newly created influence of the public in the House of Commons will be too powerful for them. If they act wisely they will acknowledge the necessity of arranging their financial plans for 1833 with reference to this latter influence, and thus secure for themselves the only support which can keep them in their places.

Lord Althorp, in his speech, when preparing the budget on the 27th of July, said nothing that could lead us to form a rational expectation that the deficiency of the revenue on the 5th of January, 1833, would be less than the deficiency on the 5th of last July. He even admitted that the Customs revenue would necessarily continue to fall off. The diminution he estimated as follows. On corn imported,

£500,000 Reduction of duties by the new customs act,

100,000 Loss of revenue by allowing for drainage on sugar,

80,000 Loss by allowing for duty paid on Wine in 1831,

120,000

£800,000 With respect to the excise revenue, Lord Althorp stated he expected there would be an increase in 1832 of about £250,000 ; but little dependence can be placed on such a loose conjecture. He seemed to rely chiefly, for an improvement in the relative state of the income and expenditure, on the reduction which he estimated would take place in the public expenditure in 1832; the parliamentary grants for 1832 being less than those for 1831 by two millions. But it is to be observed, that the grants for 1831 were of greater amount than the grants for 1830 by one million; and, in addition to this, it must be further observed, that whatever diminution has been shown on the estimates for 1832, no reduction whatever has been made in the great establishments of the country. The diminished grants for 1831 have been produced by not purchasing the usual quantities of naval stores, and by the expenses incured on the militia and yeomanry in 1831 not being continued in 1832. No reduction has been made in the army, or in the number of seamen and ships in commission. We have had a fleet cruising in the channel the whole summer, as if we were actually at war. No reduction has been made in the regiment of artillery, in the sappers and miners, or in expenses on military buildings at home and abroad. In point of fact, no real and honest reduction whatever has been made in the expenditure so as to secure permanently for the future a surplus of income over expenditure.

In a future article we shall show in what way such a reduction may, and ought to be accomplished.

NIGHT-BURIAL AT SEA.

FYTTE I.

It was a mariner bent and grey,

An English mariner old,
Came wandering by the church-yard way

While the slow death-bell tolled ;-
He sate him down, and saw us lay

Our brother in the mould.

He saw us mourn, but not like those

Whose sorrow waits on Fear ;
For we had trust, that God, who chose

To call our brother dear,
Had crowned in death, with sweet repose,

His blameless sojourn here.

At the soft hour of even-fall

“ And sad, in ocean dark and vast, We made his quiet bed,

When death has struck his prey, Beneath the ivy-green church wall, A parted brother's corpse to cast, Amongst the village dead;

A lonely thing, away ; And near the sunny fields, where all To drift beneath the tombless waste His placid years had sped.

Till the great Judgment-Day! Now when our solemn rite had ceased, “ Yet have I stood where sick men dic, The mariner rose, and said :

Where slaughter rife hath been, “ Thus sleeps an infant, on the breast And learned to look with steadfast eye Of a fond mother laid ;

On many a dismal scene; For holy is the slumberer's rest

There's one upon my heart would lie, Within the altar's shade !

Though ages came between. “ And 'tis a blessed lot, to lie

“ 'Tis fifty summers past and more ;Beneath familiar ground,

We had sailed in seventy-three ;Where ever friends are wandering by, For full two years since touching shore, And kindred sleep around;

We cruised, and kept the sea : And many a living memory

Our ship was a lovely forty-fourClings to the burial-monnd.

A gallant bark was she ! “ Such rest, since death is common doom, “ As fair and nobly did she ride, With grief may scarce agree;

As rarely scud and steer, But would ye know how full of gloom, As though she answered to our pride, And cheerless death may be,

And knew we held her dear ;Ye should stand by when the mariner's Well might we love that ocean bride, tomb

And boast her brave career! Is made in the deep, deep sea!

“ She was long and low, and sharp be“ When, for his passing-bell, the gale

low, O'er the brief funeral raves ;

With a gently curved side, For mourner's song, the sea-bird's wail- With sloping stern and piercing bow, Por tomb, the dark sea-caves ;

And white decks, flush and wide, Ay! I could tell a solemn tale

So sweet a mould you could not shew Of sailors' wintry graves!”

