the boat reached the Bellerophon, the crew manned the yards, and the marines were drawn up on the deck, but the Emperor was not received by a salvo of guns. The captain, attended by his officers, awaited the Emperor at the gangway, and immediately offered to conduct him to the cabin, which had been prepared for his reception with as much luxury and comfort as was possible at sea, in so short a time, and on board ship. The Emperor, who during the whole time of his sojourn at Rochefort and the Isle of Aix, had worn an ordinary coat, resumed, as we have said, the uniform of the chasseurs of the guard on the morning of the 15th, and we also put on our uniforms. Las Cases preferred a military costume to that of a civilian, a councillor of state, or chamberlain, and assumed the dress of a captain in the navy. He had served in the navy before the revolution, and the restoration having reckoned every four years to the emigrants as a step in promotion, he became a captain in 1815, and received his brevet, as well as the cross of St Louis, which belongs of right to all who have passed twenty-five years in the service. The Emperor had no sooner set foot on board the Bellerophon than he said-Captain Maitland, I come on board your ship to place myself under the protection of the laws of England. The captain only answered by a low bow, and a few moments afterwards presented his officers to the Emperor.'

The following paper, dictated by Napoleon, is interesting as a record of his own views of his position at the Isle of Aix, and his plans, prospects, and wishes for the

future:

'The English squadron was not strong; two corvettes were stationed off the mouth of the Gironde; they blockaded the French corvette Bayadère, and gave chase to the Americans which daily sailed from the river in great numbers. At the Isle of Aix we had two frigates of the first class, the Saale and the Medusa, the corvette Vulcan, and the brig Epervier. The whole of these were blockaded only by one seventy-four of small size and two smaller vessels. Captain Ponét of the Medusa offered to force a passage, by engaging single-handed, and at close quarters, with the English ships. There can be no doubt, that by running the risk of sacrificing one or two ships, we might have effected a passage, but Captain Philibert of the Saale, who commanded in the roads, refused to concur, and even threatened to use force if any vessel under his orders should attempt to force a passage. It is probable that this officer had received direct instructions from Fouché, who was already openly acting as a traitor, and wished to use all theans to deliver me up to the Bourbons. There was no longer any hope of being able to reach the sea by means of the frigates, said to have been put at my disposal by the provisional government, and I landed on the Isle of Aix. The garrison of the Isle of Aix was composed of an admirable regiment of marines, on which I could reckon; the officers had given me assurance of their devotion to my cause. The commandant of the island had been one of my former soldiers in Egypt, and the young officers of the navy promised to man the Danish brig, which belonged to the father-in-law of one of them-or two chasse-marées-in which they declared themselves ready to make their way through the English blockading ships during the night, and thus to gain the coast of America. It would have been necessary, however, to have touched at some part of the coast of Portugal for supplies, either with the brig or the chasse-marées. Under these circumstances I called a privy council, composed of the officers of my suite-informed them of the impossibility of any longer calculating on reaching America by means of the frigates; and after having unreservedly explained to them my position, I requested them to give their opinions on the course which it seemed best to adopt. Two courses of action presented favourable chances, to try the fate of arms in France, or to appeal to the hospitality of England. In order to commence the former, I could have placed myself at the head of 1500 marines, full of zeal, and completely devoted to the cause of their leader. They would have conducted me to Rochefort, where

