 Section 17 of Thurling Adventures by Land and Sea by James O'Breyman The habits of the moose in his manner of defense and attack are similar to those of the stag, and may be illustrated by the following anecdote from the random sketches of a Kentuckian. Whoever saw Bravo without loving him, his slow black eyes, his glossy skin, flicked here and there with blue, his widespread thighs, clean shoulders, broad back, and low drooping chest bespoke him the true stag hound, and none who ever saw his bounding form or heard his deep-toned bay, as the swift-footed stag flew before him, would dispute his title. List, gentle reader, and I will tell you an adventure which will make you love him all the more. A bright frosty morning in November 1838 tempted me to visit the forest hunting grounds. On this occasion I was followed by a fine-looking hound which had been presented to me a few days before by a fellow sportsman. I was anxious to test his qualities, and knowing that a mean dog will not often hunt well with a good one I had tied up the eager Bravo and was attended by the strange dog alone. A brisk canter of half an hour brought me to the wild forest hills. Slackening the rain I slowly wound my way up a bushy slope some three hundred yards in length. I had ascended about half way when the hound began to exhibit signs of uneasiness, and at the same instant a stag sprang out from some underbrush nearby, and rushed like a whirlwind up the slope. A word and the hound was crouching at my feet, and my trained Cherokee with ear erect and flashing eye watched the course of the affrighted animal. On the very summit of the ridge, full one hundred and fifty yards, every limb standing out in bold relief against the clear blue sky, the stag paused and looked proudly down upon us. After a moment of indecision, I raised my rifle and sent the whizzing lead upon its errand. A single bound and the antler demonic was hidden from my view. Hastily running down a ball, I ascended the slope. My blood ran a little faster as I saw the gouts of blood which stained the withered leaves where he had stood. One moment more and the excited hound was leaping breast high on his trail, and the gallant Cherokee bore his rider like lightning after them. Away, away, for hours we did thus hasten on, without once being at folk, or checking our head long speed. The chase had led us miles from the starting point, and now appeared to be bearing up a creek, on one side of which arose a precipitous hill, some two miles in length, which I knew the wounded animal would never ascend. Half a mile further on, another hill reared its bleak and barren head on the opposite side of the rivulet. Once fairly in the gorge, there was no exit save at the upper end of the ravine. Here then I must intercept my game, which I was able to do by taking a nearer cut over the ridge that saved at least a mile. Giving one parting shout to cheer my dog, Cherokee bore me headlong to the pass. I had scarcely arrived when, black with sweat, the stag came laboring up the gorge, seemingly totally reckless of our presence. Again I poured forth the leaden messenger of death, as meteor-like he flashed bias. One bound and the noble animal lay prostrate within fifty feet of where I stood. Leaping from my horse and placing one knee upon his shoulder and a hand upon his antlers, I drew my hunting knife, but scarcely had its keen point touched his neck when, with a sudden bound, he threw me from his body, and my knife was hurled from my hand. In Hunter's parlance I had only creased him. I at once saw my danger, but it was too late. With one bound he was upon me, wounding and almost disabling me with his sharp feet and horns. I seized him by his widespread antlers and sought to regain possession of my knife, but in vain. Each new struggle drew us further from it. Cherokee, frightened at the unusual scene, had madly fled to the top of the ridge, where he stood looking down upon the combat, trembling and quivering in every limb. The ridge-road I had taken placed us far in advance of the hound, whose bay I could not now hear. The struggles of the furious animal had become dreadful, and every moment I could feel his sharp hooves cutting deep into my flesh. My grasp upon his antlers was growing less and less firm, and yet I relinquished not my hold. The struggle had brought us near a deep ditch, washed by the fall rains, and into this I endeavored to force my adversary, but my strength was unequal to the effort. When we approached to the very brink, he leaped over the drain. I relinquished my hold and rolled in, hoping thus to escape him, but he returned to the attack, and, throwing himself upon me, inflicted numerous severe cuts upon my face and breast before I could again seize him. Locking my arms around his antlers, I drew his head close to my breast, and was thus, by great effort, enabled to prevent his doing me any serious injury. But I felt that this could not last long. Every muscle and fiber of my frame was called into action, and human nature could not long bear up under such exertion. Faltering a silent prayer to heaven, I prepared to meet my fate. At this moment of despair, I heard the faint bayings of the hound. The stag, too, heard the sound, and, springing from the ditch, drew me with him. His efforts were now redoubled, and I could scarcely cling to him. Yet that blessed sound came nearer and nearer. Oh, how wildly beat my heart, as I saw the hound emerge from the ravine, and spring forward with a short, quick bark, as his eye rested on his game. I released my hold of the stag, who turned upon the new enemy. Exhausted and unable to rise, I still cheered the dog that dastard-like, fled before the infuriated animal, who seemingly despising such an enemy again threw himself upon me. Again did I succeed in throwing my arms around his antlers, but not until he had inflicted several deep and dangerous wounds upon my head and face, cutting to the very bone. Blinded by the flowing blood, exhausted and despairing, I cursed the cowered dog, who stood near, baying furiously, yet refusing to seize his game. Oh, how I prayed for Bravo! The thoughts of death were bitter, to die thus in the wild forest, alone with none to help. Thoughts of home and friends, of course, like lightning through my brain. At that moment, when hope herself had fled, deep and clear over the neighboring hill came the baying of my gallant Bravo. I should have known his voice among a thousand. I peeled forth in one faint shout, On, Bravo, on! The next moment, with tiger-like bounds, the noble dog came leaping down the declivity, scattering the dried autumnal leaves like a whirlwind in his path. No pause he knew, but fixing his fangs at the stag's throat, he at once commenced the struggle. I fell back, completely exhausted. Blinded with blood, I only knew that a terrible struggle was going on. In a few moments, all was still, and I felt the warm breath of my faithful dog as he licked my wounds. Clearing my eyes from gore, I saw my late adversary dead at my feet, and Bravo, my own Bravo, as the heroine of a modern novel, would say, standing over me. He yet bore round his neck a fragment of the rope with which I had died him. He had nodded in two, and following his master through all his windings, arrived in time to rescue him from a horrible death. I have recovered from my wounds. Bravo is lying at my feet. Who does not love Bravo? I am sure I do, and the rascal knows it. Don't you, Bravo? Come here, sir. Perilous Escape from Death In the narrative of Moses van Kampen, we find the following incident related. He was taken prisoner by the Seneca Indians just after Sullivan's expedition in the Revolution on the confines of the White Settlements in one of the border counties of Pennsylvania. He was marched through the wilderness and reached the headquarters of the savages near Fort Niagara. Here he was recognized as having, a year or two previously, escaped with two others from his guard, five of whom he slew in their sleep with his own hand. On this discovery being made, the countenances of the savages grew dark and lowering. He saw it once that his fate was to be decided on the principles of Indian vengeance and being bound had but little hope of escape. He, however, put on the appearance of as much unconcern as possible. The Indians withdrew by themselves to decide in what manner they should dispatch their unhappy victim. They soon returned, their visages covered with a demonic expression. A few went to gathering wood, another selected a spot, and soon a fire was kindled. Van Kampen looked upon these preparations, which were being made to burn him alive, with feelings wrought up to the highest pitch of agony. Yet he, with much effort, remained calm and collected. At last, when the preparations were completed, two Indians approached and began to unloose the cords with which he was bound. To this he submitted, but the moment he was fully loosed he dashed the two Indians aside, felling one upon the earth with a blow of his fist and darted off toward the fort, where he hoped to receive protection from the British officers. Tomahawks gleamed in the air behind him, rifle-balls whistled around, but onward still he flew. One unarmed Indian stood in his path and intercepted him. With a giant spring he struck him in the breast with his feet and bore him to the earth. Recovering himself he again started for the woods, and as he was running for life, with the fire and faggot behind him, and a lingering death of torture, he soon outstripped all his pursuers. It being near night he effected his escape, arrived at the fort, and was sent down the river to Montreal to be out of the way of the savage Seneca's, who thirsted for his blood as a recompense for that of their brethren whom he had slain. Fire in the Forest The summer of 1825 was unusually warm in both hemispheres, particularly in America, where its effects were fatally visible in the prevalence of epidemical disorders. During July and August extensive fires raged in different parts of Nova Scotia, especially in the eastern division of the peninsula. The protracted drought of the summer, acting upon the aridity of the forest, had rendered them more than naturally combustible, and this, facilitating both the dispersion and progress of the fires that appeared in the early part of the season, produced an unusual warmth. On the 6th of October the fire was evidently approaching Newcastle. At different intervals, fitful blazes and flashes were observed to issue from different parts of the woods, particularly up the northwest at the rear of Newcastle, in the vicinity of Douglas Town and Moorfields, and along the banks of Bartobog. Many persons hearing the crackling of falling trees and shriveled branches, while a horse rumbling sound, not dissimilar to the roaring of distant thunder and divided by pauses, like the intermittent discharges of artillery, was distinct and audible. On the 7th of October the heat increased to such a degree, and became so very oppressive that many complained of its innervating effects. About twelve o'clock a pale, sickly mist, lightly tinged with purple, emerged from the forest and settled over it. This cloud soon retreated before a large dark one, which, occupying its place, wrapped the firmament in a pall of vapor. This encumbrance retaining its position till about three o'clock, the heat became tormentingly sultry. There was not a breath of air, the atmosphere was overloaded, and irresistible lassitude seized the people. A stupefying dullness seemed to pervade every place but the woods, which now trembled and rustled, and shook with an incessant and thrilling noise of explosions, rapidly following each other and mingling their reports with a discordant variety of loud and boisterous sounds. At this time the whole country appeared to be encircled by a fiery zone, which gradually contracting its circle by the devastation it had made, seemed as if it would not converge into a point while anything remained to be destroyed. A little after four o'clock an immense pillar of smoke rose in a vertical direction at some distance northeast of Newcastle for a while, and the sky was absolutely blackened by this