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A day or two later, however, I enjoyed my first | inexhaustible. He would tell stories of the Indians walk with Thoreau, which was succeeded by many who once dwelt thereabout until the children almost others. We started westward from the village, in looked to see a red man skulking with his arrow on which direction his favorite walks lay, for I then shore; and every plant or flower on the bank or in found out the way he had of connecting casual with the water, and every fish, turtle, frog, lizard, about us universal things. He desired to order his morning was transformed by the wand of his knowledge, from walk after the movement of the planet. The sun the low form into which the spell of our ignorance is the grand western pioneer'; he sets his gardens of had reduced it, into a mystic beauty. One of his Hesperides on the horizon every evening to lure the surprises was to thrust his hand softly into the water, race; the race moves westward, as animals migrate, and as softly raise up before our astonished eyes a by instinct; therefore we are safe in going by large bright fish, which lay as contentedly in his Goose Pond to Baker's farm. Of every square acre hand as if they were old acquaintances! If the fish of ground, he contended, the western side was the had also dropped a penny from its mouth, it could wildest, and therefore the fittest for the seeker to not have been a more miraculous proceeding to us. explore. Ex oriente lux ex occidente frux. I now The entire crew bared their arms and tried to get had leisure to observe carefully this man. He was hold of a fish, but only the captain succeeded. . . . . short of stature, well built, and such a man as I I do not doubt but that it was this and other intihave fancied Julius Cæsar to have been. Every macies of Thoreau with various animals that sugmovement was full of courage and repose; the tones gested to his friend and neighbor Mr. Hawthorne of his voice were those of Truth herself; and there the character of Donatello in the tale of Transforwas in his eye the pure bright blue of the New mation. And I have fancied that Emerson-who England sky, as there was sunshine in his flaxen has applied to him what Fuller said of Butler the hair. He had a particularly strong aquiline-Roman apiologist, that "either he had told the bees things nose, which somehow reminded me of the prow of or the bees had told him"-had Thoreau in his a ship. There was in his face and expression, with mind when he wrote in his Woodnotes:all its sincerity, a kind of intellectual furtiveness: no wild thing could escape him more than it could be harmed by him. The gray huntsman's suit which he wore enhanced this expression:

"He took the color of his vest

From rabbit's coat and grouse's breast;
For as the wild kinds lurk and hide,
So walks the huntsman unespied."

The cruellest weapons of attack, however, which this huntsman took with him were a spyglass for birds, a microscope for the game that would hide in smallness, and an old book in which to press plants. His powers of conversation were extraordinary. I remember being surprised and delighted at every step with revelations of laws and significant attributes in common things, - as a relation between different kinds of grass and the geological characters beneath them, the variety and grouping of pineneedles and the effect of these differences on the sounds they yield when struck by the wind, and the shades, so to speak, of taste represented by grasses and common herbs when applied to the tongue. The acuteness of his senses was marvellous: no hound could scent better, and he could hear the most faint and distant sounds without even laying his ear to the ground like an Indian.

As we penetrated farther and farther into the woods, he seemed to gain a certain transformation, and his face shone with a light that I had not seen in the village. He had a calendar of the plants and flowers of the neighborhood, and would sometimes go around a quarter of a mile to visit some floral friend, whom he had not seen for a year, who would appear for that day only. We were too early for the hibiscus, a rare flower in New England, which I desired to see. He pointed out the spot by the river-side where alone it could be found, and said it would open about the following Monday, and not stay long. I went on Tuesday evening and found myself a day too late, the petals were scattered on the ground. . . .

....

Though shy of general society, Thoreau was a hero among children, and the captain of their excursions. Sometimes I have gone with Thoreau and his young comrades for an expedition on the river, to gather, it may be, water-lilies. Upon such excursions his resources for our entertainment were |

"It seemed as if the breezes brought him;
It seemed as if the sparrows taught him;
As if by secret sight he knew
Where, in far fields, the orchis grew.
Many haps fall in the field,

Seldom seen by wishful eyes,

But all her shows did Nature yield,

To please and win this pilgrim wise.
He saw the partridge drum in the woods;
He heard the woodcock's evening hymn;
He found the tawny thrush's broods,

And the shy hawk did wait for him;
What others did at distance hear,

And guessed within the thicket's gloom,
Was showed to this philosopher,

And at his bidding seemed to come."

