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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1892-8-25, Page 6TE[l ii[1.11 Of CINLAVEN, 1 . . sauply aided and abetted tier on in the 'murder of her hasbanri. And Arthur himself, and Arthur's wife or widowa-what calamity had likewise over- taken them ? Everythiug that waepossible was done to trace Althea, but nothing availed. He heel gone like last winter's snow. Ile could not have wilfully deserted his wife, because the deepest, and warmest affection had alIveys existed between them. Aud she, left witla hee little baby Clara, was bort-broken, and. did not survivemuch over a year. The Vicar's wife was then alive, and, whea the young mother died, took home the little Olara, and brought her up with her own two boya, and was a true mother to the child. Even the fact of this poor child's orphan- ed. condition failed to soften the wild and unnatural resentment of the old Imay at the Hall—Dense Natant, as she Wae generally styled. She would not seethe child . refused to look upon it. That it was the offspring of her own son was nothing to her; he had been a wicked and unnatural son, and had murdered—yes, murdered— his own father. She bad been left by her husband eole executrix of his property and estates, and never, so long as she could help its should the cbild of this unknown, mean- ly -born Esther Hales, owit a single shred of them. Her only remaining son, Jim, counted upon succeeding to the estates of his father atter bis mother sboula depart this life ; but Jim the dissipated youth had grown up to be a dissipated man—had burned, so to speak, the candle of life at both ends, and had, good ten years ago, passed into a name- less grave in a foreign lend. His sister,too, had. died, unmarried; and now, the estates Ana other property were designed for the ossession of a very distant branch of the CHAPTER II. E4PE Tax EltET-A3I'a DISEOVEEX. It was the ye eer oc that Egyptian cam - palgrt la which the battle of Tel-ol-Kebir had been fought and won after the long night-ma:ea lemeath the stars. The British army thereafter entered Cairo, carrying their sick and wounded with them. In the hospital quarters au officer sat writing at a table. Be was dark in complexion, as if he had been for many months under the burning glare of a sub•tropicel sun; while the thiu and wastecl face showed that he had been ana still was an invalid. in the regiment he was knowrs as Captain Notharn, but to the Vicar of Limlaven and to the Captain's young, wife whom we saw enter the Vlore* study at the close of the last cbapter, he, the absent one, was simply and more kindly spoken of as George. And it was to these dear ones at home—to his wife —he was writing now. Let us look over his snoulder and follow his pen. "One evening," be writes, "1 had a strange experience. It was after the re- ceipt of my father's letter ix which he in- formed me that your grandmother had re- solved to settle her own property otherwise than upon you. 1 bad been in a despairing mood tor some days. My wound was not healing well, and I worried. myaelf into something like del:dem as I thought of the helpless state in which my death would have you and our poor children. That you sboula be entitled by all the obligations of natural law and family ties to the provision which your father's mother has it in her power to make for you, and yet to be cut Off therefrom by a perverse and unnatural act of will on the pert of one so nearly re- lated to you—I say, the thought of all this burned into my brain, and must have goad- ed me into a kind of frenzy. "I do not know whether it was in a state of delirium or in a dream, but I found my- self in the dear old church at home—the church of Linlaven. I was seated in my father's pew, and alone. It was night, and yet somehow it -was not quite dark. The church was filled with a soft luminous haze, as of moonlight through obscured glass. I sat, absorbed in the perfect stillness of the place. Then up in the church tower I heard the bell strike one—two—three—slowly, aoleirinly—till it bad still& twelve; the last stroke dyingieway in long melancholy vibra- tions; and once more the church was all still as death. I then observed that the west door was open, and that a white belt of light lay across the porch. I saw, too a figure standiug there, shadowy, ghost-like, and yet alive. He entered, aud moved slowly up the aisle until he had almostreaoh- ed the altar, But he did not approach farther'for at this point he came over towards where I was sitting, then turned and stood before the burial -place of the Norbaans of Brathrig Hall. I was close to him, and I knew lum. My dear wife, it was your father, Arthur Norham ! I never saw your father in life; and yet somehow I knew that this ghost, or apparition, or eidolon'or whatever it wee,was your father, I could have touched him, I was so near; but 1 could not stir. He did not appear to be aware of my presence; but my eyes fol- lowed his, and I saw he was reading the letters on the white marble tablet which records his father's death. He stood before it with bowed head, as if in deep dejection and grief, and I heard these words uttered: 'He—gone; and