same time she whipt up one of the gun-deck guns and run it out aft as a stern chaser, bringing a long eighteen from the forecastle for a similar purpose. Two twenty-fours were also run out of the cabin windows, though it was found necessary to cut away the wood-work of the stern-frame to make room. By 6, A. M., the wind, which heretofore continued very light and baffling, came out from the northward and westward, and knocked the ship off with her head to the southward. All her light canvas that would draw was set. The Shannon now opened her fire upon the Constitution-but perceiving that her shot fell short she ceased. At half-past 6, the frigate sounded in twenty-six fathom, and finding that the enemy was likely to close, from the circumstances of his having the boats of two ships to tow, and being favored by a little more air, she played out her spare rope, and sent out her cutters with a kedge nearly a mile ahead, and then let it go. At the word, the bars were manned, and the old ship walked away, overrunning and tripping the kedge as she came up with the other end of the line. While this was doing, fresh lines and another kedge were carried ahead, and in this manner, though out of sight of land, the frigate had glided away from her pursuers before they discovered the manner in which it was done. The greatest sluggards will awaken at last; and thus we see the Shannon, after the chase had nearly left her by her towing, lower her boats, and follow the successful example. At half-past 7, the Constitution had a little air, when she ran up the old thirteen, and fired a shot at the Shannon in token of defiance. At 8, however, it fell calm again, and further recourse was had to kedging, the enemy's vessel having light air, and draw. ing ahead.

The Shannon was now fast closing, and Old Ironsides was busily employed in preparing to give her visiter a warm reception.

It was evidently the intention of the English commander to cripple the Constitution by means of the Shannon, and then to close upon her, and bear her down with mighty odds. A more despicable and cowardly plan never was conceived of by a naval commander. The Constitution bore down to engage the Guerriere-and she defied the Shannon. Why did not the British commander haul his wind, and let them have a bout? It was like a stag hunt; and nobly did the flying frigate leave the yelling pack in the distance, to bay at the moon, or wake the ocean echoes with their thunder notes. Every thing on board of the chase was stoppered-the decks were sanded to dry up the expected torrent of blood—and hope beamed from the eyes of the officers, and was reflected by the iron faces of the unequalled crew.

Captain Hull was not without hopes, in case even of a meeting, of throwing the Shannon astern by his fire, and of maintaining a safe distance from the other vessels. It was known that the enemy could not tow very near, as it would have been easy to sink his boats with the stern chasers of the Constitution, and not a man of the crew showed any disposition to despondency.

"Remember the Chesapeake," muttered the old captain of the gun. "Remember the Chesapeake," answered the powder boy at his heels.

"Remember the Chesapeake," sang the man in the chains.

And from the look-out aloft came down, in broken words, the same inspiriting battle-call.
It was an hour of life or death-thank God, it was of life and glory.

THE ESCAPE.

Historian! throw aside your record of the past, and tell me what shall be the result of this wearisome chase. Man of prudence and safe calculation! turn away and tell me the probable chances of safety by your unyielding figures. Thinking mariner! retire to your cabin and tell me the prospect of the gallant frigate out-speeding the fast-sailing squadron that nearly encircles her. The winds of heaven, and the waves of ocean conspire against her. The flag of the republic clings like a wet sheet to her signal-halliards. The Shannon is fast closing with her astern, while the Guerriere is swiftly bearing down upon her quarter. An hour promises to bring the struggle to an issue; but hark! there is a whisper in the clear heavens; gentle voices seem to echo in the sky-a catspaw wrinkles the glassy waves, and now the ripple sings in the Constitution's wake.

"A breeze," cries the drowsy look-out-man-the nodding seaman, worn out by long and arduous watching, springs up at the spiriting cry.

"A breeze," thunders the officer of the deck, and soon the gallant ship is brought to the wind, with her sails trimmed, and her boats alongside. The quarter boats are run up to their davits, while the others are lifted clear of the water by purchases on the spare spars, where they swing ready to be used at a moment's notice.

Onward she dashes in her majesty, the glorious stars of freedom proudly sparkling above her quarter deck; but we must descend from the present to the past. The deed has been chronicled by the pen of the historian and the poet; and the death-cry of one of the pursuers has long since ascended to the God of battles-while the loud huzzas of victory have wakened the echoes of the blood-tipped ocean from the Constitution's deck.

