The Daily Times.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1860-05-02 00:00:00

MAY DAY IN LIVERPOOL.

The present season of the year inspires all the world
with joy and good humour. It meets with a recognition
almost as general as that accorded to Merry Christmas.
In the great festival of the Nativity a sprinkling of
'snow and a keen frost are indispensable adjuncts. and
the home-fireside is tint centre of attraction. But on
May Day we look for the blossoms and the fresh lively
green which give promise of the summer glory, and the.
autumn abundance. It is a wonder that the May-Day
observances have fallen off so considerably. All nature
rejoices, and the natural impulse of man should be
gratitude and joy. But the pastoral days are gone, and
• the age of great cities anti big factories has come upon
us. Steam has dealt ,rudely with poetry, and the
locomotive has invaded every rural nook. Business is
inure engrossing than of old—if we •must believe the
--chroniclErs of our early sports and pastimes ;—and the
stern demands of the actual leaves but little room for
au indulgence in the ideal. There was a time
when the Ist of May was a great rural festival.
The hearts of our forefathers responded merrily to the
. cheerfulness of the season. At the dawn of May morn-
ing the lads and lasses left their towns and villages, and
repairing to the woodlands they gathered the May or
blossomed branches of the trees, and bound them with
wreaths of flowers; then returning to their homes by
sunrise, they decorated the lattices and doors with the
sweet smelling spoil of their. joyous journey, and spent
the remaining hours in sports and pastimes.

.Our good old town, however, is never backward in its
homage to the customary holidays; and yesterday
Liverpool_ presented unmistakable evidences of some
• .
unusual rejoicing. The vessels in the docks
and the river hoisted their gayest bunting, the
horses and the carts were profusely decorated with
ribbons and rosettes, and the quantity of new harness
was something enormous. The teams of Messrs. Macfie,
of Mr. Rose, the corporation contractor, Mr. Barton,
and others paraded the principal streets, and the
splendid animals in their holiday trappings, were the
theme of universal admiration. The weather was
glorious, and the temperature was considerably higher
than it has been on auy other occasion since last year.
Although the old customs have fallen into desuetude,
some little sketch of them cannot fail to be interesting
to our readers. Perhaps the most distinctive feature
of this flay' in times past was the Mayrpole. During
the stern rule of the Puritans in Cromwell's time, it
was discarded, as smacking too much of Popery ; but
"the reign of the saints" came to an end, and the
restoration of Charles 11. was the signal for the restora-
tion of May-poles. -Washington- Irving—a poet who
has not versified—gives a pretty sketch of a May-pole,
which he saw at Chester. As the incident is healthfully
told, and possesses local interest, We venture to give
the passage :

" I shall never ferget the delight I felt on first seeing
a May-pole. It was on the banks of the Dee, close by
the picturesque old bridge that stretches across the river
from the quaint little city of Chester. I had already
been carried back into former days by the antiquities- of
that venerable place ; the examination of which is equal
to turning over the pages of a black-letter volume, or
gazing on the pictures of Froissart. The May-pole on
the margin of that poetic stream completed the illusion.
My fancy adorned it with wreaths of flowers, and
peopled the green bank with all the dancing revelry of
May-day.. The mere sight of this May-pole gave a
glow to my feelings, and spread a charm over the
country for the rest of the day ; and as I traversed a
part of the fair .plains of Cheshire, and the beautiful
borders of Wales, and looked from among swelling hills
down a long green valley, through which the Deva
wound its wizard stream,' my imagination turned all
into a perfect Arcadia.—One can readily imagine' what
a gay scene it must have been in jolly old London, when
the doors were decorated with flowering branches, when
every hat was decked with hawthorn; and Robin Hood,
Friar Tuck, Maid Marian, the morris-dancers, and all
the other fantastic masks end revellers were performing
their antics about the May-pole in every part of the city.
I value every custom that tends to infuse poetical feeling
into the common people, and to sweeten and soften the
rudeness of rustic manners, without destroying._ their .
simplicity. -Indeed, it to the decline of this happy
simplicity that the decline of this custom may be traced;
and the rural dance on the green, and the homely-May-
day pageant, have gradually disappeared, in proportion
as the peasantry have become expensive and artificial in
their pleasures, and too knowing for simple enjoyment.
Some attempts, indeed, have been made of late years, by
men of both taste and learning, to rally In.& the popular
feeling to these standards of primitive simpl:eity, but
the time has gone by ; the feeling has become chilled by
habits of gain and traffic ; the country apes the manners
and amusements of the town, and little is heard of May-
day at present, except from the lamentations of authors,
who sigh after it from among the Wick walls of the city."
in many towns this is a great day for the chimney-
sweepers. And here we prefer, rather than give any
description of $l4 feature of the festival ourselves, to
enrich our columns with a rare extract from that most
exquisite and genial of writers, Charles Lamb. Elia,
chose noble heart seems to run over with sympathy, is
nude both a poet and philosopher by his emotions, and
thus Inites:—

