Chapter III (1)

There lives and works
A soul in all things,--and that soul is God!

For a few minutes we will quit the "Research," and take a peep into Mr. Wilton's drawing-room. There is a bright, blazing fire; the crimson curtains are closely drawn; pussy is curled up in a circle on the soft rug; and Grandy, with her perpetual knitting, is still in the old leather chair.

"But where are all the others?" I fancy I hear my readers' inquiries. Look again. Who sits at the table writing so busily, and every instant turning over the leaves of a large book? It is George. Emma has gone with her papa and mamma to the Colosseum; but George was obliged to remain a prisoner at home, having been much inconvenienced by a severe cold. He is now working diligently to create a surprise for his sister on her return; and anxiety to please her gives such impetus to his exertions, that he accomplishes more than he even ventured to anticipate.

Grandy perseveres in her knitting: she silently commends her darling for his thoughtful affection, and occasionally pauses to cast a glance of deep earnest love, not unmixed with a degree of pride, on the beaming countenance of her favorite grandchild.

George completes his task, and causes his working apparatus to vanish before ten o'clock; then, twining his arms around the beloved grandmother's neck, he quietly whispers all the secret in her ear, and awaits her approval.

She suggests that he preserve it until the next evening, and then astonish the assembly by reading his extensive notes, the result of the last two hours' labor.

George is delighted, and amuses himself with imagining Emma's astonishment when he makes his grand display; and, with his mind vigorously engaged in picturing the pleasures of the surprise, he retires to rest.

Our young friends, Emma and George, were too sensible of the value of time to waste it in idleness or trifling pursuits; consequently, whenever you called at Mr. Wilton's, you might be sure to find them occupied with some work, profitable either to themselves or their fellow-creatures; and Mrs. Wilton in her daily instructions had so combined practice with theory, that her pupils almost unconsciously imitated her in the paths of industry and perseverance, no longer feeling (as heretofore) the sad effects of procrastination; but "whatsoever their hands found to do, they did it with their might."

Continually engaged, with no cares to harass, no troubles to distress them, their hours and days flew on the wings of hope,--laden only with fond recollections of the past, glowing with the bright realities of the present, and wafting the perfume of a glorious future crowned with the everlasting garlands of love, joy, and peace.

There was not much time lost in arranging their books and papers on the evening of this meeting; but they were obliged to commence without waiting Mr. Barraud's arrival, for the clock had struck seven, and their business admitted of no delay.

They were soon seated. "Which way are we to get out of the British Channel?" was the first question.

MR. WILTON. "There are two convenient ways for us to sail out of the Channel: the one through the Straits of Dover into the German Ocean; the other past Land's End, Cornwall, into the wide waters of the North Atlantic. We will take the former direction, and anchor off Yarmouth while we examine into the wonders connected with this division of the mighty sea."

CHARLES. "The German Ocean is the eastern boundary of England, and many of our most beautiful streams fall into its waters. I am not aware of the existence of any islands in this ocean; and the only fact I have to state concerning it is, that _here_ the French first tried their strength with the English by sea. This happened in the reign of King John, in the year 1213, and the account is as follows:--'The French had previously obtained possession of Normandy, and thereby become a maritime power, which qualified them, as they thought, to contend with the English: they intended, therefore, to seize the first opportunity of trying their skill; but the English were too sharp for them, and came upon them when they were least expected. Five hundred sail were despatched by John to the relief of the Earl of Flanders; and on approaching the port of Daunne, in Flanders, they saw it crowded with an immense forest of masts; upon which they sent out some light shallops to reconnoitre, and bring tidings of the enemy's condition. The report was, that the ships had not hands to defend them, both soldiers and sailors having gone on shore for plunder. Upon this the English pressed forward and captured the large ships without difficulty, while the smaller ones they burnt after the crews had escaped. Having thus mastered the ships outside the harbor, the English advanced to attack those within it; and here the full rage of battle commenced. The port was so narrow, that numbers and skill were unavailing, while the dispersed French, perceiving the tokens of conflict, came running from every quarter to assist their party. The English upon this, after grappling with the nearest ships, threw a number of their forces on land; these arranging themselves on both sides of the harbor, a furious battle commenced on land and water at the same instant. In this desperate _mêlée_ the English were victorious: three hundred prizes, laden with corn, wine, oil and other provisions were sent to England: one hundred other ships, that could not be carried off, were destroyed; and the French king, Philip II. (surnamed Augustus), during the temporary retreat of the English, perceiving the impossibility of saving the rest of his fleet in the event of a fresh attack, set it on fire, that it might not fall into the enemy's hands. Thus the _first_ great naval victory of the English destroyed the _first_ fleet that had been possessed by France."

GRANDY. "My opinions are no doubt at variance with the world; but it does seem to me, that many of these warfares by sea and land are the most unjust, wanton sacrifice of life and property, recorded in the annals of history. I know that there are times and occasions when it is necessary to do battle with foreign powers in self-defence, or to relieve the oppressed and defenceless of other nations; such was the glorious object of the battle of the Nile: but many, many battles are fought with ambition for their guiding star, and high hopes of honor and reward in this life to urge on the combatants, while their zeal in the performance of the work of destruction is dignified with the title of 'Patriotism.'

