es of it, I thought it would be a nobler work than
"Zophiel."

Mrs. Brooks died at Patricio, in Cuba, near the close of December,
1844.

I have no room for particular criticism of her minor poems. They will
soon I trust be given to the public in a suitable edition, when it
will be discovered that they are heart-voices, distinguished for the
same fearlessness of thought and expression which is illustrated by
the work which has been considered in this brief reviewal.

The accompanying portrait is from a picture by Mr. Alexander, of
Boston, and though the engraver has very well preserved the details
and general effect of the painting, it does little justice to the fine
intellectual expression of the subject. It was a fancy of Mr.
Southey's that induced her to wear in her hair the passion-flower,
which that poet deemed the fittest emblem of her nature.

[Footnote 3: The author of "Notes on Cuba." Boston, 1844.]

THE CRUISE OF THE RAKER.

A TALE OF THE WAR OF 1812-15.

BY HENRY A. CLARK.

CHAPTER I.

_The Departure of the Privateer._

It was a dark and cloudy afternoon near the close of the war of
1812-15. A little vessel was scudding seaward before a strong
sou'wester, which lashed the bright waters of the Delaware till its
breast seemed a mimic ocean, heaving and swelling with tiny waves. As
the sky and sea grew darker and darker in the gathering shades of
twilight, the little bark rose upon the heavy swell of the ocean, and
meeting Cape May on its lee-beam, shot out upon the broad waste of
waters, alone in its daring course, seeming like the fearless bird
which spreads its long wings amid the fury of the storm and the
darkness of the cloud.

Upon the deck, near the helm, stood the captain, whom we introduce to
our readers as George Greene, captain of the American privater, Raker.
He was a weather-bronzed, red-cheeked, sturdy-built personage, with a
dark-blue eye, the same in color as the great sea over which it was
roving with an earnest and careful glance, rather as if in search of a
strange sail, than in apprehension of the approaching storm. His
countenance denoted firmness and resolution, which he truly possessed
in an extraordinary degree, and his whole appearance was that of a
hardy sailor accustomed to buffet with the storm and laugh at the
fiercest wave.

It was evident that a bad night was before them, and there were some
on board the little privateer who thought they had better have