St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1871-05-19

one flash, that the watchers may see i
their companions are sill living-to Sc
whether the Western Sun is yet foatin:
the enragcd sea.
lIark the booming of the gun! ''Sh'
lives, she lives" is the cry of the rougl
men on the beach.
Thirty minutes more of the most ncrv
Gus, most appalling, most awful sus
pcnsc; but the gun is heard not. Alas
it Is heard no more.
Fires have been kindled on the hill
and the rain has ceased to fall with sucl
pitilcss profusion; but the night is a
black rs cvcr-the darkness So thick i
may almost he felt.
The fires illuminate the sea for abou
twenty feet oceanwarls, but all bcyonC
Is the deepest, darkest, ,lenscst obscurty
Presently the clouds become lighter
How eagerly the watchers strain theil
eyes; how deep and profound their
silence Light, more light, is their onl,
desire. All. what is that ,.
The clouds suddenly opened in on,
small place, exactly i'll the middle of the
heavens the moon swiftly crosses the
open space, and rs swiftly and suddenly
is lost i'll the black cloud opposite. But
why that simultaneous movement of those
on shore Why that wild shout heard
above the roaring OF the noisy sea! Why
Bccluse far out ut sea, i'll that one mo
ment of light, they had distinguished Il
small object, saw it for 4 second only,
saw it only while the moon showed the
outlines Of her form, but the spccli was
the boat containing Dick Slcadlast and
his comrade. Therefore they had lived
through the storm, and were SO far safe
And upon that wild scashore those hardy,
uncouth men prostratcd themselves be
fore Him who in the hollow of his hand
holds heaven, and earth, and sea, and all
that in them is, and gave thanks for pre-
serving up 10 that moment their noble
friend Then each man sprang to his
feet, and n very old fisherman, whose
hoary hair and withercd cheeks told that
he WAS standing on the very brink OF
eternity, in moment of inspiration
shouted:
1
and that beautiful anthem was heard far
above the noise of the waters 1t was a
sublime spectacle, those daring, semi-civ-
ilized fishermen, themselves half man
half fish, pouring from their simple, earn
est hearts a strain which, though not so
harmonious as that which arises from
splendid Gothic temples, where
Through the long drawn ase and fret:ed vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise"
was doubtless equally as acceptable to
Him who was himself the companion Of
fishermen.
1t is nearly midnight. Now the clouds
break, the moon again peeps forth
nothing but the angry ocean i'll sight ap-
pears. Both ship and boat, passengers
and crew, have gone TO Il watery grave.
Two hundred and fifty passengers, and
between thirty and forty sailors went
down with the Western sun, while fur
ther out, the little fishing boat fOundered,
and two as honest hearts, clear heads,
and steady hands as ever sailed salt wa
ter were cngulted in those powerful
waves they had almost learnt TO love and
control.
The sun arose next day in a cloudleSs
sky. The villagers, however, male and
female, were long before this on the
beach, solcmnly scanning each dead
body as the morning tile brought it to
land. but nothing was seen Of the remains
of Dick Steadfast ami John Harvey.
A hundred miles lower down the chan
mel the bodies of both these heroes were
washed ashore, several days afterwards.
On the beach the people were gathered
into small groups, gravely discussing the
events Of the previous day-a heap Of
dead surrounding them. No wonder
they were sad and sorrowful. Who
could gaze upon those silent bodies, now
tcnantless, without sorrow; who could
help imagining them as they had been
twelve hours before, full of life and
schemes for the future, their hearts
''pregnant with celestial fire" and beat
ing high with hope,-now lying cold,
and stiff, and still.
How those stout men must have fought
for life, how they must have baiilcd for
their last breath of air, their latest breath
Of life. Behold that stark and rigid
form, graSping in lis hand with such tc-
naciiy as death alone can grasp-what
Ills wife, child, or riches? No. A
straw. How frail Il hope! But imag-
inc with what delight the drowning man
doubtless clutched it as it hoatcd past.
Our lives are the same-wc are always
clutching at straws.
An object is thrown up by the tide,
an object which gathers all the strag-
Cling groups into one. 1t is a large
cask or barrel, sufficiently capacious to
hold two or three men. A hole has
been cut in the :op, through which the
crowd is gazing with eagerness.
sit moves, it moves" bursts from
every tongue. There i'll one corner Of
The cask, buried in blankets, lay All ami
mate object. To break the barrel open
and rescue thcrefrom the bundle of
clothes and its contents was the work of
Il minute.
sit lives, it lives :" is now the cxult-
ant shout, and fine child of the age of
about one year is in another instant at
the breast of Jane Stone, a ti>hcrman's
wife, who has recently lost her own little
one.
"God helping Inc thou shalt never
want mother So long as l live" fer
venily exclaimed the klnd-hearted wo-
man.
Jane, Heaven bless thee, thou always
vast dear, good soul,'' said her hus-
band; ''Ihe little one shall be our child
| instead of the one that's zone"