I—unforgiven !" At that moment, a crash as of thunder rang through the church, and the whole scene disappeared in the twinkling of an eye. I woke up. It was only the sunset gun; and I must have been dreaming. "1 v -as greatly disturbed by tte dream, and am still. That I should indentify a man whom I never saw iu my life, and should feel so sure that he was your father, almost appears to indicate something like an in- sane delusion on my part. Your father must havequittedhis father's house about the time of my birth, and so his personal appearance could not be known to me. But I will des- cribe him, and my father will judge. He vas dressed in a riding -coat and boots, his head was uncovered, and his hairwas dark, and curled closely amnia his head. He wore no beard; but there was not light enough for me to note his complexion or the colour of his eyes. Only, somehow, I knew it was your father as surely as if he had been known to me all my life. I wonder what all this portends, and whether it is due alone to my feverish state of mind, or to some other cause wbich has hitherto ehrouded in darkness the mystery of his disappearance." The above letter, with all its other de- tails of love and longing for absent ones— which we leave to the reader's imagination, only giving what concerns our story—this letter, written in the hot Egyptian. sun, was that which Wilfrid Seerham carried to the vicarage of Linlaven oh the night of the fierce October storm. Wilfrid was the Vicar's second son, des- tined to succeed him in his sacred office. The lady, the wife of the absent soldier, was the Vlore; daughter-in-law, aud the sole child. of that ill-fated marriage between Arthur Norhain and Esther Hales, the an- nouncement of which at Brathrig Hall thirty years before had led to the old Squire's fierce wrath'driving him onwards within the hour to a violent death. The Vicar of Linlaveu was of the kin of the Norhaans of BrathrigHall, but the tie of relationship was thinning with time, and would hardly bear the strain of any degree of cousinship. But still he and his two sons —Captain George in Egypt, and Wilfrid at home—were of the true Norham stock. The Vicar and the missingArthur Norham had been at school and university together, and their friendship had been close and keen. So also had been the Vicar's relations with the family at the Hall, till the time came when Arthur went off upon what his father regarded ma mission of folly; after which the friendship between the Vicarandthe Squire somewhat cooled. The latter was angry with his son for quitting the ways of his an- cestors, and be was equally angry with the • Vicar because he refused to take the Squire's side against Arthur. Nor was the death of the Squire the only calamity that followed upon these events. The Squire's lady, now a widow had hither- to been of a, gentle and loving nature, par- • tieularly fond of her husband and children. But from the hour that she saw her hus- band's dead bcdy carried into the hall, a change, almost phenomenal, passed over her. • Her husband's death had been due to her son Arthur's disobedience. It was much as if he had struck a dagger into his father's bosom. It was simply murder. The boy had lett his home without his fatheresknowledge • had married without his father's consent; had married a low woman they had never seen; had disgraced the fainily name. and then had written a letter that killed his • father. That N9 as how the grieastrieken mother looked at it, until the bitterness ot her soul deepehed into deadly hatred of her son Arthur. Slie would not allow the Vicar to epeale ea her on the subject, he had versieg on what lay so near to the licart of eacla—George's restoration to acalth, and the sad possibilities that might ensile if the event Were not restoration. At length 'Clara pleaded fatigue, aud retired, for the night, . carrying her Itusbainas letter with her, no doubt to weep and pray over it alone, as good women do, Father and sou continu- ed to sit there for another hour, not saying much one to the other, but sneaking together in the silent confidence of friendship, which at such times is better than talk. Tee hour of eleven had pealea out from the oborclatower, when a. loudring was heard at the door -bell. Shortly thereefter Mrs. Sonuues, the old housekeeper, entered the study. " Please, sir," she saia, addressing the Vicar, that be the, gardener come to tell us that Rafe, the-owa Scotch Pedlee. have found a pore man e -lying to -night on Brath- rig Fell, and Lawrence Dale the miller aud some more o' them ha' gone up and carried. him down. They ha mede a bed for him an the Owd Grange, and please, sir, could Mrs. George let us have some blankets and wraps to cover the pore man, for gardener says he be as near dead as ever man can be?" The Vicar replied that Mrs. George had retired for the night', and was not to be disturbed ; but that she, the housekeeper, was herself to give the gardener what was necessary. e Wilfrid started to his feet, and said he would himself go down to the Old Grange, and see what was afoot. The Grange was a tall building just be- yond the vicarage garden. The night was now comparatively calm, and