The action and the excitement of the story gather importance and more densely crowd every page as we proceed in the third volume. Our last extract affords a considerable portion of one scene, in which a dialogue is sustained that cannot, perhaps, be surpassed in point of absorbing interest and dramatic power, in the whole range of English fiction. Catherine discloses to the Scottish cavalier her purpose of elevating the Duke of Anjou to the throne, and solicits his co-operation for the fulfilment of her project. He exclaims ; "So soon!''Ay, so soon,' reiterated Catherine, triumphantly,' Nostradamus foretold that all our sons should be kings. To-morrow his prediction will be verified.' 'And Henri?' Catherine grew pale as death, and trembled so violently that she was compelled to lay her hand for support upon Crichton's armed shoulder. What of the king, your son, madame?' continued the Scot, sternly. Of all our sons,' exclaimed the queen, with a look of deep agony, and, it might be, compunetion,' Henri hath ever been the most dear to us. The sickly François, the rugged Charles, found no place in our heart. But Henri, the fond, the pliant, the winning; Henri, ever devoted, ever deferential to our will; Henri, the graceful, the polished, the beautiful, whom nature intended for a king, and for whom we have seconded nature's intentions-he hath ever been our favourite.' And you will now destroy your own work; you will sacrifice your favourite son." Our safety requires it,' returned Catherine, sighing deeply; Henri hath of late grown wayward and capricious. He refuses to follow our counsels-to acknowledge our sway. His minions have supplanted us in his esteem. Saint-Luc, Joyeuse, and D'Epernon, rule where we were wont to govern. The Salic law prevents the exercise of sovereign authority in our own person. We reign through our sons: if not through Henri, we must reign through François.' Weighed against love of power, a mother's love is nothing,' said Crichton. Against high resolves it should be nothing,' returned Catherine; against Fate it is nothing. Of what avail is our tenderness for Henri; of what avail are our regrets for his defection; of what avail is this hesitation to pronounce his doom?" Chevalier Crichton,' continued she, in a voice that froze the Scot's blood within his veins, he must die!' There was a terrible pause, during which each regarded the other fixedly. Horror exclaimed Crichton, at length recovering his speech, 'can a mother say this?' Hear me!' cried Catherine, learn with whom thou hast to deal-learn and tremble! By blood, my own blood, was my power obtained; by blood, my own blood, must it be maintained. Henri must die.' By the hand that reared him?' 'No! mine might falter. I will find a surer arm to deal the blow.' 'Listen,' continued she, becoming perfectly calm, by midnight all will be in readiness. Under various pretexts, and in various disguises, the leaders of Anjou's faction will ere that hour arrives, have been introduced into the Louvre. Bussy D'Amboise hath his own quarrel to avenge upon the king's favourites. His sword hath seldom failed him. He will deal with Joyeuse, D'Epernon, and Saint-Luc. The Duc de Nevers is ours already. Villequier and D'O. are vanes that will shift with the wind. Henri alone remains-and he-' 'Well, madame?' Is reserved for ་ 1 your haud.' 'For mine!' We have prevailed upon him to defer the grand chivalrous emprise, in which he takes part, till midnight. Amid the conflict his lance will seek yours. Couch then your sharpened spear—cry, Live Francois III.'-and strike! We know too well the force of your arm to doubt the fatal issue of the blow. That cry, that deadly stroke, will be the signal to Anjcu, and to our party. They will respond to it. Henri's adherents will be exterminated; his crown will be his brother's.' From the scene of carnage you depict, madame,' said Crichton, my mind flies back to days gone by-to the fair month of June, 1559. Before the palace of the Tournelles, a splendid tournament is set forth to celebrate the nuptials of Elizabeth of France with Philip of Spain. A chivalrous monarch maintains the passage of arms against all comers. That monarch is your husband. That monarch is Henri II.'No more, no more!' That monarch demands a favour from his queen. Her scarf is sent him. He places it upon his corslet. He call to the Earl of Montgomery to place his lance in rest. The Earl obeys him. The combatants rush upon each other. The lance of Montgomery is broken-Hold, we command you, messire!' But a splinter hath pierced the brain of the ill-fated king,' continued Crichton, heedless of Catherine's frown's; he falls, mortally wounded. You witnessed this fearful catastrophe, madame. You saw your husband hurled bleeding to the earth-and to a like fate you would now condemn your son -his son !'" . The noble-minded Scot puts it to her majesty : "Think you I am an assassin, madame, that you propose to me a deed from which even the ruthless bravo of your native Italy would shrink aghast ?' "If we propose a deed dark and terrible, we offer a proportionate reward,' returned Catherine. Stay!' continued she, drawing from her escarcelle a small roll of parchment, to which a broad seal was appended 'here is your appointment.' "It bears date to-morrow.' ་ "It will be ratified to night, monseigneur,' rejoined the queen, placing the document upon a table which stood beside them. 