I should have been reinforced by the garrison of that city, whose spirit was excellent. The garrison of La Rochelle was also confidently to be reckoned on; it was composed of four battalions of confederates, who had offered their services, and were in a condition to form a junction with General Clausel, who commanded at Bourdeaux, and had protested his inviolable attachment to the cause of the empire; and further, this would have made it easy to unite the armies of La Vendée and the Loire, and to maintain a civil war, if we could not have succeeded in re-entering Paris. But the chambers were dissolved, from 50,000 to 60,000 foreign bayonets were in France, and were arriving from all sides. Civil war could have had no other result than that of placing me as Emperor in a better position to obtain arrangements more favourable to my personal interests; but I had renounced sovereignty, and only wished for a peaceful asylum; I could not, therefore, consent to expose all my friends to destruction for such a result-to be the cause of the desolation of the provinces; and finally, in a word, to deprive the national party of its true supports, by which, sooner or later, the honour and independence of France would be established. I only wished to live as a private individual. America was the most suitable place-the country of my choice; but, finally, England itself, with her positive laws, might be also a proper asylum. It appeared from the language of Captain Maitland, that the Bellerophon would convey me to England, where I should be under the protection of the English laws; and it was reasonable to believe that the English people were too fond of glory to fail in taking advantage of a circumstance which would form one of the brightest pages in the history of their country. I determined to go on board an English ship; but assuredly I would not have taken this course had I entertained any suspicion of the unworthy treatment which was reserved for me. My letter to the Prince Regent was a public declaration of my confidence in the generosity of my enemies, and Captain Maitland, to whom it was communicated before my going on board the Bellerophon, having made no observation on its contents, by this fact alone recognised and consecrated the sentiments which it contained.'

Opposing winds made the passage of the Bellerophon to England both tedious and disagreeable. When she approached the English shore the manifestation of popular sympathy in favour of the Emperor was so strong as to inspire in his own mind and those of his adherents the hope that the national feeling would open the gates of England for their reception, or at least compel the government to allow them to proceed to America.

At Plymouth, still more than at Torbay, the harbour from ten leagues round came in crowds to hail the illustrious was covered by boats of all descriptions. The population prisoner; and there was nothing but one continual hurrah of acclamation and indications of enthusiasm. Amongst the rest there was a light yawl, decorated with flowers, which contained a young woman of exquisite beauty and her child in her arms, and presenting to his view her most grace, who paid her respects to the Emperor by lifting up precious possession. The brutality of one of the guardboats capsized the yawl, and a general shout of indignation and several sailors plunged into the sca-the mother was was raised. One of the midshipmen of the Bellerophon almost immediately rescued from danger-her first cry was for her child; I was attracted by the sound, and well remember the pleasure which I felt on hearing, 'The child is saved.' In fact, a midshipman dived into the sea, whilst assistance was directed towards him from all sides. After the lapse of a few moments, the brave youth was taken up by a boat and brought on board the Bellerophon, with the child, which he had saved. This dramatic scene produced such an effect upon our minds that it served to withdraw us from the contemplation of our own melancholy position.'

The determination of our government was communicated to Napoleon by Admiral Keith and Sir Henry Bunbury,