the old Wild- ing could be seen standing out black against the sky. From the doorway a gleam of light shone out; and on entering, Wilfrid saw the pedlar, with some others, standing amity, the Linleys of Lougee -eh, according beside his pack, lantern in head, andbofore to the fiat of this hardened old mother, whom neither calamity nor death was able to soften. So variously does adversity act and reed on different natures. Some it ripens into E sweeter and nobler fruition; others it dries up and warps tato sapless rigidity. All this was in the minds ot this little family group as they sat there with George's letter before them. To the Vicar it recalled thoughts of Arthur Norham in the days of their youth and friendship long ago, " Yes," he said to Clara, 'the appearance of the figure which George saw in lus dream is like your father as I last sew him. I ex- pect that I must have deseribed him at some time or other to George, and that the picture I then drew has lain latent iu his mind mitt recalled to his memory while in a state of semi -delirium. Yet it is very strange and very painful to have the past brought back to me so vividly as this dream does."None spoke for a time, Clara was evi- dently thinking less about the dream and the strangeness of it, than of her husband's condition in that distant foreign land. Where, in the course of his letter, he spoke with much hope of his final recovery to health, she, as she read these words silently to herself, strove with a woman's insight to read between the lines much which she fan- cied he had left unspoken lest he should add to the sorrow and the hope deferred from which she had already suffered so much. The tears that came unbidden to her eyes were an index of the mental struggle through which she was passing. "It is a shame!" said Wilfrid, angrily breaking the silence, as he rose and began to walk hurriedly up and down the room. "What is a shame, my boy 1" asked ,the Vicar. "That Arthur's own mother up at the Hall should act with such persistent and mercilesshosility towards her sonachildren, Why, Arthur Norhani was flesh of her flesh and blood of her blood, so also are Clara and her two children. The woman cannot get rid of that fact; why, then, should she exhibit a kind of savage delight be facilitat- ing arrangements to put the estate past them? I had some talk to -day with the Brookes when I was in town, and he says everything is practically settled, that that rascally Lintey of Longarth is to have the property, and Clara and her children are to be left to starve as far as Arthur's mother is concerned. I say again, it is worse than a shame—ib is a scandal. Why, Arthur Norham did not sin half so deeply against his father, as she, his own mother. is sin- ning against him and his." Clara lifted her eyes to Wilfrid, and there was a look of gratitude on her face. It sometimes does ns good to hear our own feelings expressed for us. The Vicar was silent for a while, and then he spoke, calmly, and as if to check the ris- ing salver of his son. "Yon must not forget Wilfrid," he said, "that 181s doubtful if Arthur's mother can help berself so far as the Brathrig estates are concerned. go doubt she could—and as a Christian and a mother she ahold— make provision tot Clara and the children oub of her own private possessions. But as for the estates, that is a somewhat different matter, and she has not quite a free hand. When Arthur Norham left his father's house and remained so many years absent, the Squire, as a man of perception and know- ledge of the world, could not fail to per- ceive that a young man with the sbrong and heady impulses of his son, and at an age when youth is peculiarly susceptible, would run a danger of marrying some one in the class of life with which he had now associated himself. However respectable and worthy that class might be, the persons forming it were nob such as the Squire, with his old-world notions of things, could quite approve of as family connections.— Do not speak, Wilfrid; I am -not going to argue the point.—Well, things being so, he had made up his mind, that, if Arthur survived him, he should, married or un- married, succeed, to the property, being the elder rif his two sons. But—and this is what I draw your attention to—if he pre- deceased his father, and had previously made a marriage without his father's con- sent, than the children of that marriage were to be completely and perpetually cut off from any benefit in, or succession to, the estates.' "Ab," said Wilfrid, " that's rather a different story." " Yes," continued the Vicar; "that is why I am so much mewed by this dream of George's. We found it quite impossible to obtain any dee to Arthur's movements after he left his home, which was but the day be- fore his father's fatal accident. From that tame Arthur no longer communicated with the family lawyer, or drew upon the sum of money which was payable to him, as previous to his clisappearatme he had regularly done. We might, if we were rich, fight the matter out in the courts of law; but the presump- tion would still remain against us, as we could not prove that Arthur Norbani was alive at the time of his father's death. Near- ly