"I have a kindly yearning toward these dim specks—
poor blots—innocent blacknesses---
" I reverence these young Africans of our own
growth—these almost 'clergy imps, who spqrt their
cloth without assuMption; and from their little pulpits
(the tops of chimneys), in the nipping air of a December
morning, preach a lesson of patience to mankind.
" When a child, what a mysterious pleasure it was to
witness their operations ! to see a chit no bigger than
one's self enter, one knew not by what process, into
what seemed the faeces filverni—to pursue him in
imagination as he went rounding on through so many
dark, stifling caverns, horrid shades ±---to shudder with
the idea that, now, surely, he must be lost for ever'—
to revive at hearing his feeble shout of discovered day-
light—and then (0, fulness of delight) running out of
doors, to come just in time to see the sable phenomenon
emerge in safety, the brandished weapon of his art
victorious like some flag waved over a conquered citadel!
I seem to remember having been told that a bad sweep
was once left in a stack with his brush, to indicate which
way the wind blew, It was an awful spectacle certainly;
not much unlike the old stage direction in Macbeth,'
when the ' Apparition of a child crowned with a tree in
his hand rises.'
" Reader, if thou meetest one of these small gentry
in the early rambles, it is good to give him a penny.
It is better to give him twopence. If it be starving
weather, and to the proper troubles of his hard occu-
pation, a pair of kibed heels (no unusual accompaniment)
be super-added, the demand on thy humanity will surely
rise to a tester.
" I am by nature extremely susceptible of street
affronts ; the jeers and taunts of the populace ; the low-
bred triumph they display over the casual trip; or
splashed stocking, of a gentleman. Yet can I endure
the jocularity of a young sweep with something more
than forgiveness. In the last winter but one, pacing
along Cheapside with my accustomed precipitation when
I walk westward, a treacherous slide brought me upon
my back in an instant. I scrambled up with pain and
shame enough—yet outwardly trying to face it down, as
if nothing .11.1. e. happened—when the roguish grin of one
of these young wits encountered sae, There he stood,
pointing me out with his dusky finger to the snob, and
to a poor woman (I suppose his, mother) in particular,
till the tears for the exquisiteness of the fun (so he
thought it) worked themselves out at the corners of his
poor red eyes, red from many a previous weeping, and
soot-inflamed, yet twinkling through all with such a
Joy, snatched out of desolation, that Hogarth--but
Hogarth has got him already (how could he miss him ?)
in the march to Finchley, grinning at the pieman—
there he stood, as he stands in the picture, irremovable,
as if the jest was to last for ever—with such a maximum
of glee, and minimum-of mischief, in his mirth—for the
grin of a genuine sweep bath absolutely no malice in
it—that I could have been content, if the honour of a
r gentleman [might endure it, to have remained his butt
and his mock-cry till midnight.
" I am by theory obdurate to the seductiveness of
what are called a fine set of teeth. Every pair of rosy
lips (the ladies mast pardon me) is a casket, presumably
holding such jewels; but,sinethinks, they should take
leave to air' them as frugally as _possible. The fine
lady, .or fine gentleman, who show me their teeth, show
me bones. Yet. must I confess, that from the mouth of a
a true sweep &spicy.
.(even to' ostentation) of .those
white and shining ossifications, strikes me as an agree-
able anomaly in manners, and an allowable piece of
foppery, It is, as when
A sable cloud
Tunis forth her silver liniug on the night.