huge cloud. But a light northerly breeze springing up, it gradually distended and then dissipated into a variety of shapeless mists. About an hour after, or probably at half past five, innumerable large spires of smoke issuing from different parts of the woods and illuminated the flames that seemed to pierce them mounted the sky. A heavy and suffocating canopy extending to the utmost verge of observation, and appearing more terrific by the vivid flashes and blazes that darted irregularly through it, now hung over Newcastle and Douglas in threatening suspension, while showers of flaming brands, calcined leaves, ashes and cinders, seemed to scream through the growling noise that prevailed in the woods. About nine o'clock p.m., or shortly after, a succession of loud and appalling roars thundered through the forests. Peel after peel, crash after crash, announced the sentence of destruction. Every succeeding shock created fresh alarm. Every clap came loaded with its own destructive energy. With greedy rapidity did the flames advance to the devoted scene of their ministry. Nothing could impede their progress. They removed every obstacle by the desolation they occasioned, and several hundred miles of prostrate forest and switten woods marked their devastating way. The river, tortured into violence by the hurricane, foamed with rage and flung its boiling spray upon the land. The thunder peeled along the vault of heaven. The lightning appeared to render the firmament. For a moment all was still, and a deep and awful silence reigned over everything. All nature appeared to be hushed, when suddenly a lengthened and sullen roar came booming through the forest, driving a thousand massive and devouring flames before it. Then Newcastle and Douglas Town and the whole northern side of the river, extending from Bartobog to the Nashvok, a distance of more than one hundred miles in length, became enveloped in an immense sheet of flame that spread over nearly six thousand square miles. That the reader may form a faint idea of the desolation and misery which no pen can describe, he must picture to himself a large and rapid river, thickly settled for one hundred miles or more, on both sides of it. He must also fancy four thriving towns, two on each side of this river, and then reflect that these towns and settlements were all composed of wooden houses, stores, stables and barns, that these barns and stables were filled with crops, and that the arrival of the fall importations had stocked the warehouses and stores with spirits, powder, and a variety of combustible articles, as well as with the necessary supplies for the approaching winter. He must then remember that the cultivated or settled part of the river is but a long narrow strip, about a quarter of a mile wide, lying between the river and almost internerable forest, stretching along the very edge of its precincts and all around it. Extending his conception, he will see the forests thickly expanding over more than six thousand square miles, and absolutely parched into tinder by the protracted heat of a long summer. Let him then animate the picture by scattering countless tribes of wild animals and hundreds of domestic ones, and even thousands of men in the interior. Having done all this, he will have before him a feeble outline of the extent, features, and general circumstances of the country, which in the course of a few hours was suddenly enveloped in fire. A more ghastly or a more revolting picture of human misery cannot well be imagined. The whole district of cultivated land was shrouded in the agonizing memorials of some dreadful, deforming havoc. The songs of gladness that formerly resounded through it were no longer heard, for the voice of misery had hushed them. Nothing broke upon the ear but the accents of distress. The eye saw nothing but ruin and desolation and death. Newcastle, yesterday a flourishing town full of trade and spirit and containing nearly one thousand inhabitants, was now a heap of smoking ruins, and Douglas Town, nearly one-third of its size, was reduced to the same miserable condition. Of the two hundred and sixty houses and storehouses that composed the former, but twelve remained, and of the seventy that comprised the latter, but six were left. The confusion on board of one hundred and fifty large vessels, then lying in the Miramaki, and exposed to imminent danger, was terrible. Some burned to the water's edge, others burning, and the remainder occasionally on fire. Dispersed groups of half-famished, half-naked, and houseless creatures, all more or less injured in their persons, many lamenting the loss of some property, or children, or relations and friends, were wandering through the country. Of the human bodies some were seen with their vows protruding, others with the flesh all consumed, and the blackened skeletons smoking. Some with headless trunks and severed extremities. Some bodies were burned to cinders, others reduced to ashes, many bloated and swollen by suffocation, and several lying in the last contorted position of convulsing torture. Brief and violent was their passage from life to death, and rude and melancholy was their supple cure, unnelled, uncoffined, and unknown. The immediate loss of life was upward of five hundred beings. Thousands of wild beasts, too, had perished in the woods, and from their protrescent carcasses issued streams of effluvium and stench that formed contagious domes over the dismantled settlements. Domestic animals of all kinds lay dead and dying in different parts of the country. Myriads of salmon, trout, bass, and other fish, which poisoned by the alkali formed by the ashes precipitated into the river, now lay dead or floundering and gasping on the scorched shores and beaches, and the countless variety of wildfowl and reptiles shared a similar fate. Such was the violence of the hurricane, that large bodies of ignited timber and portions of the trunks of trees and severed limbs, and also parts of flaming buildings, shingles, boards, and so forth, were hurried along through the prowning heavens, with terrible velocity, outstripping the flitest horses, spreading destruction far in the advance, thus cutting off retreat. The shrieks of the affrighted inhabitants, mingling with the discordant bellowing of cattle, the neighing of horses, the howling of dogs, and the strange notes of distress and fright from other domestic animals, strangely blending with the roar of the flames and the thunder of the tornado, beggars' description. Their only means of safety was the river, to which there was a simultaneous rush, seizing whatever was buoyant, however inadequate. Many attempted to effect a crossing. Some succeeded, others failed, and were drowned. One woman actually seized a bull by the tail, just as he plunged into the river, and was safely towed to the opposite shore. Those who were unable to make their escape across plunged into the water to their necks, and by a constant application of water to the head, while in this submerged condition escaped a dreadful burning. In some portions of the country the cattle were nearly all destroyed. Whole crews of men, camping in the interior and engaged in timber making, were consumed. Such was the awful conflagration of 1825 on the Miramake. Pirates of the Red Sea. The commerce of the Red Sea has almost from time immemorial greatly suffered from the depredations of Arab pirates who infest the entire coast. The exploits of one individual is dwelt upon by his late confrers, with particular enthusiasm, and his career and deeds were so extraordinary a character, that we feel justified in giving the following brief detail of them, as furnished by an English traveller. This dreadful man, Rama Ibn Javah, the bow itial of his order, the personation of an Arab sea robber, was a native of a small village near Jitta. At an early period he commenced a mode of life congenial to his disposition and nature. Purchasing a boat, he, with a band of about twelve companions, commenced his career as a pirate, and in the course of a few months he had been so successful that he became the owner of a vessel of three hundred tonnes, and manned with a lawless crew. It was a part of his system to leave British vessels unmolested, and he even affected to be on good terms with them. We have heard an old officer describe his appearance. He was then about 45 years of age, short in stature but with a figure compact and square, a constitution vigorous, and the characteristic qualities of his countrymen, frugality and patience of fatigue. Several scars already seemed his face, and the bone of his arm had been shattered by a matchlock ball when boarding a vessel. It is a remarkable fact that the intermediate bones sloughed away, and the arm, connected only by flesh and muscle, was still, by means of a silver tube, affixed around it, capable of exertion. Rama was born to be the leader of the wild spirits around him, with a sternness of purpose that awed those who were near him into a degree of dread, which totally astonished those who had been accustomed to view the terms of equality in which the Arab chiefs appear with their followers. He exacted the most implicit obedience to his will, and the manner in which he acted toward his son exhibits the length he was disposed to go with those who thwarted or did not act up to the spirit of his views. The young man, then a mere stripling, had been dispatched to attack some boats, but he was unsuccessful. This dastard and son of a dog, said the enraged father, who had been watching the progress of the affair, you return unharmed to tell me, fling him over the side. The chief was obeyed, and but for a boat, which by some chance was passing some miles astern, he would have drowned. Of his existence the father for many months was wholly unconscious and how he was reconciled we never heard, but during the interval he was never known to utter his name. No cause, it appears, existed for a repetition of the punishment, for while yet a youth he met the death his father would most have coveted for him, he fell at the head of a party that was bravely storming a fort. Many other acts of cruelty are related of him, having seized a small trading boat he plundered her, and then fastened the crew, five in number, round the anchor, suspended it from the bows, cut the cable, and let the anchor, with its living burden, sink to the bottom. He once attacked a small town on the Persian Gulf. In this town lived one Abder Russell, a personal friend of the narrator who related the visit of the pirates to his dwelling. Seized with a violent illness he was stretched on a pallet spread on the floor of his apartment. His wife, to whom he was devotedly attached, was attending him, his head placed in her lap. A violent noise arose below. The door was heavily assailed, it yielded. A sharp conflict took place. Shouting and a rushing on the staircase was heard, and the pirates were in the apartment. I read their purpose, said Abder to me, and their looks, but I was bedridden and could not raise a finger to save her, for whose life I would have gladly forfeited my own. Rama, the pirate captain, approached her. In treaties for life were unavailing, yet for an instant her extreme beauty arrested his arm, but it was only for an instant. His dagger again gleamed on high, and she sank, a bleeding victim beside me. Cold and apparently inanimate as I was, I nevertheless felt her warm blood flowing past me, and with her life it ebbed rapidly away. My eyes must have been fixed with the vacant look of death. I even felt unmoved as he bent down beside me, and with spider-like fingers stripped the jewels from my hand, the touch of that villain who had deprived me of all which in life I valued. At length a happy insensibility stole over me. How long I remained in this condition I know not, but when I recovered my senses, fever had left me. Cool blood again traversed my veins. Beside me was a faithful slave who was engaged bathing my temples. He had escaped the slaughter by secreting himself while the murderers remained in the house. Rama, although a man of few words with his crew, was nevertheless very communicative to our officers whenever he fell in