the rapid gleam of descending sabres. Then there would be a momentary pause, as one party or the other gained a temporary advantage; and then again the wild uproar swelled with redoubled fury. At last the Chilians collecting in a dense mass upon the quarter deck, made a quick and fierce charge upon their opponents. It was met, and, for an instant, met successfully; but the strength of the Spaniards was broken, and the next moment they were heard dropping into the sea, as their pursuers forced them over the bows. The spar-deck was now still, but below all was confusion. A gunbrig, which had repelled its assailants, fired its single piece of artillery directly under the cabin windows of the Esmeralda, and the indiscriminate slaughter of friend and foe was the consequence. This, however, produced no effect upon the combatants, and the victory on the gun-deck was still doubtful, when Cochrane, with his successful followers, rushed down the gangway, and quickly decided the fate of the Spaniards. The wave was their only refuge, and, springing from the ports, some gained the shore by swimming, others found their graves where they fell. The Virginian, and his companion in the cutter, had watched the progress of the fight from their station in the fore-top of the Macedonian, and were still gazing on the deck of the Esmeralda, when a flash from the shore, the howl of a ball passing between the masts, and the dull report of a cannon drew their attention to another quarter. Lights were seen hurrying along the ramparts of the fortress of Callao, and the sound of drums came faintly from them. Flash after flash succeeded the first in quick succession, until one continued stream of fire gushed from the long line of batteries. To the eyes of the young men, every gun seemed intended especially for them." "What! not a spar gone yet?-and only one hole through the main-top-sail?" said the Virginian, at last, after coolly casting his eyes upwards upon the canvas of the ship. "It can't be so long, however; the light duck scarcely draws, and the courses and topsails hang like lead. There goes the cross-jack-yard," he continued, as the crash of splintered wood was heard upon the quarter-deck. "The lanterns at the peak and jib-boom end would have distinguished us from the Esmeralda, if Cochrane had not hoisted them as soon as we did.” By heavens! though, there goes his peak light!" cried his companion, as a shot severed the rope. The lantern fell over into the sea, floated a moment, and was extinguished. A better aim on the part of the Spanish gunners, or the gradual approach of the vessel within the range of some of the cannon of the fortress, made the situation of the ship more perilous than it had yet been, and three or four balls almost grazed the heads of the fore-top-men. Still both spar and sail were uninjured, and the only effect of the shot was to hush the whispered conversation which had been hitherto main tained. The silence was at last interrupted by an interjectional whistle from the Virginian, as a shot went through the sail immediately above lines. "This firing will deaden the wind until canvas nor duck will hold it; and the Scotchman hangs on our quarter, determined that if he sinks, so shall we." "Don't whistle for the wind, Mister- "said an old sailor, in a superstitious tone; "it never comes when it is called, and we want it too much to anger it." "That whistle brought it, though," cried the other. The Esmeralda's courses draw, and our heavy sails begin to feel it; we'll walk yet if the puff holds." The communication was accompanied with a visible change in the spirits of the seamen, as the sail, after one or two heaves, swelled steadily before the wind. The progress of the vessel, however, was still slow, although the danger every moment decreased, and it was upwards of an hour before the shot of the fortress fell short. Daylight by this time began to dawn, and showed the sullen batteries, surmounted by a heavy dun cloud, and frowning over a bay which they had so fruitlessly attempted to guard. The Macedonian cast anchor far beyond their reach, and the Esmeralda, uninjured, and in gallant style, moved towards the island of San Lorenzo. During this eventful night, the captain of the American frigate had been detained in Lima, and at sun-rise of the second day after the fight, the launch and gig were ordered down to Chorillos to meet him, and to receive on board such Americans as feared the consequences of remaining in the city, during the first moments of excitement which would follow the intelligence of the capture of the Esmaralda. The gig was commanded by our friend, the Virginian, and, after a long and heavy pull, he found himself beneath the high and rugged cliffs of Chorillos. Here the boats remained without the surf, while the Indians wading through it, brought the passengers on board. "All aboard," had been already cried, and the oars were in the rowlocks to return, when the appearance of a troop of San Martin's cavalry on shore, and their loud shouts and earnest beckonings, delayed their departure. As the sailors rested on their oars, an officer, who appeared to be the commander of the soldiers, came hurrying to the beach, bearing on his arm a female, whose horse he had been seen to guide as his troops came full gallop on. He gave her to the huge Indian who offered his assistance, and followed him into the surf. A short and low conversation was held between San Martin's officer and the American commander. The former then returned to the shore, and the latter gave his rapid orders to proceed to Callao. By evening the party were again in their frigate, and a knot was soon seen to assemble round the young Virginian, as on the preceding evening. He seemed to be urging a doubtful point with peculiar energy. "How did I know them?" Why, didn't I see him plain enough in the room, and didn't I hear his plan of getting her to Valparaiso? The captain ordered me to the launch, but not before I saw her face. No, reefers, no! true love got the weathergage of the old don, her father, in Lima, and kept it at Chorillos." New York. ADDRESS TO THE DEITY. BY REGINALD AUGUSTINE. Thou walk'st thy many worlds.-Byron. Dread Spirit! if alone to Thee Thou hast a throne invisible, The fount, the rill, the tree, and flow'r, But Thy surpassing Majesty Existeth not in man! When thunder-clouds lift up their strife, Appears Thy glory in the light Thou hast no region-all the world Dread Spirit! from Thy dazzling throne, Thy robe,-the starlit heaven. Thy mercy melloweth in the hours Thy wrath, a threatening tempest-cloud, Ö'er sullen winter flings. And whence can spring man's thirst for power,— Thou breathest on him-he is life! For Thee the waves an anthem weave, To whom shall we attribute Thee? An endless perpetuity,- A world sublime and vast! We'll see Thy presence in the light |