the former crew volunteering, and some offering to go who had not gone before, there were seven ready, among whom were our first and second mates. Provided the same way as formerly, and making the same engagements to each other, they set sail, assisting the boat with their oars. There was no cheering this time when we parted; we were in too melancholy and uncertain a state for this expression of joy and triumph, so pleasing and natural to seamen. We spent that night keeping up torch-lights, expecting in the morning to see the vessel approaching us, or at least the boat in view; but, alas! there was not a speck seen in the horizon-both vessel and boat were out of sight. This was a painful result to our expectations, and our sole hope was, that the men had been rescued, though we could not well see how; and we had the consolatory prospect of being able to stand it out a little longer, by keeping ourselves still on the same allowance.

Another day passed, and no immediate prospect of relief. There was now an accurate examination into the state of the provisions which were left, and we ascertained that we could divide something for ten or twelve days longer. Our case grew more appalling. Day after day passed, and our stock of provisions was wearing to a close. Horrible feelings now took possession of us. No one gave utterance to his thoughts, but it was evident that we must either perish of famine, or that one of us must be slaughtered to furnish food for the remainder. Thus we stood upon the crisis of our fate.

While in this desperate physical and moral condition, we were again visited by a ray of hope. On Thursday the 7th of January, towards evening, and while trying to gather water, it being rainy, the carpenter went to the foretop, and immediately descried a brig to leeward; he watched her attentively, and observed that she put about. He now cried to us, and told us she was standing towards us, for there was sufficient light for her to see us. No one can picture the joy we now felt for this prospect of deliverance; it can be but faintly imagined. At twelve

o'clock, midnight, the vessel was alongside of us, and we were soon taken aboard. The ship was the Blucher of Boston, commanded by Captain Lourie; she was bound with a cargo of flour, &c., from New York to Monte Video and Buenos Ayres. Our happiness was increased by finding our fellow-sufferers with whom we had parted a few days ago, and who were ready to welcome us on deck.

I will briefly go over the circumstances that led to this extraordinary deliverance. As I have already mentioned, it was on the Saturday when our companions left us. That night they rowed till they lost sight of the vessel which they were chasing; and at the same time, all attempts to regain a sight of the wreck they had left proved unavailing, notwithstanding that we had kept up torch-lights all night, as on the former occasion.

It

appears we had drifted from each other, and the pocr fellows found themselves, with a small boat on the trackless waves of the Atlantic, almost without food or water; a more helpless situation cannot well be conceived. They could do nothing for themselves, and drifted in their tiny vessel at the mercy of the winds and waves. On Monday morning, their slender supply of bread was exhausted; and of the remaining small quantity of fresh water, they got a little served out by the second-mate in his watch-case. In the course of Monday, when the fog cleared away, to their inexpressible joy they saw a brig at no great distance. She immediately bore down towards them, by which they saw they were observed; and in about an hour and a half from their first sight of each other, they were on board the Blucher, which vessel was nearly 1000 miles out of her course, driven by adverse winds, being then only from 300 to 400 miles to the south-west of Fayal, the nearest of the Azore islands. Our mate, an able sailor from South Shields, told the captain of our iniserable situation, and the latitude they had left us in, and found that their boat had drifted, from Saturday till Monday, the extraordinary distance of 140 miles. With the utmost alacrity, the

good American went in search of us, and at length had the satisfaction to fall in with us, as I have described. Thus after suffering for a period of forty-five days, we were again in the midst of comforts and safety. Captain Lourie afforded us all the humane attentions which our situation required, giving us our food in very sparing quantities at first, but afterwards abundance of nourishing diet; and we began to recruit under his care. Resolving to land us on the Azores, he proceeded towards these lonely islands; and in four days' sailing, we stood off the island of Fayal. The wind proving unfavourable for landing there, and Captain Lourie being anxious to proceed on his voyage, in which he had been so much retarded by his exertions in our behalf, he desired us, the weather being fair, to get our boats launched, and go ashore at St John's, a small village on the island of Pico, where there was a landing-place for fishing-boats among the rocks. We bade our deliverers farewell, wishing them every blessing, and in about an hour we were landed at the foot of the Peak of Pico, a very lofty extinct volcanic mountain, covered nearly two-thirds of the way up with vines, orange, lemon, and fig trees, while the top or crater is crowned with eternal snow.