It was General Bonaparte, chief of the French government, and not the Emperor Napoleon, whom Admiral Sir George Cockburn was charged to conduct to, and retain as a prisoner in St Helena, paying him the greatest military honours after those due to sovereigns. With regard to us, orders were given to accord the honours due to our various ranks in the army. Everything was in confusion on board the Northumberland, which was quite dismasted when the minister resolved on sending the Emperor to St Helena, and when it was found to be impracticable to send the Bellerophon on so long a voyage, as she was a very old ship. The Northumberland had, consequently, just been repaired; ten days had served to rig, arm, and equip her, and to hring her from the docks at Portsmouth into the roads at Start Bay; but the painting, the interior arrangements, and all the luxuries in the victualling department, yet remained to be attended to. The evening call showed that there were 1080 persons on board, including two companies of picked men, and the staff officers of the 53d foot. Captain Ross was the commander of this splendid vessel (of 80 guns); he was an officer of merit, and an amiable and obliging man; he paid all of us those little attentions which are so gratifying, and, to do him justice, never reminded us, by any of his actions, that we were prisoners on board his ship. The space between decks had been divided into several chambers, for the accommodation of the Emperor and the admiral; in the centre were the saloon and diningroom; on the right and on the left a bed-room, communicating both with the saloon and dining-room. A mechanical bed, made in order to avoid feeling the rolling motion of the vessel, had been erected in the chamber destined for the Emperor, but he did not use it, preferring his ordinary camp-bed. This camp-bed was made of iron, and could be folded, after the manner of an umbrella, with two mattresses, a pillow, the coverlets, sheets, and curtains, in a leathern case, one metre high, and 0.45 centimetres in diametre, which could be instantly attached to a carriage, like a portmanteau; during a campaign, a sumpter-mule carried it, along with his tent and its furniture. The curtains were of green taffeta, the mattresses and the coverlet made of wadded silk; nothing could be lighter or more convenient, During the whole time of his sojourn in St Пlelena, the Emperor never slept on any other bed. His chamber on board the Northumberland was furnished in the same manner as his tent on the banks of the Moscowa had been. Since his departure from Aix he had re-assumed the green uniform of the chasseurs of his guard; he continued to wear it during the whole voyage. Two frigates and seven brigs, or sloops-of-war, successively joined the Northumberland, most of them having troops on board. On the 9th of August, the admiral gave orders for getting under sail, and a few moments afterwards the whole squadron was under weigh, tacking in order to get out of the British Channel. Several times did the shores of France appear before our eyes, as a vague and formless shadow | appears in a dream, when the mind and thoughts are touched by a feverish impression; but, just as our hope of recognising or of seeing distinctly some points of the coast was about to be realised, the cursed signal to tack was to us as the awaking which destroys the illusion of a pleasant dream. Once, however, while the Emperor was taking his accustomed walk on the deck, the coast of Brittany threw off the clouds which concealed it, and presented itself to our eyes, as if to receive our last adieux. France! France! was the spontaneous cry which resounded from one end of the deck to the other. The Emperor stood still, looked at the Coast, and, taking off his hat, said, with emotion- Farewell! Land of the brave, I salute thee! Farewell! France -farewell! The emotion was electric; even the English involuntarily uncovered themselves with religious respect.'

LOVER'S LEAP, MIDDLETON DALE,

DERBYSHIRE.

Ir may be remarked that, in almost every country where mountains and rocks abound, some legend exists of a lover's leap-some sad tale to perpetuate the deplorable

catastrophe of some victim to blighted affections or unrequited love. These, however, generally rest on traditions, and are so far thrown Lackward into the depth of ages as scarcely to bear on the face of them any resemblance to truth or probability. The following incident occurred upwards of eighty years ago, and the facts were related by an old man who saw the young woman the morning of the occurrence, and who knew her the greater part of her after-life:

Stoney Middleton is a Peak Town on the road to Manchester from Chesterfield and Sheffield, and at about a distance of twelve miles from each of the latter places. It was originally inhabited by miners and persons dependent on the manufacture of lead, but at present that class of inhabitants forms but a very inconsiderable portion of its population. From the advantage of a good road, it has become a town of carriers and quarrymen, and the limestone rocks are in a daily state of transportation to the foundries at Chesterfield as a flux for ironstone; the carriers bringing back from the Chesterfield Canal, or from other carriers that meet them from Mansfield, loads of malt to be forwarded to Manchester. Such is the extent of this branch of industry that there may be seen on this line of road daily perhaps a score or two of single-horse carts, all engaged in the same employment.

Few towns, even in Derbyshire, present more rusticity in their appearance than Stoney Middleton; no one can be more irregularly or inconveniently built. Its natural site is a collection of abrupt prominences, rising from a very circumscribed point, scarcely admitting the denomination of a plain or a vale. On these prominences, ranged one above another, in a succession of natural terraces, are built the houses-rude, mean erections of unshaped limestone blocks, with walls of enormous thickness, and apartments consequently small and low and gloomy in the extreme-which just serve the purposes of dwellings, but which are devoid of even the most common of accommodations.

