to reach us. For a long time, the stillness of death prevailed; but when she came fairly abreast of us at the distance of six or seven miles, and threatened to pass us without the slightest notice, cries hoarse with despair clove the wind. The cries were useless, for she was to windward. We had no powder on board to make any further signal; but there can be no possible doubt she saw us and knew our condition. She did pass us, and steered away. We found out the nation she belonged to; but it need not be mentioned here. Let her flag perish from our recollection; but let it be known she was not English!

With redoubled anxiety, we now turned to our second and last remaining hope. Another hour of weary watching, that seemed an eternity. Her course lay a little nearer to us than the first, so that we could see her more distinctly. For a while, our signals seemed to promise no better success. At length the better eyes thought they could discern something black moving quickly up the head-mast; a moment more, and a red rag streamed on the wind. At this instant, the mate, who was standing on the bulwarks, looking intently through the glass, shook all over with violent emotion; the glass in his hand shared its convulsive movement, and a moment afterwards he sprang to the deck, and cried out, the 'Union Jack!' O ye who think that flags and standards are but the baubles of the brave, think how ye wrong the language of the heart's true chivalry! If we had been nearer, we should have heard that an English voice had already given the command to "'bout ship!' and have known surely that British hands handled the tackle. It was not long before she veered round, and the whole breadth of her canvas came to view. On she sped like an angel of mercy, with her wings spread to the favouring gale. I knew it was quite an hour before she could reach us, so I went straight into the cabin, and for the first time for two nights I slept soundly for just three-quarters of an hour. When I awoke, there was a stately ship just passing under our stern, and taking up her station about half a mile to leeward, to avoid collision in the heavy sea. Now came a fresh anxiety, for in the sea that was running, no boat could come close alongside, and the captain very much feared some lives might be lost in changing ships. It was yet tolerably early, and after a consultation through trumpets, it was deemed advisable to wait an hour or two. Towards afternoon, the wind happily lulled, and the sun shone out for the first time since our troubles commenced, though the sea was still heavy. But I will not enter into further detail; let it suffice to record, that the disembarkation was managed with consummate skill, and that after four hours of hard work, every woman, child, and man was safe on board the Lesmahagow, bound for St John's, New Brunswick, without a child's finger being hurt. Often, when a boat-load started from the Welsh Mountaineer, we lost sight of them altogether in the trough of the sea; but as often we could hear the cheers of the sailors giving courage to their trembling cargo.

The rest of the voyage had nothing specially interesting. We made the first landmark at night: I shall not soon forget it. We were growing somewhat uneasy in the fogs and cross-currents of the Bay of Fundy; but in the night the fog cleared off, leaving a clear dark air. The twelve o'clock watch had hardly taken their station when the word was given, a 'light on the starboard bows.' It grew larger as we neared it, and seemed to our grateful sight as if some spirit of mercy held out calmly its torch of light and love above a thousand storms that roared at its feet, an eternal welcome to poor tempest-driven wanderers.

Next morning I was awaked by a sound like the driving of a hundred hammers at the ship; I jumped out of my cabin in alarm; but a rough kind voice I

had often heard before said: "The anchor, sir-the anchor.' I dressed hastily, and going on deck, saw the city of St John's lying in the light of a bright July morning. The angry waves had ceased, and broke in gentle ripples with a home-sound upon the vessel's side.

Our first business when on shore was to make public in the newspapers our grateful thanks to the two captains to whom, under providence, we owed our lives. I know not what has become of either of them. I have not seen them since my return to England; but if this brief sketch should be seen by them, let it serve as assurance that the kindness of the captains and crews of both vessels will ever be held in remembrance by the living freight the old Lesmahagow bore into the harbour of St John's.

MUSIC.

"Tis true no verse of mine can tell,
Fair lady, what the gentle breath
Within the flute, that rose and fell
And died in the far distance, saith:
The speechless echoes linger still;
Their meaning is not of the earth.
Thou know'st no less love's accents thrill,
Although the words be nothing worth:
The perfect sense we cannot tell,
And thence the glory grows the more.
The organ-billows, as they swell,
Roll far and farther from the shore,
Until from verge to verge they sweep,
And Thought, its wearied wings drooped down,
Slow sinking in the charmèd deep,
'Mid the sweet thunder loves to drown.
The harp-voice best we understand;
Its grief is shaped by her who flings
Athwart its face the gentle hand,
And hides, in ruth, the sobbing strings.
The brazen trumpet's war-note shrill
Would ever teem with stir and life,
Although the earth had lost its ill,
And there was end to foemen's strife:
And though the cymbals ceased to beat
Amid the ranks of bristling steel,
They 'd aye recall the thousand feet
In motion at the single will.

