From what port did the good ship Glenalvon hail? whither was she bound? how long since her name was written off in the underwriters' books, and since all hope of her was for ever given up? for how many days was she buffeted by storm and tempest ere she Jay rolling in the trough of the sea—a wreck complete, at the mercy of winds and waves, in the huge gulf of the chilly St. Lawrence, where blinding fogs and cruel crawling mists choke the marines path, and the north wind sweeps down from the icy circle, turning all that it touches into crystal stillness? We shall never now know the tale of this vessel.
The lips of those who laboured on gallantly to Your precious photograph, says this sturdy the last for her safety are sealed in the dread-weather-beaten sailor, **is a little silent angel ful silence of death. All that we do know, and I read your letters over a hundred and a is, that tothe end they wo: ked like men, that hundred times again." So writes brave, sim-they did all that could be done to save their ple-hearted Robert Hunt, Captain of the Glen-ship, and that their death, in spite of its alvan, as his vessel lay in the roads of Mar-horrors, was that of those who fall like men, tinique; and this letter will after all reach not sink below like dogs." Littleas we know, "his own darling Kate"—has probably we can yet conjecture much. It was in his reached her now—but under such sad circum passage from Prince Edward's Island to Cape stances that pity itself is silenced, thinking eton that Captain Martin, skipper of the ing eyes that read, and the loving Lancaster, fell in with a large dismasted brig, heart that breaks. rolling heavily in the trough of the sea. Anx-'How many days did the Gleralvon roll and ious to give help if there were still time for it, lurch about in the wild, chopping sea of the the kindly Captain laid his vessel to and board St. Lawrence Gulf? This we shall never ed the castaway. The cole which told itself know. All that we know is that her crew was horrible in the last degree. Some furious were slowly starved to de Dawn after tempest had broken upon the brig, and beaten dawn they watched the horizon with eager her almost in pieces. A tremendous sea had eyes, and saw the great sun sink in clouds of carried away the wheel-house and unshipped crimson, and rise again on the morrow out of the rudder. The jibboom had been snapped like a reed. The foremast had been cut away the same lonely sea. There they floated, day after day, in that friendless solitude; famine, to save the vessel from foundering—one of the despair, cold, thirst doing their work on them extremest resources in a hurricane. The by turns, and thinning them down to such mainmast had also fallen, and the deck was a things that a mother would not have known confused mass of splintered spars, snapped righer son amid the skeletons of that gaunt ging, and torn canvas. Captain Martin himself, crew. Thus one Ly one they dropped, "their 8 tough old mariner who had weathered forty bodies nothing but skin and bones," till the years of hard sea life, had never seen des-ship was manned with nought but silent truction so complete. ' Tohis experienced eye corpses. The crew of the Lancaster gave the sad truth told itself as plainly as if it them Christian burial, Each dead mariner had been written in the vessel's log. A mons-was decently stitched in canvas; and under trous wave must have struck the vessel await the moonlight, Captain Martin—at once skip-and unshipped ber rudder. As she lay thus and chaplain—read the funeral service helpless, heary waves had washed over her and so, lightened of her ghastly burden, the from stem to stern, sweeping her decks, Glenalvon was leit as she was found—a dis-staving in her boats,' and carrying away her mantled wreck, floating idly to and fro, down The foremast bad been cut away, deep by the head, and soon to settle, with inmost had fallen, and finally, the swirl and eddy of the hungry sen, to her last vessel—heavily waterlogged—bad long rest. Whether any of her crew had rolled this way and that, the sport of winds escaped we cannot tell. 'The ship' and waves—as helpless as a log—the "flot-roll was not found, nor have we any means by sain and jetsam" of a furious ocean. which to know whether the eleven bodies What had become of the Glenaleon's crew?
Aiscovered on board were the whole company. Had they escaped in the boats? That could not be, for the boats were still on the deck, splintered and broken up into matchwood by
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.