"We read continually of _great victories_; that, related by Charles, is designated a '_great naval victory_,' and throughout, it breathes nothing but cruelty and unwarranted oppression. It does not appear that the stratagems used to win a battle are ever taken into consideration: it is evidently of no consequence _how_ it is won, so long as it _is_ won; and battles are more frequently decided by resorting to means which are dishonorable, to say the least of them, than by fair and open trials of strength. The discomfiture of the French, in this instance, was most assuredly owing to the _cunning_ exercised by their enemies, and not, as stated, to their superiority of skill or power: they were not permitted to try either, but were attacked when unprepared, mercilessly robbed, and slaughtered. And this was _a victory_. A victory over people who were not allowed the chance of defending themselves. 'Tis true the French had been tyrannizing over the people of Normandy; but a bad example ought to be avoided, not imitated, as in this case. Retaliation is no part of a Christian's duty, and was not required at the hands of the English. What right has any nation, deliberately, and for no other purpose than gain, to invade the territories of another, to burn their houses, to destroy their inhabitants, and to plunder them of all their possessions? Is this a fulfilling of the law? Is this our duty to our neighbor? Surely not; and yet such are the principal features in a _great victory_, from which the conquerors return to be honored of all men--for which bonfires blaze, guns are fired, cities are illuminated, and every voice is raised to shout victory! victory! Such victories, my dear children, are abominations in the sight of God. He bid us live in love and charity with all men. His Son says, 'By this I know that ye are my disciples, because ye have love one toward another;' and St. Paul further desires us to 'love one another with pure hearts, fervently;' adding, 'for love is the fulfilling of the law.' Much more might be said on this subject; but I will detain the meeting no longer than merely to repeat a few verses from a poem of Southey's, written on the battle of Blenheim; which, as they coincide with my opinions, afford me much satisfaction, because they testify that I do not differ in sentiment from all mankind:--

"'With fire and sword the country round
Was wasted far and wide,
And many a childling mother then,
And new-born infant died.
But things like these, you know, must be
At every _famous victory!_

"'They say it was a shocking sight
After the field was won,
For many thousand bodies here,
Lay rotting in the sun.
But things like that, you know, must be
At _every famous victory!_'

"'Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won,
And our good Prince Eugene."
"Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!"
Said little Wilhelmine.
"Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he,
"It was a _famous victory!_"

"'And everybody praised the Duke,
Who such a fight did win."
"But what good came of it at last?"
Quoth Little Wilhelmine.
"Why that I cannot tell," said he,
"But 'twas a _famous victory!_" '"

GEORGE. "If I were an admiral, I would never fight for gain, and I would not allow any of the men under my command to be cruel to the poor people in their power."

"If you had the opportunity, my son," said Mr. Wilton, "I fear that, like many others, you would be unable to resist the temptation to show your authority over the vanquished; for great and wise men have often found themselves unequal to the task of schooling their hearts, to listen to the dictates of humanity, when surrounded by the turmoil and excitement of a battle. But now, Charles. I must set you right with respect to the islands, and inform you that there are two well known islands in the German Ocean,--the Isle of Thanet and Sheppey Isle. I refer you to Mrs. Wilton for their description."

MRS. WILTON. "The Isle of Thanet forms the north-east angle of the county of Kent: from north to south it is five miles, and rather more than ten from east to west. It contains many beautiful watering places,--Margate, Ramsgate, and Broadstairs on the sea; St. Lawrence, Birchington, and St. Peter's, inland. The whole of the district is in a very high state of cultivation, and remarkable for its fertility; the first market-garden in England was planted in the Isle of Thanet There is a little place called Fishness, not far from Broadstairs, which derived its name from the following circumstance:--On the 9th of July, 1574, a monstrous fish shot himself on shore, where, for want of water, he died the next day; before which time, his roaring was heard above a mile: his length was twenty-two yards, the nether jaw opening twelve feet; one of his eyes was more than a cart and six horses could draw; a man stood upright in the place from whence his eye was taken; his tongue was fifteen feet long; his liver two cart-loads; and a man might creep into his nostrils.' All this, and a great deal more, is asserted by Kilburne, in his 'Survey of Kent;' and Stowe, in his Annals, under the same date, in addition to the above, informs us, that this 'whale of the sea' came on shore under the cliff, at six o'clock at night, 'where, for want of water beating himself on the sands, it died about the same hour next morning.'"

CHARLES. "The size and other particulars seem probable enough, with the exception of the eye, which certainly must be an exaggeration; _one_ such an eye would be large enough for any animal, were he as monstrous as the wonderful Mammoth of antediluvian days. Do not you think, madam, that the account is a little preposterous?"