In all the seas beside. Thy words have strongly won mine ear

“ Her yards were square, her spars were Say on, thou aged man!

slim, “ Ay, me! how many a brave career

Well set by stay and shroud ; (The mariner grey began)

Her snowy canvass, broad and trim, “ Hath closed on such a weltering bier !"

Swelled o'er her, like a cloud ; And thus his story ran ;

It was a joy, to see her swim,
TALE OF THE ENGLISH MARINER. That made your soul grow proud!
“Ye deem our course all storm and sport, « And close and black, in grim array,
Hot strife, and revel light;

Her warrior-decks along,
And well our rugged life may court The lips of England's thunder lay,
The throb of wild delight;

Right terrible and strong ;-
And glad should seem their lion-port, God! what a stormy voice had they,

Who wield proud England's might ! When battle gave them tongue ! “God wot, great joy it is, to range

“ Her speed was as the arrowy sleet, The blue waves to and fro,

Winged by a northern gale; A joy the mariner would not change And when away, with flowing sheet, For all that crowns bestow :

She loosed her broad mainsail, But the sea hath seasons sad and strange, The surge behind her rushing feet That landsmen little know.

Shone like a comet's trail. “ 'Tis fearful, when the angry gale

“ Her rest was as a giant's sleep; Strips the curled ocean bare,

Her chase, the stoop of war; And the boiling spray and bitter hail

Her rush was like the eagle's sweep; Are mingling sea and air ;

Her roar, the earthquake's jar; And for all our light, the cloudy veil Her prow, the sceptre of the deep 5 Streams with the levin's glare.

Her flag, the ocean star !" “ 'Tis awful, in the midnight lone, St. George ! how proud the old man grew! When clouds are pacing slow,

He rose, and waved his hand :-
To hear the sea-sprite laugh or moan Then, pausing, sate him down, and drew
From the dull wave below,

Strange figures on the sand,
In some loved mate's remembered tone, "Till with calm voice he gan renew
Though buried long ago.

His tale, at my demand :

E
VOL. JI,

FYTTE II.
« There was a boy, a fair young lad,

Sailed in our frigate then-
A gallant spirit, warm and glad,

With heart enough for ten ;
Ay me! too little strength he had

To bear the toils of men !
“ All loved the child; for hope and joy

Like sun-light round him shone ; We trembled for the noble boy,

And watched him night and noon, Lest the quick spirit should destroy

His slender lamp too soon. " And when he fain our watch would

share, And every storm abide, We sought his tender years to spare,

But could not tame the pride That bore him on to do and dare,

And might not be denied.
" Full little thanks the urchin bold

For all our cares repaid;
He was,' said he,“ too stout and old

For fondling like a maid ;
Nor did he fear, for toil or cold,

To learn his gallant trade.'
“ The joy of every heart he grew,

The pride of every eye: -
There was not one of all the crew

But smiled as he went by ;
And merry gibe, or question threw,

To meet his quick reply.
« But when the winter nights came on,

With sea, and snow, and gale; His little strength ran out anon,

And his fresh cheek grew pale ;The time was all too stern for one

So fiower-like and so frail. “ Though nought would urge him to com

plain,
We marked him wan and weak;
For the brave lad strove to hide his pain,

And bore, but did not speak ;-
And when we took him down, would fain

Have lingered on the deck.
« Alas! his eager spirit pined,

While idly sick he lay:
For all our cares, and tendance kind,

He withered day by day ;
Silent and fast his life declined,

At length he passed away!
“ He passed away, as the cold sun rose,

From the cold sea beneath ;
Just as the night-watch sought repose,

The child had ceased to breathe -
They hardly marked his eyelids close,

So peaceful was his death!
“ Nor did he turn like other dead,

All ashen-white and cold,-
His lips still wore a faint, pure red,

Like rose-huds' inner fold;
And there a sweet smile lingered,

Even as it wont of old.

