she would, therefore, she said, prefer going at once to Southport, there to await the arrival of Mr. Faulkner, who was to proceed to that place with his family, after joining them at Beaumaris, which he had purposed doing on the ensuing Saturday. But, alas, they were doomed never to meet each other alive again! Miss Faulkner, of course, staid with her mother, and thus two individuals were preserved, and their connexions spared the additional agony of more extended loss.

A great number of cases, of which the foregoing may suffice as specimens, occurred on this memorable occasion; and the indescribable horror which a suspense so dreadful was calculated to excite prevailed in many families, until sufficient time elapsed for the truth to transpire. Amongst those whose relatives and friends were placed in this melancholy situation were-Mr. Goldsmid and family, of London; Mr. Alderman Wright, of Liverpool and Beaumaris; Captain Colquitt; Mr. Fisher, broker, of Liverpool; Mr. Shaw, watch-spring maker, of Crosshall-street, Liverpool; Mrs. Thornley, formerly of the Royal Oak publichouse, Oak-street, Manchester; the Rev. E. Jones, master of the Bangor Free Grammar School; Mr. Rogers, of the White Lion Inn, Wrexham; Mr. Richard Fisher, jeweller, of St. Anne's-street, Manchester; and Sir John Hilton, R. N., of Chester. A friend of the latter gentleman, named Walmsley, landed on Puffin Island the morning of the wreck, and gave the first information on the subject to Lieutenant Watson, superintendent of the telegraph; anxiously requesting, in return, that enquiry might be immediately made at the King's Arms Hotel, in Liverpool, as to whether Sir John had embarked in the Rothsay Castle or not. This was rapidly communicated by signal, and a reply as soon obtained from Liverpool by similar means, conveying the gratifying intelligence that Sir John was safe. He also had been prevented, by some providential circum

stance, from prosecuting his intention of going by that vessel. In contemplating all this, surely the conviction cannot be repressed that

"There's a DIVINITY that shapes our ends,

Rough-hew them how we will."

The time at which the Rothsay Castle commenced her voyage is variously stated. My informants differ on the subject to the extent of about three-quarters of an hour; and Mr. Tinne affirms in his account that it was nearly twelve o'clock: but, there can be no doubt, it was past eleven, instead of ten; and, according to another of the passengers (Mr. William Broadhurst), the delay would have been still farther prolonged if it had not been for the interference of Mr. James Leigh, of Liverpool (eventually one of the victims), who threatened to report the captain if he did not instantly proceed. The vessel was at this time lying to for a boat containing a gentleman desirous of getting on board; and that gentleman consequently, humanly speaking, owes his life to the sharp remonstrance of Mr. Leigh. The captain sullenly yielded; the Rothsay Castle was put into motion, the band joyously playing "Cheer up, cheer up;" and the crowds of friends, who lingered upon George's Pier, were soon unable to distinguish the fluttering handkerchief or waving hand, conveying the last farewell of those whom they were destined never to greet again!

"Oh slippery state of things!

What strange vicissitudes in

What sudden turns,

Man's sad history! To-day most happy;

And ere to-morrow's sun has set most abject.

How scant the space between these vast extremes!"

They proceeded steadily on their course for some time, and all on board exhibited the highest spirits. Mr. Forster and his lady were particularly noticed for the cheerfulness

