Part 10

We were nearly all early to bed, and those who lingered, were packed off by the monks at ten, according to rule. We were roused before sunrise by the lusty ringing of the chapel bell for matins, which were zealously kept up for two or three hours; but I was heretic enough to abscond, for the purpose of climbing the peak behind the convent, from which I could look down on the side of the mountain toward Italy:

'Italia! too, Italia! looking on thee, Full flashes on the soul the light of ages, Since the fierce Carthaginian almost won thee, To the last halo of the chiefs and sages Who glorify thy consecrated pages: Thou wert the throne and grave of empires.'

FOOTNOTES:

[3] This injunction has not been strictly followed; but we trust our friend will excuse us for putting him 'in print,' how much soever his modesty would prompt him to 'blush unseen.'

EDS. KNICKERBOCKER.

[4] Geneva is about one hundred and fifty miles from Lyons; and yet the fare was but ten francs.

[5] This personage has the brief authority to demand four francs for affixing his cognomen to the passports of all who leave Geneva for this route.

[6] Quoted in Dr. BEATTIE's beautiful work on Switzerland.

THE BLIGHTED FLOWER.

IF I could weep with customary wo, I, that have seen the good Borne on the rending flood, And mark'd the thing most loved the first to go;

I that have seen the beautiful, the cherish'd, The earliest to depart; 'Twould bring unto my heart A pang like that I've felt when dearer things have perish'd.

To see thee now, so innocent and sweet, Bud of the breathing morn, From life's young bosom torn, Doom'd, in thy properest bloom, the sudden stroke to meet;

And, with an idle interest, I had prayed The doom for sterner heads, And colder climes and beds, Such as may better meet the tempest and the shade.

Yet could such prayer avail, and the stern doom But spare this sweetest flower, The blight would lose its power, For in this blessed safety all would bloom.

A mortal hand had never snapp'd its stem, Nor with an eye to mark, Its white amid the dark, Have trampled down to dust so rich a gem.

Its doom, to us so dread, was writ on high, Where glories richer yet, In brighter circles set, Make it of little count when such as this must die.

Though to thyself no loss--thy loss to know-- How much was thy delight, How lovely to the sight, Might make the fate go weep that dooms thee so.

E.

FATAL BALLOON ADVENTURE.

ASCENT AND FATAL DESCENT IN A PARACHUTE, OF MR. COCKING, OF ENGLAND.

PROBABLY since the melancholy result of Madame BLANCHARD's ascent in a balloon, in France, no circumstance connected with these aërial ships has created a more general and intense excitement, than the awful termination of a recent adventure in the air by a Mr. COCKING, of the metropolis. The London daily journals, and indeed periodicals of every class, are rife with the thrilling particulars of the catastrophe. We gladly avail ourselves of the kind courtesy of the Editor of the '_Albion_,' to lay them, in a condensed form, before our readers, accompanied with two engravings, explanatory of the dreadful event. It should be premised, that the balloon is the same in which the distinguished aëronaut, Mr. GREEN, accompanied by two or three English gentleman, made the well-known night-ascension and journey, which terminated at day-break the next morning in a German province, several hundred miles from London.

The present ascent was made from Vauxhall Gardens, London, in the presence of an immense concourse of people. The parachute was the invention of the unfortunate man, whose coffin it finally proved, and was of a novel construction, being in the form of an umbrella reversed, the cavity containing the air being turned uppermost, to prevent disastrous oscillation. It was constructed of fine Irish linen, and was one hundred and seven feet in circumference. A car of wicker-work was suspended to it, in which sat the ill-fated victim, expressing confidence of success, but evincing, by restless looks and a nervous manner, that it was a confidence which he did not feel. Prior to the parachute being attached to the balloon, Mr. GREEN caused a trial to be made with the view of ascertaining whether the buoyancy of the latter was sufficient to carry up the former with safety. The result of this trial, (after some arrangements with respect to the ballast, of which he was compelled to give out six hundred pounds, had been effected,) was satisfactory. The abandonment of this large quantity of ballast he found to be absolutely requisite, in order with safety to commence the ascent. The balloon was then allowed gently to rise a sufficient height to be conveyed over the parachute; and 'at twenty minutes before eight o'clock, every thing being in readiness and the parachute attached to the car of the balloon, the ascent took place. Nothing could be more majestic. The weight and great extent of the parachute apparently rendered the motion of the balloon more steady than on any former ascent, and the almost total absence of wind assisted in keeping the balloon in a perfectly perpendicular position. There was not the slightest oscillation; the balloon and parachute sailed through the air with a grandeur that exceeded any thing of the kind ever before witnessed, and continued in sight for about ten minutes. A good deal of ballast was discharged almost immediately over the inclosure, after which the huge machine rose rapidly, but not so suddenly as to break the even current of its course,' and was soon lost in the clouds.