It is like -some remnant of gentry not quite extinct ; a
badge of better days ; a hint of nobility :—and, doubt-
less, under the obscuring darkness and double night of
their forlorn disguisement, oftentimes lurketh good blood,
and gentle conditions, derived from lost ancestry, and a
lapsed pedigree. he premature apprenticements of
these tender victims give but too much encouragement,
I fear, to ,clandestine, and almost infantile abductions ;
the seeds of civility and true courtesy, so often discernible
in these young grafts (not otherwise to be accounted
for) plainly hint at some forced adoptions ; many noble
Rachel-s' mourning for their children, even in our days,
countenance the fact; the tales of fairy spiriting may
shadow a lamentable verity, and the recovery of the
young Montague be but a solitary instance of good
fortune, out of many irreparable solitary
defratiQns.-
" In one of the state beds at Arundel Castle, a few
years since—under a ducal canopy—(that seat of the
Howards is an object of curiosity to visitors, chiefly for
its beds, in which the late duke was especially a con-
neirpnr)—encircled with curtains of delicatest crimson,
with starry corsets inwoven--folded between a pair of
sheets whiter and softer than the lap where Venus lulled
Ascanius—Was discovered by chance, after all methods
of search had failed, at noon-day, fast asleep, a lost
chimney sweeper. The little creature,laving somehow
confounded his passage among the intricacies of 'those
lordly chimneys, by some unknown aperture had alighted
upon this magnificent chamber ; and, tired with his
tedious explorations, was unable to resist the delicious
invitement to repose, which he there saw exhibited ; so,
creeping between the sheets very quietly, laid his black
head upon the pillow, and slept like a young Howard.
" Such is the account given to the visitors at the
easktle. But I cannot help seeming to perceive a con-
firmation of what I have just hinted at in this story. A
high instinct was at work in the case, or I am mistaken.
Is it probable that a poor Child of that description, with
whatever weariness he might be visited, would have
ventured, under such a penalty as he would be taught to
expect, to uncover the sheets of a duke's bed, and
deliberately to lay himself down between them, when
(f the carpet presented an obvious couch, still
his pretensions—is this probable, I would ask,
farthe
arubagr
if the great power of nature, which I contend for, had
not been manifested within him, prompting to the
adventure ? Doubtless this young nobleman (for such
my sled misgives me- that- be must be) was allured by
some memory, not amounting to full consciousness, of his
condition in infancy,.76hen he was used to be lapt by bis
mother or his nurse in just such sheets as he there found,
into which he was now but creepin„c. beck as into his
proper incunabula and resting-place. 'By no other theory,
than by this sentig-ent.of a-pre-existent state (as I may
, it), can I explain. a deed s 9 venturous, au nee

upon any other system so indecorous, in this tender, but
unseasonable, sleeper.
"My pleasant friend Jem White was so impressed
with a belief of metamorphoses like this frequently
taking place, that in some sort to reverse the wrongs
of fortune in these poor changelings, be instituted an
annual feast of chimney sweepers, at which it was his
pleasure to officiate as host and waiter. It was a solemn
supper held in Smithfield, upon the yearly return of the
fair of St. Bartholomew. Cards were issued a week

before to the master sweeps in and- about the metropolis,
confining the invitation to their younger fry. Now and
then an elderly stripling would get in among us, and
be good-naturedly winked at ; but our main body were
infantry. . One unfortunate Wight, indeed, who, relying
upon his dusky suit, had intruded himself into oiir
party, but by tokens was providentially discovered in
time to be no chimney sweeper (all is not soot which looks
so), was quoited out of the presence with universal
indignation, as not having on the wedding garment;
but in general the greatest harmony prevailed. The place
chosen was a convenient spot among the pens, at the
north side of the fair, not so far distant as to be imper-
vious to the agreeable hubbub of that vanity ; but
remote enough not to be obvious to the interruption of
every gaping spectator in it. The guests assembled
about seven. In those little temporary parlours three
tables were spread with napery, not so fine as sub-
stantial, and at every board a comely hostess presided
with her pan of hissing sausages. The nostrils of the '
young rogues dilated at the savour. James White, as
head waiter, had charge of the first table; and myself,
with our trusty companion Bigod, ordinarily ministered
to the other two. There was clambering and
.jostling,
you may be sure, who should get at the first table—for
Rochester, in his maddest days, could not have done the
honours of the scene with more spirit than my friend.
After some general expression of thanks for the honour
the company had done him, his inaugural ceremony was
to clasp the greasy waist of old Dame Ursula (the
fattest of the three), that stood frying and fretting,
half-blessing, half-cursing 'the gentleman,' and imprint
upon her chaste lips a tender salute, whereat the
universal host would set up a shout that tore the con-
cave, while hundreds of grinning teeth startled the
night with their brightness. 0, it was a pleasure to
see the sable younkers lick in the unctuous meat, with
his more unctuous sayings—hew he would fit the tit-bits
to the puny mouths, reserving the lengthier links for
the seniors—how he would intercept a morsel even in
the jaws of some young desperado, declaring it ' must
to the pan again to be browned, for it was not fit for a
gentleman's eating'—how he would recommend this
slice of white bread, or that piece of kissing-crust, to
a tender juvenile, advising them all to have a care of
cracking their teeth, which were their best patrimony—
how genteelly he would deal about the small ale, as if
it were wine, naming the brewer, and protesting, if it
were net good, he should lose their custom • with a
special recommendation to wipe the lip before drinking.
Then we had our toasts—' The King,'—' The Cloth,'—
which, whether they understood or not, was equally
diverting or flattering;—and, for a crowning sentiment,
which never failed-_—' Nay the Vrush supersede the
Laurel.' All these, and fifty other fancies, which were
rather felt than comprehended by his guests, would be
utter, standing upon tables, and prefacing every senti-
ment with a Gentleman, give me leave to propose so
and so,' which was a prodigious comfort to those young
_orphans ; every now and then stuffing into his mouth (for
it did not do to be squeamish on these occasions,) indis-
criminate " pieces of those reeking sausages, which
pleased them mightily, and was the savouriest part, you
May believe, of ate entertainment :

