The Dewsbury Chronicle, and West Riding Advertiser. — 1894-06-09 (Dewsbury, West Yorkshire, England)

SATURDAY, JUNE 9, 194.  Unobserved, she must have passed us in tne darkness. Afterwards, sleeping alternately, we maintained a stricter watch. Our stock of provisions'dwindling, mainly dependent for water on the dews, our situation became daily more pitiable! And to heighten the horrors, we foresaw that Martin displayed symptoms of madness. Had it not been for the intervention of poor Beaver's ghost, many a time he would have cast himself into the sea.  Unheeded suns rose and set; love atone sustaining us. Stanley and I lived on for each other—if, indeed, the apathy into which we had sunk could be termed life. All other faculties benumbed, our mutual affection survived; that it might be granted us to quit the world together was the sole boon we now craved.  It was night; the heavens were brilliant: the breeze which ha l sprung up blew freshly, and at its mercy still we drifted on—on. Prone on deck, smiling in his sleep, Stanley babbled of green fields and bubbling springs. But on a sudden his brow contracted. "Water!" he moaned.  With trembling hand I had raised the cup to his parched lips when Martin stole cunningly behind me. "Not if I know it," he said, and, snatching it from me, he drained it to the last drop. Then his ravenous eyes fastened themselves greedily on us, wandering from one to the other. "Kill me," I entreated, "divining his murderous intent. • And I bared my throat. "But spare him—spare my husband." He clutched ma by the hair and the blade of a knife gleamed in the moonshine. But our ghastly guardian was swift to the, rescue, and Martin fell sensele3s at my feet. The water-crock was empty; but I lowered a bucket and bathed Stanley's burning temples, while he, poor fellow, in a happy delirium, feasted royally on Christmas cheer, and mixed up old carols and snatches of hymns which we had sung together in Polwyn church. Through all the years to come a night to be remembered! But presently he was exhausted and, worn out, I slumbered. My dreams wee vivid. I was on a lofty tower, whose pinnacle was lost in rainbow light, listening to quiriug songs, melodious beyond compare. All at once a clashing of cymbals, without dissonance, mingled with the music, and the unseen choir burst into an anthem, "Glory to God in the highest; on earth, peace and good will." A heavenly song, the lesson of the. Cross, "Man redeemed by love," was taken up on earth, and deep-throated bells,chiming bells, silvery sweet, tinkling bells, the old cracked bell of Folwyn tower clanging harmoniously with the rest, rang out. . I awoke with the glad vibrations in my ear. But had I been dreaming? The ship's boll %vas a reality at all events, and, so long silent, it was ringing as it never had rung. But poor Beaver's ghost stood by Martin, and urged him to his utmost speed. For a full half hour, until a boat was lowered from the vessel bearing down upon us, the bell rang out, when it ceased and the ghost disappeared. Its presence could no longer avail us. Martin's release too, had come. With a wild cry he jumped overboard. master, you are ill a sore strait," said a rough voice.  "A woman !—husband and wife. Poor 801113 they're.a'most gone."'  After a hurried consultation we were lifted into the boat alongside, and, once on board the "Esmeralda," homeward bound, kindly hearts welcomed us,- and ministered to our wants. Tended by British sailors, no need to say how tenderly we were nursed .and cared for; but so great had been our privations that Our recOvery was long doubtful. Nevertheless, our mutual prayers were heard. Despite all we had undergone, we reached our native shores, not only alive but hearty. And on Christmas morning, in Polwyn church, we rendered Him to whoa; our gratitude was due thanksgiving, '