'Behold the royal signet-behold your title as marshal of France! Your answer?' "Is this,' replied Crichton, suddenly drawing his poinard, and striking through the parchment in the exact spot where his name appeared, all trace of which it effectually obliterated. " Before exhausting her efforts to gain over the hero of the tale to her murderous plot, this intriguing woman prefers a still stronger motive than wealth or dignity of rank. She says ; "One word more ere we part. In Henri you have a rival; he loves the Princess Esclairmonde.' "I know it, madame To night she is his, or yours "His she shall never be.' Then you conset-' "At this moment the loud blast of a bugle was heard sounding from the further end of the tilt-yard. "A knightly challenge!' exclaimed Crichton, listening for a repetition of the notes. "That challenge is from Henri of Navarre,' rejoined Catherine. "Henri of Navarre!' repeated Crichton, in astonishment; he, then, is the leader whom fate hath delivered into your hands.' " He is' replied Catherine; but we waste time-your answer?' We are sure that though we were to exhaust the whole vocabulary of eulogistic language, a stronger or happier recommendation could not be composed in behalf of this novel, than the dialogue from which these passages are taken. The whole work, however, deserves careful study, were it for nothing else than the successful manner in which the author has fathomed and developed the character of Catherine, dramatised the passions, the pleasure, and the hate that distinguished the court of Henri III., and painted the complexion of the times, when chivalry though about to expire, presented many of its most picturesque features. It was the period when every thing that confers on life its chief blessings and most enduring embellishments-such as learning, commerce, science, and freedom of thought-was about to elevate the nations of Europe; so that, whether we consider the era, the scene, or the actors in the story, Mr. Ainsworth has been remarkably felicitous in his choice and execution. We shall soon have it turned to good account for our theatres. ART. VII. A Narrative of the Sufferings and Detention among the Ice of the Crews of Two Vessels employed in the Whale Fishery. Hull. 1836. THE numerous disasters that has of late befallen our commerce with the northern regions, appears to have excited in the public mind, an anxiety to be better acquainted with the business that draws so many of our countrymen to encounter the perils of an arctic climate. In the northern portions of the globe, when the season for the whale fishery returns, an interest is manifested in the enterprise, as though existence itself depended on the issue. At this we need not wonder. The flesh of this monster, which resembles coarse beef, is a necessary article of food. It affords a thin transparent substance, which answers the purpose of window glass, and the sinews, when properly separated, are used for thread. The common bones are employed in building the hut, the whalebone in finishing canoes and rude instruments, and the remainder is no despicable material for fuel. Besides, train oil and oleaginous matter of all kinds, are more grateful to the taste of the natives of these regions, than the choicest delicacies to a refined people. The reindeer is no greater blessing to the Laplander-nor does the palm supply to the native of the tropical clime, a greater variety or his comfort and support, than does the whale to these northern tribes. When, after being immured in the depths of winter for nine or ten months in the year, they at length emerge from the tombs of the living, the utmost activity is often displayed in preparation for a fishing voyage; and when all is ready, mothers and children, and old men, gather on the shore at the parting. When the seamen return, after an interval of many days, laden with the fruits of their successful but desperate exertion, transport is visible in the actions and visages of all, no less heartfelt and expressive, than that which was demonstrated by the bells of Lerwick, when Parry returned in safety from one of his perilous but brilliant voyages. The Biscayans appear to have been the first Europeans, who systematically and extensively pursued the whale fishery. The Northmen, who, after a long career of ravage and plunder, at length settled along the western shores of Europe, are said