But what of war, the while we hear
These Christmas bells o'er hill and plain,
And all our memories drawing near,
Entrance us with a pleasant pain,
And fill our hearts with love and peace,
And lead us like an angel hand
Whereto the wondrous harmonies
Sweep alway through the Better Land.

J. P.

ROYAL NATIONAL LIFE-BOAT INSTITUTION. This institution expended during the past year L.3421 in building eleven new life-boats, and in altering and repairing several others; L.1292 in building and in repairing life-boat houses; L.787 in building new life-boat transporting-carriages and in repairing others; L.855 in payment to cockswains and crews of life-boats; and L.578 for rewards for saving the lives of 376 persons, shipwrecked on our coasts, of which 132 were actually rescued by the life-boats of the society in that period. Its outstanding liabilities for life-boats, life-boat carriages, and boat-houses are L.3394. It would be needless to expatiate on the merits of an institution like this. The merchant, shipowner, or underwriter who does not support it, neglects his duty; while the philanthropy of private individuals could not elsewhere find a more

meritorious channel.

Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH. Also sold by WILLIAM ROBERTSON, 23 Upper Sackville Street, DUBLIN, and all Booksellers.

OF

POPULAR

LITERATURE

No. 217.

A SEA-SIDE SHOW.

If I were asked what was the special attraction which drew me to Boulogne last August, I should be rather puzzled for an answer. It was not the camp in the neighbourhood, for that was not then a source of attraction to anybody. It was not that I had any little financial difficulty to contend with-any temporary congestion of credit or collapse of pocket-for which the air of Boulogne is notoriously so beneficial. Nor was it because I had any friend to visit, who, being under a cloud at home, had sought sunshine on that sunshiny coast. I have no grand friendships to boast; the few whose confidence I share are of that old-fashioned, slow, and vulgar class who look upon twenty shillings in the pound as a matter of religious principle, and want that moral courage, so remarkably general in this great age of progress, which enables its possessor coolly to turn his back upon his creditors, and to liquidate by a few months of agreeable exile abroad, the expense of his agreeable relaxations at home. It was not, either, the prospect of pleasant society, for I knew nobody in the town, where, though it had lain in my route a dozen times, I had never as yet spent twenty-four hours at a visit. And, least of all, was it the expectation of seeing what I did see; for if these coming events cast their shadows before, they had never fallen on my path; and it was in utter ignorance of what was about to take place that, before the month was a week old, I had crossed the strait, extricated my valise and carpet-bag from the fangs of the douaniers, and taken lodgings by the week in a quietlooking café in a turning-out of the Grande Rue, not far from the highest ground of the ramparts.

The café, neat, clean, and comfortable, was kept by the Widow R—, and it was pleasant to find that in the domestic arrangements regard was had to island notions and predilections. Madame spoke little English, but then she had a daughter, a lively lass of sixteen, with black eyes and a face that would have been exceedingly pretty but for a rather damaging prominence of the cheek-bones, who chattered our insular tongue with astonishing volubility, and with the most charming accent imaginable. Both mother and daughter cheated me in numberless small matters; but as I did not object to their trifling peccadilloes, or disturb their self-love by rebuking them, they treated me in all other respects with notable consideration, and I thought that, on the whole, I had reason to congratulate myself on my quarters.

There was constantly coming to the house-now mingling with the guests in the common room, now closeted with madame and the daughter-a good

PRICE 1d.

looking florid-faced young priest, or acolyte, full of vivacity and apparently of business. I soon perceived that both the ladies, and the younger especially, were living in a condition of excitement, which, so far from subsiding, seemed hourly to increase, and that the priestly visitor was in some way or other connected with the cause. On the third day of my domiciliation, while Jeannette was arranging my breakfast, after my morning-bath in the sea, I mentioned the subject of the priest, confessing the curiosity his visits had excited, and wondering whether there was a matrimonial termination to be expected-who could be the happy man, and whether either of the ladies, Jeannette, for instance, was to be the bride.