But it seems that the elves of wood and water were alluring him from the earth. The seeds of consumption were prematurely developed, perhaps by his life of exposure; but the distress and appeals of friends and relatives could not, to the last, overcome the fascinations of Nature, and persuade him to remain within doors. He was sent at length to the more gentle climate of the Mississippi; but it was of no avail, and he soon returned home to die. In his last letter (March 21, 1862), written by his sister to a young poet whom he had never met, he said: "I am encouraged to know that, so far as you are concerned, I have not written my books in vain.... I suppose that I have not many months to live; but of course I know nothing about it. I may add, that I am enjoying existence as much as ever, and regret nothing."

THE STEWARD'S STORY. ABOUT twelve years ago, 1 was steward of the "Dryad," Robert Harrison, commander. She was a fine fast little ship of four hundred and fifty tons, and bound from Shanghai to London, with a cargo of teas and silk. A Clyde-built ship, called the "Planet," a great favorite in the trade, completed her loading at the same time that we did, so we sailed together and passed through the Straits of Sunda in company.

Now, you must know, that to bring the first of the season's teas into market, was then, and is now, a very great object; and of course there is considerable rivalry among the first ships loaded. More

gallant sail set on a jury-mast rigged forward. As I could make out all this, you may imagine I was much astonished by hearing the captain say to the first mate, "I can't see her, Mr. Gilbert; I think it must be Monsell's fancy!"

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over, part of our cargo was on account of the owner | She seemed to have a main-royal or a mizzen-topof the ship, which made Captain Harrison doubly anxious to make a rapid passage. I do not know whether he understood he was to receive a present in case the "Dryad" should be the first ship into London, though that is likely enough; but I do know that he had made a bet of five-and-twenty pounds with the captain of the " Planet," for I heard the bet made one day when old Sandilands was taking tiffin on board our ship.

When he said this, I looked round, and was surprised to see that he had his glass directed to a point or so abaft the beam. No wonder he didn't see her, for the "Dryad" had not been idle all this time, and we were leaving the wreck well astern; the breeze, too, was freshening into a smart capful of wind. Upon hearing the skipper's remark, our first mate said,

"Bring me up my night-glass, will you, Stedman?"

"And get supper ready, Stedman," added the captain, in a way that sounded like, "What are you doing on deck, when you are not wanted?"

Of course I took the hint, but what with going between the cabin and the_galley, and listening at the foot of the companion, I heard and saw all that passed. Mr. Gilbert took the glass, and, walking right aft, looked over the taffrail a little to leeward. Presently he said, –

Well, we parted company off Java Head, and you may depend that there was not much rest for the officers and crew of either ship from that time forward, at least, I know that there was none on board our ship. Our skipper carried on her very hard, day and night the same: indeed, he would be on deck at all hours of the night, not that he need have been afraid of either of the mates taking in canvas before they were absolutely compelled; for though they were perhaps not so much concerned personally in the matter of a smart passage as he was, yet they seemed to consider it for the credit of the ship that she should beat the "Planet," and carried sail as hard as was safe, and occasionally a good deal harder than was pleasant. A pretty general average they made among my crockery, to be sure, "I see her quite distinctly, sir,- a heavy ship, when we had some tolerably heavy weather coming from Bombay or Calcutta, most likely; rolling very round the Cape. However, we weathered it hand- deep, sprung a bad leak, I should say, sir; should n't somely, for a stun'sail boom or two, and a split top-wonder if one of her masts when they went overgallant sail don't count for much when a ship is board had started a butt." bound to make a fast run, and in 27° south we were going free at a great rate with a fine fresh breeze on the quarter, and the skipper and mates were in high glee, for they made certain we were beating the "Planet"; though, not having seen that ship since leaving Java Head, it was impossible for any one to know anything for certain about the matter.