thirty years have passed, and tbe mystery of his disappearance has never yet been solv- ed, But I agree with you in thinking that Arthur's mother, seeing that she lute ample means of her own, ought to make rame pro- vision for the future of Clara and her chile Thou shear be served thyeelf by every sense dren." Of service which thou renderese For more than an hour the three sat cone i Browning - him the figure of a prostate man 0115 rough- ly extemporised bed evidently in a stateof unconsciousness. attrilfriel put his hand on the maids wrist, aud after a time satisfied himself that the pulse was beat,Ing—feebly and. intermittently, but still beetle*. The gardener arriaed from the vicarag.e vvith blaultots and other coverings, in winch the old man was carefully wramt ; and, the pedlar volunteered to stay there for the rest -of the night beside the man, and to give warning to the neighbours if anything happened to render help necessary. Wafted tbauked him for Ins kind offer, and bode the man good•niglit, promising to see to the sufferer in the morning. The others also retired, all except the pedler, to whom Lewrenee Dale the miller stepped back a pace and. whispered: Rafe, I fear that poor creature has something on Isis mind. Let what eve heard him say yonder on the hillside to•niglit lie a secret between thou and I. I; would ill become us to bring mischief on gray hairslike And so exit, The cold gray light of morning crept slow- ly over the silent hills and into the brown dales of Cumberland. The wind had died away ; but Nature, like an ailing child that has not slept, met the coming day with a dim and. tearful look. In the ola Grange ab Linleven the sufferer of yesternight still lay tossing in the weird delirium of pain, and with the fierce light of fever in his oye. Wilfrid and Clare entered early, and stood together a little distance off, arrested in their approach by the wild look on the sufferer's hoe. He heeded not their pre- sence. He saw them not, nor heard. Clara went close up to him, and. could note that thepale light of the October morning was revealing 'bus pinchea and woru face of an aged man, with suffering writ large on every feature. He was still in that state of unconsciousness, and the sounds that escaped his lips were but the rapid, unin- telligible, continuous monotone of delirium, which falls so strangely on the watcher's ear. She returned softly to Wilfrid's side, and advised hirn to send immediately for a doc- tor. When left alone, she turned once more to where the man lay. e "Poor creature," she said aloud; "what can have brought his gray hairs to this ?" The sound of her voice appeared to arrest tbe attention of the man, and to recall his wandering mind. By a quick movement, but evidently not without pain he half raised himself on his elbow, stretChing out the other hand towards Clara with an agitated gesture of appeal. 'Esther," he cried, in wild, distraated tones —"Esther! ha' thou comma to forgive me? Ha' thou (seemed to tell me it were all a black mistake— a horrible dream from which I am now awaking? Tell me, truly, Esther— toil me. !" And m his eagerness be seized her hand and pressed it to his burning lips. Then, as if the effort had utterly exhausted. his feeble strength, he fell back on the rude couch, and his eyes relapsed into their former look of wild and wandering vacuity. If the veil of oblivion had for a brief moment • been lifted from his Mind, it must have fallen again as suddenly; for the room is once more only filled with the hoarse mu rmur • of his inarticulate ravings. Clara, as she dropped his hand, turned from him with a soared and. bewildered look. Her face was ashy pale; andeas Wilfril at that moment re-entered, she made him some hurried excuse and fled out into the open air. She did not stay till she had reached the vicarage and had entered the house. "What a strange thing to fancy," she said to heiself. " Yet why did he call me Esther? That was my mother's name. It cannot be"— And she entered her owteroom, and shut to the door. . (To BE CONTIEUED). THE LOSS 01' TRE BIRKENHEAD. heroic -officer's behest to steed calmly where they were and taco the inevitable. Theer An instance or British gammen that Wm Never be Forgotten, . The Birkenhead, troopship, iron paddle. wheeled, and of 556 horse power, sailed from Queenstewa, 7th Janeary, 1852 foy the Cape, having on boerd deta.chmeuts of the 12th Lancers, 2nd, 6th, 43rd, 45t1i and 60th Rifles, 73rd, 740, and 91st regiments: It, struck, upon a peinted pinnacle rock off, Simon's Bay, Smith Africa, aud of 638 persons only 184 were saved by the boats ; 451 of the crsw and: soldiers peeished February ,131 2. The foregoing is the record in Haydn's Destronarrof Dates of ofie of those striking events, 'the facts of which, once impressed upon the memory can never be forgotten. The incident is called to mind by .the fact that the details were recently 'reacl out by royal order on the parade ground of every German regiment, the Kaiser thus acknow- ledging that eue more inspiring example of military heroism and perfect discipline could be imagined. The story, despite the glory of its lu,nin- QUS heroism, is a sarl one. The British