MRS. WILTON. "I think it is very likely, my dear, because there were so few persons to write descriptions of these wonderful creatures, that those who undertook the task were seldom content with the bare truth, no matter how extraordinary, but generally increased the astonishment of their readers by almost incredible accounts, which they were quite aware would never be contradicted. We live in a more inquiring age, and do not so readily give credence to all we hear, without ascertaining the probabilities of such descriptions; and exaggerated accounts are now merely regarded as 'travellers' wonders,' and only partially believed.

"About seven miles south of the Isle of Thanet lies Deal, and immediately opposite Deal is that part of the sea called the 'Downs,' which has long been a place of rendezvous for shipping, where as many as 400 sail have been anchored at one time. The southern boundary of the Downs is formed by the Goodwin Sands, so often fatal to mariners. They were, originally, an island belonging to Earl Goodwin, when a sudden and mighty inundation of the sea overwhelmed with light sand, 'where-with,' as an old writer hath it, 'it not only remayneth covered ever since, but is become withall a most dreadful gulfe and shippe swallower.'

"We will now bestow a little consideration on Sheppey Isle."

GRANDY. "I should like you to be aware, before quitting this luxuriant Isle of Thanet, that it was here the precious truths of the Gospel were first set forth in England: it is supposed, on very just grounds too, that the apostle Paul was the preacher, who, in the middle of the first century, spread the doctrines of Christianity far and wide; and, from Rome, travelled to the isles of the far west, in which is included this lovely little spot, where he was received by the noble of the land. Instead of being persecuted as at Rome, he was eagerly followed, and the peaceful precepts he endeavored to inculcate were willingly obeyed.

"After St. Paul, came Augustine, who, in 597, landed in the Isle of Thanet, was welcomed by the king of Kent, Ethelbert, then holding his court at Canterbury. He, the second apostle, came to convert the people who were again sunk into barbarism and idolatry; he came in the name of the Most High, and his mission was successful. Ethelbert at once appointed St. Augustine a suitable residence at Canterbury, and gave him every facility of effecting his object, by permitting him to hold free converse with his subjects. Thus you see Canterbury thence became the 'nursing mother' of religion throughout the land. The greatest ornament in the Isle of Thanet is its church at Minster, built on the site of a convent founded by the princess Domneva, granddaughter of Ethelbald, king of Kent. Now we will travel on to Sheppey."

MRS. WILTON. "We shall not be detained there long with my description. It is a little island lying north of Chatham, and separated from the Isle of Grain by the river Medway. Both these isles may be considered as situated at the mouth of the Thames. The principal place in Sheppey is Sheerness."

GEORGE. "Now, dear mamma, I suppose we have done with the German Ocean?"

MRS. WILTON. "So far as I am concerned, my dear; but I have a notion that you are in possession of some wonderful story which will astonish us all. Is it so, my boy? Those sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks betray your secret. I am not deceived. Permit me then to request, in the name of the assembled members, that you will favor us with the contents of the paper in your hand."

"Nay, dear mamma," said George; "your expectations are raised too high. My paper only contains an account of a Yarmouth boatman; but it interested me: and Yarmouth being a seaport on the shores of the German Ocean, I thought it would be an agreeable termination to this part of our voyage, and I took the trouble to put it into a moderate compass for the occasion." George then unfolded two or three sheets of closely written paper, while he enjoyed the amazed looks of his sister; and so pleased was he at her expressions of astonishment, that he was unable to resist the impulse of throwing his arms around her neck, and kissing her affectionately. "You are surprised, dear Emma," said he; "I only cared to please _you_ when I wrote it, but now I will try to please _all_" He then, in a clear distinct tone of voice read the following:--

#Narrative of Brock the Swimmer and Yarmouth Boatman.#

"Amongst the sons of labor, there are none more deserving of their hard earnings than that class of persons, denominated Beachmen, on the shores of this kingdom. To those unacquainted with maritime affairs, it may be as well to observe, that these men are bred to the sea from their earliest infancy, are employed in the summer months very frequently as regular sailors or fishermen, and during the autumn, winter, and spring, when gales are most frequent on our coast, in going off in boats to vessels in distress in all weathers, to the imminent risk of their lives; fishing up lost anchors and cables, and looking out for waifs (i.e. anything abandoned or wrecked), which the winds and waves may have cast in their way. In our seaports these persons are usually divided into companies, between whom the greatest rivalry exists in regard to the beauty and swiftness of their boats, and their dexterity in managing them: this too often leads to feats of the greatest daring, which the widow and the orphan have long to deplore. To one of these companies, known by the name of 'Laytons,' whose rendezvous and 'look-out' were close to Yarmouth jetty, Brock belonged; and in pursuit of his calling, the following event is recorded by an acquaintance of Brock's.

