The Table book; . manes, wild tossing in the after each sank down astern, exhausted in the chase,But where it sank another rose and gailopd in its place;As black as night—they turn to white, and cast against the cloudA snowy sheet, as if each surge upturnd a sailors shroud:—?Still flew my boat; alas ! alas ! her course was nearly run !Behold yon fatal billow rise—ten billows heapd in one !With fearful speed the dreary mass came rolling, rolling, fast,As if the scooping sea containd one only wave at last!Still on it came, with horrid roar, a swift pursuing grave;It seemd as though som
The Table book; . manes, wild tossing in the after each sank down astern, exhausted in the chase,But where it sank another rose and gailopd in its place;As black as night—they turn to white, and cast against the cloudA snowy sheet, as if each surge upturnd a sailors shroud:—?Still flew my boat; alas ! alas ! her course was nearly run !Behold yon fatal billow rise—ten billows heapd in one !With fearful speed the dreary mass came rolling, rolling, fast,As if the scooping sea containd one only wave at last!Still on it came, with horrid roar, a swift pursuing grave;It seemd as though some cloud had turnd its hugeness to a ware !Its briny gleet began to beat beforehand in my face—I felt the rearward keel begin to climb its swelling baseI saw its alpine hoary head impending over mine !Another pulse—and down it rushd—an avalanche of brine .Brief pause had I, on God to cry, or think of wife and home;Tlie waters closd—and when I shriekd, I shriekd below the foam \, 750 THE TABLE MR. GLIDDONS CIGAR DIVAN. King Street, Covent Garden. Our readers, whom, between ourselves,and wiHiout flattery, we take to be as sociala set of persons as can be, people of animpartial humanity, and able to relishwhatever concerneth a common s;ood, whe-lier a childs story or a mans pinch ofsniifF, (for snuff comes after knowleds;e,)doubtless recollect the famous tale of theBarmecide and his imaginary dinner in theArabian Nights Entertainments. We herebyinvite them to an imaginary cigar and cupof coffee with us in a spot scarcely lessoriental—to wit, our friend Gliddons Divanin King-street. Not that our fictitious en-joyment is to serve them instead of the realone. Quite the contrary ; our object beingto advance the good of all parties,—of onrreaders, inasmuch as they are good fellowsin their snuffs,—of our friend, wlio cansupply them in a manner ditfeient fromanv bod else,—and of ourselves, because the subject is a pleasant one, and brings usall together agreea
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