to have introduced it. The same descriptions of whale gear and instruments are now used, that were employed by the Biscayans in the fifteenth century, and the same methods of capture are practised. Towards the end of the sixteenth century, they became bold and adventurous, and straying as far as the coast of Iceland, they found there a Norwegian colony, disposed to unite in their enterprises. Their fleet soon numbered fifty or sixty sail of vessels. Before the enthusiasm first roused by the brilliant successes of Columbus had subsided, the Dutch and English made many most calamitous attempts to reach the Indies by a north-east passage. In penetrating those icy regions, they met with vast numbers of whales-undisturbed for centuries in their peculiar and exclusive seas, tame, sluggish, and disposed to yield as ready captives to the intruder. The navigators determined to unite profit with adventure, and although they might fail in obtaining, by their imagined passage, the spices of India, to bring home at least in their vessels the products of the bear, the walrus, the seal, and the whale. From being only the incidental, these soon became the principal objects of these hazardous voyages, and the high hopes of men, panting for the lofty names of discoverers, were merged in the arduous toils of catching whales for profit. The subject does not seem to have assumed any great commercial importance, till the seventeenth century. The first voyage, made for the sole purpose of whale fishing by the English, was about the year 1610. An Amsterdam and a London company soon sent out numerous fleets to Spitzbergen. Other nations of Europe commenced also at the same time. As each nation claimed the right to the whale grounds, frequent contests for sole possession rendered the voyages profitless and disastrous. The ships went out in small squadrons, and had all the necessary naval preparations for plunder or defence. The English especially assumed quite a piratical character, and relied more upon the plunder of the interlopers, as they called the rest, than on their own honest and watchful exertions. After many years of silly and obstinate contention, an arrangement was made, by which the most eligible seas along the coast of Spitzbergen were divided among the English, Dutch, Hamburghers, French, and Spaniards. Subsequently to this division, the English Muscovy Company pursued the business successfully for a few years; but after a time their fleets gradually disappeared, and they finally deserted the northern oceans. A spell seems to have been cast upon all their operations; for while they were unfortunate year after year successively, the economical and calculating Dutch were annually rewarded with rich cargoes. They were obliged to renounce the business to these formidable rivals, who carried it forward with the same vigour and perseverance which they had displayed in all other commercial enterprises. At first, on their portion of the shores, the Dutch found the whales inert, passive, and abundant. They formed a summer colony on the shore, for the purpose of extracting and preparing the oil from the blubber which the vessels brought in. Here, on the snowy waste, the little village of Smeerenberg relieved the dull monotony of death. A sight unseen before, the curling of smoke and the ringing of bells announced that man had taken possession, where nature had seemed to threaten a total extinction of animal existence. During the whole of the seventeenth century, the business gradually extended, and two hundred vessels, of various kinds and sizes, were frequently floating in the harbour of Smeerenberg. At length the whales became shy and intractable, and it was found necessary to push out into the open sea, and there engage in the fearful encounter. As they advanced into the open ocean, the scene of their toil became nearly as distant from their colony as from home, and they at length deemed it expedient to relinquish the intermediate station, and return with their cargoes directly to Holland. Not a vestige of this village is now to be seen. It would be tedious and uninstructive, to follow in slow detail, the fluctuations of this precarious business. Suffice it to say, that for more than a hundred years, the English hardly maintained a whale ship, while the Dutch and Hamburghers annually, down to 1778, were employing a fleet of more than 200 vessels. During a part of the intermediate time, they employed as many as 300 vessels, and 18,000 men. The pride of our government was at length aroused, and stimulated by high bounties and high hopes, the English again became competitors. The attempts, under the name of the Greenland Company and the South Sea Company, had proved abortive and ruinous. Between 1732 and 1749, the bounty had risen to 40s. per ton, at which it remained permanent for the remainder of the century. This was a new era in British |