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aware how seriously he had been injured. “We must build a raft, lads," he answered, at length. “See! here is the main-yard alongside of us, with the main-sail and plenty of rope hanging on to it. We shall have no lack of materials, but ihere are not many of us, I am afraid, fit for the work. He spoke too truly. Esse and I had escaped the best. Kiddle, also, was only slightly injured, and two of the ship's company had escaped, while all the rest were more or less hurt, two or three of them very barily. It seemed a wonder they could have got on to the wreck, while Pember, either from external injury, or the shock his nerves had received, was likely to be of little use.

While we were looking out for the spars and pieces of timber to form our raft, a round object appeared at a little distance. “ It's a pumpkin !" cried one of the men. I darted into the water and struck out for it. Thankfui, indeed, was [ to gt such a prize. I soon brought it back. It was meat and drink to us, and though divided among so inany, there was little for each, yet it might assist in saving our lives. A double share was awarded me, but I declined taking more than the rest. It revived us greatly, and with our strength somewhat restored, we began the building of our raft. Those who could swim, every now and then struck off to get hold of pieces of wood to serve our purpose. Among other things, the jolly-boat's mast was found, and it was agreed that it would serve us well for a mast for the raft. It was hard work getting up the canvas which hung down in the water, but, at length, with our knives we cut off a sufficient quantity for a sail. The rope served us for lashing the spars which we had collected together. At length we managed to get a frame-work forined. Across this we lashed other spars and planks, but it was a very slow business, for some of the men could only use one hand. Others had their legs so injured, that they could not move from where they sat, while so greatly dininished was the sirength of every one of us, that we were unable to secure the lashings as thoroughly as was necessary.

" It is to be hoped no sea will be after getting up, or all our fine work will be tumbling to pieces entirely," observed Pat, as he surveyed what we had done.

“ This will never do as it is," observed Mr. Noalles. “We must build a platform on the top of it, to keep us out of the water."

There was no lack of materials to do as he proposed, and we, therefore, immediately set about building the platforin. Its weight brought the lower part of the rast deeper into the water, but that could not be helped. Some hours passed by while we were thus engaged, and again thirst attacked us. We bad only eaten half the pumpkin. Some of the men entreated that they might have the remainder. “ Give it them-give it them," sung out Pember, " and give me a piece. It is the last morsel we shall probably put into our mouthis.” The fruit was cut up into twelve small slices, and distributed evenly. Even now I recollect the delight with which iny teeth crunched the cool flesh. Every particle, rind and all was consumed, as inay be supposed. We now stepped our mast, and got a sail ready for boisting. As the raft was small tor supporting so many peo,ile, great care was necessary in balancing ourselves on it. Mr. Noalles, who was evidently suffering greatly, and three of the meri who were most injured, were placed on the platform in the centre. The rest of us ranged ourselves round them, Kiddle steering with a spar, which we had rigged as a rud. der. There was very little winid, what there was, was blowing in the direction of the low land of Sumatra, which we calculated to be about four leagues off. Mr. Noalles told us, that some fifteen or twenty leagues to the north of it was a Dutch settlement. If we could reach it, we might there obtain assistance. By this tiine Peinber had roused up a little, and was able to assume the command of our frail craft, for when he had his proper wits about him, he was a very good seaman. Noalles, meantime, was getting worse and worse. It was nearly two hours after noon before our task was accomplished. We had picked up everything we could find floating about the wreck, but not a particle of food appeared, por did a cask of water pass near us. What would we not have given for that. All this time the sun, in burning splendour, bad been beating down upon our unprotected heads, for most of us had lost our hats. ( secured a handkerchief round iny head, and Esse did the same.

“ Are you all ready, lads?” asked Pember. “ Ave! aye! sir," was the answer. “ Then shove off, and I pray we may reach vonder coast before dark.” We glided slowly on. For some tine we appeared to be approaching the land. Then from the way we moved, we discovered that a current was running, and was carrying us to the southward, rather away, than nearer the point we hoped to reach. Mr. Noalles, who was just able to sit up, saw what was happening.

“I thought so," he muttered. “ With so great a wretch as I ain on board, there is little chance of the raft reaching the shore. If the people were wise, they would heave me overboard ; but, oh! I am not fit to die.. I dare not face death and that which is to come after it !"

These words were said in so low a tone that I alone, who was sitting close to him, could understand him.

“ Dic! did I say, and yet how often bave I faced death, without a inoment's thought of the future, or a grain of fear !"

" What makes you then think so much about it now, Sir?” [ asked. “I hope we shall get on sliore, and that you will recover.” I was anxious to calın the feelings of the poor man, though I was scarcely surprised to hear him speak as he did.

“Is that you, Burton ?” he said, bearing my voice. “ They

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tell me that we have been shipmates before, and that I was on board the ship when you were born; but I don't remember the circuinstance."