The subjoined engraving represents the ascent of the balloon, with the parachute attached:

The account given by Mr. GREEN, of the voyage, is one of intense interest; and we regret that our space compels us to abridge it of many exciting particulars. Mr. Cocking had desired to reach an elevation of one mile and a quarter, before detaching himself from the balloon, and commencing his descent. At first, the upward progress was slow, and it became necessary to discharge several pounds of ballast through a tube, constructed for the purpose, leading from the balloon over the outer edge of the parachute. The lower end of this tube subsequently became detached, by the swinging to and fro of the parachute, and the ballast was thrown over in small bags, not without danger to the people on terra firma. The balloon soon entered a tier of clouds, and the aëronauts were lost to the earth, though still some three thousand feet lower than the desired elevation of Mr. Cocking, who now manifested much anxiety, frequently requesting of the 'upper house' to know when every addition of five hundred feet had been attained.

When at the height of about five thousand feet, and in a range with Greenwich, the intrepid occupant of the parachute, fearing that he would be unable to reach the earth until after dark, said to his companions in the balloon above him, 'I shall soon leave you,' adding, that the practical trial, thus far, had borne out the sanguine calculations he had made, and that he never felt more comfortable or delighted in his life, at the same time bidding Mr. Green and his companion 'good night,' who returned the courtesy, with hearty good wishes for his safe descent. A sudden jerk ensued, the parachute was liberated, and the balloon instantly shot upward with the velocity of a sky-rocket, while the gas, rushing in torrents from the lower valve by reason of the pressure of the dense atmosphere upon the top of the balloon, nearly suffocated the aëronauts, and rendered them totally blind for four or five minutes. But for a bag, containing fifty gallons of atmospheric air, into which were inserted tubes from which they breathed it, both Mr. Green and his companion must inevitably have perished. So soon as the thermometer could be examined, it was ascertained that they were above four miles and a quarter from the earth! Yet even this was nothing like their greatest altitude, since they were now effecting a rapid descent. A wise precaution in enlarging the lower valve, alone prevented the bursting of the balloon, from the great pressure of the atmosphere. The aëronauts suffered severely from the cold, the thermometer indicating twenty-four degrees below the freezing point. 'We were at this period,' says Mr. Green, 'apparently about two miles and a half above a dense mountain of clouds, which presented the appearance of impenetrable masses of dark marble, while all around us was shed the brilliant rays of the setting sun. We continued to descend with great rapidity, and as we approached the clouds, that velocity considerably increased. At this time, so large had been our loss of gas, that the balloon, instead of presenting to our sight its customary rotund and widely-expanded form, now merely looked like a comparatively small parachute, or half-dome, without any aperture in its centre. We parted with at least one-third of our gas, and were as far beneath the balloon itself as fifty or sixty feet.'

Apprehensive of difficulty in ascertaining the nature of the ground toward which they were descending, from the darkness below them, (though blessed, in their position, with a magnificent light,) they hastened their progress, and landed in safety a few miles from Maidstone, and twenty-eight from London; having been in the air one hour and twenty minutes. But let us return to the unfortunate man who had reached the earth before them.

The annexed engraving exhibits the parachute in the three stages of the descent: first, immediately after the separation from the car; next, at the time when the collapse took place from the weight and pressure of the external atmosphere; and, lastly, when it approached near to the ground:

After being detached from the balloon, it would appear that the machine immediately lost its shape, by the breaking of the rim which surrounded it, which was feebly constructed of tin. It was the opinion of all the scientific gentlemen who testified at the coroner's inquest, that the parachute was of insufficient strength, and greatly inefficient for the purpose it was intended to serve. Prof. AIREY, Astronomer Royal of Greenwich, who saw it from the beginning, through a telescope of a twelve-times magnifying power, states, that after leaving the balloon, 'he was quite sure that it did not retain its shape for more than four seconds, for he put his eye instantly to the glass, and found it in a collapsed state. He was convinced there had been no turning over. Had it been turned over, the basket would have been displaced. He observed the sides of the parachute flickering backward and forward. His opinion as to the efficacy of the construction was, there was not sufficient account taken in such construction as to unavoidable disturbances, and the tendency of the air was to force it in at the side, and the pressure of the air would, in case of its getting out of shape, only aggravate the evil, and the experiment must fail. This must therefore be considered as a construction quite wrong, and he should have thought that a person with common sagacity might have been aware of this. With regard also to the tin tube, of which the circular ring was formed, it was hollow throughout, it was without stops, which would have strengthened it, and consequently as bad a thing as could have been used. Had stops been introduced, it would have saved it from a great deal of the tremor to which the pressure of the atmosphere exposed it. Had the weight been a little greater in the top, it would probably have come down side-ways, and turned upside down. In this respect, it was very badly constructed, and very inferior in many respects to parachutes of the old construction.'