We were received at Pico by a great concourse of islanders, who belong to the Portuguese nation. We had the good-fortune to meet a Portuguese gentleman here who spoke English fluently, and who immediately told our situation to the vicar, who was likewise in attendance on the beach. We were under very great obligations to this gentleman, as he acted as interpreter. We were treated here with much kindness; bread, cheese, wine, and fruit being brought to us in abundance, and a place of shelter provided. The inhabitants, in general, are very poor in this island; nevertheless, they are extremely hospitable, and we recovered very fast. The vicar, who took the charge of us after we got some refreshment, sent our captain's dispatch over to the British vice-consul at Fayal. In two days our messenger returned with a reply, thanking the vicar for his attentions to us, and at the

same time stating the British government allowance of one shilling and sixpence per day for each individual in such cases. We remained here about a fortnight, the people all along treating us with much kindness; and we were given to understand that the vicar, after our arrival, had assembled his flock, and publicly returned thanks to Almighty God, who had so wonderfully saved us from a miserable death.

We were so much refreshed and invigorated here, that in a fortnight we considered ourselves able to proceed on our way homeward. For this purpose a large boat and a Portuguese crew were provided to take us over to Fayal, a distance of about thirty miles, where we saw the British vice-consul, and received every attention from him. At Fayal we met with part of the crew of the John Miller of Liverpool, which vessel had likewise foundered while on her way to some port of South America. From Fayal we were carried to St Michael's in a coasting schooner, and thence passages homeward were provided by the British consul-general, for the whole in different vessels, which were here lading with fruit for England.

DRAWERS OF THE LONGBOW.

Ir would be a matter of no small difficulty, we think, to form a perfectly philosophical view of the class of characters called, in popular language, drawers of the longbow. We have known several of these remarkable personages in our time, and yet never knew rightly what to make of them. Whether they lied on principle, by chance, or without a moral perception of their error, it would have been difficult to say. The curious thing is, that these habitual liars, in every other respect except their fabulous story-telling, are generally excellent members of society, dutiful sons, good husbands, spirited and

useful citizens, obliging neighbours, prime fellows; but, at the same time, laughing-stocks to the world, from an utter disregard to, or inability to speak the truth.~

The main provocative to the handling of this dangerous instrument, is unquestionably an overwhelming love of the marvellous. This sentiment carries everything before it-all considerations sink before that of telling a story abounding in wonderful adventure; hence every dis tinguished shooter with the longbow, must be endowed with considerable powers of imagination to aid in the embellishment of stories which have the misfortune to be deficient in interest, as the true version runs, or to invent something worthy of narration where a basis of veracity is altogether wanting.

One of the most expert handlers of the longbow whom we ever knew, or happened to be on intimate terms with, was a gentleman, who, from his ability in story-telling, might have outshone Baron Munchausen himself, had he chosen to write and publish his manifold and wondrous adventures. Smithers was the name of this facetious being-Jack Smithers; but he was usually and better known by the professional appellation of Captain Smithers -a title he derived from having, for a few weeks, served as an ensign in a local militia corps. Fortunately for the development of the captain's latent talent, he had spent a short time in India, to which country he had gone in order to sell off and receive the produce of some property left him there by an uncle who died in the Company's service. The proceeds of the bequeathed property yielded him a decent little competency, on which he lived comfortably-that is to say, like Captain Clutterbuck, he could enjoy a clean shirt and a guinea twice a week—in his native village, on the banks of the Clyde, till the day of his death. It is impossible to say how our friend the captain should have got on without the trip to India. It was the great event in his life. There was no end to the accounts of what he had seen there, what he had done, what remarkable things had taken place in the voyages to and fro. And what a