As the frigate came by the wind she brought the Guerriere nearly on her lee beam, when that

vessel opened a fire from her broadside. While the shot were dimpling the water just beside them, the crew of the Constitution were securing their boats with the steadiness and regularity of an admiral's crew in port. In a short time, however, another calm settled upon the deep. It was now 10 o'clock of the second day, and the labors of the first were about to be acted over again. Captain Hull now started two thousand gallons of water, and sent the boats ahead again to tow. The enemy then sent all his boats to the Shannon, the nearest ship astern, and up came the lazy frigate upon the chase. A few hours of uncommon exertion followed-the crew of the Constitution being compelled to supply the place of numbers with activity and zeal; and nobly did they do it.

The ships were close by the wind; every thing that would draw was set, and the Shannon was slowly but steadily stealing ahead. At noon, a light breeze carried the frigate clear, but shortly af terwards the boats were again manned, and the toilsome work of towing and kedging was renewed again.

At 1, P. M., the cry of "Sail O," rang through the busy ship. Was she a friend or an enemy? She was to the leeward, and could not be distinctly made out. At this moment, the four frigates of the enemy were about one point upon the lee quarter of the Constitution, at long gunshot distance, and the Africa and her two prizes were upon her lee beam.

At a little past 2, the Belvidera, the nearest ship, began to fire with her bow guns, and the Constitution to answer with her stern chasers. On board the latter ship, however, it was soon found to be extremely dangerous to use the main-deck stern guns; the transoms having so much rake, the windows being so high, and the guns so short, that every explosion lifted the upper deck, and threatened to blow out the stern frame. Perceiving his shot did but little execution, and having fired a royal salute, double shotted, at the admiral, captain Hull ceased burning powder.

For several hours the enemy's frigates were within gun-shot, sometimes towing and kedging, and at others endeavoring to close with the puffs that occasionally passed.

At 7, the boats of the Constitution were again ahead the ship, steering S.W. half W. with a light air. At half-past 7, she sounded in twenty-four fathoms.

Four hours now elapsed of the same toilsome duty; but a little before 11, at night, a light wind struck the ship, and the sails, for the first time in many a weary hour, bellied to the breeze. The boats were immediately picked up, with the exception of the first cutter. Top-gallant, studding sails, and staysails were set, and for an hour the weary seamen slumbered at their guns.

At midnight another calm ensued, and it was perceived that the Guerriere gained upon the chase. At this time, the Constitution's top-gallant and studding sails were taken in.

Morning at length came upon the ocean, and it was found that three of the enemy's frigates were within long gun-shot, on the lee quarter, and the other at about the same distance on the lee beam; the Africa and the prizes being much farther to leeward. The Guerriere now tacked, when the Constitution did the same, to keep her windward position. Soon after, the olus passed on the contrary tack, so near that she might have materially damaged the Constitution had she opened upon her her fire. Captain Hall now hoisted in the first cutter, and set all sail. The scene was beautiful beyond description; friends and foes looked on with admiration-and "War's red angel slumbered on his wings." The weather was mild and clear-the sea smooth and transparent as an inland lake-and the wind blew sufficiently to do away with the everlasting kedging, which hau continued, with but slight intermission, for forty-eight hours. The coot danced upon the wavethe stormy petrel no longer whistled astern. From the far-off shore, the gray gull came screaming with delight, and the bald eagle hovered over the republican frigate-" The symbol of a mighty land." All the English vessels had got on the same tack with the Constitution, and the five frigates towered like moving mountains of snow upon the sleeping waters. Including the chase, eleven sail were in sight; shortly after, a twelfth appeared to windward. Captain Hull soon ascertained the stranger to be an American merchantman, and setting an English ensign, fired a gun to warn her to keep aloof; the hint was not overlooked, for soon the merchantman turned her cabin windows upon the belligerent squadron, and made a clean pair of heels for a more peaceful latitude.

