In navigation, the barometer has become an important element of guidance, and a most interesting incident is recounted by Capt. Basil Hall, indicative of its value in the open sea. While cruising off the coast of South America, in the Medusa frigate, one day, when within the tropics, the commander of a brig in company was dining with him. After dinner, the conversation turned on the natural phenomena of the region, when Captain Hall's attention was accidentally directed to the barometer in the state-room where they were seated, and to his surprise he observed it to evince violent and frequent alteration. His experience told him to expect bad weather, and he mentioned it to his friend. His companion, however, only laughed, for the day was splendid in the extreme, the sun was shining with its utmost brilliance, and not a cloud specked the deep blue sky above. But Captain Hall was too uneasy to be satisfied with bare appearances. He hurried his friend to his ship, and gave immediate directions for shortening the top hamper of the frigate as speedily as possible. His lieutenants and the men looked at him in mute surprise, and one or two of the former ventured to suggest the inutility of the proceeding. The captain, however, persevered. The sails were furled; the topmasts were struck; in short, everything that could oppose the wind was made as snug as possible. His friend, on the contrary, stood in under every sail. The wisdom of Captain Hall's proceedings was, however, speedily evident; just, indeed, as he was beginning to doubt the accuracy of his instrument. For hardly had the necessary preparations been made, and while his eye was ranging over the vessel to see if his instructions had been obeyed, a dark hazy hue was seen to rise in the horizon, a leaden tint rapidly overspread the sullen waves, and one of the most tremendous hurricanes burst upon the vessels that ever seaman encountered on his ocean home. The sails of the brig were immediately torn to ribbons, her masts went by the board, and she was left a complete wreck on the tempestuous surf which raged around her, while the frigate was driven wildly along at a furious rate, and had to scud under bare poles across the wide Pacific, full three thousand miles, before it could be said that she was in safety from the blast. ARCHBISHOP CRANMER'S DIETARY. In this curious document, quoted by Warton (Hist. of Poet, iii., 177, edit. 1840) an archbishop is allowed to have two swans or two capons in a dish, a bishop one; an archbishop six blackbirds at once, a bishop five, a dean four, an archdeacon two. If a dean has four dishes in his first course, he is not afterwards to have custards or fritters. An Archbishop may have six snipes, an archdeacon two. Rabbits, larks, pheasants, and partridges, are allowed in these proportions. A canon residentiary is to have a swan only on a Sunday; a rector of sixteen marks, only three blackbirds in a week. THE KING'S COCK CROWER.