the late Professor Jameson. 13 
fens, one of the most elegant scientific writers. How truly 
did Jameson delight in speaking of Steffens as a man—he 
spoke of the power he had in converting all his scientific pic- 
tures into poetical ones. The following short extracts from 
his well-known work, which we have often heard Jameson 
speak of with delight, shew his graphic power :— 
“A Midnight Scene on the Ocean.—‘ Once more,’ says 
Steffens, ‘let us rock our imaginations on the bosom of the 
deep, before we go back to the world of men and things.’ We 
know of few attempts in prose or verse to describe the un- 
describable, the awful majesty, and the profound, mysterious 
attraction of the ocean, equal to the following. Our author 
was good-naturedly invited by a party of six fishermen to ac- 
company them on an expedition to a sand-bank, at a dis- 
tance of six or seven Norwegian miles from shore, where 
they were to pass the night. They sailed in a serene and 
beautiful morning: the wind afterwards rose, and the sea 
was agitated. 
_«<*The night I passed there I shall never forget. As twi- 
light closed around us on the tossing waves, we became more 
and more silent; the masts were lowered; the fishermen 
were contented with their day’s work, and I now threw out 
my net once more; the kind-hearted fellows pressed round 
me with friendly curiosity as I emptied my rich booty into 
the tub and began to examine it. I had to give a popular 
lecture on the new and rare productions I had caught. Mean- 
while, though the sun had sunk below the horizon, the bright 
evening red remained visible the whole night in the far west, 
and played on the waves around us—now gleaming, and then 
vanishing like a soft lightning, The oars lay still ; the boat, 
left to itself, rocked on the waves; the conversation fell into 
monosyllables ; my companions sung a hymn; I heard the 
murmur of their prayers, and then each, folding himself in 
his cloak, lay down to sleep; they slept the deep sleep of 
tired men. The billows dashed against the boat, and the 
night-air closed over our heads; the consciousness that a 
fathomless abyss might at any moment swallow up our small 
bark kept me awake, and the power of the wondrous ocean 