Until 10, A. M., the Constitution was making every preparation to carry a press of canvas, should it be found necessary. She now sounded in twenty-five fathoms. At noon, the wind died away again, but she had distanced the fleet. The Belvidera, however, was about two and a half miles off in her wake, bearing W.N.W. The nearest frigate to the leeward bore N. by W. half W. three and a half miles. The two other frigates were on the lee quarter, distant about five miles; and the Africa was hull-down to leeward on the other tack. This was a vast improvement in the state of things, and officers and men were permitted to rest at quarters.

At meridian, the wind began to blow a pleasant breeze the water again rippled under the noble vessel's bows, and onward she dashed from her persevering pursuers like a Chesapeake pilot-boat before a north-easter. Her sails were watched and regulated in the most careful and seaman-like manner, until 4, P. M., when the Belvidera was four miles astern, and the other vessels thrown behind in the same proportion, notwithstanding the wind had become very light.

In this manner both parties pressed ahead and to windward as fast as circumstances would allow, profiting by every change of wind and tide, and resorting to every possible means of forcing thei vessels through the water.

At 7, P. M., a black squall was seen rising ahead, and the Constitution prepared to meet it with the coolness and discretion displayed by her throughout this whole affair. All hands were at their stations, and every thing was kept fast until the last moment, when the order was given « Clew up and clew down"-in an incredible short space of time the light canvas was furled, a second reef taken in the mizen topsail, and the ship brought under short sail.

The English vessels, seeing her sudden movement, began to take in their canvas long before the squall reached them; and when they were shut in by the rain, were seen steering wild upon the stormy sea.

The Constitution, on the other hand, no sooner felt its weight than she hoisted and sheeted home her fore and main top-gallant-sails; and while the enemy undoubtedly believed her to be a prey to the wind and the waves, she was flying away from them on an easy bow-line, at the rate of eleven knots an hour.

In little less than an hour after the squall had struck the ship, it had entirely passed to leeward, and a sight was again obtained of the enemy. The Belvidera, the nearest vessel, had altered her bearing in that short period nearly two more points to leeward, and she was a long way astern. The next nearest vessel was still farther to leeward, and more distant; while the two remaining frigates were fairly hull down; the Africa was barely visible in the horizon. All apprehensions of the enemy now ceased, though sail was carried to increase the distance and to preserve the weather gage.

At half-past 10, the wind backed farther to the southward, when the Constitution, which had been steering free for some time, took in her lower studding sails.

At 11, the enemy fired two guns-and the nearest ship could just be discovered in the dim distance. As the wind blew a soldier's breeze-viz: all around the compass-the enemy persevered in the pursuit; but when the day dawned, the nearest vessel was hull down astern, and to leeward. Under these circumstances, it was considered safe to use every exertion to lose sight of the enemy; and the wind dying away, the Constitution's sails were wet down from the sky-sails to the courses. The good effects of this application was soon apparent, for at eight bells the topsails of the enemy began to dip. At a quarter past 8, the English ships hauled their wind to the northward and eastward, fully satisfied in their own minds that, however much the members of the British parliament might affect to despise them, the fir-built frigates, decorated with bits of striped bunting, were manned by those who were fully equal, if not superior, to them in seamanship, and who, as the sequel will show, could triumph over them in the desperate struggle of naval war.

The day after the enemy gave up the chase, the Constitution, under a press of canvas, entered the harbor of Boston; and with her yards manned, and her colors flying, saluted the city with se

venteen guns.

Thus ended this extraordinary chase, which, for nearness of approach, overpowering numbers, and unmeasured exertion on the part of the English; and for coolness, discretion, and wariness on the part of the pursued, never had been equalled in the world. Whether we look at the old ship kedging away from the Shannon, running down to speak the Guerriere, lifting her boats when the breeze freshened, or running into the squall, and stripping herself with the swiftness of the wind; whether we see her firing her gun of defiance, and beating to quarters in the face of eight ships of war, and then tacking with the Guerriere to keep to windward, and exposing herself to the fire of the Eolus; we are equally filled with admiration and astonishment; and, with Dibdin, are almost constrained to say

"There's a sweet little Cherub that sits up aloft
That keeps a look-out for poor Jack."

SILENCE.