Golden lacle end hisses mupp,
As chimney sweep -.rs, come to ds,t.

"Jaines White is extinct, and with him these suppers
have long ceased. He carried away with him half the
ftin of the world when he died—of my world, at least.
His old clients look for him among the pens • and,
missing him, reproach the altered face of St. Bartholomew,
and the glory of Smithfield departed for ever."
. The month- of May was deemed by the Romans to be
under the protection of Apollo ; and it being the month
wherein they made several expiations, they prohibited
marrying in May. On the first day of May the Roman
ladies sacrificed to Bohr? Dra, the Good Goddess, or the
Earth.

It is in May that Spring is with us once more
pacing the earth in all the primal pomp of her beauty,
with flowers eull soft airs and the song of birds every-
where about her, and the blue sky and the bright clouds
above. But there is one thing wanting, to give that
happy completeness to her advent, which belonged to it
in the elder times ; and without which it is like a beau-
-tiful melody without words, or a beautiful flower with-
out scent, or a beautiful, face without a soul. The
voice of man is no longer beard,, hailing her approach
as she hasten 4 to bless him ; and his choral symphonies
no longer meet and bless her in return—bless her by
letting-her behold and hear the happiness that she
comes to create. The soft songs of women are no
longer blended with her breath as it whispers among
the new leaves; their slender feet no longer trace her
footsteps in the fields and woods and wayside copies, or
dance delighted measures round the flowery offerings
that she prompted their lovers to place before them on
the village green. Even the little children themselves,
that have an instinct for the spring, and feel it to the
very tips of their fingers, are permitted to let May come
upon them, without knowing from whence the impulse
of happiness that they feel proceeds, or whither it
tends. In short,

All the earth is gay ;
Land and sea
Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every )?eact keep kogd.y *
while man, man alone, lets the season come with Out
glorying in it ; and when it goes he lets it go without
regret; as if "all seasons and their change" were alike
to him; or rather, as if he were the lord of all seasons,
and they were to do homage and honour to him, instead
of he to them! How .is this ? Is it that we have
"sold our birthright for a mess of pottage ?"-7that we
have bartered " our being's end and aim" for a purse of
gold ? Alas thus it is

The world is too much with us; late and coon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers ;
Little we see in nature that is ours ;
We have given our hearts away—a sordid boon