“I have been told so," I said, “and the man steering, Toby Kiddle, remembers you." · "Ah! yes, I thik I have an idea of your mother—a pretty woman. Where is she now?" And I told him that she was living with Mrs. and the Misses Schank, and I added, “there is another sister-a Mrs. Lindars whose husband deserted hier.” “Mrs. Lindars ?” he said slowly, “and is she still alive ?” “ Yes," I answered rather astonished at the question. “I have been saved another crime !” he inuttered between his teeth. He was silent for soine minutes. Then he abruptly addressed me. “Burton, I believe I am dying. I should like to make a clear boso'n before I go out of the world. A viler wretch than I am bas never been borne shrieking through the air by demons to the place of torment. You speak of Mrs. Lindars. She is my wife, for that is my real name. I have borne many since then. I was young then, and so was slie-very young, and very beautiful, I thought. I wished to run away with her, but she would not consent, and we married. At first I thought I could settle down in the country and support myself by my literary and inusical talents. I soon found that this would not bring ine a sufficient income to supply my wants, for I had somewhat luxurious tastes. My wife gave birth to a child-a daughter. She was a sweet little creature. I loved her in a way I never loved anything before. Each year she increased in beauty. At length, I had an opportunity of obtaining a large sumn by commiting a crime. A fearful crime it was, and vet I did not hesitale. It was necessary to fly the country. I could not bear the thoughts of leaving my child behind me. It was a cruel act to desert iny wife, and still more cruel to carry away the child, for I knew that her mother loved her as much as I did. My wife was ill, and I pretended to take the child to see a relation, from whom I told her 1 bad expectations. I knew she could not follow me. Changing my name, I crossed to France where I bad relations. I never card for gambling, or I should probably quickly have got through my ill-acquired wealth. I had followed the sea during the early part of my life, and soon again I got tired of remaining on shore. I was eager to start on a new expedition, but what to do with iny daughter in the meanwhile I could not decide. I ought in common humanity to have sent lier back to her poor mother, but had I done so, I was afraid I should not be able again to see her. She was so young when I took her away that she did not know her real name. I therefore carried her to Jersey to which island my family belonged, and there left her, pretending that her mother was French, and had died soon after her birth. The arrangement being made I came out to the Indian Seas and China, and engaging in the oium trade made a considerable sum

U. S. Mag. No. 506, Jan. 1871.

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of money. I lost however the larger portion, and then once more, seized with a desire to see my child I returned to Jersey, I found her grown into a beautiful girl. A new undertaking had presented itself to me. I would go out to India, and make my fortune by serving under one of the native princes. I had several times visited that country during my wanderings. My daughter I knew would materially aid me in my undertaking. As I placed before her the advantages to be gained in the most glowing colours, and hid what I knew would be objectionable, she willingly consented to accompany me. Her beauty would I felt sure enable me to secure a wealthy marriage for her, but as tbat might not assist my views, I secretly resolved to throw her in the way of some native prince, and she once becoming his favourite wife I felt very sure that I should rise to the highest offices in his court. The degradation to which I was dooming my child did no deter me, indeed I persuaded myself that I was about 10 procure a splendid position sur her, which she might well be satisfied to gain."

THE WAR OF 1870.

BY CAPTAIN SPENCER.

By long experience we have learned to recognize the truth of the proverb “Hope deferred maketh the heart sick,” might not this saying of the wisest of men be adopted as the motto of the besieging army now around Paris, and that of the unhappy besieged within, when we have to record that hitherto contrary to all expectation, there appears to be no prospect of the speedy termination of a war which day after day is assuming proportions of a barbarity even unknown to that carried on during the Imperial régime. Animated by the same demon war of strife, war à outrance, Paris resolute and determined as ever, still unfurls its flag of defiance in the face of the besieger, while in every part of France, unoccupied by the troops of the invaders, you hear of nothing but the enrolment of every man capable of bearing arms under the various denominations of troops of the Line, franc-tireurs, national avengers, railway destroyers, boars of Ardennes, and a hundred other fantastic names hitherto unknown or unthought of in the vocabulary of former European wars. Everywhere, when an opportunity presents itself, railway. carriages are overturned by the breaking up of the rails, and their inmates hurled to destruction. German soldiers waylaid and massacred with all the barbarity of a savage Indian, all of which only serves to inflame still more the animosity of the German who too often retaliates by devastating the district, burning entire villages, and shooting down every peasant found in possession of. a gun-such is the position of France in this ever to be remembered year of 1870-such is the state of war in this nineteenth century of ours, when the other inhabitants of Europe fold their bands and smile complacently at the high degree of civilization to which they have attained !

With every disposition to make allowances for the angry feelings of a people who have so cruelly suffered in whatever a man holds dear, of a people who have drunk to the very dregs the bitter cup of humiliation, still we feel obliged to condemn the French people as the authors of their own misfortunes, all of which they principally owe to having implicitly obeyed the behests of the Provisional Government, and the party that supports it in power-it was an evil hour for France when Jules Favre recklessly declared, at a time when there was every prospect of a peaceable solution of the question, that he would neither resign a foot of territory, nor a stone belonging to a French fortress. From that moment the Germans had no other alternative than to continue the war, to them the declaration was to all intents and purposes a cartel of defiance equally arrogant and reckless of what the future might bring forth, as that they had previously received from Louis Napoleon, the only difference being that from henceforth it became what might be called the People's war, and that instead of a regular stand up fight between two gallant nations, it assumed a character as unworthy of the great age in which we live, as it is a lasting reproach to the Government that countenanced such a deviation from the strict line of what should ever be the military honour of a nation.

In the first instance, no doubt M. Favre and his supporters expected that a levée en masse of all the able bodied men in a country, numbering at least forty millions, must quickly triumph over any foe, however brave and numerous; but unha pily for France the day has long since past and gone, when a levée en masse was a most effective engine in ridding a country of the presence of a foe; they forgot in their patriotic ardour, that it is not numbers that now win the day, but discipline, stern discipline. Hitherto, France in all her wars had to combat with mere tyros in the art of war, she has now to contend with a nation of warriors - with an army that had already broken and crushed to the earth, and that in the space of a few weeks the whole military power of an empire-now she is called upon to subdue an army composed not only of vigorous persistance and impetuosity, but that most valuable of all qualities intellectual power-an army of lions, withal so docile, so highly trained, and so harmonious in action, that a mere lad who had once learned the cue could lead, move, and put it in motion without the possibility of the machine making a false move, or becoming disordered in action. With so many breakers a-head, so many difficulties to en

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