with them. According to his own account he managed them by never permitting any familiarities, nor communicating big plans, and by an impartial distribution of plunder. But the grand secret he knew full well was in his utter contempt of danger, and that terrible untaught eloquence at the hour of need, where time is brief and sentences must be condensed into words which marked his career. Success crowned all his exploits, he made war and levied contributions on whom he pleased. Several times he kept important seaport towns in a state of blockade, and his appearance was everywhere feared and dreaded. He took possession of a small sandy islet not many miles from his native place, where he built a fort, and would occasionally sally forth and plunder and annoy any vessel that he met with. Although now perfectly blind and wounded in almost every part of his body, yet such was the dread inspired by the energy of this old chief, that for a long time no one could be found willing to attack the single vessel which he possessed. At length a shake older than his neighbors proceeded in three heavy boats to attack Rama, the followers of the latter too well trained to feel or express alarm, save that which arose from affection for their chief, painted in strong terms the overwhelming superiority of the approaching force, and counseled his bearing away from them. But he spurned the idea. The evening drew near and closed upon him. After a severe contest they gained the deck, and instant after, dead and dying, the victor and the vanquished were given to the wind. Rama, with a spirit in accordance with the tenor of his whole career, finding the day was going against him, was led by a little boy to the magazine, and then it is supposed, applied the pipe he had been smoking during the action to the powder. Such, to his life, was the fitting end of the pirate chief. Section 18 of Thirling Adventures by Land and Sea by James O. Brayman. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Section 18. General Jackson and Wetherford. After the battle of Talapusa, General Jackson returned with his victorious army to Fort Williams, but determined to give his enemy no opportunity of retrieving the misfortune that had befallen him, he recommenced operations immediately afterward. On the 7th of April, 1814, he again set out for Talapusa, with the view of forming a junction with the Georgia troops under Colonel Milton, and completing the subjugation of the country. On the 14th of that month the union of the two armies was affected, and both bodies moved to a place called the Hickory Ground, where it was expected the last final stand would be made by the Indians, or terms of submission would be agreed on. The principal chiefs of the different tribes had assembled here, and on the approach of the army sent a deputation to treat for peace. Among them was Wetherford celebrated equally for his talents and cruelty, who had directed the massacre at Fort Mims. It had been the intention of General Jackson to inflict a signal punishment upon him, if ever in his power. Struck, however, with the bold and nervous eloquence of the fearless savage, and persuaded of the sincerity of his wishes for peace, he dismissed him without injury. Some of the speeches of this warrior have been preserved, and exhibit a beautiful specimen of the melancholy, but manly tone of a savage hero lamenting the misfortunes of his race. Addressing General Jackson, he said, I am in your power. Do with me as you please. I am a soldier. I have done the white people all the harm I could. I have fought them and fought them bravely. There was a time when I had a choice and could have answered you. I have none now, even hope is ended. Once I could animate my warriors, but I cannot animate the dead. My warriors can no longer hear my voice. Their bones are at Talladega, Tallassachi, Immokval, and Tohokapika. While there was a chance of success, I never left my post nor supplicated peace, but my people are gone, and I now ask it for my nation and myself. He shortly afterward became the instrument of restoring peace, which was concluded by the total submission of the Indians. They agreed to retire in the rear of the army and occupy the country to the east of the Kusa, while a line of American posts was established from Tennessee and Georgia to the Alabama, and the power and resources of these tribes were thus effectually destroyed. Crews of the Saldana and Talbot At midnight of Saturday, the 30th of November, 1811, with a fair wind and a smooth sea, we wade from our station, in company with the Saldana frigate, of thirty-eight guns, Captain Peckinham, with a crew of three hundred men, on a cruise as was intended of twenty days, the Saldana, taking a westerly course, while we stood in the opposite direction. We had scarcely got out of the lock and cleared the heads, however, when we plunged at once into all the miseries of a gale of wind blowing from the west. During the three following days, it continued to increase in violence when the islands of Kaul and Teri became visible to us. As the wind had now chopped round more to the north and continued unabated in violence, the danger of getting embalmed among the numerous small islands and rugged headlands on the northwest coast of Infernoshire became evident. It was therefore deemed expedient to wear the ship round and make a port with all expedition. With this view, and favored by the wind, a course was shaped for Loxwilly, and a way we scutted under close reefed forsel, and main topsel followed by a tremendous sea, which threatened every moment to overwhelm us and accompanied by piercing showers of hail and a gale which blew with incredible fury. The same course was steered until next day about noon, when land was seen on the Liebao. The weather being thick, some time elapsed before it could be distinctly made out, and it was then ascertained to be the island of North Arran, on the coast of Donegal, westward of Loxwilly. The ship was therefore hauled up some points, and we yet entertained hopes of reaching an anchorage before nightfall, when the weather gradually thickened and the sea, now that we were upon the wind, broke over us in all directions. Its violence was such that in a few minutes several of our ports were stove in, at which the water poured in in great abundance, until it was actually breast-high on the lee side of the main deck. Fortunately, but little got below, and the ship was relieved by taking in the forsel. But a dreadful addition was now made to the precariousness of our situation by the cry of land ahead, which was seen from the forcassel and must have been very near. Not a moment was now lost in wearing the ship round on the other tack, and making what little sail could be carried to whether the land we had already passed. This soon proved, however, to be a forlorn prospect, for it was found that we should run our distance by ten o'clock. All the horrors of shipwreck now stared us in the face, aggravated tenfold by the darkness of the night, and the tremendous force of the wind, which now blew a hurricane. Mountains are insignificant when speaking of the sea that kept pace with it. Its violence was awful beyond description, and it frequently broke over all the poor little ship that shivered and groaned, but behaved admirably. The force of the sea may be guessed from the fact of the sheet anchor, nearly a ton and a half in weight, being actually lifted on board. To say nothing of the four-chain plates, board broken, both gangways torn away, quarter galleries stove in, and so forth. In short, on getting into port, the vessel was found to be loosened through all her frame, and leaking at every seam. As far as depended on her good qualities, however, I felt assured at the time we were safe, for I had seen enough of the Talbot to be convinced we were in one of the finest sea-boats that ever swam. But what could all the skill of the shipbuilder avail in a situation like ours? With the night full fifteen hours long before us, and knowing that we were fast driving on the land, anxiety and dread were on every face, and every mind felt the terrors of uncertainty and suspense. At length, about twelve o'clock, the dreadful truth was disclosed to us. Judge of my sensation, when I saw the frowning rocks of Arryn, scarcely half a mile distant, on our lee bow. To our inexpressible relief, and not less to our surprise, we fairly weathered all, and were congratulating each other on our escape. When, on looking forward, I imagined I saw breakers at no great distance on our lee, and this suspicion was soon confirmed when the moon, which shone at intervals, suddenly broke out from behind a cloud, and presented to us a most terrific spectacle. At not more than a quarter of a mile's distance on our lee beam appeared a range of tremendous breakers, among which it seemed as if every sea would throw us. Their height, it may be guessed, was prodigious when they could be clearly distinguished from the foaming waters of the surrounding ocean. It was a scene seldom to be witnessed and never forgotten. Lord, have mercy upon us, was now on the lip of every one. Destruction seemed inevitable. Captain Swain, whose coolness I have never seen surpassed, issued his orders clearly and collectively, when it was proposed, as a last resource, to drop the anchors, cut away the masts and trust to the chance of writing out the gale. This scheme was actually determined on, and everything was in readiness, but happily was deferred until an experiment was tried a lot. In addition to the close reefed main topsoil and foresoil, the fore topsoil and trisil weren't now set, and the result was almost magical. With a few plunges we cleared not only the reef, but a huge rock upon which I could with ease have tossed a biscuit, and in a few minutes we were inexpressibly rejoiced to see both, far astern. We had now miraculously escaped all but certain destruction a second time, but much was yet to be feared. We had still to pass Cape Jeller, and the moments dragged on in gloomy apprehension and anxious suspense. The ship carried sail most wonderfully, and we continued to go along at the rate of seven knots, shipping very heavy seas, and laboring much, all with much solicitude looking out for daylight. The dawn at length appeared, and to our great joy we saw the land several miles astern, having passed the Cape and many other hidden dangers during the darkness. Matters, on the morning of the fifth, assumed a very different aspect from that which we had experienced for the last two days. The wind gradually subsided, and with it the sea, and a favorable breeze now springing up, we were unable to make a good offing. Fortunately no accident of consequence occurred, although several of our people were severely bruised by falls. Poor fellows, they certainly suffered enough, not a dry stitch, not a dry hammock, have they had since we sailed. Happily, however, their misfortunes are soon forgot in a dry sherd and a can of grog. The most melancholy part of the narrative is still to be told. On coming up to our anchorage we observed an unusual degree of curiosity and bustle in the fort. Crowds of people were congregated on both sides, running to and fro, examining us through spyglasses. In short, an extraordinary commotion was apparent. The meaning of all this was but too soon made known to us by a boat coming alongside, from which we learned that the unfortunate Saldana had gone to pieces and every man perished. Our own destruction had likewise been reckoned inevitable from the time of the discovery of the unhappy fate of our consort five days beforehand, and hence the astonishment at our unexpected return. From all that could be learned concerning the dreadful catastrophe, I am inclined to believe that the Saldana had been driven on the rocks about the time our doom appeared so certain in another quarter. Her lights were seen by the signal tower at nine o'clock of that fearful Wednesday night, December 4, after which it is supposed she went ashore on the rocks at a small bay called Balimastaker, almost at the entrance of Loxwilly Harbor. Next morning the beach was strewed with fragments of the wreck, and upward of