At the northern end of the town, the Manchester road runs up the bottom of a narrow dale, originally nothing more than a long frightful chasm betwixt the rifted rocks, forming merely a channel for one of those mountain streams with which the Peak landscape is so commonly diversified ; its bottom has been widened, and a beautiful road completed, and an impetus given to the industry of the neighbourhood. The little stream skirts the road on one side, putting in motion the machinery of a colour-mill and other works built at the foot of the sloping mountain; while the other side is almost overhung by a long irregular ridge of perpendicular limestone rocks of uncommon altitude, and of various beautiful but fantastic forms. Sometimes the rock assumes the appearance of a castle, and in the grey twilight or when the morning mist softens the hard outline, turrets and ruined battlements, with mouldering parapets and embrasures, are presented to the eye. Spires and minarets distinguish another portion of the rocks, and the whole length, nearly two miles, displays such a succession of singular and interesting scenery as perhaps no other country can produce. To describe the various beauties of this dale, and of those branching from it, would require a volume of no ordinary dimensions.

At the lower end of the dale, just after leaving the town, the traveller sees on his left hand, built under and perhaps partly within the rock, a public-house bearing the name upon its sign of The Lover's Leap Inn.' Close beyond it, projecting towards the road, is the bold profile of a rock of tremendous height, apparently divided into stages and fringed by stunted trees springing from the clefts, where no one could imagine he could find support, breaking its outline and softening the harshness of its aspect. This rock is the Lover's Leap; a name which it has acquired from the following singular occurrence:

About the time, I think, of making the road up the dale, when labourers came from a distance to seek employment, a young man of the name of Johnson, a stranger in those parts, took lodgings at the house of a farmer in Middleton. A Don Juan in humble life, he courted all the ruddy-faced

girls in the neighbourhood, but paid particular attention to Hannah Baddeley, a comely, handsome maiden, who lived as servant in his lodgings. To her, as to others, he promised marriage; and she, more confiding than her companions, believed that he meant not to deceive. The wedding-day was appointed, and every preparation made for the nuptials, when Johnson slipped away and was never heard of more. The girl, dispirited and heart-broken at his perfidy, could not endure to live, and leaving her bed early in the morning, she wandered to the pastures which are on a level with the summit of the rocks, and, making her way to the precipice, cast herself headlong down in the hope of terminating her sorrows and her life together. But such was not her fate; her garments caught on some of the projecting bushes, and bounding from stage to stage, her fall still broken by the obstacles she encountered, she at length reached the bottom and was received in a saw-pit among the soft saw-dust, which lay at a great thickness on the floor. Stunned with the fall, but otherwise unhurt, she lay some time unable to move; she had, however, the power of thinking, and she felt convinced she had done wrong; she was sorry she had attempted suicide, but she found herself cured of her passion for her lover, and she resolved, if she could get out of the pit, to go home and let no one know of her adventure. While she was thus ruminating, the sawers came to work, and were much surprised to find a woman in the pit. She said she was following her cow, and had fallen in, but could not get out again; and this would have been believed had they not looked up and seen several parts of a woman's dress torn and dangling from the bushes, which, coupled with the scratches on her arms, face, and neck, gave them an idea of what had been done. In the course of the day this idea was confirmed by her bonnet and handkerchief being found on the point of the rock directly over the saw-pit. The men lifted her out, and so little was she hurt that she walked to her master's house without assistance. She had learned wisdom by her fall; she no longer thought of her lover, but lived for many years in the neighourhood, and died un

married.

HORRORS OF WAR.

When a statesman declares war in consequence of any of the ordinary motives thereto-for the Sake of a rich colony which he is desirous to obtain; to prevent an ambitious neighbour from acquiring what might render him a formidable rival; to restore a monarch dethroned by a people wearied of his manifold oppressions; to resent a private wrong, or avenge a diplomatic insult-his thoughts on the matter seldom travel beyond the issuing of a manifesto, the appointment of a general, the levying of troops, and the imposition of taxes for the maintenance of the contest. He is therefore wholly unconscious what in reality he is doing;-and if a sage were to go to him, as Nathan went to David, and say— Sir, you have given orders for the commission of murder on a monstrous scale; you have directed that 50,000 of your subjects shall send as many of their fellow-men, wholly unprepared for so awful a change, into a presence where they must answer for their manifold misdeeds; you have commanded that 30,000 more shall pass the best years of their life in hopeless imprisonment shall in fact be punished as the worst of criminals, when they have committed no crime but by your orders;-you have arranged so that 20,000 more shall lie for days on the bare ground, horribly mutilated, and slowly bleeding to death, and at length only be succoured in order to undergo the most painful operations, and then perish miserably in an hospital; you have given orders that numbers of innocent and lovely women-as beautiful and delicate as your own daughters-shall undergo the last indignities from the license of a brutal soldiery; you have issued a fiat which, if not recalled, will carry mourning into many families, will cut off at a stroke the delight of many eyes, will inflict upon thousands, now virtuous and contented, misery which can know no cure, and desolation which in this world can find no alleviation;' -if such a message as this were conveyed to him-every