THERE is a silence where hath been no sound,
There is a silence where no sound may be,
In the cold grave-under the deep, deep sea,
Or in wide desert where no life is found,
Which hath been mute, and still must sleep pro-
found;

No voice is hush'd-no life treads silently,

But clouds and cloudy shadows wander free,

That never spoke-over the idle ground;
But in green ruins, in the desolate walls

Of antique palaces, where Man hath been,
Though the dun fox, or wild hyena, calls,

And owls, that flit continually between,
Shriek to the echo, and the low winds moan,
There the true Silence is, self-conscious and
alone.

P.

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.

BY EDGAR A. POE.

DURING the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it was-but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit. I say insufferable; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible. I looked upon the scene before me upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain-upon the bleak walls-upon the vacant eye-like windows-upon a few rank sedges-and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees-with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveller upon opium-the bitter lapse into common life-the hideous dropping off of the veil. There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart-an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime. What was it-I paused to think-what was it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of Usher? It was a mystery all insoluble; nor could I grapple with the shadowy fancies that crowded upon me as I pondered. I was forced to fall back upon the unsatisfactory conclusion, that while, beyond doubt, there are combinations of very simple natural objects which have the power of thus affecting us, still the reason, and the analysis, of this power, lie among considerations beyond our depth. It was possible, I reflected, that a mere different arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of the details of the picture, would be sufficient to modify, or perhaps to annihilate its capacity for sorrowful impression; and, acting upon this idea, I reined my horse to the precipitous brink of a black and lurid tarn that lay in unruffled lustre by the dwelling, and gazed down-but with a shudder even more thrilling than before-upon the re-modelled and inverted images of the gray sedge, and the ghastly tree-stems, and the vacant and eye-like windows.

Nevertheless, in this mansion of gloom I now proposed to myself a sojourn of some weeks. Its proprietor, Roderick Usher, had been one of my boon companions in boyhood; but many years had elapsed since our last meeting. A letter, however, had lately reached me in a distant part of the country—a letter from him—which, in its wildly importunate nature, had admitted of no other than a personal reply. The MS. gave evidence of nervous agitation. The writer spoke of acute bodily illness of a pitiable mental idiosyncrasy which oppressed him-and of an earnest desire to see me, as his best, and indeed, his only personal friend, with a view of attempting, by the cheerfulness of my society, some alleviation of his malady. It was the manner in which all this, and much more, was said it was the apparent heart that went with his request-which allowed me no room for hesitation-and I accordingly obeyed, what I still considered a very singular summons, forthwith.

Although, as boys, we had been even intimate associates, yet I really knew little of my friend. His reserve had been always excessive and habitual. I was aware, however, that his very ancient family had been noted, time out of mind, for a peculiar sensibility of temperament, displaying itself, through long ages, in many works of exalted art, and manifested, of late, in repeated deeds of munificent yet unobtrusive charity, as well as in a passionate devotion to the intricacies, perhaps even more than to the orthodox and easily recognizable beauties, of musical science. I had learned, too, the very remarkable fact, that the stem of the Usher race, all time-honored as it was, had put forth, at no period, any enduring branch; in other words, that the entire family lay in the direct line of descent, and had always, with very trifling and very temporary variation, so lain. It was this deficiency, I considered, while running over in thought the perfect keeping of the character of the premises with the accredited character of the people, and while speculating upon the possible influence which the one, in the long lapse of centuries, might have exercised upon the other-it was this deficiency, perhaps, of collateral issue, and the consequent undeviating transmission, from sire to son, of the patrimony with the name, which had, at length, so identified the two as to merge the original title of the estate in the quaint and equivocal appellation of the "House of Usher"—an appellation

which seemed to include, in the minds of the peasantry who used it, both the family and the family mansion.