“ The ancient mates did then declare,

(I ween they deemed aright,)
His soul around its dwelling fair

Was hovering ere its flight;
They said it now would tarry there

Till close of that day-light.
" Then up and spake our captain brave,

(For that we loved him well,)
When he had heard those old men grave

Discoursing as I tell,
( Ye shall not cast him on the wave

Before the evening bell.'
“So we kept the child throughout the day,

A dull and sorrowing crew;
The air was chill, the sky was grey,

And the sea of sullen hue :
While as the day-light waned, alway

Wild, and more wild it blew.
“ Ere the red sun sank down, the north

Lowered black and tempest-browed :
And when the evening bell rang forth,

The waves were singing loud :-
We brought the body from its berth

Wrapped in a hammock-shroud.
“ Mournful and slow, with heavy cheer,

By the lee gangway laid,
We stretched it on the simple bier,

Till the last rites were paid ;
While somewhat of unwonted fear

The hearts of all dismayed.
“ The night had fallen swift and black,

With spouts of sudden rain;
The swelling blast, at each attack,

Made our strong frigate strain,
And, plunging on her windward track,

Groan, like a soul in pain.
“ An awful time it seemed, and fit

To match our task of wo:
The shroud-hung lanterns wavering lit

The troubled groups below,
Whose lips compressed and brows hard-

knit
Looked spectral in the glow.
“ Then some that watched to windward

said,
Right in the tempest's eye,
The Phantom-Ship, with sails all spread,

Swept in the darkness by;
Till, what with grief and ghostly dread,

Our hearts were like to die.
“And cheerless was our weltering plight

With pain and sea-spray wet,
And cold at heart with strange affright,

And cold with dumb regret
Lord Christ! to think on that chill night,

It makes me shiver yet!"
And sooth, as leaves with winter's blast

Thrill in the withered brake,
The mariner, like a child aghast,

Through every limb did shake :
Long time he closed his lips : at last,

Gravely the old man spake :

FYTTE III.

“Unheard, thenceforth, the chaplain read ;'

He had as well been dumb ; “Now when his stand the chaplain took, – But we saw his face by the lamp o'er head, He was a weak old man,

And when the time was come, So loud the grinding timbers shook,

He made a sign to cast the dead So loud the wild sea ran,

Forth to its stormy tomb. Scarce could we hear, as from the book

“ Now, when the corpse to sea we gave, The service he began :

Christ! through the pallid night, « « The resurrection and the life

Full on the ship a whirlwind drove, I am,' the Lord hath said;

So swift and full of might, And he shall live who trusls in me,

It swept the unburied from the wave, Although that he be dead ;

And bore it from our sight! Whoso on me doth rest, in faith, “ And the mariners gavea shuddering cry, His life is ransomed !

A cry of wild dismay, “ And ever as the rite was read

To see the corpse pass whirling by, More shrilly rang the gale;

Ere it could break the spray.-And heavier rain, in torrents shell,

For thus, they deemed, the Enemy Hissed in the panting sail ;

Had torn the child away. Thus few of all the words he said

“Short leisure, 'midst the storm's descent, Might o'er the din prevail.

For awe or thought had we, “I know that my Redeemer, Christ,

As straight, through sails and rigging rent, In heaven liveth aye ;

Down gushed the dark green sea ; And he shall stand upon the earth

While reeled our ship, as though she meant In the great Judgment-Day:

To founder by the lee. Yea, though the worms my dust consume, “ Beneath the varying shocks o'er-strained, As for this mortal clod,

A quivering hulk she lay ; Even in the flesh, I yet shall see

The waves, like monsters fiery-maned, The presence of my God!'

Seemed gathering o'er their prey ; 6 And when he breathed that holy word

Lord! how the deafening gusts, unchained The gust it raved so loud,

On every side, did bray! That further speech might none be heard, “ We could not hear the Captain's shout, So rattled sail and shroud :

Yet well we guessed the word, Still we could see his thin lips stirred, As, hissing loud, the waterspout And oft his head he bowed.

Burst terribly on board, “ The burdened mainsail, smitten sore,

And from its flash the light flew out Strained wild at brace and sheet ;

Keen as a flaming sword. The climbing seas, with hoarser roar, “ We could not aid the good ship's toil; On the crushed bulwarks beat;

For masterless, and crossed And, hissing, as the ship lay o'er,

By countless blows, at each recoil, High washed the corpse's feet.