Jeannette did not blush; she only turned to me, as she paused in her operations, a face of mingled astonishment and incredulity.

Monsieur did not know! O but that was strange, when all the world was coming to Boulogne this month to assist in the installation of Our Lady-and monsieur really did not know?

I assured her that I knew nothing about the installation, or of Our Lady of Boulogne eitherwho was she?

'O but that is droll,' said Jeannette; but I forget you English are all Protestants-what pity! Shall I tell you about Our Lady of Boulogne ?' "Thank you I wish you would.'

I drew a chair for Jeannette as I spoke; she sat down with an air of perfect self-possession, and having handed me a cup of coffee, began enlightening my ignorance, speaking with a very grave tone and in a dignified way. The story, however, is not very different from some other Catholic traditions, and at anyrate it would occupy too much space to give it in her version. The substance is simply this: that one morning, a vast number of years ago, a beautiful ship, without sails or sailors, and with no cargo or passenger on board but a wooden image of the Virgin, came sailing into Boulogne; that the heaven-sent gift was reverently placed in the cathedral, where it received the adoration of the faithful, from far and near, for more than a thousand years, performing innumerable miracles in return; till at length the Revolution came, when the sacred image was burned to ashes—all but one hand, and the cathedral itself sold and ruined. Forty years after, the cathedral was raised anew by contributions from all countries, and was now on the eve of completion, when another image of the Virgin, but of stone, and of colossal proportions, was to be placed on the top of the edifice, so as to be visible from far at sea; and the inauguration was to take place of the re-establishment of pilgrimages to the shrine of

'And you, of course,' said I, 'have your part allotted you.'

'Yes, truly. What would you have? I am to be one of the choir of our parish: there will be two fifties of us, all dressed alike in white muslin, with gold coronals and veils descending to the knee. Will it not be charming?'

The voice of Madame R screaming for Jeannette at the foot of the stairs, prevented my reply, and the damsel tripped away.

On quitting the house after breakfast, I made towards the new cathedral, which, standing on the summit of a hill, towers over the whole town. In the Place d'Armes, I passed the covered statue of the Virgin, standing veiled on its pedestal, waiting for the day of inauguration. The cathedral is a lofty and magnificent building-and the door being open, and workmen passing in and out, I entered to look around; but though perfectly finished without, the interior is almost a waste, and I found a number of men engaged in the erection of what were evidently temporary fittings for a temporary purpose.

I had no difficulty in obtaining further information. Not only was every one aware of what was coming off, but a good number had, by some means or other, penetrated so far behind the scenes as to make themselves masters of the policy which guided the whole affair. From one informant, an Englishman, and of course a heretic, I learned a few private particulars. According to his shewing, the superb cathedral, reared with such painstaking piety by the good old Haffreingue, was terribly in debt, while yet a prodigious sum was wanting to complete the interior. In this dilemma the bishop of Arras had come forward and manfully put his shoulder to the wheel. He it was, and none other, who had boldly resolved to restore the pilgrimages to the shrine of Our Lady, calculating that from the offerings of the devoted pilgrims might be raised, if the affair were well managed, not only enough to clear the expenses past and prospective of the cathedral, but to maintain a permanent fund for the sustentation of the worship on a scale commensurate with the dignity of the church. And well indeed did the bishop manage the business. In the first place, he applied to the pope for the sanction and co-operation of his holiness; and meanwhile, nothing doubting the result, he commissioned the execution of a statue of the Virgin in stone, ten feet high, to stand on the summit of the edifice as a landmark and 'Star of the Sea. Before raising it to its lofty elevation, he resolved to consecrate and bless the image, with the most imposing ceremonial, in the Place d'Armes, the very spot where the former image had been burned, and in the presence of such an assembly as for centuries had not been gathered within the walls of Boulogne.

The bishop was not deceived in his expectations from the pope. Pio Nono recommended the subject of the restoration of the pilgrimages to the shrine of Our Lady of Boulogne to his council of cardinals, and in

Christians who, confessing and doing penance, shall pray devoutly, according to the directions of the church, before the holy image of the immaculate Virgin -the pilgrims being at liberty to choose for their indulgence any day of the year that suits them best. But that was not all-the decree offers also a seven those who shall come to pray daily in the church, years' indulgence, extending over the whole period, to exercising due contrition for their faults. Further, the sacred pontiff gives a warranty with the indulgences, guaranteeing their applicability to souls in purgatory.

