sea-that thunder, lightning, hail, and rain, and wind, are all in fierce contention for the mastery-that every plank has its groan, every nail its shriek, and every drop of water in the great ocean its howling voice is nothing. To say that all is grand, and all appalling and horrible in the last degree, is nothing. Words cannot express it. Thoughts cannot convey it. Only a dream can call it up again, in all its fury, rage, and passion.

And yet, in the very midst of these terrors, I was placed in a situation so exquisitely ridiculous, that even then I had as strong a sense of its absurdity as I have now: and could no more help laughing than I can at any other comical incident, happening under circumstances the most favourable to its enjoyment. About midnight we shipped a sea, which forced its way through the skylights, burst open the doors above, and came raging and roaring down into the ladies cabin, to the unspeakable consternation of my wife and a little Scotch lady-who, by the way, had previously sent a message to the captain by the stewardess, requesting him, with her compliments, to have a steel conductor immediately attached to the top of every mast, and to the chimney, in order that the ship might not be struck by lightning. They, and the handmaid before-mentioned, being in such ecstacies of fear that I scarcely knew what to do with them, I naturally bethought myself of some restorative or comfortable cordial; and nothing better occurring to me, at the moment, than hot brandy-and-water, I procured a tumbler-full without delay. It being impossible to stand or sit without holding on, they were all heaped together in one corner of a long sofa-a fixture extending entirely across the cabin-where they clung to each other in momentary expectation of being drowned. When I approached this place with my specific, and was about to administer it, with many consolatory expressions, to the nearest sufferer, what was my dismay to see them all roll slowly down to the other end! And when I staggered to that end, and held out the glass once more, how immensely baffled were my good intentions by the ship giving another lurch, and their all rolling back again! I suppose I dodged them up and down this sofa, for at least a quarter of an hour, without reaching them once; and by the time I did catch them, the brandy-and-water was diminished, by constant spilling, to a tea-spoonful. To complete the group, it is necessary to recognise in this disconcerted

dodger, an individual very pale from sea-sickness; who had shaved his beard and brushed his hair, last, at Liverpool; and whose only articles of dress (linen not included) were a pair of dreadnought trousers, a blue jacket, formerly admired upon the Thames at Richmond, no stockings, and one slipper.

LORD THURLOW'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF IN THE HOUSE OF PEERS.

(From CAMPBELL's "Lives of the Chancellors.")

AT TIMES Lord Thurlow was superlatively great. One instance of this was his celebrated reply to the Duke of Grafton, during the inquiry into Lord Sandwich's administration of Greenwich Hospital. His grace's action and delivery, when he addressed the house, were singularly dignified and graceful; but his matter was not equal to his manner. He reproached Lord Thurlow with his plebeian extraction [he was the son of a clergyman], and his recent admission into the peerage; particular circumstances caused Lord Thurlow's reply to make a deep impression at the time. His Lordship had spoken too often, and began to be heard with a civil but visible impatience; under these circumstances he was attacked in the manner we have mentioned. He rose from the woolsack, and advanced slowly to the place from which the Chancellor generally addresses the house: then fixing on the Duke the look of Jove, when he grasps the thunder

"I am amazed," he said, in a level tone of voice, “at the attack which the noble Duke has made on me. Yes, my Lords," considerably raising his voice, "I am amazed at his Grace's speech. The noble Duke cannot look before him, behind him, or on either side of him, without seeing some noble peer who owes his seat in this house to his successful exertions in the profession to which I belong. Does he not feel that it is as honourable to owe it to these as to being the accident of an accident? To all these noble Lords, the language of the noble Duke is as applicable and as insulting as to myself; but I do not fear to meet it single and alone. No one venerates the peerage more than I do; but, my Lords, I must say that the peerage solicited me, not I the peerage. Nay, more, I can say, and will say, that as a peer of Parliament-as Speaker of this right honourable House-as Keeper of the Great Seal-as

Guardian of his Majesty's conscience—as Lord High Chancellor of England-nay, even in that character alone in which the noble Duke would think it an affront to be considered, but which character none can deny me—as a man-I am at this moment as respectable-I beg leave to add, I am at this time as much respected, as the proudest peer I now look down upon."

The effect of this speech (continues Lord Campbell), both within and without the walls of Parliament was prodigious. It gave Lord Thurlow an ascendancy in the House which no Chancellor had ever possessed; it invested him in public opinion with a character of independence and honour; and this, though he was ever on the unpopular side of politics, made him always popular with the people.

SPEECH OF DEMOSTHENES TO THE ATHENIANS; EXCITING THEM TO PROSECUTE THE WAR AGAINST PHILIP WITH VIGOUR.