two hundred of the bodies of the unfortunate sufferers were washed ashore. One man and one only, out of the three hundred, was ascertained to have come ashore alive, but almost in a state of insensibility. Unhappily, there was no person present to administer to his wants judiciously, and upon craving something to drink, about half a pint of whiskey was given him by the people, which almost instantly killed him. Poor Peckinam's body was recognized amid the others, and, like these, stripped quite naked by the inhuman wretches who flocked to the wreck as to a blessing. It is even suspected that he came ashore alive, but was stripped and left to perish. Nothing could equal the audacity of the plunderers, although a party of the Lanark militia was doing duty around the wreck. But this is an ungracious and revolting subject, which no one of proper feeling would wish to dwell upon. Still less am I inclined to describe the heart-rending scene at Bunkrana, where the widows of many of the sufferers are residing. The surgeon's wife, a native of Halifax, has never spoken since the dreadful tidings arrived. Consolation is inadmissible, and no one has yet ventured to offer it. A Carob's Revenge In a work recently published in London by Captain Millman, are to be found some of the most thrilling scenes from life in the tropics it has ever been our fortune to meet with. The following account of a Carob's Revenge on a sea-captain named Jack Diver on one of the narrow mountain paths of Guadalupe is exceedingly graphic and forcible. While he was making up his mind, a dark figure had stolen unperceived, close behind him, with a small basket in his hand of split reeds, out of which came a low, buzzing, murmuring sound. He lay down quietly across the path at the point of the first angle of the elbow of the mountain sparr, not many feet from the hind legs of the horse. Jack Diver, with a scowling look, turned his horse round with some difficulty. He plunged and reared slightly, but went on. Occupied with retaining his seat, the master of the transport scarcely perceived the figure lying in the path. He could not see who it was, for the face of the man was toward the ground, but the horse saw it at once. The animal, accustomed to mountain roads from its birth, had often stepped over both men and animals which are sometimes forced in the narrowest parts to lie down to let the heavier and stronger pass in that highly dangerous and disagreeable method, lifted his feet cautiously one by one, so as not to tread on the prostrate figure. As the horse was above him, the man lifted with one hand the lid of the basket, and a swarm of wasps flew suddenly out, buzzing and humming fiercely, and in a moment they began to settle on the moving object. The horse commenced switching his tail to drive them away, pricking up his ears, and snorting with terror. The man on the path lay quite still until they had thus moved on a few yards, and then he raised his head a little and watched them with his keen black eyes. The wasps, driven off for a moment, became only the more irritated, and returned with vigor and wonderful pertinacity to the attack, beginning to sting the poor animal furiously in all the tender parts. They assailed the wretched master in his turn, darting their venom to barbs into his face and hands, and driving him nearly frantic. The horse plunged furiously, and Jack Diver, losing his stirrups and his presence of mind together, twisted his hands into the horse's mane to keep his seat, letting the reins fall on his neck. At last, with a rear and a bound into the air, the maddened animal darted off at a gallop, but the faster he went the closer stuck the persevering wasps. Jack Diver shut his eyes, screaming with fear and pain. Then the carob chief rose up, and again the hawk-like scream echoed along the valley. The turn is to be made. Can the horse recover himself? Yes, maddened as he is, he sees the danger instinctively. His speed slackens, he throws himself on his anches with his forefeet on the very brink of the precipice. One more chance. The blind, infatuated man remains on his back. Again the horse feels the stings of his deadly persecutors. Again he plunges forward, striving to turn quickly round the corner. Round, and he is in comparative safety. On a sudden, from behind a buttress of projecting rock, there start across the path three dusky forms flinging their hands wildly in the air. Then was heard that rare and awful sound the shriek of a horse in the fear of a certain incoming death. When swerving one side he lost his footing on the slippery shelf, and struggling madly but unsuccessfully to recover it, he fell over and over, down and down, a thousand feet down. From the sailor's lips there came no cry. Massacre of Fort Mims On the thirtieth of August, 1813, Fort Mims, which contained one hundred and fifty men, under the command of Major Beasley, besides a number of women and children, was surprised by a party of Indians. The houses were set on fire, and those who escaped the flames fell victims to the tomahawk. Neither age nor sex was spared, and the most horrible cruelties, of which the imagination can conceive, were perpetrated. Out of the three hundred persons which the fort contained, only seventeen escaped to carry the dreadful intelligence to the neighboring stations. This sanguinary and unprovoked massacre excited universal horror and the desire of revenge. The state of Tennessee immediately took active measures for punishing the aggressors. General Jackson was ordered to draft two thousand of the militia and volunteers of his division, and General Coffey was directed to proceed with five hundred mounted men to the frontier of the state. The former, having collected a part of his force, joined General Coffey on the twelfth of October at Dittos Landing on the Tennessee. They then marched to the Ten Islands in the same river. A few days afterward, General Coffey was detached with nine hundred men to attack a body of the enemy posted at Dalijatji. He arrived early in the morning, within a short distance of it, and, dividing his force into two columns, completely surrounded it. The Indians for a long time made a desperate resistance and did all that was possible for men to do who were in their situation, but they were finally overpowered with the loss of one hundred and eighty-six men. The Fresh-It The Fresh-It at Banger Main in the spring of 1846 is thus described in forest life and forest trees. The first injury to the city was from the breaking away of a small section of the jam, which came down and pressed against the ice on our banks. By this, twenty houses and one immediate neighborhood on the west bank of the river alone were at once inundated, but without loss of life. This occurred in the daytime and presented a scene of magnificent interest. The effect of this small concussion upon the ice near the city was terrific. The water rose instantly to such a height as to sweep the buildings and lumber from the ends of the wars and to throw up the ice in huge sheets and pyramids. This shock was resisted by the great covered bridge on the Penobscot, which is about one thousand feet in length, and thus gave time to save much property. But meanwhile, another auxiliary to the fearful work had been preparing by the breaking up of the ice in the Kandusky River. This river flows through the heart of the city, dividing it into two equal portions. The whole flat on the margin of the river is covered with stores and public buildings and is the place of merchandise for the city. The Kandusky runs nearly at right angles with the Penobscot at the point where they unite. The Penobscot skirts the city on the eastern side and on the banks of this river are the principal wars for the deposit of lumber. I must mention another circumstance to give you a just idea of our situation. There is a narrow spot in the river about a mile below the city at high head in which is a shoal and from which the greatest danger of a jam always arises and it was this that caused the principal inundation. The next incident occurred at midnight when the bells were rung to announce the giving way of the ice. It was a fearful sound and scene. The streets were thronged with men, women, and children who rushed abroad to witness the approach of the icy avalanche. At length it came rushing on with a power that a thousand locomotives in a body could not buy with, but it was veiled from the site by the darkness of a hazy night and the ear only could trace its progress by the sounds of crashing buildings, lumber, and whatever it encountered in its pathway, except the glimpses that could be caught of it by the light of hundreds of torches and lanterns that threw their glare upon the misty atmosphere. The jam passed on and a portion of it pressed through the weakest portion of the Great Bridge and thus, joining the ice below the bridge, pressed it down to the narrows at high head. The destruction, meanwhile, was in progress on the kendeskig which poured down its tributary ice, sweeping mills, bridges, shops, and other buildings with masses of logs and lumber to add to the common wreck. At that moment the anxiety and suspense were fearful whether the jam would force its way through the narrows or their stop and pour back a flood of waters upon the city, for it was from the rise of the water consequent upon such a jam that the great destruction was to be apprehended. But the suspense was soon over. A cry was heard from the dense mass of citizens who crowded the streets on the flat. The river is flowing back, and so sudden was the revulsion that it required the utmost speed to escape the rising waters. It seemed but a moment before the entire flat was deluged, and many men did not escape from their stores before the water was up to their wastes. Had you witnessed the scene, occurring as it did in the midst of a dark and hazy night, and had you heard the rushing of the waters and the crash of the ruins, and seen the multitudes retreating in a mass from the returning flood, illumined only by the glare of torches and lanterns, and listening to the shouts and cries that escaped from them to give the alarm to those beyond, you would not be surprised at my being reminded of the host of Pharaoh as they fled and sent up their cry from the Red Sea as it returned upon them and its strength. The closing scene of this dreadful disaster occurred on Sunday evening, beginning at about seven o'clock. The alarm was again rung through the streets that the jam had given way. The citizens again rushed abroad to witness what they knew must be one of the most sublime and awful scenes of nature, and also to learn the full extent of their calamity. Few, however, were able to catch a sight of the breaking up of the jam, which for magnitude, it is certain, has not occurred on this river for more than 100 years. The whole river was like a boiling cauldron with masses of ice upheaved as by a volcano. But soon the darkness shrouded the scene in part. The ear, however, could hear the roaring of the waters and the crash of buildings, bridges, and lumber, and the eye could trace the mammoth ice jam of four miles long, which passed on majestically, but with lightning rapidity, bearing the contents of both rivers on its bosom. The noble covered bridge of the Penobscot, two bridges of the Kanduski, and the two long ranges of sawmills, besides other mills, houses, shops, logs, and lumber enough to build up a considerable village. The new market floated over the lower bridge across the Kanduski, a part of which remains, and most happily landed at a point of the wharves, where it sunk and formed the nucleus of a sort of boom, which stopped the masses of floating lumber in the Kanduski, and protected thousands of dollars worth of lumber on the wharves below. End of Section 18. Section 19 of Thirling Adventures by Land and Sea by James O. Bramon, this Librivoct recording is in the public domain. Section 19. The Panthers Den. The occupants of a few log heavens in the vicinity of the Bayou Manlat, a tributary of the noble bay of Pensacola, situated in the western part of the then territory of Florida, had been for some weeks annoyed by the mysterious