"About 1 P.M. on the 6th of October, 1835, a vessel was observed at sea from this station with a signal flying for a pilot, bearing east distant about twelve miles: in a space of time incredible to those who have not witnessed the launching of a large boat on a like occasion, the yawl, 'Increase,' eighteen tons burden, belonging to Laytons' gang, with ten men and a London Branch pilot, was under weigh, steering for the object of their enterprise. About 4 o'clock she came up with the vessel, which proved to be a Spanish brig, Paquette de Bilboa, laden with a general cargo, and bound from Hamburg to Cadiz, leaky, and both pumps at work. After a great deal of chaffering in regard to the amount of salvage, and some little altercation with part of the boat's crew as to which of them should stay with the vessel, J. Layton, J. Woolsey, and George Darling, boatmen, were finally chosen to assist in pumping and piloting her into Yarmouth harbor: the remainder of the crew of the yawl were then sent away. The brig at this time was about five miles to the eastward of the Newarp Floating Light, off Winterton on the Norfolk coast, the weather looking squally. On passing the light in their homeward course, a signal was made for them to go alongside, and they were requested to take on shore a sick man; and the poor fellow being comfortably placed upon some jackets and spare coats, they again shoved off, and set all sail: they had a fresh breeze from the W.S.W. 'There was little better,' said Brock, 'than a pint of liquor in the boat, which the Spaniard had given us, and the bottle had passed once round, each man taking a mouthful, till about half of it was consumed: we all had a bit of biscuit each, and while we were making our light meal, we talked of our earnings, and calculated that by 10 o'clock we should be at Yarmouth.

"'Without the slightest notice of its approach a terrific squall from the northward took the yawl's sails flat aback, and the ballast which we had trained to windward, being thus suddenly changed to leeward, she was upset in an instant.

"'Our crew and passenger were nine men--'twas terrible to listen to the cries of the poor fellows, some of whom could swim, and others who could not. Mixed with the hissing of the water and the howlings of the storm, I heard shrieks for mercy, and some that had no meaning but what arose from fear. I struck out to get clear of the crowd, and in a few minutes there was no noise, for most of the men had sunk; and, on turning round, I saw the boat still kept from going down by the wind having got under the sails. I then swam back to her, and assisted an old man to get hold of one of her spars. The boat's side was about three feet under water, and for a few minutes I stood upon her, but I found she was gradually settling down, and when up to my chest I again left her and swam away; and now, for the first time, began to think of my own awful condition. My companions were all drowned, at least I supposed so. How long it was up to this period from the boat's capsizing I cannot exactly say; in such cases, there is _no time_; but now I reflected that it was half-past six P.M. just before the accident occurred; that the nearest land at the time was six miles distant; and that it was dead low water, and the flood tide _setting off the shore_, making to the southward; therefore, should I ever reach the land, it would take me at least fifteen miles setting up with the flood, before the ebb would assist me.'

"While Brock was making these calculations, a rush horse collar covered with old netting floated close to him; he laid hold of it, and getting his knife out, he stripped off the net-work, and putting his left arm through, was supported until he had cut the waist band of his _petticoat_ trousers which then fell off: his striped frock, waistcoat and neckcloth, were also similarly got rid of, but he dared not try to free himself of his oiled trousers, drawers, or shirt, fearing that his legs might become entangled in the attempt; he therefore returned his knife into the pocket of his trousers, and put the collar over his head, which, although it assisted in keeping him above water, retarded his swimming; and after a few moments' thinking what was best to be done, he determined to abandon it. He now, to his great surprise, perceived one of his messmates swimming ahead of him; but he did not hail him. The roaring of the hurricane was past; the cries of drowning men were no longer heard; the moonbeams were casting their silvery light over the smooth surface of the deep, calm and silent as the grave over which he floated, and into which he saw this last of his companions descend without a struggle or a cry, as he approached within twenty yards of him. Yes, he beheld the last of his brave crew die beside him; and now he was alone in the cold silence of night, more awful than the strife of the elements which had preceded. Perhaps at this time something might warn him that he too would soon be mingled with the dead; but if such thoughts did intrude, they were but for a moment; and again his mental energies, joined with his lion heart and bodily prowess, cast away all fear, and he reckoned the remotest possible chances of deliverance, applying the means,

"'Courage and Hope both teaching him the practice.'