ATHENIANS-Had this assembly been called together on an unusual occasion, I should have heard the opinions of others before I had offered my own; and if what they proposed had seemed to me judicious, I should have been silent; if otherwise, I should have given my reasons for differing from those who had spoken before me. But, as the subject of our present deliberations has been often treated by others, I hope I shall be excused, though I rise up first to offer my opinion. Had the schemes formerly proposed been successful, there would have been no occasion for the present consultation.

First, then, my countrymen, let me entreat you, not to look upon the state of our affairs as desperate, though it be unpromising; for as, on one hand, to compare the present with times past, matters have indeed a very gloomy aspect; so, on the other, if we extend our views to future times, I have good hopes that the distresses we are now under will prove of greater advantage to us than if we had never fallen into them. If it be asked, what probability there is of this? I answer, I hope it will appear that it is our egregious misbehaviour alone that has brought us into these disadvantageous circumstances; from which follows the necessity of altering our conduct, and the prospect of bettering our circumstances by doing so.

If we had nothing to accuse ourselves of, and yet found our affairs in their present disorderly condition, we should not have

room left even for the hope of recovering ourselves. But, my countrymen, it is known to you, partly by your own remembrance, and partly by information from others, how gloriously the Lacedemonian war was sustained; in which we engaged, in defence of our own rights, against an enemy powerful and formidable; in the whole conduct of which war nothing happened unworthy the dignity of the Athenian state; and this within these few years past. My intention in recalling to your memory this part of our history, is to show you, that you have no reason to fear any enemy, if your operations be wisely planned and vigorously executed.

The enemy has, indeed, gained considerable advantages by treaty as well as by conquest; for it is to be expected that princes and states will court the alliance of those who seem powerful enough to protect both themselves and their confederates. But, my countrymen, though you have of late been too supinely negligent of what concerns you so nearly, if you will, even now, resolve to exert yourselves unanimously, each according to his respective abilities and circumstances, the rich by contributing liberally towards the expense of the war, and the rest by presenting themselves to be enrolled, to make up the deficiencies of the army and navy; if, in short, you will at last resume your own character, and act like yourselves—it is not yet too late, with the help of Heaven, to recover what you have lost, and to inflict the just vengeance on your insolent enemy.

But when will you, my countrymen, when will you rouse from your indolence, and bethink yourselves of what is to be done? When you are forced to it by some fatal disaster. When irresistible necessity drives you. What think you of the disgraces which are already come upon you? Is not the past sufficient to stimulate your activity? or do you wait for somewhat yet to come more forcible and urgent ?-How long will you amuse yourselves with inquiring of one another after news, as you ramble idly about the streets? What news so strange ever came to Athens, as that a Macedonian should subdue this state, and lord it over Greece? Again, you ask one another, "What! is Philip dead?" "No," it is answered: "but he is very ill." How foolish this curiosity! What is it to you whether Philip is sick or well? Suppose he were dead, your inactivity would soon raise up against yourselves another Philip in his stead: for it is not his strength that has made him what

he is, but your indolence; which has of late been such that you seem neither in a condition to take any advantage of the enemy, nor to keep it, if it were gained by others for you.

Wisdom directs that the conductors of a war always anticipate the operations of the enemy, instead of waiting to see what steps he shall take; whereas, you Athenians, though you be masters of all that is necessary for war, as shipping, cavalry, infantry, and funds, have not the spirit to make the proper use of your advantages, but suffer the enemy to dictate to you every motion you are to make. If you hear that Philip is in the Chersonesus, you order troops to be sent thither: if at Pylæ, forces are to be detached to secure that post. Wherever he makes an attack, there you stand upon your defence. You attend him in all his motions, as soldiers do their general. But you never think of striking out of yourselves any bold and effectual scheme for bringing him to reason, by being before-hand with him. A pitiful manner of carrying on war at any time; but in the critical circumstances you are now in, utterly ruinous.

Oh! shame to the Athenian name! We undertook this war against Philip, in order to obtain redress of grievances, and to force him to indemnify us for the injuries he had done us; and we have conducted it so successfully, that we shall by and by think ourselves happy if we escape being defeated and ruined! For who can think that a prince of his restless and ambitious temper will not improve the opportunities and advantages which our indolence and timidity present him? Will he give over his designs against us, without being obliged to it? And who will oblige him? Who will restrain his fury? Shall we wait for assistance from some unknown country?—In the name of all that is sacred, and all that is dear to us, let us make an attempt with what forces we can raise, if we should not be able to raise as many as we would wish. Let us do somewhat to curb this tyrant. Let us remember this, that he is our enemy; that he has spoiled us of our dominions; that we have long been subject to his insolence; that whatever we expected to be done for us by others, hath proved against us; and that all the resource left is in ourselves: then shall we come to a proper determination; then shall we give the due attention to affairs, and be ready to act as becomes Athenians.