troops fighting against the Kaffirs had been hardly cut up, and reinforcements were urgently required. These reinforcements were sent out from Cork en board the troop- ship Birkenhead with all haste. Two raga ments had sufferedseverely in the campaign --the 74th Highlanders and the 91st—and the reinforcements included 66 men to the former, and Captain Wright one sergeant, and. CO to the latter. There were also on board detachments of the 12th Lancers, 2nil Queen's Reginienb, 6th Royals, 12th Reg'. Is:tent ;43rd Light Infantry, 45th Regiment; 60th Rifles ; and. 73rd Regiment The 74th had lost its commander, Colonel Fordyee, iu action, and Lieut. -Col. Satan went out with the reinforcements to take over the omman. He was the senior officer on board the transport, aud next to him in rank was Cape Wright of the 91st The Birlams head, which was a fine paddle stammer, commauded by Capt. Salmon, a master in the may, made a good passage, and, on the 25th February, 1852, reached Sirrion's Bay. Time was valuable, and, not only was the ship steaming at a speed mid for the period—eight miles an hour—but the com- mander of the vessel to shorten the dis- tance, closely hugged the shore. Simon's Bay had been left behind, and every stroke of the paddle was bringing Algoa Bey, the landing place, nearer to hand. Tho night was fine. The waves rippled gently in the umoulight, and scarce three vales off could be seen the dull gray of the coast line of Danger Point—ominous name! The hopes of all were high, for never yet did the British soldier's heart fail to beat with quickened, eager excitement as he neared the enemy with whom he was about to en- gage. Numbers strolled about the deck, chaffing, talking, and speculating on the work before them ; a few were below lounging, if not sleeping, in their ham mocks. Among those on deck at half -past ten in the eveningwas Capt. Wright, of the 91sa Regiment, and he and the officer of the watch had a long conversation respect- ing 5 light which attracted their attention on the port side. There was a slight differ- ence of opinion as to which particular bea- con it was, but they were agreed that it was a lighthouse. Just before 2 °Week on tho morning of the 26th, the leadsmen was on tho paddle. box preparing to heave the lead, as he had previously been doing, when suddenly as the good ship bowled along, there was felt a startling, jarring, staggering crush. The vessel had struck! Every heart stood still. Then rang out the vcice of Capt. Salmon prompt and clear—" Full speed astern !" This was the fatal mistake; as the engines, reversed, drew the vessel backward from the point of sunken rock which had pierced her bow, she struck amidships, driving her hull in, and totally breaking her up. In the instant it was seen that the Birkenhead was a total wreck. She had, indeed, already begun to 1111 18 and sink. The Inrush of water must have instantaneously drowned a hundred men in their hammocks. • Now comes the record. of the deed of un- paralleled heroism. Cool as if he had been on the parade ground, the gallant Col. Seton assumed the direction of the men under his command. Quietly he ordered the tattoo to be beaten, and the roll of the drums immediately sent forth the muster calL Many of the men below whe heard the summons of the drummer boys, under- stood that they. i had to appear for parade, and, instead or rushing n hot baste, un - undressed, to create confusion on the deck, numbersedonned their uniform, and appear- ed in a few minutes ready to fall in. It was a sublime Beene— sometimes the human soul can reach an altitude of dignityand nobility which is a wonder to itself. flo it was now. These men stood. on the deck of a sinking ship; already she was settling beneath the engulfing waves, but quietly and without question they formed up at the calm, yet firm order of their commander, and listened to his words. These were brief but bravc and thrilling. Calling the other officers around him he enjoined silence; then be desired dept. Wright to give whatever assistance he could te Capt. Salmon. Speaking to the men, he told them they could not escape. The boats would only hold a limited number, and these the women and children would re- quire: The women and children—the weak and the helpless— were to be saved 1 As for the soldiers—the brave and the strong; they would, if necessary, meet death with him If fear there was hidden in any hearb it was conquered by discipline. Sixty men, told off in three reliefs, were put to the chain pumps on the lower after -deck; 60 were stationed at the tackles of the paddle - box boats; all who were not required for active duty wee drawn up in the poop, to ease the fore pert of the ship, which was now rolling heavily. The troop horses were got up and pitched into tha sea, some of the poor brute's 'swimming instinctively for the land, which couldbe seen in the bright starlight about two miles off. Awe-stricken and apeechless, the women and children stood while the ship's cutter was got ready ;- then the helpless ones vverelowered, and, in a few minutes, aided by strong a,nd willing hands, £111, were safe aboard. These the ropes were cute and the boat glided away. It