained each sinew in the glorious cause;
Some cannon peal had drained my veins of blood,
And crowned my mortal exit with applause!

But, here I'm doomed to perish in the deep,
By ocean monster, hunger, storm, or cold;
Without one messmate o'er my corse to weep,
And pay the honors due a sailor bold."

The pall of Night the liquid world enshrouds,

And silence mingles with the gathering gloom; Again the heavens are wrapp'd in rolling clouds, And sea-mews shriek o'er many a watery tomb.

Ah! think what now the lonely sailor feels!

Chill are his brine-steep'd limbs, and numb'd, and tiredThe swelling mass of waves already reels—

The sky with flash, succeeding flash, is fired.

The winds are raging fierce-the surges roll-
The shark and huge leviathan now roam-
Tremendous thunders shake the distant pole,
And ocean's heaving breast is whelm'd in foam.

A flickering light gleams o'er the tumbling flood-
Perhaps a meteor's.-Lives our seaman still?
Or drinks the insatiate shark his valiant blood?
This know, whate'er his fate, 'tis God's just will.

Ere long, if not deter'd by critic's ire,
Wild Fancy may his destiny disclose;
And call upon his country to admire,
A sailor's gallantry, and feel his woes.

L.

ORIGINAL.

Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind. By Dugald Stewart, F. R. S. Edin. &c. &c. Boston, 1814.

The Quarterly Review, No. xxiv. January, 1815.

It may be supposed that subjects requiring so much metaphysical study, and so long a course of philosophical investigation as that on which we are now engaged, do not come within the legitimate province of a periodical publication. Even the Edinburgh reviewers thought fit to apologise for the hasty speculations they hazarded on such topics. As an excuse however for these remarks of ours on the philosophy of the human mind, we would beg leave to observe that our examination of the strictures of Mr. Stewart's critic is only a review against a review; and that we may be capable of defending a fortress, though we could not undertake to rear its walls.

Every reader of Mr. Stewart's masterly production must, we think, have noticed the transition of his style in the third chapter of the second volume. In his preceding speculations, the course of his argument,—

'Though deep, was clear; though gentle, was not dull:' But in his strictures on the Aristotelian logic, it proceeds with a force and fluency which the system it opposes,-fortified as it is by its high antiquity, and by the authority of great names, -is little calculated to withstand. So thoroughly persuaded is he of the justness of his principles, and so anxious is he to spread them at once before his readers, that he appears almost regardless of the language in which they are to be delivered; his style losing its former characteristics of studious accuracy and elaboration.-The free, and sometimes contemptuous manner in which he treats the art of syllogizing,' is poorly fitted to please the disciples of the Stagirite; and we are there.