However, there was no mistake about the fair wind, and the "Dryad" walked along in great style, bowling off her ten and eleven knots an hour, when one evening when we were getting somewhere to about 26° south latitude, one of our youngsters, who was up in the main-top, stowing away a stun'sail, sung out, "Sail ho!"

"Where away?" called out Captain Harrison and our chief mate both together. You see they fancied that it might be the "Planet," and were all

alive.

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"What do you make her out to be?" again sung out the captain. Here, Mr. Monsell, he continued, addressing the second mate, "take your glass into the top, and see what she is like."

Up ran Monsell, and in less than a minute hailed the deck with, "She is a large dismasted ship, sir, waterlogged, I think, but you may be able to see her from the deck, right over our lee quarter."

You see, at the rate we were going, we were dropping her fast. At this intelligence Captain Harrison looked very much disturbed and annoyed, and walked the deck for a minute or two, without speaking. Then he called down the companion-hatch for me to bring his glass, which I did pretty quickly, for, to tell the truth, I was standing with it in my hand at the foot of the stairs, listening to what was going on. Now, I heard what Monsell had said when he hailed from the maintop; so when I came on deck I looked over the quarter. There, sure enough, I picked her out at once with my naked eye, not very plain, to be sure, but plain enough to see that she was a large ship, very deep, rolling heavily. |

All this Mr. Gilbert said without removing the glass from his eye.

"She's abandoned, I suppose, Mr. Gilbert," said the captain, in a tone which he tried to make unconcerned, and without looking in the direction of the wreck.

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Well, no, sir, I should say not,” replied the mate decidedly, as he turned round and looked at his superior with some surprise. "I should say that there were some hands on board of her, if not all the crew; they have rigged that jury-mast with that rag of sail forward, and they manage to keep her before the wind pretty well, considering."

"Ah, well, well, Mr. Gilbert, she'll do all right enough; she has a fair wind for St. Helena, and she can fetch that easily, I dare say, if the worst comes to the worst; besides she is in the regular track of the homeward-bounders, and some ship or other will be sure to pick her up. Whether or no, I can't put the ship's head round now and beat up to windward to her for three or four hours, and then find, after all, that she does not require our assistance. Perhaps the 'Planet' may fall in with her to-morrow or next day, ha! ha!"

This he said with a forced laugh, but neither of the mates seemed disposed to join him in his merriment. On the contrary, they both looked very gloomy, and I can't say that I thought it a subject to be joked about, nor, I dare say, did the crew. Indeed, our captain's behavior surprised me a good deal; for though he was generally considered a taut hand, and very strict in his notions of duty and discipline, no one on board had ever regarded him as a cruel or bad-hearted man. But, you understand, the Devil was at his elbow in two or three shapes. He was anxious to bring in the first cargo of tea, - he was anxious to do well for his owner, he took a pride in the fast passage his ship was making, and then there was his confounded bet with Captain Sandilands, of the "Planet.”

But it is not for me to judge him, and, what's more, no one on board, officers or men, presumed to

express their opinion, whatever they may have thought; only I heard Mr. Gilbert, who went into his cabin shortly after eight bells had struck, muttering something to himself about, "a nice entry to make in the log-book!" It was the second mate's watch from eight to twelve, but Captain Harrison remained walking the deck; and when I went up to him and announced that supper was ready, he sent Mr. Monsell down, saying that he would keep the watch in the mean time. And when Monsell returned on deck, there he still remained, silently pacing fore and aft, and occasionally stopping to look over the taffrail. The moon rose at four bells or thereabouts, and soon afterwards I heard the skipper say,

Turn the hands up, Mr. Monsell,-in stun'sails!"

Upon this, up jumped Mr. Gilbert with, "What is the old man up to now?" He was on deck pretty sharply, and I could hear him forward, singing out for his watch.