"Up to this time, Winterton Light had served instead of a land-mark to direct his course; but the tide had now carried him out of sight of it, and in its stead 'a bright star stood over where' his hopes of safety rested. With his eyes steadfastly fixed upon it, he continued swimming on, calculating the time when the tide would turn. But his trials were not yet past. As if to prove the strength of human fortitude, the sky became suddenly overclouded, and 'darkness was upon the face of the deep.' He no longer knew his course, and he confessed, that for a moment he was afraid; yet he felt, that 'fear is but the betraying of the succors which reason offereth,' and that which roused _him_ to further exertion, would have sealed the fate of almost any other human being. A sudden short cracking peal of thunder burst in stunning loudness just over his head, and the forked and flashing lightning at brief intervals threw its vivid fires around him. This, too, in its turn passed away, and left the sea once more calm and unruffled: the moon (nearly full) again threw a more brilliant light upon the waters, which the storm had gone over without waking from their slumbers. His next effort was to free himself from his heavy laced boots, which greatly encumbered him, and in which he succeeded by the aid of his knife. He now saw Lowestoft's high Lighthouse, and could occasionally discern the tops of the cliffs beyond Garlestone on the Suffolk coast. The swell of the sea drove him over the Cross Sand Ridge, and he then got sight of a buoy, which, although it told him his exact position, 'took him rather aback,' as he had hoped he was nearer the shore. It proved to be the chequered buoy, St. Nicholas' Gate, off Yarmouth, and _opposite his own door_, but distant from the land _four miles_. And now again he held counsel with himself, and the energies of his mind seem almost superhuman; he had been five hours in the water, and here was something to hold on by; he could have even got upon the buoy, and some vessel _might come near_ to pick him up, and the question was, could he yet hold out four miles? 'But,' said he, 'I knew the night air would soon finish me, and had I stayed but a few minutes upon it, and then _altered_ my mind, how did I know that my limbs would again resume their office?' He found the tide was broke; it did not run so strong; so he abandoned the buoy, and steered for the land, towards which, with the wind from the eastward, he found he was now fast approaching. The last trial of his fortitude was now at hand, for which he was totally unprepared, and which he considered (having the superstition of a sailor) the most difficult of any he had to combat. Soon after he left the buoy, he heard just above his head a sort of whiffing sound, which his imagination conjured into the prelude to the 'rushing of a mighty wind,' and close to his ear there followed a smart splash in the water, and a sudden shriek that went through him,--such as is heard

"'When the lone sea-bird wakes its wildest cry.'

"The fact was, a large gray gull, mistaking him for a corpse, had made a dash at him, and its loud discordant scream in a moment brought a countless number of these formidable birds together, all prepared to contest for a share of the spoil. These large and powerful foes he had now to scare from their intended prey, and, by shouting and splashing with his hands and feet, in a few minutes they disappeared.

"He now caught sight of a vessel at anchor, but a great way off, and to get within hail of her he must swim over Carton Sands (the grave of thousands), the breakers at this time showing their angry white crests. As he approached, the wind suddenly changed; the consequence of which was that the swell of the sea met him. Here is his own description:--'I got a great deal of water down my throat, which greatly weakened me, and I felt certain, that, should this continue, it would soon be all over, and I prayed that the wind might change, or that God would take away my senses before I felt what it was to drown. In less time than I am telling you, I had driven over the sands into smooth water; the _wind and swell came again from the eastward_, and my strength returned to me as fresh as in the beginning.'

"He now felt certain that he could reach the shore; but he considered it would be better to get within hail of the brig, some distance to the southward of him, and the most difficult task of the two, as the ebb tide was now running, which, although it carried him towards the land, set to the northward; and to gain the object of his choice would require much greater exertion. Here, again, are Brock's reflections:--'If I gained the shore, could I get out of the surf, which at this time was heavy on the beach? And, supposing I succeeded in this point, should I be able to walk, climb the cliffs, and get to a house? if not, there was little chance of life remaining long in me: but if I could make myself heard on board the brig, then I should secure immediate assistance. I got within two hundred yards of her, the nearest possible approach, and, summoning all my strength, I sung out as bravely as if I had been on shore.'

"'The seaman's cry was heard along the deep.'

"He was answered from the deck; a boat was instantly lowered; and at half-past 1 A.M., having swam _seven hours_ in an October night, he was safe on board the brig Betsey of Sunderland, coal laden, at anchor in Corton Roads, fourteen miles from the spot where the boat was capsized. The captain's name was CHRISTIAN!

"Once safe on board, 'nature cried enough:' he fainted, and continued insensible for some time. All that humanity could suggest was done for him by Christian and his crew: they had no spirits on board, but they had bottled ale, which they made warm, and by placing Brock before a good fire, rubbing him dry, and putting him in hot blankets, he was at length, with great difficulty, enabled to get a little of the ale down his throat; but it caused excruciating pain, as his throat was in a state of high inflammation from breathing (as a swimmer does) so long the saline particles of sea and air, and it was now swollen very much, and, as he says, he feared he should be suffocated. He, however, after a little time, fell into a sleep, which refreshed and strengthened him, but he awoke to intense bodily suffering. Round his neck and chest he was perfectly flayed; the soles of his feet, hands, and other parts were also equally excoriated. In this state, at about 9 A.M., the brig getting under weigh with the tide, he was put on shore at Lowestoft in Suffolk, and immediately despatched a messenger to Yarmouth, with the sad tidings of the fate of the yawl and the rest of her crew. Being safely housed under the roof of a relative, with good nursing and medical assistance, in five days from the time of the accident, with a firm step he walked back to Yarmouth, to confirm the wonderful rumors circulated respecting him, and to receive the congratulations of his friends. The knife, which he considers as the great means of his being saved, is preserved with great care, and in all probability will be shown a century hence by the descendants of this man. It is a common horn-handle knife, having one blade about five inches long. A piece of silver is now riveted on, and covers one side, on which is the following inscription:--

"' BROWN, EMERSON, SMITH, BRAY, BUDDS, FENN, RUSHMERE,
BOULT:--BROCK, aided by this knife, was saved after being 7-1/2
hours in the sea. _October_ 6. 1835.'