word of which would be strictly true-would he not disown the ghastly image thus held up to him, and exclaim, Is thy servant a dog, that he should do this thing?' And if statesmen could realise all this before they put their hand to the declaration of hostilities, would they not rather thrust it into the flames?-Westminster Review.

DREAMS OF THE DEPARTED.

Sweet thoughts oft come unto the lonely hearted,
Like the soft cadence of an angel's strain-
Thoughts of the lovely and the dear departed,
Whose smile will ne'er be seen on earth again.
As the last light of summer evening, beaming
O'er the calm bosom of the silent sea,

So seem those loved ones, in these hours of dreaming,
From their high homes to cast their looks on me.

The deep sweet pleasure of that strange communion,
Gives to the soul a season of delight,
Displaying brightly that eternal union
With those whose forms have faded from our sight.
I would not give those whispers of deep feeling,
Which tell the spirit it is not alone—
That calmness o'er the heart so gently stealing-
For all the pleasures on life's pathway strewn.
For I have felt, that to my soul was given,
In those still hours of dreamy reverie,
A foretaste of the hallow'd joys of heaven-
Love and re-union through eternity.

THE LEARNED CHILD OF LUBECK.

Christian Henry Heinsken was born at Lubeck, February 6, 1721. He had completed his first year when he already knew and recited the principal facts contained in the five books of Moses, with a number of verses on the creation. In his fourteenth month he knew all the history of the Bible; in his thirtieth month, the history of the nations of antiquity, geography, anatomy, the use of maps, and nearly eight thousand Latin words. Before the end of his third year, the history of Denmark, and the genealogy of the crowned heads of Europe. In his fourth year he acquired the doctrines of divinity, with the proofs from the Bible; ecclesiastical history; the institutions; two hundred hymns, with their tunes; eighty psalms; entire chapters of the Old and New Testaments; fifteen hundred verses and sentences from the ancient Latin classics; almost the whole Orbis Pictus of Comenius, from which he had derived all his knowledge of the Latin tongue; arithmetic; and history of the European empires and kingdoms. He could point out in the maps whatever place he was asked for, or had passed through in his journeys, and relate all the ancient and modern historical anecdotes relating to it. His stupendous memory caught and retained every word he was told; his ever active imagination used, at whatever he saw or heard, instantly to apply, according to the laws of association of ideas, some examples or sentences from the Bible, geography, profane or ecclesiastical history, the Orbis Pictus, or from the ancient classics. At the court of Denmark he delivered twelve speeches, and underwent public examinations on a variety of subjects, especially the history of Denmark. He spoke German, Latin, French, and Low Dutch, and he was exceedingly good-natured and well-behaved, but of a most tender and delicate constitution; never ate any solid food, but chiefly subsisted on nurses' milk. He was celebrated all over Europe, under the name of the learned child of Lubeck, and died June 27, 1725, aged four years, four months, twenty days, and twenty-one

hours.

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* The 'INSTRUCTOR' being printed from Stereotype Plates, the Numbers may always be had from the commencement.

No. 57.

CHAPTERS ON THE VIRTUES.

ECONOMY.