Then it was, "In maintop-mast and top-gallant stun'sails; fore top-mast and lower stun'sails; and then single reefs in the top-sails, fore and aft"; Then, "Hands by the braces!" and as the helm was put hard to port, the fore-sheet was dragged aft, the foretack boarded, the yards were braced sharp up, and the ship hauled to the wind as close as she would lay.

Then we knew what our captain had been thinking about, while he had been pacing the deck so silently during the last two or three hours; and I, for one, did n't envy him his reflections.

What he could have done a few hours before, very easily, he was going to do now; when it would not only be difficult, but would cause great loss of time into the bargain. Ay, and what was worse, it would probably be too late. For when we first sighted the vessel in distress there was no more than a fresh breeze, and very little sea; now there was a considerable sea running and wind had freshened, so that, as we worked to windward, it was like half a gale; and under the canvas we were carrying, our good ship heeled over to it handsomely, and took the seas over her in great style.

Nevertheless we did not make much way, or at least that was our captain's opinion, for when we wore ship at six bells, he said to the first mate, "We will get the mainsail on her, Mr. Gilbert."

"Upon my word, sir, she has got as much as she can stagger under, and I don't think she can bear it," replied the mate; the first time I think that I

ever heard him offer a remonstrance.

kept beating to windward, and I knew, by the constant, anxious look-out kept by the mates, that they calculated we were some where near the spot where the distressed ship was last seen; but no, the day dawned, the sun rose, but the clear expanse all around us was unbroken. The ship was gone! Without orders, Mr. Monsell took his telescope up into the main-top-mast cross-trees, and there he stayed for a quarter of an hour or more. When he came down, Captain Harrison asked him no ques|tions. There was no need: the grave look of his face told its own story.

All that forenoon we kept stretching to windward, though every soul on board, not excepting the Captain, must have known that it was too late; but about midday Captain Harrison said to the first mate (and his voice seemed hoarse and strange), "You can put the helm up, Mr. Gilbert, square the yards, shake out the reefs, and keep her away on her course." With that he came down below, and went, without speaking, into the after-cabin. At first I did not venture to disturb him, but after waiting about a quarter of an hour I fancied that I heard him groan; so, by way of an excuse for intruding upon him, I got him wine, and taking it into the cabin, asked him to take some, saying that I knew he must feel in want of some refreshment. He was sitting with his elbows resting upon the table, and his face hidden between his hands.

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When I spoke to him he looked up and stared at me as if he did not rightly understand what I said, and then dropped his head between his hands again; so I laid the wine in the swinging tray and left the cabin. Upon my life I pitied him. A man may make a mistake and rectify it, he may commit a fault and atone for it; but Captain Harrison's case was a terrible one. He had left undone what he ought to have done; and in beating his ship to windward under a dangerous press of sail, we all had witnessed his desperate endeavors to set right what he had left wrong; but who can describe the depth of his sorrow, and the bitterness of his selfreproach, when he found that those efforts were made in vain? Too late! Ah, it is a bitter word to say.

Homeward sailed the "Dryad," with tolerable weather and fair winds, and everything on board went on pretty smoothly as before; but the mates began to perceive something peculiar in the Captain's conduct. He was usually a very reserved and silent man, and after what had happened it was only natural to suppose that he should be less lively and talkative than usual; but now he scarcely ever spoke to any one. He never had been what is called "Send"a jolly skipper," that is, he never cared much about good eating and drinking, but now he would hardly taste food oftener than once in the twenty-four hours. And from a few slight expressions I heard let fall between the officers, I concluded that they thought their superior was light-headed, or not quite right in his mind.

"She must bear it, sir!" was the reply. the people aft to the mainsheet, and let some good hands tend the buntlines."

"Well, when she had got the sheet aft and the tack down, I hoped he was satisfied. The ship certainly went faster through the water, and held a better wind, but she careened over, so that our lee chains were under water, and she trembled all over as the seas struck and deluged her deck, fore and aft. Thus we kept carrying on all night, wearing ship about every two hours or so, and mostly with all

hands on deck.