—But be this as it may, we are still able to feel what
nature is, though we have in a great measure ceased to
know it: though we have chosen to neglect her ordi-
naeees, and absent ourselves from her presence, we
still retain some iustinctive reminiscences of ber beauty
and her power; and every now and then the sordid
walls of those mud hovels which we have built for our-
selves, and choose to dwell in, fall down before the
magic touch of our involuntary fancies, and give us
'glimpses into • "that imperial palace whence we came,"
and make us yearn to return thither, though it be but
in thought.
Then sing ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound !
We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
reel the gladness of the MAY !
This time two hundred years ago, our ancestors
were all 'anticipating their May holidays. Bigotry
came in, and frowned them away ; then debauchery,
and identified all pleesure with the tewn; then avarice,
and we have ever since been mistaking the means for
the end. Fortunately, it does not follow, that we shall
coutinne to 'do so, Commerce, while it thinks it is only
exchanging commodities, is helping to diffuse know-
ledge. All other gains,—all selfish and extravagant
systems of acquisition,—tend to over-do themselves,
and to topple down by their own undiffased magnitude.
The world, as it learns other things, may learn not to
confound the means with the end, or at least (to speak
more philosophically), a really poor means with a really
richer. The veriest cricket player on a green has as
sufficient a quantity of excitement, as a fundholder or a
partisan ; and health and spirits, and manliness to
boot. Knowledge may go on ; must do so from neces-
sity ; and should do so, for the ends we speak of : but
knoWledge, so far from being incompatible with sim-
plicity of pleasures, is the quickest to perceive its
wealth., Chaucer would lie for* hours lOoking at the
daisies. Scipio and La3lius could amuse themselves
with Making ducks and drakes on the water. Epami-
nondas, the greatest of all The active spirits of Greece,
was a flute player and. dancer. Alfred' the Great could
act the whole part of a minstrel. Epicurus.taught the
riches of temperance and intellectual pleasure in "a
garden. The other philosophers of his country walked
between heaven aid eayth ip the colloquial bowers of
Academus; and "the wisest heart of Solomon," who
found everything vain because be was a king, has left
us panegyrics on the spring and " the voice of the
turtle," because he was a poet, a lover, aid a wise man.

THE GREAT FIRE AT THE
SAILORS' HOME.

FURTHER PARTICULARS.

One by one the men reported to be lost have made
their appearance at the Arcade, and have reported
themselves to the officials as "all right." Three only,
according to the books, are now missing; and hopes are
confidently entertained that in the course of to-morrow
they will turn up. Yesterday morning labourers were
employed to clear away the debris from the interior of
the building, and it will shortly be seen whether there
is anything or not in the stories of the men, who said
that they left drunken comrades in some of the burning
cabins. The committee have listened to the statements
of each of the boarders relative to the amount of their
property, in the shape of clothing, which has been
destroyed by the fire. We are sorry to find that
in some instances, the loss of boarders has been very
great. The committee generously gave on an average
£3 to each man which, with advance notes, will refit
them again comfortably for sea. Most of the men
appeared satisfied with this arrangement. The contents
of the safe—one of Miluer's—in the bank, including
gold and silver watches belonging to men at sea, and a
large amount of money, were found all cafe yesterday
morning by Mr. Harmer, the secretary

APPEARANCE or THE INTERIOR OF THE HOME AFTER

THE CONFLAGRATION.

Entering at the chief entrance in the west end of the
building, and turning a little to the left, we came upon
the bank. Here poor Clarke received the fatal injuries.
The joists and the heaps of rubbish, and iron, and
stones, and wood, stood as they did when his legs lay
under them; and the confusion in the room contrasted
greatly with the neatness and the order observed there
only a day two before. Receding again, and passing as we
best could through pools of water and many inches of
mud, we got into the central ball, or the Home proper,
and there a scene oI the utmost confusion was observa-
ble. A heavy iron pillar, thirty or forty feet in length,
stood in front; beneath were strewed iron railings,
charred beams, iron pillars, heaps of stones, and burnt
wood in all directions. As we trod along this mass of
debris we observed remains of the Sunday at Home.
Sketches in London, London Journal, railway time tables,
and other periodicals and books. Turning the eye upwards,
bare walls, beams half wasted away, and reduced to
charcoal, met the eye; but it would have been impos-
sible to determine how the galleries, including the 2nd,
3rd, 4th, ath, and 6th fiats ran, or where the sleeping
apartments stood. All wes confusion, and a scene of
devastation. Mounting the noble iron staircase on the
left, we arrived on the first fiat, and proceeting
onward offer burnt timber and the remains of bed
clothes and bedding, we came to time dining-room,
which it was almost impossible to enter. The
door was barricaded on the inside by a mass of
rubbish. However, we managed to enter in a
cat fashion. On the floor on the north side was water
a foot or more deep, and the south side was filled with
remains of the sleeping-rooms and the concert-
hall, which had fallen through the ceiling. The
south coma tower leant a little inwards and we
would not have felt surprised to see it tumbling over
at any moment. Under a window in the west end lay
the frame of what might once have been a picture, and
on inquiry we learned that it had contained the portrait
of a local celebrity. The canvas was all gone, and the
framework was charred and black. In this portion of
the Home it is expected the bodies of the dead, if there
be any, will be found, We next went towards the
sleeping apartments, taking especial care not to tumble
through the numerous holes in the gallery. Heaps of
debris lay in all quarters, and here and there a solitary
spark of fire continued a smouldering existence, while
on all hands there were pools of water; and, in all places,
the sound of water dripping, dripping, continually from
above into the hall could be heard. Arrived at the top
of the stc,irs, leading to what wimp the second flat, we
perceived heaps of rubbish, and under a window a soli-
tary bible comparatively uninjured, which, perhaps had
consoled its owner on many a trying occasion. Some
of its leaves were pencil marked, and it had evidently
been much used. Thera was scarcely anything
more to observe—above was the sky* around
bare walls—in front and on both sides charred
joists, iron pillars, and heaps of rubbish. Be-
low was similar confusion, and in every corner there
was the effects of the destructive element Whieh reduced
this noble institution, the work of four years, and the
result of benevolence, to a heap of ruins in a few short
1 hours.