More helplessly she tossed : " Great awe was ours, and whispering We could but hear the mad sea boil, spake

And gave our lives for lost! Each man to man around,

< But ere we drave ten fathoms wide, That the great sea-snake lay in our wake, After the corpse fiew past, That laughs when fleets are drowned :

The gale went down, and lulled, and died ; The next brief lull, this sentence brake And the sea smoothed so fast,

Through the vexed waters' sound : That ere mid-watch, we seemed to glide «« When thy strong breath doth scatter

Across a waveless waste. them,

And where the Eastern billows slept Even as a sleep they pass :

In the moist starlight dim, All suddenly they fall away,

Uprose the loving moon, and pept And perish like the grass :

O'er the full ocean's brim At morning, green it flourisheth :

And a faint murmur round us crept, Lo! ere the even-tide,

Sweet as a seraph's hymn. Its beauty falls before the sithe,

“ Then did our praise to Him who Is withered up and dried.'

wrought “ At once the gale uprose again :

That blessed calm, ascend ;
It seemed, that instant still

But awe bechilled us, as we though t
Were breathing space for louder strain ; Upon our parted friend;
For, trumpet-voiced and shrill,

Each questioned much, and answered It came with such a gush of rain,

“« Till up and spake the oldest mate, Though when I pray, there falls a beam And thus his rede was given ;

Of comfort on my breast. For that child's soul the demon's hate

“ But none who mourn in churchyards With Angel bands had striven;

green, Whose conquering wings up-bore it straight

Where the dead sleep pleasantly, In the wild storm to Heaven.'

Can know what awe and sadness mean, “ Howe'er it be, though well I deem,

Or what stern death may be, The child is with the blest,

Till they have watched a funeral scene, That burial, like an ugly dream,

In the midnight gale, at sea!” For ever haunts my rest,

SOME LATE PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF JOIN BULL, ESQ.

( Continued from Page 599, vol. 1.)

CHAPTER VII.

Shewing how Bill Boswain lost his Breeches, and what came thereof; the Stramash

in John's Family, and the Rumpus at the Mitre.

Bill BOSWAIN did not well remember how he tumbled into bed on the night of the hop, after the dismissal of Gaffer; but all night long he dreams of the 'Squire transformed into a bear in a rage ; and of Gaffer and his Broom talking; and of the message he behoved to send in the morning. And then, that his wenches were frying the old dish, and Hookey standing by, staring at him like a mad doctor, using a horn to make him swallow it. The message to Gaffer, to say truth, was ready cut-and-dry, long before ; though Bill, poor soul, might not know as much.

Late in the morning he rubs up his eyes, with something of a head.. ache, and perhaps, something of a heartache too, if he had owned it ; but he put the best face on the matter. “ Where's my wife ?" quoth he. “ In the back parlour with Hookey, darning a stocking;" for it was always making a pudding or darning a stocking she was. This good housewife was never meddling with John's matters—not she!“ Then bring me my breeches, quoth Bill.—But up or down, high or low, no such article was to be found. “ Where's my breeches,” shouted Bill, manfully ; for his wife was now gone out to chapel. “What a spot of work is here,” quoth that pert gipsy, Jenny Driver; “I daresay that rogue, H. B. has stolen them to make a picture of them, and they may be in Rag Fair by this time.” “ I'll have my breeches,” cried Bill; “ If the 'Squire hear of this,” “ Sure you have no more need of such an article than a Highlander for kneebuckles,” said the forward, saucy wench, whose shrewish, merry humour made her a great favourite with

“ Aʼn't you a brisk Jack tar, and shouldn't sport shorts. There's Hookey on the stairs : throw any thing on you for decency; and get up, and put that prig Gaffer out of his pain. Here's an old petticoat of my mistress's, and here's a wrap-rascal of

-'s." It was impossible to make out the name ; whether the last flourish was the up-swirled tail of an or r; or the sweep of an e or d, no could tell ; and of which garment Bill availed himself, or if he donned both, history is mute ; but up he got, in time to hear that his mes.. sage to Greysteel had caused a commotion in John's family, to which all that had ever happened before was mere moonshine in water;

Bill ;

n

man