THE title of our paper suggests the idea of either a sermon or a satire, perhaps a compound of both, at once prosy and splenetic-a string of commonplaces on the homeliest of themes. That economy is one of the homeliest of virtues, we do not deny; it is indeed one for every-day use, and one that ought to be found in every home. So far, therefore, it is of infinitely greater importance than those splendid qualities and heroic actions, fitted only for grand occasions,' and which not one individual in a million has an opportunity of practising or imitating. Of economy it may truly be averred that it is, although no science, fairly worth the seven;' and, although it does not enter into the list of fashionable accomplishments, of more value than the whole of them put together.

Nevertheless it is one of those things which every one is left to instruct himself in as well as he can. No wonder therefore that so many never learn it at all, nor understand its value until it is too late for them to profit by it. How many shipwrecks of station, comfort, respectability, have been occasioned solely through disregard or ignorance of this poor, homespun qualification, among those which go to make up the many-compound art of life, which art, be it remarked, is a very different matter from the savoir tiere of the fashionable world, since it applies equally to the rugged and the hearth-rugged paths of life. Such being the case, it might be imagined that in every system of education, great pains would be taken to enforce the value of, and the necessity for economy. Yet though we have heard that young ladies have sometimes been actually instructed by masters in the art of getting into or out of a carriage gracefully, we never yet heard of a teacher of economy. Perhaps it will be said that there is no need for such an instructor; indeed, most parents seem to think that economy comes by instinct, and that there is no more occasion for teaching it to their children, than there is for teaching young ducks how to swim.

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PRICE 14d.

so as in some measure to supply the place of experience. While so much stress is laid upon acquiring what is called a knowledge of the world, and which generally means nothing more than an acquaintance with the follies, the extravagances, and the vices of the worst part of it-of either the most trifling or the most unprincipled classes of society-than familiarity with the composite order' of knavery and dupery-of that class of persons who are just clever enough to deceive every one, and in the end, find they have duped themselves most of all; while such knowledge, we say, is regarded by many as almost the sole aim of existence, that is totally overlooked which applies to the regulation of conduct and circumstances in the usual course of human affairs. It is true, people do not exactly avow such views of a knowledge of the world, even to their most intimate friends. From that they are restrained by the secret consciousness of the glaring absurdity attending them, and of the awkwardness which would result from calling things by their true names. No one says that discussing port and Greek longs and shorts at college, is indispensable to a liberal education for his son; or that a proficiency in the newest quadrille steps, or in painting work-boxes and fire-screens, will qualify his daughter to become an exemplary wife and mother, and the prudent mistress of a well-regulated household: that would be too severely ironical. Nevertheless, people, ay, and very clever people too, both in their own conceit and in that of their friends or their immediate set, do act pretty much both upon and up to such views; nor is society backward in countenancing them.

Our sermon is getting satirical already, but we cannot help it; and, in fact, plain common sense is often the keenest kind of satire. But certain it is, that in education, as hitherto generally managed, we, for the most part, proceed after the Frenchman's fashion, notwithstanding that it is ridiculed-and not undeservedly so-by ourselves; namely, the first care is to provide the 'ruffles,' as for the shirt,' that must be got afterwards if it can, or if not, the wearer of the 'ruffles' must make shift without it. Far more attention is bestowed, not only on the ornamental, but on the useless and even lumbering parts of education, than on acquiring the knowledge likely to be profitable in after-life,

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Provided a man do but possess the showy parts of education or character, it is sufficient: so long as he can but display the ruffles,' society is good-natured enough to give him credit for possessing the shirt' also; or should it be suspected that he is deficient in the latter article, why then, only so much the worse for him, nor is it any business of his neighbours to reproach him for his not having what they do not miss. When we say 'a man,' we also mean a woman, for we apprehend it will be found that our observation applies to the one sex just as much as the other; of the two, perhaps rather more strongly to the female. In truth, rather more importance is attached to the externals of education in the latter than the contrary, and that, too, even in those ranks of society where the ornamental is dearly purchased by the neglect of the useful. Ornament supposes something else-something more valuable and indispensable to be set off by it, or else it is no more than frippery, and chiefly serves to call attention to the worthlessness, or worse than worthlessness, of the thing itself. Accomplishments without more solid qualities or acquirements are no better than a splendid picture frame filled up