A VISIT TO TIDE TEXPORARY OFFICES OF THE SAILORS'

HOME AT TUE CUSTOM HOUSE ARCADE.

Arrived at the eastern entrance to the arcade I was
stopped by a policeman who maintained his right
in a gruff manner to turn away whom he pleased ; and
whilst I was submitting that he had no right to
refuse me admittance inasmuch as I was a member of
the fourth estate, a man of middle size, who spoke with
an Irish accent, walked up " Yon can't get in here, go
hack,- said the policeman. The man, who was an Irish-
man, returned to the crowd; but there was a something
about his looks which attracted my attention. There was
an honest expression of sorrow in his face, and now and
then I imagined I could see the tears gushing into his
eyes. Ever and anon he looked with an impatient eye
here and there amongst the crowd, and now and again
he stepped up to the policeman, only to meet with the
same gruff words', " You cannot come in here; stand
back." By-and-bye, a sailor, of about five feet
iu height, emerged from the crowd, and advanced

with bold steps towards the entrance, where the
Irishman grasped him affectionately with his arms by

,he waist, and exclaimed, in a half-choked voice, "Pat !"

:ears of joy meanwhile running down his manly face.

There was no oral response, but the expression of sincere
affection which these men glanced at one another,
would have baffled the pencil of a Reynolds in the

description, " Let that man gu,7 pried the policeman,
in a less authoritative voice. " Pat," was the only reply,

" Pat! are ye saved 7" he repeated." Won't ye answer

me ?" Pat did not answer, but looked a world of

:hanks into his friend's face.

" Now let the man go !"

cried the gruff policeman again. "Ile's me brother,"
replied the sailor at length ; and the two " brothers "
proceeded, locked in each other's arms, towards the
offices in the building. Through the interference of .an
inspector, I was admitted within the Arcade, and
immediately miffed viith the brave, rough, open and

generous spirits—British sailors—who were standing
outside the offices of the officials of the Home, ' They