I have said that the sole effect of my somewhat childish experiment, of looking down within the tarn, had been to deepen the first singular impression. There can be no doubt that the consciousness of the rapid increase of my superstition-for why should I not so term it ?-served mainly to accelerate the increase itself. Such, I have long known, is the paradoxical law of all sentiments having terior as a basis. And it might have been for this reason only, that, when I again uplifted my eyes to the house itself, from its image in the pool, there grew in my mind a strange fancy-a fancy so ridiculous, indeed, that I but mention it to show the vivid force of the sensations which oppressed me. I had so worked upon my imagination as really to believe that around about the whole mansion and domain there hung an atmosphere peculiar to themselves and their immediate vicinity— an atmosphere which had no affinity with the air of heaven, but which had reeked up from the decayed trees, and the gray walls, and the silent tarn, in the form of an inelastic vapor or gas-dull, sluggish, faintly discernible, and leaden-hued. Shaking off from my spirit what must have been a dream, I scanned more narrowly the real aspect of the building. Its principal feature seemed to be that of an excessive antiquity. The discoloration of ages had been great. Minute fungi overspread the whole exterior, hanging in a fine tangled web-work from the caves. Yet all this was apart from any extraordinary dilapidation. No portion of the masonry had fallen; and there appeared to be a wild inconsistency between its still perfect adaptation of parts, and the utterly porous, and evidently decayed condition of the individual stones. In this there was much that reminded me of the specious totality of old wood-work which has rotted for long years in some neglected vault, with no disturbance from the breath of the external air. Beyond this indication of extensive decay, however, the fabric gave little token of instability. Perhaps the eye of a scrutinizing observer might have discovered a barely perceptible fissure, which, extending from the roof of the building in front, made its way down the wall in a zig-zag direction, until it became lost in the sullen waters of the tarn. Noticing these things, I rode over a short causeway to the house. A servant in waiting took my horse, and I entered the Gothic archway of the hall. A valet, of stealthy step, thence conducted me, in silence, through many dark and intricate passages in my progress to the studio of his master. Much that I encountered on the way contributed, I know not how, to heighten the vague sentiments of which I have already spoken. While the objects around me—while the carvings of the ceilings, the sombre tapestries of the walls, the ebon blackness of the floors, and the phantasmagoric armorial trophies which rattled as I strode, were but matters to which, or to such as which, I had been accustomed from my infancy-while I hesitated not to acknowledge how familiar was all this—I still wondered to find how unfamiliar were the fancies which ordinary images were stirring up. On one of the staircases, I met the physician of the family. His countenance, I thought, wore a mingled expression of low cunning and perplexity. He accosted me with trepidation and passed on. The valet now threw open a door and ushered me into the presence of his master.

The room in which I found myself was very large and excessively lofty. The windows were long, narrow, and pointed, and at so vast a distance from the black oaken floor as to be altogether inaccessible from within. Feeble gleams of encrimsoned light made their way through the trelliced panes, and served to render sufficiently distinct the more prominent objects around; the eye, however, struggled in vain to reach the remoter angles of the chamber, or the recesses of the vaulted and fretted ceiling. Dark draperies hung upon the walls. The general furniture was profuse, comfortless, antique, and tattered. Many books and musical instruments lay scattered about, but failed to give any vitality to the scene. I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow. An air of stern, deep, and irredeemable gloom hung over and pervaded all.

Upon my entrance, Usher arose from a sofa upon which he had been lying at full length, and greeted me with a vivacious warmth which had much in it, I at first thought of an overdone cordiality-of the constrained effort of the ennuyé man of the world. A glance, however, at his counte nance convinced me of his perfect sincerity. We sat down; and for some moments, while he spoke not, I gazed upon him with a feeling half of pity, half of awe. Surely, man had never before so terribly altered, in so brief a period, as had Roderick Usher! It was with difficulty that I could bring myself to admit the identity of the wan being before me with the companion of my early boyhood. Yet the character of his face had been at all times remarkable. A cadaverousness of complexion; an eye large, liquid, and luminous beyond comparison; lips somewhat thin and very pal lid, but of a surpassingly beautiful curve; a nose of a delicate Hebrew model, but with a breadth of nostril unusual in similar formations; a finely moulded chin, speaking, in its want of prominence, of a want of moral energy; hair of a more than web-like softness and tenuity; these features, with an inordinate expansion above the regions of the temple, made up altogether a countenance not easily to be forgotten. And now in the mere exaggeration of the prevailing character of these features, and of the expression they were wont to convey, lay so much of change that I doubted to whom I spoke. The now ghastly pallor of the skin, and the now miraculous lustre of the eye, above all things startled and even awed me. The silken hair, too, had been suffered to grow all unheeded, and as, in its wild gossamer texture, it floated rather than fell about the face, I could not, even with effort, connect its arabesque expression with any idea of simple humanity.