We have seen him in the previous narrative, slowly and gradually, amidst various trials and disappointments, winning his way to that point in his profession, which a just and reasonable ambition led him to desire. We have seen him emerging out of difficulties which were likely to have overwhelmed a man who was supported by no family or private interest, and who was to rise, if he rose at all, by personal exertions. We have seen him obtaining promotion, rank, and honour, and finally in gaining the object of his early and persevering attachment, we have seen him realizing all that he had hoped for or desired. And now at the commencement of a new career, the career which to an ardent and energetic spirit like his, must have seemed the most brilliant and full of promise; in command of one of the finest frigates in the navy, at the beginning of a war which seemed likely to be a struggle for life and death between two mighty empires, when everything that his profession could offer was before him; when rank and fortune, and what was dearer than both to a mind like his, were apparently within his reach, and might have been reasonably anticipated; he is doomed to open the campaign with a disaster, which was not only in itself most afflicting, and likely to affect his professional character; but which immediately involved a captivity of interminable duration; a captivity to be rendered more intolerable while it lasted, by hearing of what was done by others; and which might be extended to such a length, as to mar all future prospect of promotion or distinctions. It is only necessary for the reader to place himself in such circumstances, and the imagination can easily supply the pictures which might have presented themselves to Captain Brenton’s mind on the occasion; and, notwithstanding this, we find him in the hour of misfortune, calm if dejected; resigned to a lot which seemed to involve the loss of all he had been seeking; and sustained under defeat by the consciousness of having endeavoured to do his duty. Something may be ascribed to temperament; something may be ascribed to the buoyant character of a profession, which being cast in the midst of dangers, lives by surmounting them, and grows habitually indifferent to circumstances, by successfully struggling against them. But while we cede much to causes like these, we need not cede more than is due. Many officers no doubt shared the same hard destiny with him, and bore with more or less equanimity the trial of captivity. No comparison is drawn, nor attempted to be drawn, between their behaviour and his. Our object is not to raise Captain Brenton on this occasion above others; but to shew him as he was, and to describe how he felt and how he acted. It is not essential that a model should be superior to every thing else of the kind; but we feel that it is sufficient for the purpose, if it has qualities that should be imitated, and that may be imitated; and we know