and affability with which they conversed with those about them. As the vessel, however, approached the mouth of the river, the wind freshened from the N. N. W., and the waters assumed a more turbulent aspect. On rounding the Black Rock, only five miles from Liverpool, the tide began to flow, which, as it ran nearly in the same direction with a head-wind, that was fast settling into a strong gale, presented a most formidable obstacle. She now laboured heavily; and the frequent shock of opposing waves, which her structure seemed quite unequal to sustain, created serious alarm in the minds of many of the passengers, even at this early period of the voyage. The enlivening tones of music were no longer heard. The dash of waves, and the heavy throbbing of the engine, which had been heretofore unheeded, became painfully audible; and a gloom, like that which was gathering around, weighed upon the dejected spirits of most present. The less timid amongst them, however, rallied their companions; and apprehension was attributed rather to the want of knowing what really constitutes danger on the sea, than to any cause potent enough to render it justifiable. But the usual attendant upon adventures of the kind, sickness, soon produced its subduing effects upon the greater number, who passively crowded the cabins while the vessel reeled and struggled on with tardy pace, until she arrived off the Floating Light, situated about fifteen miles from Liverpool. Here the expansive wildness of the troubled deep, the violent straining of the vessel, and that apparent separation from all human aid which can scarcely fail to oppress those who are unused "to go down to the sea in ships," began to exert their usual influence on the mind, either inducing feelings allied to the sublime, or fear in all its variety of modification. Like contagious diseases, such moods "infect unseen," but their characteristics are speedily developed anxiety was expressed by the frequent enquiry —

C

loss of confidence was observable in the desponding reply. The engrossing subject now was, "When shall we reach Beaumaris ?" and, of course, those who had the greatest stakes at hazard,—those who looked upon the pallid countenance of a wife or child, a parent, a brother or sister, and deemed all self-consideration as nothing when compared with the frantic thought of losing an object so pricelessly estimable,—those so circumstanced betrayed most solicitude; and of that number was Mr. Tarrey, of Bury, whose wife, five children, and female servant, were on board.

"There's a

The afternoon at this juncture was far advanced; and the captain still lingered over his dinner, which had been served up in the cabin at three o'clock. He had devoted so much time, however, to this protracted meal, that Mr. Tarrey justly concluded that he might be unacquainted with the state of the weather at that period; and he was consequently induced to call to him from the deck - "Captain, there seems to be a great deal of danger: I wish you would turn back." The coarse reply was— deal of fear, but no danger." He then jocosely observed to those about him upon the folly of turning back, as they "would have the same ground to go over again;" and several present, in the thoughtlessness of the moment, joined in his laugh of derision at the supposed causeless terror of the landsmen on deck. Indeed, this unfortunate man appears to have manifested all that want of courtesy for which naval officers were once so broadly distinguished from those of the military. Rudeness of manners was, even in the times of "Nelson, Howe, and Jervis," thought to be almost a necessary qualification for nautical men, especially those who proudly aspired to be "The King's Own;" but such strangely erroneous notions have since yielded to more enlightened views; the conduct of the gentleman is not only considered to be perfectly compatible with the character of an officer attached to the highly

honourable branch of service to which I allude, but is an essential no longer to be dispensed with; and the literature of the day is not a little indebted for its excellence to officers of the navy. In speaking of Lieutenant Atkinson, however, I am very desirous of exercising as little severity as possible. The man has gone to his great account, and I am in no way anxious to judge him; but truth imperatively requires the relation of facts, which necessarily involve some allusion to his behaviour. Previous to his sitting down to dinner, he seems to have abstained at any rate from positive insult; but he spent upwards of two hours in the cabin over that repast, and the accompanying beverage had the effect of rendering him less scrupulous. He became insolent to the passengers, and abusive to his men; and Mr. Tinne observes, in his narrative, that on one occasion, when peril was extreme, and the wish to know its extent was correspondingly acute, he " was not inclined to speak to him [the captain], as he had heard him a few minutes before answering some passengers rudely:" and the Rev. J. H. Stewart, speaking of Mr. and Mrs. Forster, in the work before quoted, says "Another survivor saw them both together in the cabin. The master of the vessel having used some profane expressions, Mr. Forster turned to his beloved wife, and observed how exceedingly distressing such language was. It was probably these profane oaths which caused that solemnity of countenance which was noticed when he [Mr. Forster] came on deck. His remark, however, was particularly gratifying to another survivor who overheard it: it led him at once to discern that our beloved friends were persons of real religion. This sentiment was confirmed by the conversation they held together, which he could not avoid hearing; and which struck him, as he said, as particularly endearing.' So much had the spirit of our friends interested him, that, when the danger was at