"'It was a curious thing,' observed Brock when relating his story, 'that I had been without a knife for some time, and only purchased this two days before it became so useful to me; and having had to make some boat's tholes, it was as sharp as a razor. I ought to be a good-living chap,' continued he, 'for three times I have been saved by swimming. What I did on this night, I know I could not have done of myself, but God strengthened me. I never asked for anything but it was given me.'

"This man had great faith, and he had also other good traits in his character. A large subscription was made for the widows and children of Brock's unfortunate companions; and a fund being established for their relief, the surplus was offered to him. This was his answer: 'I am much obliged to you, gentlemen, but, thank God! I can still get my own living as well as ever, and I could not spend the money that was given to the fatherless and widow.' In contemplating the feat of this extraordinary man, it must appear to every one, that his bodily prowess, gigantic as it is, appears as dust in the balance compared with the powers of his mind. To think and to judge rightly under some of the most appalling circumstances that ever surrounded mortal man, to reject the delusive for the arduous, to resolve and to execute, form such a combination of the best and rarest attributes of our nature, that where are we to look for them in the same man? Brock at the time of this disastrous affair was thirty-one years of age, a fine, stout, athletic man, and as upright in his life and conversation as he was in his very handsome person."

George read all this so clearly and distinctly, that he really merited the praise bestowed upon him: even Grandy, generally too partial, did not award him more than he deserved, for it was a great work for a boy of his age.

"My dear boy." said Mr. Wilton, "I am quite delighted to find you have been so industrious, as it proves most satisfactorily that you are resolved to overcome all obstacles of weariness or difficulty in order to accomplish the great end--the attainment of useful knowledge. I am much, _very much_, pleased with you, my dear boy."

The color mounted to the cheeks of the happy child, and in those few moments of heartfelt joy he was amply repaid for the previous evening's toil.

"Where sail we next?" inquired Mrs. Wilton.

EMMA. "The North Sea is the track, dear mamma. I am sorry Mr. Barraud has not come, as he, having been to Scotland, might have helped us considerably. However, Dora is prepared with some particulars, and we need not be idling because of the absence of one member."

"No, indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Wilton, "for I have a few words to say on that subject; so sail on, Dora, and 'I'll give thee a wind.'"

"And I another," added Charles; "for I have actually been along the coasts that are washed by the blue waves of the North Sea, and can say a _few words_ after our honored member in the chair."

DORA. "The North Sea washes the shores of Scotland, Denmark, and Norway. There are a great many islands in this sea, many more than I can enumerate. Near Scotland there are several little unimportant places of trifling interest, of which I should be glad to gain some information, as at present I know nothing more than that they are there, are inhabited, and tolerably fertile."

CHARLES. "I believe I can enlighten you to a certain extent, Dora, at least so far that you may acknowledge that there are interesting places in the North Sea near Scotland. Ten leagues, or thirty geographical miles, north of the ancient castle of Dunglass (once the head-quarters of Oliver Cromwell) lies the Bell Rock: you can see it in the map, just off the mouth of the Tay, and close to the northern side of the great estuary called the Firth of Forth. Up to the commencement of the present century, this rock was justly considered one of the most formidable dangers that the navigators of the North Sea had to encounter. Its head, merged under the surface during greater part of the tide, at no time made much show above the water. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to keep well clear of the mischief, or, as seamen express themselves, to give the rock a wide berth. Ships, accordingly, bound for the Forth, in their constant terror of this ugly reef, not content with giving it ten or even twenty miles of elbow room, must needs edge off a little more to the south, so as to hug the shore in such a way, that when the wind chopped round to the northward, as it often did, these over-cautious navigators became embayed in a deep bight to the westward of Fast Castle. If the breeze freshened before they had time to work out, they paid dearly for their apprehensions of the Bell Rock, by driving upon ledges fully as sharp and far more extensive and inevitable. The consequence was that from three to four vessels, or sometimes half a dozen, used to be wrecked each winter. Captain Basil Hall in speaking of this place says, 'Perhaps there are few more exciting spectacles than a vessel stranded on a lee-shore, and especially such a shore, which is fringed with reefs extending far out and offering no spot for shelter. The hapless ship lies dismasted, bilged, and beat about by the waves, with the despairing crew clinging to the wreck, or to the shrouds, and uttering cries totally inaudible in the roar of the sea; while at each successive dash of the breakers the number of the survivors is thinned, till at length they all disappear. The gallant bark then goes to pieces, and the coast for a league on either side is strewed with broken planks, masts, boxes, and ruined portions of the goodly cargo, with which, a few hours before, she was securely freighted, and dancing merrily over the waters.' I am happy to add, in conclusion, that this fatal Bell Rock, the direct and indirect cause of so many losses, has been converted into one of the greatest sources of security that navigation is capable of receiving. By means of scientific skill, aided by well-managed perseverance, with the example of the Eddystone to copy from, a lighthouse, one hundred and twenty feet high, has been raised upon this formidable reef, by Mr. Robert Stevenson, the skilful engineer of the 'Northern Lights;' so that the mariner, instead of doing all he can to avoid the spot once so much dreaded, now eagerly runs for it, and counts himself happy when he gets sight of the revolving star on the top, which, from its being variously colored he can distinguish from any other light in that quarter. He is then enabled to steer directly for his port in perfect security, though the night be never so dark."