disappearance of the cattle and goats, which constituted almost the only wealth of these rude countrymen. And the belated herdsman was frequently startled by the terrible half-human cry of the dreaded panther, and the next morning someone of the squatters would find himself minus a number of cloven feet. About this time I happened into the settlement on a hunting excursion, in company with another son of Nimrod, and learning the state of affairs, resolved, if possible, to rid the clearing of its pest, and bind new laurels to our brows. The night before our arrival a heifer had been killed within a few rods of the cabin, and the carcass dragged off toward the swamp, some two miles distant, leaving a broad trail to mark the destroyer's path. This, being pointed out to us, Ned and myself resolved to execute our enterprise without delay. This was to beard the lion in his den. Having carefully charged our rifles and pistols, and seen that our bowies were as keen as razors, we set out on the trail, which soon brought us to the edge of the bayoumanlette swamp, which covers the surface of some thousands of acres, being a dense muddy hammock of teti, bay, magnolia, cane, grapevines, and so forth. A perpetual twilight reigned beneath the dense foliage supported by the rank soil, and our hearts beat a few more pulsations to the minute as we left the scorching glare of the noonday sun, and plunged into the gloomy fastnesses of the bear and alligator. To these latter gentlemen, whose clumsy forms were sprawling through the mud on every side, we gave no further heed other than to keep without the range of the deadly sweep of their powerful tails, with which they bring their unsuspecting prey within reach of their saw-like jaws. The bears we did not happen to meet, or we should most assuredly have given them some of the balls designed for the panthers. Well, we followed the trail half a mile into the swamp, when on an elevated spot we suddenly encountered the half devoured body of the unfortunate heifer, apparently just deserted by the captors. We cautiously advanced a few paces further over a pavement of bones, clean-scraped and meatless, and entered an open space when a sight met my eyes which certainly made me wish myself safe at home, or in fact anywhere else but where I was. About twenty-five feet from us we saw, instead of one, an old sheep-panther and two cubs nearly grown, while directly over them on the blasted and sloping trunk of an immense gum-tree crouched the old he one of all, lashing his sides fiercely with his tail and snorting and spitting like an enraged cat, an example which was imitated by the three below. Here was a dilemma on the particularly sharp horns of which we found ourselves most uncomfortably situated. To retreat would induce an immediate attack, the consequence of an advance would be ditto, so we stood on tableau for a brief second our guns cocked and aimed, Ned drawing a bead on the dam while I did the same on the sire. It seemed madness to fire, we were not long uncertain as to our course, for the old fellow suddenly bounded from the trunk upon me with a deafening roar. I fired as he sprang, and the report of my piece was re-echoed by that of Ned's. I sprang aside, dropping my rifle and drawing my long and heavy knife. It was well I did so, for the mortally wounded beast alighted on the very spot I had left. He turned and sprang upon me. I avoided the blow of its powerful paw, and grappling with him I rolled on the turf, winding my right arm tight around his neck and hugging close to his body to avoid his teeth and claws while I dealt rapid thrusts with my knife. I was very powerful, but never was in a situation where I felt more sensibly the need of exerting all my muscle. The contest was soon decided, my knife passed through the brute's heart and panting from the dreadful clothes and breathless all the champion rose. And it was a full time that I should do so, for Ned, having put a ball through the head of the dam, was now manfully battling with her two cubs. The poor fellow was sorely pressed, streaming with blood from numerous scratches, and almost in a state of nature for the sharp claws of the cubs had literally undressed him by piecemeal. His savage assailants also bore upon their bloody hides numerous tokens of his prowess in wielding his bowie. Their system of attack seemed to be to spring subtly upon him, striking with their paws, and as they did so, in most instances, simultaneously, it was impossible for him to defend himself strong and active as he was, and had no assistance been at hand they would undoubtedly have gained the victory. It was a brave sight, though, to see the tall, strong hunter meeting their attacks undoubtedly, standing with his left arm raised to defend his head and throat, and darting his knife into their tough bodies as he threw them from him, but to meet the next moment there renewed efforts for his destruction. All this I caught at one glance as I rushed to his rescue. Ned, shout and die, mad and reckless with excitement, take the one on your left, and we threw ourselves upon them. I met my antagonist in his onward leap, and making a desperate blow at him, my wrist struck his paw, and the knife flew far from my hand. There was nothing else for me but to seize him by the loose skin of the neck with both hands, and hold on like grim death, keeping him at arm's length, while his paws beat a tattoo to a double quick time on my breast and body, stripping my garments into ribbons in a most workmanlike manner, and ornamenting my sensitive skin with a variety of lines and characters done in red, a process which I did not care to prolong, however, beyond a period when I could, soonest, would stop to the operation. As I was debating how to attain so desirable an end, the remembrance of the small rifle pistol in my belt, and which till now in the hurry of the conflict I had forgotten, suddenly flashed upon my mind, and, disengaging one hand, I drew it forth, cocked it with my thumb, and the next moment the panther's brains were spattered in my face. I turned to look for Ned, and found him trying to free himself from the dead body of the panther whose teeth were fastened in their death grip to the small remnant of his hunting-coat, which hung around his neck. I separated the strip of cloth with my recovered knife, and we sank panting to the ground, while our hearts went up in thankfulness for deliverance from so imminent danger to life and limb. After resting a while we washed the blood, our blood, from our bodies, and decorated them with what was left, somewhat after the fashion of the Indian who wears only a breech clout, we took the scalps of the four panthers and started on our homeward march. Our success was speedily known in the clearing, and in the evening a barbecue was had in our honor to furnish which a relation of the unfortunate heifer met with a fate scarcely less terrible. This exploit added not little to our reputation among the hunterfolk. ADVENTURE WITH ELEPHANTS On the twenty-seventh, as day dawned, says Mr. Cumming, I left my shooting-hole and proceeded to inspect the spore of my wounded rhinoceros. After following it for some distance I came to an abrupt hillock, and fancying that from the summit a good view might be obtained of the surrounding country, I left my followers to seek the spore while I ascended. I did not raise my eyes from the ground until I had reached the highest pinnacle of rock. I then looked east, and to my inexpressible gratification beheld a troop of nine or ten elephants quietly browsing within a quarter of a mile of me. I allowed myself only one glance at them, and then rushed down to warn my followers to be silent. A council of war was hastily held, the result of which was my ordering Isaac to ride hard to camp with instructions to return, as quickly as possible, accompanied by Kleinboy, and to bring me my dogs, the large Dutch rifle, and a fresh horse. I once more ascended the hillock, defeased my eyes upon the enchanting sight before me, and drawing out my spyglass, narrowly watched the motions of the elephants. The herd consisted entirely of females, several of which were followed by small calves. Presently on reconnoitering the surrounding country, I discovered a second herd consisting of five bull elephants which were quietly feeding about a mile to the northward. The cows were feeding toward a rocky ridge that stretched away from the base of the hillock on which I stood. Burning with impatience to commence the attack, I resolved to try the stalking system with these and to hunt the troop of bulls with dogs and horses. Having thus decided, I directed the guides to watch the elephants from the summit of the hillock, and with a beating heart I approached them. The ground and wind, favoring me, I soon gained the rocky ridge toward which they were feeding. They were now within one hundred yards, and I resolved to enjoy the pleasure of watching their movements for a little before I fired. They continued to feed slowly toward me, breaking the branches from the trees with their trunks, and eating the leaves and tender shoots. I soon selected the finest in the herd, and kept my eye on her in particular. At length, two of the troop had walked slowly past at about sixty yards, and the one which I had selected was feeding with two others on a thorny tree before me. My hand was now as steady as the rock on which it rested, so taking a deliberate aim I let fly at her head, a little behind the eye. She got it hard and sharp, just where I aimed, but it did not seem to affect her much. Uttering a loud cry, she wheeled about, when I gave her the second ball close behind the shoulder. All the elephants uttered a strange rumbling noise and made off in a line to the northward at a brisk ambling pace, their huge fan-like ears flapping in the ratio of their speed. I did not wait to load, but ran back to the hill to obtain a view. On gaining its summit, the guides pointed out the elephants. They were standing in a grove of shady trees, but the wounded one was some distance behind with another elephant, doubtless its particular friend, who was endeavouring to assist it. These elephants had probably never before heard the report of a gun, and having neither seen nor smelt me, they were unaware of the presence of man, and did not seem inclined to go any further. Presently my men hove in sight, bringing the dogs, and when these came up I waited some time before commencing the attack that the dogs and horses might recover their wind. We then rode slowly toward the elephants, and had advanced within two hundred yards of them, when the ground being open they observed us, and made off in an easterly direction. But the wounded one immediately dropped a stern, and the next moment was surrounded by the dogs, which barking angrily seemed to engross all her attention. Having placed myself between her and the retreating troop, I dismounted to fire, within forty yards of her, in open ground. Colesburg was extremely afraid of the elephants, and gave me much trouble, jerking my arm when I tried to fire. At length I let fly, but on endeavouring to regain my saddle, Colesburg declined to allow me to mount, and when I tried to lead him and run for it, he only backed toward the wounded elephant. At this moment I heard another elephant close behind, and looking about I beheld the friend with uplifted trunk, charging down upon me at top speed, shrilly trumpeting, and following an old black pointer named Schwart, that was perfectly deaf, and trotted along before the enraged elephant, quite unaware of what was behind him. I felt certain that she would have either me or my horse. I, however, determined not to relinquish my steed, but to hold on by the bridle. My men, who, of course, kept at a safe distance, stood aghast with their mouths open, and for a few seconds my position was certainly not an enviable one. Fortunately, however, the dogs took off the attention of the elephants, and just as they were upon me, I managed to spring into the saddle where I was safe. As I turned my back to mount, the elephants were so very near that I really expected to feel one of their trunks lay hold of me. I