had just got clear, when the vessel, work- ing astern, struck again, causing aoother yawning chasm, through which .the water poured in volumes. The outer bow broke off at the foeernast, the bowsprit shot up, into the air towards the foremast, and the filmset went over the gide, carrying witb, it the starboard paddle -box and boat. • All this happened within 15 minus of the ship. striking. A second "boat had cap- sized when lowered, and a third could not be got at because of the breaking away of the forepart And now came an exhibition of heroism upon which the world might well gaze in awe. Strong.and resolute stood that bareheaded man withthe drawn sword— witla his men face to face with cleaffi: . But, says a writer, nobler than their adhesion to discipline, suldimer than mere devotion to their commander, wastlie spitetwhich moved the soldiers to murmur acquiescence in the • An Aeronaut's AUrful Fall. Five thousand people at Inver Grove, just south of St. Paul, Minn., were the hotrified spectators on the 1st inst of a terriblofall to death of Prof. Hobe, the aer- onaut. When the balloon reached the usual altitude Hobe could be :men tugging at the valve cord, which would not work. Before he eould manipulate it the balloon was at least 3,000 feet above the earth. In the re- gular way he cut loose the parachute and shot rapidly earthward, but to the horror of the crowd the parachute did not expend and the unfortunate aeronaut fell like a shot toward the ground. • So great was the force of the fall that ho was driven in the soft ground to a depth of 10 feet and instantly killed. It required the work of an hour to reach the body and death had occurred long before. The Sweetest Lives. The sweetest lives are those to duty wed, Whose deeds, both great and email, Are closo-knit strands of an unbroken thread, Whore love ennobles all. This world may sound no trumpets, ring no bells, The Book of Life the shining record tells. Thy love shall chant its own beati t mice After its own life -working. .A.clit'd's kiss Set on thy sighing lips shall make thee glad: 1.. poor man served by thee shall make thee rich; A rich man he'ped by thee shall make thee drone- were no flashing eyes and resolute looks ea if he had addressed them on the eve et bat- tle ; no answering cheer, such as would have greeted hie ors had he asked them to follow him in the deadly charge. Bet each in that Momeat resigned' himself to death, and took farewell of lupe, and love, and life, mid all things dear 1 Face to face with eternity, need we doubt that Many a painful thought end bitter reflection rushed through the doomed men's minds? Many .a backward glance would be taken in fancy on dear fa- miliar home scenes, and well -beloved face a never to be eeen again. , 13ut not o heart, • quailed, or gave outward evi- dence of mental struggle. • Down still down sank the ship, yet all was calm. on board, as if her crimpany had been assem- bled for Sunday morning service. Sobbing wives and fatherless children were drifting over the blue expanse to a haven ot safety but with Col, Seton—under the starlit sky —already in the grasp of death—there was no craven heart who wished to take the place of Any of the helpless ones, and be saved instead. No; sonie at tbe pumps, al- though they knew the labor was futile; but the ,greater part, rank to rank, and shoulder to shoulder, stood on those sinking planks—faithful to duty—uttering no mur- mur or cry—a band of noblemen, whose trne heroism no Thermopylae could rival, and whose devotion neither saint nor twir- ler ever excelled. And. standing thus, in au. broken order, with the brave simple-minded sailors—who were to share their fate—gaz- ing on them in speechless admiration, that battalion of British soldiers were wallowed up by the relentless waves. . Not half -an - hour from the striking to the sinking, yet time had been given for a grand display of all that is best end noblest in man. In all 438 souls periehed—inelucling the gallant Satan, whose noble heriosm was an example to all—and nut a woman or child was lost Of the dead the 91st contributed Sergeant Butler, Corporeal Webber and Smith, aud 41 privates. 'May their gloribus memory never be forgotteu, There were ‚many miraculous escapes, amongst others that of Cornet Bond of the 12th Lancers, who was a splendid swimmer, and reached the shore by his own unaided exertions—afterwards lendiug valuable aid to others, who must otherwise have perish- ed. But our concern is with the escape and adventures of Capt. Wright, of the 91st, Capt. Wright with five, others grasped. a large piece of driftwood with which they came in contrast when the ship sank. The sea was covered with such lioattng pieces and with men struggling in the water. So far as the captain could judge at least 200 men were at first keeping themselves afloat by clingingto pieces of the wreck. But men wore sinking in all directions, and the Sharks were busy at, work. Three boats were drifting bottom upwards towards the land. With his five companions on the driftwood the captain was carried. towards Danger Point. But the seaweed and the breakers combined to form a very serious impediment to lending, and to relieve