were all neatly clothed, and a teetotaller would uct
have grumbled at the appearance of any of them.
There were other persons than seamen there ; first
there were the officials, of the Home, who passed now
and again from the offices to the room of the committee ;
then again there were privileged persons without any
particular business, end a good number of generously.
inclined tailoYs WWI outfitters, who were looking after
the safety of the money received iu compensation for
the loss of clothing by the sailors at the hands of the
committee. It was surprising to see how well those
tailors plied their avocation ; with. winning smiles on
their faces, they passed from seaman to seaman, shaking
them most affectionately by the hands, and advising
them—in a proper way, of course !—to let the com-
mittee know the real extent of their loss, and not spare
the public purse ! These men were patriots evidently,
for most of the seamen declared that they had never
seen them before. No one could have imagined, by the
faces of the seamen, the ordeal which they had passed
through on Sunday morning. They talked stud laughed
and spun yarns about the tire as though they were
speaking of the pleasures of a good dialler. One spoke
to the manner in which he, when running from his
burning berth towards the staircase, overthrew an
unfortunate fireman who was playing upon the fire 4u the
interior'of the huilding. Others laughingly related curious
incidents alaout their' escape by the entrance and by the
windows. There was a Datchman, a tall, mnscalar
man, who spoke of his experience at the fire in a more
melancholy strain than the rest, "I vos turn in," he
said, " about twelve o'clock, and in less dau a
crack I heard de cries of Mr. Villiams, Fire !' and
Mtuder ! murder'.' and tinks I dere is something
wrong in de house. I got out of de bed fvd I went
down de stairs e,s fLait as I could ; but I had no
trowsers and no shirt, and no coat, and no hat on; but
just as I vos I vent into de street, vere I did met a sailor
who said you have no shirt, and uo trousers, and no hat.
No, says I. Den, says he, come wid me, and I vil give
you de trousers, and de hat, and de ali;,rt. MI then
I had derv}, and don't tiny dat he vil make me pay for
dem, for I know him afore, and he vas a good man.
I vas not care nothing about nothing now, for I vas
going to sea, and I shall be all right in a littel time. I
did not tiuk much ven I vas inwle room. I had not a
stich to lose, so tinks I de sooner I'm down stairs de
better, and I vas glad yen I got dere too." Another
man, who was painfully kept in mind of the #ccurrence
by an injured hand, gave a relation of the manner in
which, with the assistance of Mr. Foster, boarding-house
keeper, he escaped. He said—'' I was awoke by a loud
noise, and an unaccountable din. I got out of my bed,
which was on the fifth landing, and ran to the window,
the glass ot which I broke with my band. The
glass cut me severely. I was quite frantic, and
didn't know what I was about. There was the fire
raging behind me ; what was I to do ? what was I to
say ? or what was I to think ? I came out of the
window, hung by my hands over the wall, and I heard
the crowd below saying, ' There's a man, there's # man.'
I answered the cries with How, am I to escape ? what
am I to do Then Mr. Foster came up on a ladder,
and assisted me to get down. I was glad when I got
down, too. It was hot work, and much more painful
than to be thrown ashore from a wreck; for there you
can swim for yoir life at least." Then there was a
brave fellovV, who appeared capable ot undertaking
1-..ny enterprise 4 had to "scoops' for it ; better save
skin than coats, sir; so I ran down the stairs through
the flames, and Bocci my bacCQ," Softie of the men
Were in a hurry to see the institution in working order
again. " When," said one, "you've put a bed in the
Home, I shall go to sleep there." Fe would not
111101:9 Olaf/ it 79Y14 a ke /ears CR 1'044 44 pkic:

" Why it will be up again in a month or six weeks,
won't it ?" he exclaimed ; "but build it when ye like :
I shall come back ; for if the place takes fire, I shall
get a couple of pounds compensation for the loss of my
clothing, and that's more than I can get at any private
boarding house !" This young man took a business
view of the question, and his expressions certainly spoke
much more to his credit than those of others ;
for the Arcade was net without persons who grumbled
at the amount of compensation they had received. I
now visited a poor fellow, named Daniel, who
is staying at Cleary's, Hanover-street. He was
badly burnt at the fire. I found him in the
kitchen. his face was covered with bladders, and
appeared unlike the face of a human being. It was
much swollen and disfigured, and very likely he will
carry the scars with him to the grave. " When I was I

awoke," said he, " by the fallingof the timber, I jumped
out of bed, opened the door, and saw the place all in a
blaze. I went along the,gallery through the thick of
the flumes, but finding the heat and the fire too much
for me, I retreated to the room, closed the door, and
then, thinks I, I must get out of this mess somehow. By
this time I was badly burnt. I opened the window with
the intention of jumping to the ground, but I found a
ledge, on which I stepped, and remained until a man
from the Albert Dock assisted me in making my escape
by a ladder. Drowning, sir, is a pleasure when
compared with burning to death. I had only my
drawers and shirt upon me, and I lost a watch, money,
and all my goods. It was but work, and I hope I never
will see the like again." Then, again, there was a per-
son named Henry Brigant, from Loudon, who stays at a
house in Bakehouse-lane. He did not get out of the
building until about two o'clock, and he slept on the
fifth landing .—" I had a bad cold on me, and the
smoke getting into my throat, made me cough, and I
awoke. I got out of bed in a moment. I knocked against
a stauncheon and fell on my back into the fire, but

managed to rise again, and rushed through the flames,
and got my face and hands and leg burnt very badly.
Other persons escaped in a similarly miraculous
mann( r. and it is only a wonder, taking the length of
the building, and the rapidity with which the tire
extended, into consideration, how so many came from
the place alive.