rode up to Klein Boy for my double-barreled, two-grooved rifle. He and Isaac were pale and almost speechless with fright. Returning to the charge, I was soon once more alongside, and, firing from the saddle, I sent another brace of bullets into the wounded elephant. Colesburg was extremely unsteady and destroyed the correctness of my aim. The friend now seemed resolved to do some mischief and charged me furiously, pursuing me to a distance of several hundred yards. I therefore deemed it proper to give her a gentle hint to act less officiously, and, accordingly, having loaded, I approached within thirty yards and gave it her sharp right and left behind the shoulder, upon which she at once made off with drooping trunk, evidently with a mortal wound. I never recur to this day's elephant shooting without regretting my folly in contending myself with securing only one elephant. The first was now dying and could not leave the ground, and the second was also mortally wounded, and I had only to follow and finish her. But I foolishly allowed her to escape, while I amused myself with the first, which kept walking backward and standing by every tree she passed. Two more shots finished her, on receiving them, she tossed her trunk up and down two or three times, and falling on her broadside against a thorny tree, which yielded like grass before her enormous weight, she uttered a deep, hoarse cry, and expired. This was a very handsome old cow elephant, and was decidedly the best in the troop. She was in excellent condition and carried a pair of long and perfect tusks. I was in high spirits at my success, and felt so perfectly satisfied with having killed one that, although it was still early in the day, and my horses were fresh, I allowed the troop of five bulls to remain unmolested, foolishly trusting to fall in with them next day. The Shark Sentinel With my companion, one a beautiful afternoon, rambling over the rocky cliffs at the back of the island, New Providence, West Indies, we came to a spot where the stillness and the clear transparency of the water invited us to bathe. It was not deep, as we stood above on the promontory, we could see the bottom in every part. Under the headland, which formed the opposite side of the cove, there was a cavern, to which, as the shore was steep, there was no access, but by swimming, and we resolved to explore it. We soon reached its mouth and were enchanted with its romantic grandeur and wild beauty. It extended, we found, a long way back, and had several natural baths, into all of which we successively threw ourselves, each as they receded further from the mouth of the cavern, being colder than the last. The tide, it was evident, had free ingress, and renewed the water every twelve hours. Here we thoughtlessly amused ourselves for some time. At length the declining sun warned us that it was time to take our departure from the cave, when, at no great distance from us, we saw the back or dorsal fin of a monstrous shark above the surface of the water, and his whole length visible beneath it. We looked at him, and at each other, in dismay, hoping that he would soon take his departure and go a search of other prey. But the rogue swam to and fro, just like a frigate blockading an enemy's port. The sentinel paraded before us, about ten or fifteen yards in front of the cave, tack and tack, waiting only to serve one, if not both of us, as we should have served a shrimp or an oyster. We had no intention, however, in this, as in other instances, of throwing ourselves on the mercy of the court. In vain did we look for relief from other quarters. The promontory above us was inaccessible, the tide was rising, and the sun touching the clear blue edge of the horizon. I, being the leader, pretended to a little knowledge in ictiology, and told my companion that fish could hear as well as sea, and that therefore the less we said, the better. And the sooner we retreated out of his sight, the sooner he would take himself off. This was our only chance, and that a poor one, for the flow of the water would soon have enabled him to enter the cave and help himself, as he seemed perfectly acquainted with the locale, and knew that we had no mode of retreat but by the way we came. We drew back out of sight, and I don't know when I ever passed a more unpleasant quarter of an hour. A suit in chancery, or even a spring lounge at Nugget, would have been almost a luxury to what I felt when the shades of night began to darken the mouth of our cave, and this infernal monster continued to parade like a water bailiff before its door. At last, not seeing the shark's fin above the water, I made a sign to Charles that caused what it might. We must swim for it, for we had noticed to quit by the tide. And if we did not depart, should soon have an execution in the house. We had been careful not to utter a word, and silently pressing each other by the hand, we slipped into the water, and recommending ourselves to Providence struck out manfully. I must own. I never felt more assured of destruction, not even when I once swam through the blood of a poor sailor, while the sharks were eating him, for the sharks then had something to occupy them. But this one had nothing else to do but to look after us. We had the benefit of his undivided attention. My sensations were indescribably horrible. I may occasionally write or talk of the circumstance with levity, but whenever I recall it to mind, I tremble at the bare recollection of the dreadful fate that seemed inevitable. My companion was not so expert a swimmer as I was, so that I distanced him many feet, when I heard him utter a faint cry. I turned round, convinced that the shark had seized him, but it was not so. My having left him so far behind had increased his terror, and induced him to draw my attention. I returned to him, held him up, and encouraged him. Without this he would certainly have sunk. He revived with my help, and we reached the sandy beach in safety, having eluded our enemy, who, when he neither saw nor heard us, had, as I concluded he would, quitted the spot. Once more, on terra firma, we lay gasping for some minutes before we spoke. What my companion's thoughts were, I do not know. Mine were replete with gratitude to God, and renewed boughs of amendment, and I have every reason to think that, although Charles had not so much room for reform as myself, that his feelings were perfectly in unison with my own. We never repeated this amusement, though we frequently talked of our escape and laughed at our terrors, yet on these occasions our conversation always took a serious turn, and upon the whole I am convinced that this adventure did us both a vast deal of good. Hunting the Tiger A gentleman in the civil service of the British East India Company relates the following. When a tiger springs on an elephant, the latter is generally able to shake him off under his feet, and then woe be to him. The elephant either kneels on him and crutches him at once, or gives him a kick, which breaks half his ribs, and sends him flying perhaps twenty paces. The elephants, however, are often dreadfully torn, and a large old tiger clings too fast to be thus dealt with. In this case it often happens that the elephant himself falls from pain, or from the hope of rolling on his enemy, and the people on his back are in very considerable danger, both from friends and foes. The scratch of a tiger is sometimes venomous, as that of a cat is said to be, but this does not often happen and, in general, persons wounded by his teeth or claws, if not killed outright, recover easily enough. I was at Jaffna, at the northern extremity of the island of Salon, in the beginning of the year 1819, when one morning my servant called me an hour or two before my usual time, with master, master, people sent for master's dogs, tiger in the town. Now, my dogs chance to be some very degenerate specimens of a fine species, called the poligar-tog, which I should designate as a sort of wiry-haired greyhound without scent. I kept them to hunt jackals, but tigers are very different things. By the way, there are no real tigers in Salon, but leopards and panthers are always called so, and by ourselves as well as by the natives. This turned out to be a panther. My gun chance not to be put together, and while my servant was doing it, the collector and two medical men, who had recently arrived, came to my door, the former armed with a fouling piece, and the latter with remarkably blunt hog-spears. They insisted upon setting off without waiting for my gun, a proceeding not much to my taste. The tiger, I must continue to call him so, had taken refuge in a hut, the roof of which, as those of Salon-uts in general, spread to the ground like an umbrella. The only aperture into it was a small door about four feet high. The collector wanted to get the tiger out at once. I begged to wait for my gun, but no, the fouling piece, loaded with ball, of course, and the two hog-spears were quite enough. I got a hedge-stake and awaited my fate from very shame. At this moment, to my great delight, there arrived from the fort an English officer, two artillerymen, and a melee captain, and a pretty figure we should have cut without them, as the event will show. I was now quite ready to attack, and my gun came amended afterward. The whole scene, which follows, took place within an enclosure about twenty feet square, formed on three sides by a strong fence of palmyra leaves, and on the fourth by the hut. At the door of this, the two artillerymen planted themselves, and the melee captain got on the top to frighten the tiger out by worrying it, an easy operation, as the huts there are covered with coconut leaves. One of the artillerymen wanted to go in to the tiger, but we would not suffer it. At last, the beast sprang. This man received him on his bayonet, which he thrust apparently down his throat, firing his peas at the same moment. The bayonet broke off short, leaving less than three inches on the musket. The rest remained in the animal, but was invisible to us. The shot probably went through his cheek, for it certainly did not seriously injure him, as he instantly rose upon his legs with a loud roar, and placed his paws upon the soldier's breast. At this moment the animal appeared to me to about reach the center of the man's face, but I had scarcely time to observe this when the tiger, stooping his head, seized the soldier's arm in his mouth, turned him half round, staggering, threw him over on his back, and fell upon him. Our dread now was that if we fired upon the tiger we might kill the man. For a moment there was a pause when his comrade attacked the beast exactly in the same manner as the gallant fellow himself had done. He struck his bayonet into his head, the tiger rose at him, he fired, and this time the ball took effect, and in the head. The animal staggered backward, and we all poured in our fire. He still kicked and writhed when the gentleman with the hog-spears advanced and fixed him, while the natives finished him by beating him on the head with hedge stakes. The brave artilleryman was, after all, but slightly hurt. He claimed the skin, which was very cheerfully given to him. There was, however, a cry among the natives that the head should be cut off. It was, and in so doing, the knife came directly across the bayonet. The animal measured scarcely less than four feet from the root of the tail to the muzzle. There was no tradition of a tiger having been in Jaffna before. Indeed, this one must have either come a distance of almost twenty miles, or have swam across an arm of the sea nearly two in breadth. For Jaffna stands on a peninsula, on which there is no jungle of any magnitude. Section 20. Indian Devil There is an animal in the deep recesses of the forests of Maine, evidently belonging to the feline race, which, on account of its ferocity, is significantly called Indian Devil in the Indian language the lunksus, a terror to the Indians and the only animal in New England of which they stand in dread. You may speak of the moose, the bear, and the wolf even, and the red man is ready for the chase and the encounter, but name the object of his dread, and he will