carried by two men in a hammock slung upon a pole."

The whole company then began to move westward, followed by many of the natives, "who took whatever they chose from them, and occasionally threw stones." Presently they met thirty Caffres whose hair, instead of being crisp and curly like the rest, was made up in the shape of a sugar-loaf, and whose faces were painted red. Among them was a Dutchman called Trout, who spoke English. They offered him an immense sum if he would conduct them to the Cape, but he replied that it was impossible. He had murdered several of his own countrymen, and therefore could not venture among them again; besides, having a wife and children among the Caffres, to whom he had fled for refuge, he was averse to leave them, even if the tribe would have let him go, which he was well assured they would not. As to the journey, he informed them (as it turned out only too truly) that it would be attended with unspeakable difficulties, arising from the cruel nations through which they would have to pass, desert lands, and wild beasts.

Greatly depressed, the party moved on, every day harassed by the natives, who when the sun went down invariably retired. The poor unarmed Englishmen could do little against men armed with lances and protected by targets made of elephant's hide, and in the end they had always to sue for peace, cutting the buttons from their coats, and offering such trinkets as they possessed, to buy off their assailants. One day they plundered the gentlemen of their watches, and the ladies of some diamonds they had concealed in their hair; on another they took from them what was far more valuable, their one tinder-box, flint, and steel.

After this loss every one travelled with a fire-brand in his hand to guard against the wild beasts at night. Fresh-water they generally found by digging in the sand, but their provisions were now nearly all expended, and dissension for the first time appeared among the unhappy band. "The fatigue of travelling with the women and children being very great, the sailors began to murmur."

We should pause before condemning these men, though they may deserve condemnation, to consider what some of us at least might have done in their case. It was morally certain that to advance as they were at present doing, by slow degrees, was to perish. Some hoped, no doubt, that by making quicker progress they might get help, and return for the rest, as indeed some did. Moreover, the same chivalry is hardly to be expected (though in these narratives it will be seen that it was often found) among uneducated persons as in those of gentler mould; it may even be added—to be quite fair—that when it is exhibited they do not get the same credit for it. For an officer to run away in battle is actually more difficult, because it is more disgraceful, than for a common soldier. In this case almost all the officers, including the Captain, remained with the ladies and children, and "many of the sailors, induced by the great promises made by Colonel James and others, were prevailed to stay with them, to carry what little provision was left, and the blankets with which they covered themselves in the night." A Captain Talbot, three of the ship's mates, one or two gentlemen and their servants, with the remainder of the seamen, among whom was John Hynes, "being in all forty-three," made up the forward party.

A young boy, Master Law, a passenger, between seven and eight years old, crying after one of these, a passenger, and having no surviving relatives of his own, was taken with them, it being agreed that they should carry him by turns whenever he should be unable to walk. It is not to be supposed that this separation of the two parties took place in anger or bad feeling on either side. Indeed, the next day, when those who had left the Captain's company, having had to wait all night beside a river for the ebb tide, were overtaken by the rest, the meeting between them was most affecting, and once more they all travelled on as before. Nay, all the shell-fish, oysters, mussels, and limpets they could find on the sea-shore, although their other provisions were now quite expended, were that day, we are told, reserved solely for the women and children. Arriving at a Caffre village, where the Dutchman Trout lived, they were wickedly ill-treated by the inhabitants; and by his advice, since in smaller numbers they would be less likely to arouse the jealousy of the natives, they once more separated, "never to meet again." From this moment, unless from hearsay, we have only the record of what may be called the sailors' party, narrated by John Hynes.

They kept along the coast-line as well as they could, but the frequent rivers, too deep and swift to be crossed by those who could not swim well, often compelled them to journey inland. Here we see how, not only in time of shipwreck, but afterward, the art of swimming, so easily acquired in youth, is so valuable. If it had not been for these diversions from their course more lives would certainly have been saved, as they had to take to the woods, where sorrel "and such wild berries as they observed the birds to peck at," and which they therefore knew were not poisonous, were their only food, and where wild beasts devoured them at night. When the rivers grew somewhat narrower, they lashed together all the dry wood they could collect with woodbines and their handkerchiefs, and on the raft thus formed they set the little boy and those who could not swim, while the others pushed it over. In this way they sometimes crossed rivers two miles broad.

The country now grew mountainous, and much more difficult to traverse. They saw no paths but such as were made by lions and tigers, against which they had to make up huge fires at night; yet even these were preferable to such fellow-creatures as were to be found in that inhospitable land. Every morning, while their strength lasted, one of their number climbed a tree to examine the direction of the coast-line, to which they kept as close as was possible. They presently became too weak to gather fuel for more than one fire, into which they put the few oysters and mussels they could collect, as they had no other means (having been long ago plundered of their knives) to open them. Their watches, as I have said, were gone, and the sun was their only time-piece. At first with a nail fashioned into a knife they cut notches in a stick for week-days, and one across for Sundays; but they lost the stick in crossing a river, after which "days, weeks, and months" went by without record. One day they found a dead whale upon the shore, a sight which filled them with ecstasy. As they had no means of cutting it up, they made a fire upon it, after which they cut out the parts thus grilled with oyster shells.

The sight of a fine level country now led them to hope that they had got beyond Caffraria, and reached the Dutch settlements. This caused them to strike inland, but they had soon to return to the coast again for food.

The strength of the whole party now began to fail. Captain Talbot sat down several times to rest himself, and the rest did the same; "but the Captain repeating this too often through weariness," they presently went on and left him. His faithful servant, however, observing his master in that condition, went back, and was observed to sit down by him. "Neither of the two was ever more seen or heard of."

[to be continued.]

NICOLO, THE LITTLE ITALIAN BOY.

"GRANDPA, YOU DO LOOK SWEET."

BY M. E.

Just think of it, dear Grandpapa,
This day belongs to