The night was tolerably bright, except when the heavy clouds drove across the face of the moon; but no ship did we see. At seven bells in the morning watch, the wind had risen so much that Captain Harrison very unwillingly gave orders to hand topgallant-sails, double reef the topsails, and haul up the mainsail. Under this shortened canvas we still

They might easily consider so, for his conduct was certainly strange. He would be on deck all day, and great part of the night also, his glass always in his hand. This he was constantly using, looking to windward, just as he did when we were working up to the spot where we considered the dismasted ship to be. This, at first, did not attract much attention, but when it became his constant practice all day long, the officers-ay, and the men, too— began to guess how it was. Indeed, Mr. Gilbert, to try him, one day said to him, in a cheery sort of voice, "I don't think you need look out for the Planet,'

Saturday

Captain Harrison! Bless your life, sir, she has n't got legs to travel with us!"

"Planet'! what 'Planet'?" asked the poor man, in a bewildered way.

It was not the "Planet" that he was looking for: it was the foundering ship, which should never see harbor more, that was constantly floating before his diseased imagination. Did he not fear that, on that day "when the sea shall give up her dead," the lost crew would appear to plead against him before the great judgment-seat?

His grief and remorse had fairly turned his brain. He now never attempted to interfere in the navigation or working of the ship; but the mates did not require his assistance in any way, nor did they trouble him at all, beyond occasionally consulting him, for form's sake; they were both first-rate seamen, and Mr. Gilbert, as became his position as first officer, was a good navigator, almost as good, it was considered, as the captain himself. But a first mate in Gilbert's situation, with an incapable commander, is decidedly in a false position; he has all the responsibility on his shoulders without being legally in charge of the ship.

So far, however, all had gone on very well, and we hoped that we were going to make a smart passage, and be the first ship of the season, notwithstanding our unhappy delay. But our good fortune was coming to a close. When we were somewhere about 36° north latitude it came on to blow very heavily from the west, and the weather was thick, with a good deal of rain. I know that this made Mr. Gilbert very uneasy, for we were getting close upon the Western Islands, and I had heard him talking to Mr. Monsell about sighting them, and "taking a fresh departure." But in the thick weather and strong westerly gales, there was nothing for it, he considered, but giving them a wide berth, and intended to keep well to windward of Flores. And this, I presume, he considered he had succeeded in doing, for the night after I heard his conversation with Monsell, they both came down below together, to look at the chart.

They had not much opportunity for taking observations, but I suppose Gilbert was satisfied that we had weathered the island, for after pricking off the ship on the chart, he decided on altering her course two points or so, rounding in the weather braces, and shaking a reef out of the topsails. This alteration in our course made almost a fair wind for us, and as we had been hammering away for the last two or three days close hauled under short canvas in dirty weather, it was good news to all on board. But we were rather premature in our rejoicing. That very night, just as the first mate was turning in (for he had not been in his berth during the last two nights, and now that his mind was at ease he resolved to have four hours' sleep) the look-out on the forecastle shouted "Breakers ahead!"

Mr. Gilbert was on deck in an instant, and gave his orders promptly and coolly. "Down with the helm, raise tacks and sheets!" But it was too late; the only difference was, that the ship went crashing broadside on to the reef, instead of bows on. A choice of two evils with a vengeance. As she struck, the foremast went over the side at once, dragging with it the main-top-mast, and there lay the bonny "Dryad" almost on her beam ends, smashing and tearing herself to pieces on a reef off the shore of the island which poor Gilbert had flattered himself he had weathered so cleverly. The ship continued beating very heavily, and the sea broke clean over her

| waist; but though there was not much shelter anywhere, the quarter-deck was comparatively secure, and there we all, officers and men, betook ourselves. As she lay with her deck towards the shore, she made a lee for us on that side, and that, so far, was a fortunate circumstance.