The conditions on which these spiritual advantages were to be won, it will be seen, are by no means hard; and the promulgators of the decree were right in If I had had any doubts on the subject, they would calculating that they would be pretty widely accepted. have been dissipated by the eagerness and excitement that prevailed among the population of the town-by the indications that met me on all sides of zealous preparations for the great event; and by the sudden going and coming of strangers from the provinces; and which, as the time drew on, suddenly inundated the by the influx of flowers and tinsel, finery and greenery,

place.

The pilgrimages commenced on the appointed day, the 15th of August. The first bands of pilgrims arriving were from the parishes of the north nearest to Boulogne; these, for the most part, came on foot, or in such rustic conveyances as they had at command. the acolytes of each parish, in red and white garb, They formed in procession as they entered the townNext came the ecclesiastics, singing canticles to the leading the way, and bearing the crucifix in the van. Virgin. Then came the groups of pilgrims proper, in some cases forming a rather motley show, consisting of both sexes and all ages and ranks-white-headed, tottering old men, sturdy grandames in high-peaked caps, peasant girls and lads, farmers, shopkeepers, with here and there a country gentleman with his wife and figures of the Sisters of Charity, and the juvenile bands daughters-to these must be added the sober-looking of pupils of the parochial schools. The above, however, constituted the humblest order of pilgrims; those who came from towns of any pretensions at all, cut a much more imposing figure: with a more numerous clergy, they had choirs of young-lady singers; they shone in gayer costumes, and carried embroidered generally arrived by the railway, and many came from banners brilliantly emblazoned. Such companies great distances. The party from Paris was the most pretentious and picturesque of all. Starting from the capital in the morning, it was nightfall when they reached Boulogne, and they had to make their procession by the light of hundreds of torches-and they presented a really striking spectacle. Led by a long train of ecclesiastics in splendid attire, and accomvoices, they promenaded the Grande Rue under a series panied by a powerful choir of skilled metropolitan of triumphal arcs formed of flowers and foliage. They were apparently all of the well-to-do class, and were clad in the current fashions of the day-the gentlemen blossoming in vests of delicate hue and pattern, and the ladies bare-browed, oyster-shell bonneted, and most expansive in crinoline.

Day after day, the parishes of the northern provinces poured in their pilgrims, and though numbers unavoidably departed almost as soon as they came, the town grew rapidly full to overflowing. As each band of pilgrims arrived at the cathedral, the gates were thrown open, the organ began to play, and

banners, branches, and censers of smoking incense without number. Last of all came a reverend assembly of bishops, who, to the number of nine, brought up the rear. The Bishop of Arras marched first, with two tail-bearers, and with uplifted hand blessing the multitude as he went. Archbishop Cullen-the great Irish Newton-and a cardinal in red stockings, closed the account.

The procession, on the whole, was brilliant and splendid beyond my powers of description. At the pace at which it moved, it took an hour and a half to pass any particular point. As it wound its slow trail sometimes in contrary directions through its sinuous route, flashing and sparkling in the clear sunlight, it seemed an endless stream of life that would never pass away; anon, it was thrown into perspective, and then the whole mass seemed moving under a forest of silken banners, which the west wind curled with countless ripples. And ever the voices rose in solemn chant; and the bursts of plaintive music from the accompanying bands were borne upon the breeze.