Mr. Wilton remarked how much one man, by the right use of the talents he possessed, might benefit his fellow-creatures, when he was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Barraud.

A welcome rose to every lip, and Mr. Barraud apologized for being so late, adding that he had been detained by a friend who was about to start for Scotland, and wished to have an hour's conversation with him before his departure.

"How singular!" exclaimed Mr. Wilton; "we have been regretting your absence particularly this evening, because we are navigating the North Sea, where you have been so often tossed to and fro, and we thought it quite possible you might have met with some amusing or instructive incidents in your travels along the coast, which would agreeably relieve the tedium of our voyage. Now I see no reason why you should not accompany your friend to Scotland, and charm us with a soul-stirring narrative of real life."

"Oh! I perceive the state of affairs clearly," said Mr. Barraud; "the young folks are getting weary of the monotony of a sea voyage, and desire to step ashore again."

"No! no! we are not tired," anxiously exclaimed the little group.

"But," said Charles, "it makes a voyage so much more pleasant when we drop anchor now and then, to look around on the beauties of other lands; and more profitable also, if we learn something of the customs, laws, and peculiarities of the inhabitants of those lands."

MR. BARRAUD. "Very true, Charles; and to gratify you I will relate a story written by Colonel Maxwell, the well-known author of many pleasing and instructive works, which will serve the purpose better than any other I can think of just now--besides, to heighten its interest, it is all true."

#JOCK OF JEDBURGH#

"During a tedious passage to the North, I remarked among the steerage passengers a man who seemed to keep himself apart from the rest. He wore the uniform of the foot artillery, and sported a corporal's stripes. In the course of the afternoon, I stepped before the funnel, and entered into conversation with him; learned that he had been invalided and sent home from Canada, had passed the Board in London, obtained a pension of a shilling a-day, and was returning to a border village, where he had been born, to ascertain whether any of his family were living, from whom he had been separated nineteen years. He casually admitted, that during this long interval he had held no communication with his relations; and I set him down accordingly as some wild scapegrace, who had stolen from a home whose happiness his follies had compromised too often. He showed me his discharge--the character was excellent,--but it only went to prove how much men's conduct will depend upon the circumstances under which they act. He had been nineteen years a soldier--a man 'under authority,'--one obedient to another's will, subservient to strict discipline, with scarcely a free agency himself, and yet, during that long probation, he had been a useful member of the body politic, sustained a fair reputation, and as he admitted himself, been a contented and happy man. He returned home his own master, and older by twenty years. Alas! it was a fatal free agency for him, for time had not brought wisdom. The steward told me that he had ran riot while his means allowed it, had missed his passage twice, and had on the preceding evening come on board, when not a shilling remained to waste in drunken dissipation. I desired that the poor man should be supplied with some little comforts during the voyage; and when we landed at Berwick, I gave him a trifling sum to assist him to reach his native village, where he had obtained vague intelligence that some aged members of his family might still be found.

"A few evenings afterwards, I was sitting in the parlor of one of the many little inns I visited while rambling on the banks of the Tweed, when the waitress informed me that 'a sodger is speerin' after the colonel.' He was directed to attend the presence, and my fellow-voyager, the artilleryman, entered the chamber, and made his military salaam.

"'I thought you were now at Jedburgh,' I observed.

"'I went there, sir,' he replied, 'but there has not been any of my family for many a year residing in the place. I met an old packman on the road, and he tells me there are some persons in this village of my name. I came here to make inquiries, and hearing that your honor was in the house I made bold enough to ask for you.'

"'Have you walked over?' I inquired.

"'Yes, sir,' he replied.

"''Tis a long walk,' said I; 'go down and get some supper before you commence inquiries.'

"The soldier bowed and left the room, and presently the host entered to give me directions for a route among the Cheviots, which I contemplated taking the following day. I mentioned the soldier's errand.

"'Sure enough,' returned the host, 'there are an auld decent couple of the name here. What is the soldier called?'

"'William,' I replied, for by that name his discharge and pension bill were filled up.

"'I'll slip across the street to the auld folk,' said Boniface, 'and ask them a few questions.'

"The episode of humble life that followed was afterwards thus described to me by mine host.

"He found the ancient couple seated at the fire; the old man reading a chapter in the Bible, as was his custom always before he and his aged partner retired for the night to rest. The landlord explained the object of the soldier's visit, and inquired if any of their children answered the description of the wanderer.

"'It is our Jock!' exclaimed the old woman passionately, 'and the puir neer-do-weel has cam hame at last to close his mither's eyes.'