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To our surprise, the captain seemed to have completely recovered his senses; he was perfectly cool and collected. He blamed himself and no one else, for the loss of the ship, and consulted with the mates as to whether the cutters could swim in the sea that was running, and whether they would be sufficient to hold all the people. It was extremely doubtful whether they would do either one thing or the other; but he ordered them to be seen clear, all ready for lowering, and then said: "My lads, the ship will no doubt stick together until daybreak: if we can manage to hold on till then, we shall have a better chance of getting ashore; by that time, too, the weather may have moderated. It would be more dangerous to attempt to land now than it is to stay by the ship." He then ordered me to go down with the mates into the cabin, to try to lay our hands upon the blue-lights, also some cartridges for two small swivels, which we had on the taffrail. Moreover, he directed me to bring up some wine or spirits, to serve out to the crew. This I managed to effect with some difficulty; and very useful the allowance was to the wet and shivering men. We learned afterwards that our blue-lights and guns certainly gave notice to the people on the island of our whereabouts, but produced no other effect, nor, indeed, did we look for much assistance from shore.

A dreary night we passed, nor when day broke was the prospect much more inspiriting; but that our commander's advice was good in urging the men not to take to the boats during the night was evident, as we could now perceive, what we should probably have missed in the dark, that there was a short stretch of sand and shingly beach, where we might have some chance of running the boats ashore, and even of saving our lives if they chanced to be rolled over in the heavy surf, which we could not help considering was more likely than not. Be that as might happen, the trial was to be made; and Captain Harrison proceeded to tell off the crew of the first cutter, which he placed under the charge of Mr. Monsell. With him she would carry twelve in all. This divided the crew and officers equally between the two boats, with the exception of the captain, who made one over the complement for the second cutter.

This having been arranged, we lowered away the boat, with two hands in her tending the falls, and, thanks to the shelter afforded by the position of the ship, we managed pretty well, and got the people into her without accident. But she swum very deep, even dangerously so. As long as she was under the lee of the wreck, this was not a matter of so much consequence, but it was a ticklish moment when they let go the painter, and put her head round for the shore. We watched her progress for a minute or two, and then proceeded to lower the second cutter, the captain saying, "Now, Gilbert, it is your turn."

The boat was successfully lowered, and the hands passed safely over the side, leaving Captain Harrison, Mr. Gilbert, and myself. Then the captain addressed the mate, and said, "Gilbert, I must be the last man on board, step over the side. Stedman, fetch me my glass; it lies in the companion hatch." I brought it to him, and he ordered me to get into

the boat. As he followed me to the ship's bulwarks, I, of course, obeyed him, never dreaming of anything but that he would follow me. But when he saw that I was safe on board the boat, he called out, to the surprise of all,

-

"Thirteen is an unlucky number, Gilbert; you are too deep as it is, and will do better without me. I shall stay on board to take care of the ship. Give way, my lads!"

Take care of the ship, indeed! God help him! the ship was breaking up fast, and the cargo coming up alongside.

As he spoke he cast off the end of the painter where it was made fast on board, and we were at once swept twelve or fifteen feet from the wreck, and if we had not pulled the cutter's bow round should have been capsized instantly.

We could not have returned to the ship now if we had risked our lives to the utmost in attempting to do so. Had we been able to accomplish it, we most certainly should have been compelled to use force to remove the Captain. We saw him wave his hand to us, and walk deliberately to the weather quarter, where he crouched down, and, levelling his glass, looked out to windward.

with needful supplies, and eventually sent home to England by a large steamer that called at Fayal. When the next morning dawned, however, our hopes as to the weather and the wreck were doomed to disappointment. The "Dryad" was gone! And what had been only thirty-six hours before a smart, well-built ship was now nothing but a mass of smashed and twisted timber, driven about like straw by the breakers, and hove upon the beach. And there we found him! He had lashed himself to the quarter-deck bulwarks where we had last seen him, and apparently in that position awaited his doom; for he had evidently made no efforts to save himself, either by the hencoops or loose spars which came ashore, and most probably must have been floating alongside. We dug his grave and laid him down with all decency and respect; ay, with sorrowing hearts too; for to us he had always behaved as a good and just man; and if in the lamentable instance I have related he had greatly erred, so also most bitterly he had repented.

