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the next wave that run in, they recovered me and two more by linking their arms and allowing the surf to break over them. We were so much bruised that we could not stand; they dragged us up, and left us to the

Bramble and four others were still struggling for life; again two were saved-but the men on the beach were exbausted by their strenuous exertions.

I had just recovered myself so as to sit up, when I perceived that they were not acting in concert as before ; indeed, in the last attempt, several of them had narrowly escaped with their own lives. Bessy was now down among them, wildly gesticulating: Bramblo still floated on the boiling surf; but no chain was again formed; the wave poured in, bearing him on its crest; it broke, and he was swept away again by the undertow, which dragged him back with a confused heap of shingles, clattering one over the other as they descended. I saw him again, just as another wave, several feet in height, was breaking over him-I felt that he was lost; when Bessy, with a hook rope in her hand, darted towards him right under the wave as it turned over, and as she clasped his body, they both disappeared under the mountain surge. Another shriek was raised by the women, while the men stood as if paralysed. In my excitement I had gained my legs, and I hastened to seize the part of the rope

which remained on the beach. Others then came and helped ; we hauled upon it; and found that there was weight at the end. Another sea poured in; we hastily gathered in the slack of the rope, and when the water retreated, we found both Bramble and Bessy clinging to the rope. In a moment the men rushed down and hauled up the bodies. Bramble had hold of the rope by both hands-it was the clutch of death; Bessy had her arms round her father's neck; both were senseless. The boatmen carried them up to the cottage, and the usual methods of recovery were resorted to with success. Still we had to lament the death of two of our best pilots, whose loss their wives and children were loudly wailing, and whose bodies were not found for many days afterwards. Alas! they were not the only ones who were lamented. Cpwards of three hundred vessels were lost during that dreadful gale, and hardly a seaport or fishing town but bewailed its many dead.

Whether it was that the women who attended Bessy were more active than the men, or that she was younger, and her circulation of blood was more rapid, or because she was a female, certain it is that Bessy first recovered her speech, and her first question was “Where was her father ?" Bramble did not speak, but fell into a sleep immediately after he was brought to life. I had changed my clothes, and was watching by him for an hour or more when he woke up.

"Ah! Tom, is that you? Where's Bessy?" “She is in bed, but quite recovered."

“Quite recovered—I recollect. I say, Tom, ain't she a fine creature ? God bless her! Well, she owes me nothing now, at all events. I think I should like to get up, Tom. I wonder whether I smashed my old pipe on the shingle? just look into my wet jacket. I say, Tom, were they all saved ?"

“No," I replied; “ Fisher and Harrison were both drowned.”

“Poor fellows! I wish they had been spared. Fisher has seven children,--and Harrison, he has a wife, I think."

· Yes, and two children, father."

“ Poor woman! God's will be done! He giveth and he taketh away! Tom, I must get up and see Bessy.”

I assisted Bramble to dress, and as soon as he had put on his clothes he went to Bessy's room. I stayed at the door. “You may come in, Tom; she's muffled up in her blankets, and fast asleep."

“Quite fast,” said Mrs. Maddox; "she has slept more than an hour. Dear heart, it will do her good.”

Bramble kissed Bessy's pale forehead, but it did not waken her. “Look, Tom,” said Bramble, “look at that smooth, clear skin—those pretty features. Look at the delicate creature ! and would you have thought that she would have dared what no man dared to dothat she would have defied those elements raging in their might, and have snatched their prey from their very grasp ? Did I ever imagine, when I brought her as a helpless baby on shore, that she would ever have repaid the debt with such interest, or that such a weak instrument should have been chosen by the Lord to save one who otherwise must have perished ? But His ways are not our ways, and He works as He thinks fit. Bless you, bless you, my Bessy,--and may your fond heart never be again put to such a trial! Is she not beautiful, Tom ? just like a piece of cold marble. Thank Heaven, she is not dead, but sleepeth !"

I certainly never did look upon Bessy with so much interest; there was something so beautifully calm in her countenance as she lay there like an effigy on a

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