significantly shake his head while he exclaims, He all one devil. An individual by the name of Smith met with the following adventure in an encounter with one of these animals on the Aramukto, while on his way to join a crew engaged in timber-making in the woods. He had nearly reached the place of encampment when he came suddenly upon one of these ferocious animals. There was no chance for retreat, neither had he time for reflection on the best method of defense or escape. As he had no arms or other weapons of defense, his first impulse in this truly fearful position, unfortunately perhaps, was to spring into a small tree nearby. But he had scarcely ascended his length when the desperate creature, probably rendered still more fierce by the promptings of hunger, sprang upon and seized him by the heel. Smith, however, after having his foot badly bitten, disengaged it from the shoe, which was firmly clenched in the creature's teeth and let him drop. The moment he was disengaged, Smith sprang for a more secure position, and the animal at the same time leaped to another large tree about ten feet distant, up which he ascended to an elevation equal to that of his victim, from which he threw himself upon him, firmly fixing his teeth in the calf of his leg. Hanging suspended thus until the flesh insufficient to sustain the weight gave way, he dropped again to the ground, carrying a portion of flesh in his mouth. Having greedily devoured this morsel, he bounded again up the opposite tree, and from thence upon Smith, in this manner renewing his attacks, and tearing away the flesh in mouthfuls from his legs. During this agonizing operation Smith contrived to cut a limb from the tree, to which he managed to bind his jackknife, with which he could now assail his enemy at every leap. He succeeded thus in wounding him so badly that at length his attacks were discontinued, and he finally disappeared in the dense forest. During the encounter Smith had exerted his voice to the utmost to alarm the crew, who he hoped might be within hail. He was heard, and in a short time several of the crew reached the place, but not in time to save him from the dreadful encounter. The sight was truly appalling, his garments were not only rent from him, but the flesh literally torn from his legs, exposing even the bone and sinews. It was with the greatest difficulty he made the descent of the tree. Exhausted through loss of blood and overcome by fright and exertion, he sunk upon the ground and immediately fainted, but the application of snow restored him to consciousness. Preparing a litter from poles and boughs, they conveyed him to the camp, washed and dressed his wounds as well as circumstances would allow, and as soon as possible removed him to the settlement where medical aid was secured. After a protracted period of confinement, he gradually recovered from his wounds, though still carrying terrible scars and sustaining irreparable injury. Such desperate encounters are, however, of rare occurrence, though collisions less sanguinary are not infrequent. Bear fight. A sanguinary encounter with bears took place in the vicinity of Tarahite on the Matawaskar River a few years since. A trap had been set by one of the men named Jacob Harrison, who, being out in search of a yoke of oxen on the evening in question, saw a young bear fast in a trap, and three others close at hand in a very angry mood, a fact which rendered it necessary for him to make tracks immediately. On arriving at the farm, he gave the alarm, and, seizing an old dragoon-saber, he was followed to the scene of action by Mr. James Burke, armed with a gun and the other man with an axe. They proceeded direct to the trap, supplied with a rope, intending to take the young bear alive. It, being a short time after dark, objects could not be distinctly seen, but on approaching close to the scene of action, a crashing among the leaves and dry branches, with sundry other indications, warmed them of the proximity of the old animals. When, within a few steps of the spot, a dark mass was seen on the ground, a growl was heard, and the confined beast made a furious leap on Jacob, who was in advance, catching him by the legs. The infuriated animal inflicted a severe wound on his knee, upon which he drew his sword, and defended himself with great coolness. Upon receiving several wounds from the saber, the cub commenced to growl and cry in a frightful and peculiar manner, when the old she-bear, attracted to the spot, rushed on the adventurous Harrison and attacked him from behind with great ferocity. Jacob turned upon the new foe and wielded his trusty weapon with such energy and success that in a short time he deprived her of one of her forepaws by a lucky stroke and completely disabled her eventually by a desperate cut across the neck, which divided the tendons and severed the spine vertebra. Having completed his conquest, he had ample time to dispatch the imprisoned cub at leisure. During the time this stirring and dangerous scene we have related was enacting, war was going on in equally bloody and vigorous style at a short distance. Mr. Burke, having discharged his gun at the other old bear, only slightly wounded him. The enraged Bruin sprang at him with a furious howl. He was met with a blow from the butt end of the fouling-piece. At the first stroke the stalk flew in pieces, and the next, the heavy barrel, was hurled a distance of twenty feet among the underwood by a side blow from the dexterous foe of the bear. Mr. Burke then retreated a few feet and placed his back against a large hemlock, followed the while closely by the bear. But being acquainted with the nature of the animal and his mode of attack, he drew a large hunting-knife from his belt, and placing his arms by his side, coolly awaited the onset. The maddened Bruin approached, growling and gnashing his teeth, and with a savage spring encircled the body of the hunter and the tree in his iron grip. The next moment, the flashing blade of the couteau chasse tore his abdomen and his smoking intervals rolled upon the ground. At this exciting crisis of the struggle the other man accompanied by the dog came up in time to witness the triumphal close of the conflict. Two old bears and a cub were the fruit of this dangerous adventure, all extremely fat, the largest of which, it is computed, would weigh upward of two hundred and fifty pounds. We have seldom heard of a more dangerous encounter with bears, and we are happy to say that Mr. Burke received no injury. Mr. Jacob Harrison, although torn severely and having three ribs broken, recovered under the care of an Indian doctor of the Algonquin tribe. The Miners of Boyce-Monzeal On Tuesday, February 22nd, 1831, a violent detonation was suddenly heard in the coal mine of Boyce-Monzeal belonging to Monsieur Rubinot. The waters from the old works rushed impetuously along the new galleries. The waters, the waters, such was the cry that resounded from the affrighted workmen throughout the mine. Only ten miners out of twenty-six were able to reach the entrance. One of them brought off in his arms a boy, eleven years old, whom he thus saved from sudden death. Another, impelled by the air and the water to a considerable distance, could scarcely credit his escape from such imminent danger. A third rushed forward with his sack full of coals on his shoulders, which in his fright he had never thought of throwing down. The disastrous news that sixteen workmen had perished in the mine of Monsieur Rubinot was soon circulated in the town of Sète-Gene. It was regarded as one of those fatal and deplorable events, unfortunately too common in that neighborhood, and on the ensuing Thursday it was no longer talked of. Politics and the state of parties in Paris exclusively occupied the public attention. The engineers of the mines, however, and some of their pupils, who on the first alarm had hastened to the spot, still remained there, continuing their indefatigable endeavors, to discover the miners who were missing. Nothing that mechanical science, manual labor, and perseverance, prompted by humanity, could perform, was left undone. Thirty hours had already elapsed since the fatal accident when two workmen announced the discovery of a jacket and some provisions belonging to the miners. The engineers immediately had saved to penetrate into the galleries where these objects had been found, which they accomplished with much difficulty by crawling on their hands and feet. In vain, they repeatedly called aloud, no voice save the echo of their own, answered from those narrow and gloomy vaults. It then occurred to them to strike with their pickaxes against the roof of the mine, still the same un-charing silence. Listen, yes, the sounds are answered by similar blows. Every heart beats, every pulse quickens, every breath is contracted. Yet, perhaps, it is but an illusion of their wishes, or perhaps some deceitful echo. They again strike the vaulted roof. There is no longer any doubt. The same number of strokes is returned. No words can paint the varied feelings that pervaded every heart. It was, to use the expression of a person present, a veritable delirium of joy, of fear, and of hope. Without losing an instant, the engineers ordered to hold to be bored in the direction of the galleries where the miners were presumed to be. At the same time, they directed, on another point, the formation of an inclined well for the purpose of communicating with them. Two of the engineer's pupils were now dispatched to the mayor of Santatien to procure a couple of firepumps which they conducted back to the mine accompanied by two firemen. In the order of youthful humanity, these young men imagined that the deliverance of the miners was but the affair of a few hours and wishing to prepare an agreeable surprise for the friends of the supposed victims. They gave strict injunctions at the mayoralty to keep the object of their expedition a profound secret. Notwithstanding the untiring efforts made to place these pumps in the mine, it was found impossible. Either they were upon a plane too much inclined to admit of their playing with facility, or the water was too muddy to be received up the pipes. They were therefore abandoned. In the meantime, the attempts made to reach the miners by sounding or by the inclined well seemed to present insurmountable difficulties. The distance to them was unknown. The sound of their blows on the roof, far from offering a certain criterion, or at least a probable one, seemed each time to excite fresh doubts. In short, the rock which it was necessary to pierce was equally hard and thick, and the gunpowder unceasingly used to perforate it made but a hopeless progress. The consequent anxiety that reigned in the mine may be easily conceived. Each of the party in his turn offered his suggestions sometimes of hope, sometimes of apprehension, and the whole felt oppressed by that vague suspense which is perhaps more painful to support than the direst certainty. The strokes of the unfortunate miners continued to reply to theirs, which added to their agitation from the fear of not being able to afford them effectual help. They almost thought that in such a painful moment their situation was more distressing than those they sought to save, as the latter were at any rate sustained by hope. While most of the party were thus perplexed by a crowd of disquieting ideas produced by the distressing nature of the event itself and by their protracted stay in a mine with a few solitary lamps scarcely rendered darkness visible, the workmen continued their labours with redoubled ardour. Some of them were hewing to pieces blocks of the rock, which fell slowly and with much difficulty. Others were actively employed and boring the whole before named, while some of the engineer's apprentices sought to discover new galleries either by creeping on all fours or by penetrating through perilous and narrow crevices and clefs of the rock. In the midst of their corporeal and mental labours, their attention was suddenly excited from another painful source. The wives of the hapless miners had heard that all hope was not extinct. They hastened to the spot. With heart-rending cries and through