his weight from the bit of timber which had carried them so far he parted from his com- panions and swain ashore. Others imitated his courage. Some who landed were almost, naked, and none had shoes. This made progress into the interior through prickly brushwood extremely painful and difficult. Capt. Wright led a large party up country, until they arrived at a fisherman's hut about sunset. By this time they were fear- fully exhausted and hungry, having been on foot all day after tbe adventure of escape. Judge of their discomfort, then, when they found the hut contained nothing to eat, and that nothing was procurable about the alace 1 But Capt. Wright, with the "grit" of a true hero, set out alone, and dragged himself, rather then walked, 40a farmhouse eight or nine miles distant, frum which lie • sent back provisions to the companions he had left at tho hut. Later, having gathered together 68 survivors, of whom 18 were sailors, he took them to Capt. Small's farm, where they wore comfortably housed and fed.' Capt. Wright's exertions did not end here. In spite ot his fatigue he returned to the coast, and for three days clambered up and down the rocks for about 20 miles to make certain that no helpless creature lay there requiring assistance. He was joined in the search by a whaleboat's crew, which sailed along the verge of the seaweed, while- he moved along by the shore. Two men were found by the boat clinging to pieces of tim- ber among tbe seaweed in the last stages of exhaustion and the captain found two oth- ers in the clefts of the rocks—all being hap- pily saved. A steamer was subsequently sent Lor the survivors, who arrived. at Si- mon's Bay on the lab of March. Capt. Wright, bore full testimony to the heroism of all on board. Speaking of the officers, he Said no individual officer could be distin- guished above another. "All received their orders, and had them carried out as if the men were embarking instead of going to the bottom ; there was only this difference, that I never saw any embarkation conducted with so little noise and coufusion." , Such in brief 18. the story of the loss of the Birkenhead—e.grand incident in the his- tory of the world's breve men. THE GUILTY FEAR Guided by Goal Common Sense ne • Convicts Them. • On a trial for an assault a surgeon, fog his evidence, informed the Court t in examining the prosecutor he found hind', suffering from a severe contusion of the in, teguments under the left orbit, witis a great extravasation of blood and ecohymosie lathe cellular tissue, which was in a tumified state There was also considerable abeesion of the cuticle. • The Judge—You mean, I suppose, that the man hed a bad black eye? Witness—Yes. The Judge—Then why not say so atorice? Medieal exports, when they get on the witness stand, are occasionally apt, like this surgeon, to hide what they know nutter cove. er of imposing words. It is when doctor's permit their learning to be guided by their conunon sense that they do most to shield the innocent and oonvict the guilty. The question whether the person vrho fires a gen or pistol at another daring the dark night can be identified by means of the light produced in the dischadge has long interested medico-log.al minds. This question was first referred to the class. of physical science in France and they answers. ed it in the negative. A case teeading to show that theiadecisien was erroneous was subsequently reported byFodere. A woman positively swore that she saw the face of a person who fired at another during the night surrounded by a kind of glory, earl that she was thereby enabled to identify the prisoner. This statement eves confirm- ed by the deposition of the wounded man. Desgranges, of Lyons, performed many experitnenbs on this subject, and he couched - ed thaton a,dark night ancl away from every source of light the person who fired the gun might be identified within a moderate dis- tance. e_444 18 quotedby Fonlesinque in which some police -officers were shot at by a high. kwayms.n on a dark night One of the cams stated that he could distinctly see from the flash of tbe pistol that the robber rode a dark brown horse of remediable shape about the head and shoulders, and that. he had since indentified the horse 18a London stable. He also perceived by the same flash of light that the highwayman wore a rough brown overcoat. This evidence vsaa accepted, for it was considered more satisfactory than that of the man who swore that he recognizeds. robber by the light produced by a blow on his eye in the dark 1 The physiologist knows that is a clear impossibility, because the flashes thus perceived are unattended with the emission of light and it is not possible that they can make other objects In a case of murder by atmngulation the woman who perpetrated the crime had been a nurse in an Infirmary and accustomed to lay out dead bodies. After the murder she carried out unthinkingly her professional practice by smoothing the clothes under the body of her victim, placing the legs at full length, the areas out straight by the aide and the hands open. The doctor who was called in at once declared such a condition of the body was quiW inexplicable on the