In answer to a question from a juror, whether his opinion agreed with that of Mr. Green, that, having resisted the force of the atmosphere, it was safe to come down with the parachute, Prof. Airey replied, that he believed the very reverse; since the 'air, by pressing upon the canvass, would keep the ring of tin to which he had alluded expanded, but the force of the air under, would have the effect of bending it, and thus allowing the parachute to collapse.'

Mr. Green stated, 'that throughout the whole of the voyage, up to the moment he released himself from the balloon, Mr. Cocking displayed the greatest courage and fortitude; and the expression of his features, and the light and joyous, although earnest way, in which he made his inquiries, and conversed with him, manifested his great satisfaction that at length a theory, to which he had devoted the last twenty-five years of his life, was about to be triumphantly put to the test.' But it was a fatal test. He fell to the ground at Lee, several miles from London, and when discovered, and extricated from the car, (which was a confused heap, covering the mangled body of its ill-fated occupant, with all its ribs and tubes broken into fragments,) he but slightly moved his hand, groaned, and expired. Some idea of the dreadful death which befell him, may be gathered from the dry and technical description given of the appearance of the body, by the surgeon who was called to examine it: 'On the right side, the second, third, fourth, and fifth ribs were broken, near their junction with their cartilages; the second, fourth, fifth, and sixth broken also near their junction with the vertebræ; the second, fourth, fifth, and sixth ribs broken at their greatest convexity. On the left side, the second, third, fourth, and sixth ribs broken near their cartilages, and also near their angles. The clavicle on the right side fractured at the juncture of the external with the middle third; the second lumbar vertebræ fractured through its body, the tranverse of several of the lumbar vertebræ broken, commutated fracture and separation of the bones of the pelvis, the right ancle dislocated inward, the astragalus and os calcis fractured, the viscera of the head, chest, and abdomen, free from any morbid appearances.'

RETROSPECTION

I.

TIME! let me stand upon that wall Which bounds the future and the past, While at my feet thy moments fall, Like billows driven by the blast: Cold, brief, and dim must be the gaze, Back o'er the fields laid waste by thee; And clouds, impervious to all rays, Brood o'er futurity.

II.

Yet backward let me take one look, Through memory's glass, grown dim by age, And ponder on life's tattered book, Too late to re-peruse one page; As when the ear, in quest of notes An unlearned melody has shed, Calls for each echo where it floats, When all its tones are fled.

III.

Thy scythe and glass, O Time! are not The symbols of thy gentler powers: Thou makest the most dejected lot Seem light, through thy inverted hours: Thou makest us cherish infant grief, And long for all the tears it cost; Thou art to thy own woes relief-- Thou beautifiest the lost!

IV.

Then let me stand upon the wall Which bounds the future and the past, And gaze upon the waste where all Life's hopes have perished by thy blast. Though dark and chilling to the gaze Are all the fields laid waste by thee, 'Tis sunshine to the hopeless rays Which light futurity.

_Buffalo, May, 1837._ G.

LITERARY NOTICES.

THE SCOURGE OF THE OCEAN: A STORY OF THE ATLANTIC. BY AN OFFICER OF THE UNITED STATES' NAVY. In two volumes, 12mo. pp. 431. Philadelphia: E. L. CAREY AND A. HART.

With many defects, incident to a first attempt at fictious narration, these volumes exhibit undeniable talent, and still more promise. They have been written, it seems, in haste; though this excuse would be hardly valid, save in consideration of the fact, that the young author, momentarily expecting to be ordered to sea, was hence compelled to hasten their publication. The common faults of a first production, it must be admitted, are sufficiently apparent; among the more prominent of which, may be mentioned the want of a natural order of progression, the liberal introduction of matters not correlative to the story proper, and an occasional carelessness of language. But these blemishes are well atoned for, by a general freedom of delineation, both of character and events, so easy and natural, that it often requires no stretch of the imagination to fancy the volumes actually alive, and talking with the reader. All who have read 'Jack Marlinspike's Yarn,' heretofore published in these pages, and introduced episodically in the work before us, will not need to be told, that our author has an unvarnished way of delivering his sentiments, whatever they may be, through his various characters; and this, in our judgment, constitutes an agreeable feature of the work. We had rather encounter occasional nervous inelegance of expression, and even a slight assault and battery upon Priscian, now and then, than the affectation of big words and fustian phrases, or the precise and prime sententiousness which many of our modern authors so much affect. We shall not attempt to trace the involutions and denouément of the story, since we lack both time and space for the purpose, and moreover, are unwilling to rob the labors of a new candidate for public favor of the strong interest of curiosity; but shall endeavor to present a sort of running commentary upon the principal features of the work.