But alas for the glory of the hour. Finis coronat opus, says the adage; but the finis here was anything but a worthy crown to the proceedings. It had been resolved that, on the return to the point of departure, the bishops and higher ecclesiastics should take post at the top of the Grande Rue, and unitedly bless the assembled multitude. A scaffolding and platform had been erected on the spot for the purpose. As the dignified personages returned from their long walk, not a little weary, each took his place on the platform. They were all assembled, bishops, archbishops, and cardinals, and were on the point of lifting their sacred hands to shed a benediction on the crowd below, when suddenly the platform on which they stood gave way with a terrible crash. Happily the planks had been covered with a stout carpet; and the carpet, being firmly lashed to the scaffolding poles, did not fall with the timber. The august prelates, instead of being dashed precipitately to the ground, were therefore only caught, as it were, in a blanket; but thus jumbled together in a mass, there was a sad surrender of ecclesiastical dignity. Bare heads knocking together, headless mitres and red caps, abandoned crosiers, red legs sticking upwards, and redder faces puffing for breath; and hands just stretched out to bless, now clutching desperately at the empty air-such was the spectacle that greeted the expectant multitude. What is remarkable is the fact, if it be a fact, which we received from a near by-stander-that the great Irish luminary, he who smashed the Novum Organum, in the midst of this right-reverend tussle, kept his footing, and retained it to the last. Whether his Milesian blood, which, as all the world knows, is in its element in the atmosphere of a scrimmage, stood him in good stead-or whether, not believing in gravitation, he did not choose to gravitate himself, this deponent sayeth not; he only says that his reverence from the sister-isle stood his ground when all else lay prostrate, and emerged from the blanket unscathed and unruffled. The worst of this mishap, however, was not the bodily injury sus tained by their reverences, but the unfortunate twist which it gave to the conclusion of the fête, which was to have been so sublime. For the mob who had come to see the show were base enough to relish this part of it most of all. They broke out with a tremendous cheer-they laughed, they roared, they yelled madly with delight they clapped their hands till they were sore, and bawled for an encore; and so the final blessing had to be administered on a safer footing, amidst all this merriment and din.

After the blessing of the people, came the blessing of the Virgin, which was followed by a sermon on the spot from the Bishop of Nevers; and the sermon was followed by a banquet given by the mayor, to which the dignified ecclesiastics were invited; and where, it

is to be hoped, they found consolation for the mishap of the afternoon. And thus endeth the history of the re-installation of the pilgrimages to Our Lady of Boulogne.

THE RYOT.

THE term 'ryot' signifies simply an agricultural labourer. Bengal contains eighty millions of inhabitants, of whom fully sixty millions are of this class: in other words, more than double the entire population of the United Kingdom are in this one presidency engaged in cultivating the soil. This will cease to be matter for astonishment when we remember that not only Bengal, but the whole of India is, strictly speaking, an agricultural country, where nineteentwentieths of the exports are of raw produce. The amount of manufactured articles is most trifling; for although sugar, indigo, saltpetre, lac-dye, and other articles of produce undergo a certain manufacturing before being fit for the market, they do not come under the head of manufactures: they are but prepared vegetable products.

The condition of this large class of labourers, who really produce the great staples of Indian commerce, and are, in fact, the sinews and bone of the land, must be a subject of considerable importance at the present moment. Until Great Britain can arrive at a true appreciation of the position and interests of the many classes of her Indian subjects, it is scarcely possible for her to determine her future policy in regard to the country and those people.

The ryot is not merely an agricultural labourer: he is something more. He approaches more nearly to the Irish cottier in the nature of his tenure, though far below him in the abjectness of his poverty, in the hopelessness of his struggle with his fellow-man.

We must understand, then, that the ryot is neither more nor less than a farmer on a very minute scale: a small renter of a small fragment of land, sometimes equal to several acres in extent; at other times, but a few roods from boundary to boundary. The lands they hold under various tenures are in nearly all cases included in some zemindary or landed estate, the rights and privileges of which are put up for sale, just as any nobleman's estate may be in Great Britain.

It usually happens, however, that in every village in a zemindary, there are far more hands than are needed for cultivating the land upon it; at any rate, in the rough antique style of culture which they are in the habit of giving it. This surplusage of labour is often sought for in indigo or sugar districts at considerable trouble, and some cost; indeed, it often happens that the only mode by which village-labour can be secured, is by the purchase out and out of the zemindary. The people belong to the soil, rather than the soil to them; hence, the purchaser of the one acquires with them an ownership in the other. constantly happens that when a European wishes to commence indigo-making, silk-rearing, or coal-mining, the only possible chance for his obtaining labour is to purchase a few villages, well stocked with able-bodied men and handy women. It is the possession by sale or lease of these populous villages which leads to so many affrays and downright battles in various parts of the Indian Mofussil, as to call for legislative interference.

It

During the government of Lord Cornwallis was perpetrated one of the greatest blunders of that or any other period: he completed what is known as the 'Permanent Settlement;' by which government, as owners of the soil, fixed for ever the rate at which the land should be assessed to the zemindars, irrespective of any improvement which might take place.