"'Na,' said the landlord; 'the man's name is Wolly.'

"'Then he's nae our bairn,' returned the old man with a heavy sigh.

"'Weel, weel--His will be done!' said his help-mate, turning her blue and faded eyes to heaven; 'I thought the prayer I sae often made wad yet be granted, and Jock wad come hame and get my blessin' ere I died.'

"'He has! he has!' exclaimed a broken voice; and the soldier, who had followed the landlord unperceived, and listened at the cottage door, rushed into the room, and dropped kneeling at his mother's feet. For a moment she turned her eyes with a fixed and glassy stare upon the returned wanderer. Her hand was laid upon his head--her lips parted as if about to pronounce the promised blessing--but no sounds issued, and she slowly leaned forward on the bosom of the long-lost prodigal, who clasped her in his arms.

"'Mither! mither! speak and bless me!' cried he in agony.

"Alas! the power of speech was gone forever. Joy, like grief, is often fatal to a worn-out frame. The spirit had calmly passed; the parent had lived to see and bless her lost one; and expire in the arms of him, who, with all his faults, appeared to have been her earthly favorite."

DORA. "What an affecting story! How sorry Jock must have felt that he came so suddenly into his mother's presence; but his father was yet alive for him to comfort and cheer in his declining age. I hope he was kind and affectionate to him all his days, to compensate for the loss of the poor old woman?"

MR. BARRAUD. "I trust he was, but our historian saith no more."

MR. WILTON. "There is a little cluster of islands between Alnwick and Berwick called the Farne islands, on one of which was situated the lighthouse where the heroine Grace Darling spent her dreary days. These rocky islands have for centuries been respected as holy ground, because St. Cuthbert built an oratory on one of them, and died there. At one time there were two chapels on these rocks; one dedicated to St. Cuthbert, the other to the Virgin Mary: they are now ruins; and a square building, erected for the religieux stationed on these isles, has been put to better use, and converted into a lighthouse. Off these islands occurred that dreadful calamity, the wreck of the Forfarshire steamer, of which I will give you a brief account:--

#Wreck of the Forfarshire.#

"It appears, that shortly after she left the Humber her boilers began to leak, but not to such an extent as to excite any apprehensions; and she continued on her voyage. The weather, however, became very tempestuous; and on the morning of the fatal day, she passed the Fames on her way northwards, in a very high sea, which rendered it necessary for the crew to keep the pumps constantly at work. At this time they became aware that the boilers were becoming more and more leaky as they proceeded. At length, when she had advanced as far as St. Abb's Head, the wind having increased to a hurricane from N.N.E., the engineer reported the appalling fact that the machinery would work no longer. Dismay seized all on board; nothing now remained but to set the sails fore and aft, and let her drift before the wind. Under these circumstances, she was carried southwards, till about a quarter to four o'clock on Friday morning, when the foam became distinctly visible breaking upon the fearful rock ahead. Captain Humble vainly attempted to avert the appalling catastrophe, by running her between the islands and the mainland; she would not answer her helm, and was impelled to and fro by a furious sea. In a few minutes more, she struck with her bows foremost on the rock. The scene on board became heart-rending. A moment after the first shock, another tremendous wave struck her on the quarter, by which she was buoyed for a moment high off the rock. Falling as this wave receded, she came down upon the sharp edge with a force so tremendous as to break her fairly in two pieces, about 'midships; when, dreadful to relate, the whole of the after part of the ship, containing the principal cabin, filled with passengers, sinking backwards, was swept into the deep sea, and thus was every soul on that part of the vessel instantaneously engulfed in one vast and terrible grave of waters. Happily the portion of the wreck which had settled on the rock remained firmly fixed, and afforded a place of refuge to the unfortunate survivors. At daylight they were discovered from the Longstone; and Grace Darling and her father launched a boat, and succeeded, amidst the dash of waters and fearful cries of the perishing people, in removing the few remaining sufferers from their perilous position to the lighthouse. The heroism of this brave girl, who unhesitatingly risked her own life to save others, was justly appreciated and rewarded. A large sum of money was collected for her, and many valuable presents were despatched to the 'lonely isle;' among others, a gold watch and chain, which she always after wore, although homely in her general attire. Poor Grace Darling! she did not long enjoy the praises and rewards which she so richly merited for her courage and humanity: a rapid consumption brought her to the grave; and her remains rest in a churchyard upon the mainland, in sight of that wild rock, on which she earned so great celebrity. A beautiful and elegant monument is erected to her memory, which will trumpet forth her praises to many yet unborn."

GRANDY. "A curious circumstance occurred on these shores some years ago, and was related to my dear husband by an old man at Aberdeen, on whose veracity he could rely:--

"Three or four boys, one of them the son of a goldsmith in Dundee, went out in a boat towards the mouth of the Tay, but rowing farther than was prudent, they were carried out to sea. Their friends finding they did not return, made every search for them, and were at length compelled with sorrowful hearts to conclude that they had perished.