tears alternately of despair and hope, they exclaimed, Are they all there? Where is the father of my children? Is he among them, or has he been swallowed up by the waters? At the bottom of the mine, close to the water reservoir, a consultation was held on the plan to be pursued. Engineers, pupils, workmen, all agreed that the only prospect of success consisted in exhausting the water, which was already sensibly diminished by the working of the steam pump. The other pumps produced little or no effect, notwithstanding the vigorous efforts employed to render them serviceable. It was then proposed remedying the failure of these pumps by Eun-shen Abra, viz, by forming a line and passing buckets from one to the other. This method was adopted, and several of the pupils proceeded with all speed to Saint-Etienne. It was midnight. The général was beat in two quarters of the town only. The Hôtel de Vie was assigned as the place of rendezvous. On the first alarm a great number of persons hurried to the town hall, imagining a fire had broken out, but on ascertaining the real cause, several of them returned home, apparently unmoved. Yet these same persons, whose supposed apathy had excited both surprise and indignation, quickly reappeared on the scene, dressed in the uniform of the National Guard. So powerful is the magic influence of organized masses, marching under the orders of a chief, and stimulated by lethse-pris décor. It was truly admirable to see with what address and rapidity the three or four hundred men, who had hastened to Boise Monsil, passed and repassed the buckets by forming a chain to the bottom of the mine. But their generous efforts became too fatiguing to last long. Imagine a subterranean vault badly lighted, where they were obliged to maintain themselves in a rapid descent, in a stooping posture, to avoid striking their heads against the roof of the vault, and most of the time up to the middle in water, which was dripping from every side. Some idea may then be formed of their painful situation. They were relieved from this laborious duty by the Guardia nazianale de Sentecien, whose zeal and enthusiasm exceeded all praise. But a more precious reinforcement was at hand. The workmen from the adjacent mines now arrived in great numbers. From their skill and experience, everything might be expected. If they failed, there was no further hope. The chain au bras was again renewed by companies of the National Guard, relieved every two hours, who at respective distances held the lights, and under whose orders they acted. It was a cheering spectacle to behold citizens of all ranks engaged in one of the noblest offices of humanity, under the direction of poor calliers. The immense advantages of the organization of the National Guard were never more strikingly exemplified than on this occasion. Without them there would have been no means or possibility of uniting together an entire population, of leading the people from a distance of more than three miles, night and day, so as to ensure a regular and continued service, all would have been trouble and confusion. With them, on the contrary, everything was ready and in motion at the voice of a single chief, and the whole was conducted with such precision and regularity as had never on similar occasions been witnessed before. The row from Saint-etienne to Boise-en-Monseil exhibited a scene of the most animated kind. In the midst of the motley and the moving multitude, the National Guards were seen hurrying to and fro, chasseurs, grenadiers, cavalry and artillerymen, all clothed in their rich new costume as on a field day. Some of the crowd were singing à la Parisienne, others were lamenting, praying, hoping, despairing, and by fits and starts abandoning themselves to those opposite extravagances of sentiment so peculiarly characteristic of a French population. When night drew her sable curtains around, the picturesque of the scene was still more heightened. Fresh bands of miners conducted by their respective chiefs, coming in from every side, their sooty visages lighted up by glaring torches, National Guards arriving from different parts of the country to join their comrades of Saint-etienne, farmers and peasants on horseback and afoot, hastening to offer their humane aid. Sentinels posted, muskets piled, watchfires blazing, and in short the Tute Ensemble rendered the approaches of Boise-en-Monseil like a bivouac on the eve of an expected battle. Happily, however, the object of these brave men was to preserve life and not to destroy it. On Saturday the Chez-Nabois was discontinued as the engineers had brought the pumps effectually to work. Suddenly a cry of joy was echoed from mouth to mouth. They are saved! They're saved! Six of them are freed from their subterranean prison. Shouted a person at the entrance of the mine. The rumour was instantly repeated along the crowd, and a horseman set off at full speed for Saint-etienne with the gratifying news. Another followed and confirmed the report of his predecessor. The whole town was in motion and all classes seemed to partake of the general joy with a feeling as if each had been individually interested. In the exuberance of their delight they were already deliberating on the subject of a vet to celebrate the happy event. When a third horseman arrived, the multitude thronged round him expecting a more ample confirmation of the welcome tidings. But their joy was soon turned to sorrow when they were informed that nothing had yet been discovered, save the dead bodies of two unfortunate men who together had left eleven children to lament their untimely fate. On Sunday the workmen continued their labour with equal zeal and uncertainty as before. A sort of inquietude and hopelessness, however, occasionally pervaded their minds, which may be easily accounted for, from the hitherto fruitless result of their fatiguing researches. Discussions now took place on what was to be done. Differences of opinion arose on the various plans proposed, and in the meantime the sounds of the hapless victims from the recesses of the rocky cavern continued to be distinctly audible. Every moment the embarrassment and difficulties of the workmen increased. The flenty rock seemed to grow more impenetrable. Their tools either broke or became so fixed in the stone that it was frequently impossible to regain them. The water filtered from all parts through the narrow gallery, they were perforating, and they even began to apprehend another eruption. Such was the fate of things on Monday morning when, at four o'clock, an astounding noise was heard, which re-echoed throughout the whole extent of the mine. A general panic seized on everyone. It was thought that the waters had forced a new issue. A rapid and confused flight took place, but luckily their fears were soon allayed on perceiving that it was only an immense mass of rock detached from the mine which had fallen into a draining well. This false alarm, however, operated in a discouraging manner on the minds of the workmen, and it required some management to bring them back to their respective stations, and to revive that ardour and constancy which they had hitherto so nobly displayed. They had scarcely renewed their endeavours to bore through the rock when suddenly one of them felt the instrument drawn from his hands by the poor imprisoned miners. It was indeed to them the instrument of deliverance from their cruel situation. Singular to relate, their first request was neither for food nor drink, but for light, as if they were more eager to make use of their eyes than to satisfy the pressing wants of appetite. It was now ascertained that eight of the sufferers still survived, and this time an authentic account of the happy discovery was dispatched to St. Etienne, where it excited the most enthusiastic demonstrations of sympathy and gladness. But there is no pleasure unmixed with alloy, no general happiness unaccompanied by particular exceptions. Among the workmen was the father of one of the men who had disappeared in the mine. His paternal feeling seemed to have endowed him with superhuman strength. Night and day he never quitted his work, but for a few minutes to return to it with redoubled ardour. One soul observing thought occupied his old soul. The idea that his son, his only son, was with those who were heard from within. In vain he was solicited to retire. In vain they strove to force him from labours to fatiguing for his age. My son is among them, said he. I hear him. Nothing shall prevent my hastening his release. And from time to time he called on his son in accents that tore the hearts of the bystanders. It was from his hand that the instrument had been drawn. His first question was, my child? Like a palace, let me throw a veil over a father's grief. His antoine was no more. He had been drowned. For four days several medical men were constantly on the spot to contribute all the suckers that humanity, skill, and science could afford. It was they who introduced through the whole broth and soup by means of long, ten tubes which had been carefully prepared before hand. The poor captives distributed it, with most scrupulous attention, first to the oldest and weakest of their companions, for notwithstanding their dreadful situation, the spirit of concord and charity had never ceased for a single moment to preside among them. The man who was appointed by the others to communicate with and answer the questions of their deliverers displayed in all his replies a gaiety quite in keeping with the French character. On being asked what day he thought it was, and on being informed that it was Monday, instead of Sunday, as he had supposed, ah, said he, I ought to have known that as we yesterday indulged ourselves freely in drinking water. Strange that a man should have the heart to joke who had been thus cabined, gripped, and confined during five days, destitute of food, deprived of air, agitated by suspense, and in jeopardy of perishing by the most horrible of all deaths. There still remained full sixteen feet of solid rock between the two anxious parties, but the workmen's labours were now, if possible, redoubled by the certainty of complete success. At intervals, light nourishment in regulated quantities continued to be passed to the miners. This, however, they soon rejected, expressing but one desire that their friends would make haste. Their strength began to fail them, their respiration became more and more difficult, their utterance grew feebler and fainter, and toward six o'clock in the evening the last words that could be distinguished were, Brothers, make haste. The general anxiety was now wound up to the highest pitch. It was perhaps the most trying crisis yet experienced since the commencement of their benevolent labours. At length the moment of deliverance was, all at once, announced, and at ten o'clock it was accomplished. One by one they appeared, like spectres, gliding along the gallery which had just been completed. Their weak and agitated forms supported by the engineers on whom they cast their feeble eyes, filled with astonishment, yet beaming with gratitude. Accompanied by the doctors, they all, with one single exception, ascended to the entrance of the mine without aid. Such was their eagerness to inhale the pure air of liberty. From the mouth of the mine to the temporary residence allotted them the whole way was illuminated. The engineers, pupils, and the workmen with the National Guard under arms were drawn up in two lines to form a passage, and thus in the midst of a religious silence did these poor fellows traverse an attentive and sympathizing crowd who, as they passed along, inclined their heads as a sort of respect and honour to their sufferings. Such are the affecting particulars of an event during the whole of which every kind of business was suspended at St. Etienne, an event which exhibited the entire population of a large town forming, as it were, but one heart, entertaining but one thought, imbued with one feeling for the godlike purpose of saving the lives of eight poor, obscure individuals. Christians, men of all countries, whenever and wherever suffering humanity claims your aid, go ye and do likewise.