supposition of suicide, considering the amount of violence that must have attended the strangulation. In another case the criminal had attempt- ed to make the death appear like the act of suicide by placing the lower end Wale rope near the hand. of the deceased; but he selected the left hand, whereas the deceased was right-handed, and he did nob leave enough rope free from the neck for either hand to grasp 18 order to produce the very violent constriction of the neck which had been caused by the two coils of the rope. A surgeon pointed out these things. Both criminals confessed their crimes be.fore axe- .. cution. Sometimes criminals feign to be deaf and dumb. If the impostor can write he may be detected by the ingenious plan adopted by the Abbe Sward, an old French scien- tist. When the deaf and dumb are taught to w,rite they are taught by the lip. The letters are only known to them by their form, and their value in any word can be understood. only by their exact relative position with respect to each other. A half- educated impostor will semi' his words or divide them incorrectly, and the errors in spelling will always have reference to sound, thereby indicating that his know- ledge has been acquired through the ear and not alone through the lip. A man who had defied all other means of detection wrote several sentences m which the misspelling was obviously due to errors produced by the sound of the words. That showed he must bave heard them pronounc- ed. Abbe Secard concluded that the man was an impostor without seeing him, and he subsequently confessed the imposition. An escaped convict was on trial before a French court and the question turned upon his identity with a prisoner known to have been tattooed. There was no' appearance of colored marks upon his arm and the ques- tion submitted to M. 'Leroy, a medico -legal expert, was whether the man had ever been tattooed? M. Leroy applied strong fiction to the skin on the man's arm. This had the effect of bringing out white lines as cioatrices, with a slight bluish tint. 13y bhis means the word 'Sophie" was plainly legible in white marks on the reddened skin... This proved the identity of the' .convice. who, thereupon, was barely restrained 1- from knocking down the witness. Life's Queer Side. Spiders have eighb eyes. _ Silk worms are sold by the pound- in China. A thousand children are born in London workhouses yearly. A 14-year•old boy at San Jose, Cal., thrasl,edhis father because he ordered him to bring in some hay. The longest animal knon n to exist at the present time is the rorqual, which averages 100 feet inleugth. . At a public entertainment in Paris a young man was hypnotised. Two days elapsed before he was restored to oonseious- nese. Georgia professes to have a girl from whose mouth there runs constantly a streem of water as from a small spring. An old man 79 years tad, living in Noda• way County, Mo., plowed his own land this Spring with a, horse 29 years old, which was born on ,the same farm and has ve-oiliedon ib with the old men ever siace. In India a huge funnel of wickerwork is planted in a stream below a waterf all and every fish coming down drops into it, the water training out and leaviag the flapping prey in the receptacle ready to be gathered 10. Mercantile Item. "How do you sell these peaches ?" asked McGinnis of a colored women who had them for sale. "Six for a clime, boss." McGinnis bagels picking out half a dozen of the largest and fineet. e "You can't do dat, boss. Yer can't pick out cle biggest ones unless yer buys 'em all." It- often takes a match to light up a young lad:Os countenance. Basket Makin* Basket making, Which Used to be prac- tised, more or less in every villaee, is nbvr relegated almost entirely to machinery ; and yet it is very easy, and children even may become very exoert in its ma.nipulation. Even the rudest and -most primitive of hand- made baskets make a pretty present if filled with mosses and growing ferns. At a water- ing place, the other day, a clever woman Bet some children at work en baskets for a • charitable fair which was on the carpets and these baskets, filled in the way already suggested, found a ready sale, and brought in quite a nice little sane Shoots of willow, were used in this instance. These were cut. - soaked in water, and afterward peeled; t Strong pieces were laid across eacli other and woven . together to make the bottom, the ends having been left aiiiliciently long to turn up when- the foundation was large enough to form the uprights for the sides. Thinner strips were then woven in and out, thus forming a thick wickerwork. The edges were formed by the uprights' or ribs - being turned dewn. and woven in. This is the mien kind o/ basket ; but every one knows what dainty thine are woven out of bark and scented grasses; It is sueli pretty and easy work that it would be a popular handicraft for idle sunimer hours if once , adopted ley the busy bees of. society, , If 011 old basket is taken apart azd woven to- . ether again it will give a practical know- ledge of its construction Which would be better than any directions that could be given. ' Turn a crank loose and it seeti le.e.ke it- self heard.