We like our author better afloat than on shore. He is at home on the ocean; and some of his ship-board pictures strongly remind us of the kindred sketches of COOPER and MARRYAT, or LEGGETT, who is in no respect behind either in the power of graphic description. We subjoin an elaborate etching, which will exemplify the justice of our praise:

"It was evening; the blushes of sunset still lingered in the west, faintly relieving the far-off coast of America, that seemed more like some blue cloud sleeping upon the surface of the ocean, than a vast continent rising from its depths. The round full moon was ascending from the opposite sky with that increased magnitude she seems to possess when low in the horizon, and her light came over the sea, tinged with the mellow hue of paly gold, that always characterizes it when the luminaries rise and set at the same moment. A gentle breeze came sweeping up from the southward, and a balmy influence was respired in the air. Upon that part of the Atlantic to which we wish the reader to direct his attention, a ship was seen moving along toward the land that was but just perceptible in the west. She was a small vessel for her taunt and heavy appurtenance; and evidently intended for the purposes of war. Her long sharp hull seemed much too diminutive to sustain the pressure of the broad sheets of canvass that rose toweringly above it, and there were moments when it seemed that the lofty spars and wide-spread sails glided over the ocean without the support or aid of that most important part of the machinery of a vessel. Although the wind was very light, the foam curled in snow-white piles about her cut-water, and ever and anon, as she rose and pitched deeper into the element, masses of glittering spray would fly over her forecastle. It was evident from her speed in so gentle a breeze that she was a very superior sailer, but a single glance at her construction would scarcely need another or more convincing proof of her superiority in that respect. Aloft, every thing indicated the nicest care and attention; the masts, from the deck to the trucks, were stayed in line, and in an exact parallel to each other, while the rigging that supported them on every hand seemed to possess the inflexibility of so much iron. Each sail was hoisted taut up, so as to yield as little as possible to the bellying influence of the breeze, while their corners were drawn out upon the yards to their full extent. No ropes hung dangling from the rigging or tops; and, in short, every thing exhibited the characteristic regularity of a man-of-war.

"Upon deck, the arrangements were as neat as they were aloft. Eight twenty-four pound carronades, and a long eighteen, thrust their frowning muzzles out from either side; and rows of bright battle-axes, cutlasses, and pikes, were ranged along the bulwarks, in glittering and beautiful array. Each rope was carefully coiled upon its respective pin; and no unnecessary lumber obstructed the gangways or quarter deck. Between the fore and main masts, a large boat was nicely stowed, while its black cover served the double purpose of protecting it from the weather, and imparting a neater air to the arrangements of the deck. Abaft the mizzen-mast, or on that part distinguished as the quarter-deck, every thing was rich and expensive. Railings of polished brass surrounded the hatchways, and ladders of grated work communicated with the depth of the ship. The wheel and binnacles were of the rarest wood, and constructed in the most tasteful and elegant manner. The hammock boards were adorned with gilded ornaments, and the bolt-heads in the deck were screened by inserted mahogany, cut diamond-wise. In a word, that ship seemed to have been built by Profusion as an offering to Beauty. * * * Groups of seamen sat between the guns in discourse, or reclined with characteristic listlessness upon the deck, while a few, who were discharging the duties of look-outs, stood at their various stations with their faces turned toward the ocean."

This is but a fair example of many spirited descriptions to be found in the work; nor is the lively, though sometimes rather confused, dialogue unworthy of laud; excepting always the forced colloquies of Handsaw and Ramrod, two eminent bores, and unmitigated draw-backs, whom all the bad spelling in the world would fail to render entertaining. Much as the reader must condemn the tyrant Stanley, and little as he may think of his opinions, he will be inclined to agree with him on one point, namely, that Handsaw's ever-active 'propensity to talk about his wife,' renders him ridiculous, and in reality 'a source of uneasiness' as aggravating to the reader as it must have been to the hearer. With these exceptions, the sailor-dialogue is extempore and natural. Nothing can be finer than the description of the mutiny on board the Ganymede, the burning of the merchantman at sea, and the escape of the 'Scourge' from a labyrinth of pursuers, by a bold but politic and adroit manoeuvre. If the reader, however, while perusing the account of the escape of Everett from New-York, his first introduction to the family of General Adair, and his meeting the heroine with her father, at sea, should pause to ask himself how all this happened to occur so opportunely, he might be led to think that in all this the possible was taking precedence of the probable. Happily, such is the interest awakened, that he has no disposition to propound queries, but is tempted to 'keep due on,' until he has gained the end of the book.

We are sorry to perceive that the volumes are marred by an occasional grammatical error, ('laying down the musket, he _done_ as much justice,' etc., and kindred _lapsus pennæ_,) and by not infrequent typographical blunders, which should be looked to, in a second edition, should it be called for.