I saw the ship approaching among the distant icebergs—the great lordly icebergs,—how they rolled and roared and ground against each other in the heavy surge!—their huge sides now shining great sheets of silver—now glancing with the deep blue of the precious sapphire, now quivering in the sun’s rays, with all the hues of the grass-green emerald and blazing ruby,—ha! I saw her—I saw the gallant ship threading her way among them, as their castellated sides towered mountain-like above her. I made one spring—one gallant spring—and catching by her top-mast, slid down in safety to her decks. Her sails were spread widely to the winds and recklessly we ploughed our course onward through the icy flood;—but now her speed diminished—now we scarcely moved. The rudder creaked lazily from side to side, and the long pennant supinely resting on the shrouds, languidly lifted itself as if to peer into the dark flood, and then serpent-like, settled itself again to its repose. A sullen distant roar began to break upon my ear,—it increased,—our before quiet bark, hastening, rushed onwards as if ashamed of her dull reverie; but still there was no wind—the sea was smooth and placid, but the swelling surge was thrown forward from her bows, by the increasing velocity with which we dashed along. The rushing noise of waters increased, and sounded like distant thunder; the white surges showed themselves in the distance, leaping and jumping with frightful violence. I approached the captain;—his gloomy brow—the ghastly paleness of the crew, as with folded arms they stood looking in the distance, alarmed me. I eagerly asked the cause of the appearances before me,—he answered not,—he stood immoveable as a statue:—but, in a cold unearthly voice, a scar-marked sailor groaned, “We are food for the Maelstroom!”—Can we not, I franticly exclaimed—oh! can we not escape? Bend every sail—ply every oar,—“Too late—too late,” echoed again the gloomy voice—“our doom is sealed;”—and the finger of the speaker pointed to a dark fiendish figure at the helm, who, with a low hellish laugh, was steering for the midst. The raging waves boiled and roared around us,—our fated ship plunged forward—a steady resistless power sucked us in,—on we were hurried to our frightful goal. The whale—the leviathan, swept by us—their immense bodies were thrown almost entirely in the air,—their blood stained the foaming brine—they roared like mad bulls. The zigzag lightning in the black canopy above us, was reflected in fiery showers from the spray—the crashing thunder mingled with the yells of the struggling monsters—their efforts were vain—more power had infants in giants’ hands,—the devouring whirlpool claimed us for its own. On we were borne in unresisting weakness—faster and faster,—circle after circle disappeared,—we were on the edge of the furious watery tunnel,—we were buried in its depths,—the long arms of the loathsome polypi stretched forward to seize us in their