A LITTLE MUSIC.

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"A LITTLE music." Ominous words, You see, although he was so cool in taking com- tive of a great deal of noise, and much torture inflictmand when the ship struck, and in arranging for the ed upon sensitive ears! We are not of a misansafety of the men; yet as soon as the first great ex-thropical turn of mind, and are quite ready, as a gencitement was over, his ideas went back to their former channel.

He had no care now for his wrecked ship, for his good men in extreme danger, or even for his own life, fast drawing to a close. No, -no; his thoughts were fifteen hundred miles away, with a deserted ship and a lost crew, whom he would have given his life to rescue, and for whom he would look until his last hour, and look in vain!

My story is nearly told.

eral rule, to join in the gayeties of our neighborhood; but every rule has its exception, and when Mrs. Peniwistle's invitation to an evening party winds up with, "We hope to have a little music," we feel sorely tempted to plead a previous engagement.

The English are accused of not being a musical nation, yet we can boast of many names among the living and the dead famous as composers and performers, and there is more music, good, bad, and indifferent, to be heard in England than out of it. The The second mate managed to beach his boat very Monday Popular Concerts are a complete success, cleverly, and well for us in the second cutter that he and the masses have learned to appreciate Beethodid so; for we were not so lucky. When within ven and Mozart. Village concerts are becoming an three boats' length of the shore, a heavy roller took" institution," penny readings are enlivened by muthe cutter under the counter and turned her over, sweeping us, along with the capsized boat, bruised and half-drowned. So that if Monsell's crew and the people on shore had not been on the look-out for us, and ventured boldly into the surf to our assistance, we should inevitably have been carried back by the returning sea, and, in our injured and helpless state, most probably have perished. But, thank God, we were rescued, though not without some casualties.

Among other trifles, Mr. Gilbert dislocated his shoulder, and two of my ribs were broken. Indeed, the whole of us had suffered more or less, and our boat lay on the beach, keel uppermost and useless for the present. The first cutter, however, was in pretty good order, and the mates consulted together on the possibility of reaching the wreck, and bringoff their commander, whether he would or no. If they had considered it at all feasible, they could have raised half a dozen volunteers in a minute; but it was too clearly a sheer impossibility to launch any boat through the surf which was then breaking on the beach. We hoped, however, against our better judgment, that the "Dryad" would hold to gether until the weather moderated.

sic. All this goes far to disprove the assertion that we are an unmusical people. Why, then, is it, that when we are asked to "a little music," we feel sure, nine times out of ten, that misery awaits us?

We fear that, in order to answer this question, we must nerve ourselves for once to accept one of Mrs. Peniwistle's invitations.

We arrive; and as we leave our hat on the hall table, our eye falls on a well-worn piece of music. It has evidently seen service, and, indeed, we are afraid that we recognize it. Too true! it is "Ah! non Giunge," and we know, alas! only too well,who will, not sing it, but screech it, murder it, and, in short, do her very utmost to make us rush out of the room, stopping our outraged ears!

We are announced, and are welcomed by Mrs. Peniwistle in a whisper, for a gentleman with a bass voice of very mild quality is going through "The Bellringer," and flattering himself that he is producing a very fair imitation of Mr. Santley. Well, he is doing his best, and we must not be severe upon him, for he is a hard-working barrister, with little time for any other pursuit, and he sings in tune, which is something to be thankful for at any rate. After him comes a lady who plays one of MendelsIn the mean while we were all kindly treated and sohn's "Lieder ohne Worte," and a 66 Tarantelle " cared for, and an account of our misfortune was to of Heller's. She is a really good musician, and we be conveyed to the British consul, at Fayal, as soon are sorry when she leaves the piano. Still more soras the weather would permit. I may as well men-ry when she is succeeded by a young lady who, in tion here, that by that gentleman we were furnished newspaper phraseology, "cannot be trusted." She

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