Bonadventure, an armed trader of thirty guns, which stationed herself on the starboard side, she plied the Dutch Admiral with such vigour and tenacity, that he blessed his stars when Evertom came up to his relief. For an hour the four ships maintained a desperate fight, enveloped in dense clouds of smoke. Tromp's secretary was shot by his side. At length the Dutch threw a boarding party on the little Garland's deck, and it was found that, out of a crew of 200 men, she had lost 60 killed, and 70 or 80 wounded. The Bonadventure was afterwards captured by Evertom. With but little help the burden of the fight was borne by the Triumph, the Vanguard, and the Victory, which, with tenacious courage, held their own against a score of assailants. Thrice the Dutch boarded the Triumph, and thrice were beaten back with signal loss. Her masts tottered; her rigging was cut to pieces; her hull was torn with shot. But the Vanguard, a 50-gun ship, assisted by the Sapphire, an armed merchantman, carrying thirty guns, clung closely to her, and prevented her from being overwhelmed, until, night coming on, the attack ceased, and Blake, with his shattered vessels, retreated to Dover. He had lost six vessels: two captured, and three sunk, while one was burned. The Dutch, unquestionably, had won a victory, but under such circumstances it was infinitely less glorious than the defeat. And so the English Government were not one whit disheartened, nor was the national confidence in Blake one whit diminished. Strenuous efforts were made to put to sea a fleet capable of encountering the formidable armada of Holland. The ships which had been scattered along the coast were recalled to the Downs. The annual levy of seamen was increased to 30,000. The magazines were replenished; fresh supplies collected in the dockyards. The captains who had failed to support their Admiral in the late engagement were cashiered, and worthier men appointed to their places. Blake, who had tendered his resignation, was re-appointed, and with him were associated Generals Monk and Deane. Meanwhile, Marten Harperts Tromp, it is said, sailed to and fro in the Channel with a broom at his masthead, to intimate that he had swept the English from the seas. His elation was shared by his countrymen, who gave vent to it in jests of no remarkable brilliancy, such as that, "they had carried off the Garland," and that "the Bonadventure," by falling into their hands, had realised the prophecy of its name. The States-General ventured on a bolder joke by proclaiming a blockade of the whole English coast. They underrated the resolution as well as the resources of their enemy, and were disagreeably surprised when the English power reappeared in the Channel with a stately fleet of eighty men-ofwar, under the command of Blake, Monk, and Deane, as admirals, supported by Penn and Lawson, two first-rate seamen, as vice-admiral and rear-admiral (February, 1653). Tromp had been despatched to the Bay of Biscay in charge of a hundred and fifty traders, with instructions to bring back another fleet of merchantmen which there awaited his protection. He had scarcely arrived at his destination, in the middle of February, when an express yacht from the States ordered his immediate return, as they had learned that a new English fleet had put to sea and were blockading the mouth of the Texel. Tromp immediately obeyed the summons, and as he steered up Channel beheld the gallant array of Blake's warships stretching off the white cliffs of Portland (February 18). A right splendid show they made, as the sunshine lighted up their swelling canvass, and burnished, so to speak, their frowning bulwarks! Tromp had the wind in his favour, and might have slipped past them to windward, but in doing so he would have exposed his rich convoy to attack. He determined, therefore-as, in truth, he was always well inclined to give battle. And never has seafight been fought on fairer terms; the two fleets being on an equality in force, and each commanded by the best captains their age and country could produce. While if the Dutch were animated by the memory of past triumphs, the English were not less inspired by the hope of present victory. The van of the English fleet, led by Blake, Penn, and Lawson, had pushed some miles ahead of Monk and the main body, and to meet these twenty ships before their consorts could come up became Tromp's object. He felt so confident of success that he ordered the merchantmen to beat to windward and slacken sail that he might not lack applauding witnesses; and then, forming his line into a crescent or half-moon, he bore down to the attack. The Triumph, with Blake and Deane on board, received the first shock. The Brederode, with the wind in her favour, swept rapidly past, pouring in a heavy broadside; then suddenly tacking, and bringing up under her lee, hurled at her another discharge of her great guns, so that she shook like a frightened creature. Penn, in the Spanker, then dashed into the fray, and other English ships coming up, more of the enemies that were crowding round the Triumph found their work cut out for them. The English van-ships were soon all engaged. The Prosperous, the Oak, the Assistance, the Dutch carried by boarding, but were afterwards driven back. Hotter and hotter grew the struggle; with stubborn courage Blake's seamen, inspired by his great example, maintained their position until Monk brought up the main fleet to their relief. Before night the current of the battle began to turn against Tromp, who at length perceiving that Blake had despatched some frigates and swift sailers against the convoy, fell back to protect it. He had lost eight men-of-war, either sunk or taken: while others had been so badly handled that their weakened crews were removed from them, and distributed among the fleet. On both sides the loss in killed and wounded was very heavy; but Blake had lost only one ship, the Sampson, from which, her captain and nearly all her crew having perished, he took out the few survivors, and then suffered her to drift away. During the night he sent his wounded on shore. Though himself severely hit in the thigh, he would take no rest, but actively superintended the preparations for renewing the murderous struggle on the morrow. Leaks were stopped, sails refitted, masts, yards, and spars repaired, and the guns cleaned. On the following morning the Dutch were riding about seven leagues off Weymouth. Tromp's fleet was still drawn up in the shape of a half-moon, the curved side of which faced the adversary; while in the rear, sheltered by its converging horns, were some two hundred merchantmen; all standing up Channel, under press of sail, with a light but favourable wind. Blake made an effort, first on the left and afterwards on the right, to break through Tromp's semi-circular barrier; and soon after noon the two fleets came into general action. Six times did Blake charge the compact mass before him, but it contrived to preserve its grim array. De Ruyter was so heavily pressed that his ship would have been taken had not Tromp, discovering his danger, hastily come to his assistance. So the fight went on. The incidents in all battles are so closely similar that to detail them would be a tedious repetition. There are thunder of guns and crashing of timbers; the groans of the wounded; the shouts of excited foemen; the desperate rush upon the enemy's deck; the hand-tohand struggle; the clouds of sulphurous smoke which gather about and obscure the scene; brave men standing steadfastly at their posts, and cowards skulking. It is always the same, and always a dreadful, sorrowful story! But as we read it now we think little, if at all, of its sadder meaning of the agony of the widow and the wretchedness of the orphan; we concern ourselves only with the result, with the "glorious victory," with the addition it has made to our country's power and fame and imperial responsibilities. After all, has not patriotism its selfish side? The roar of battle sounded across the waves until night again parted the contending hosts. The second day had proved almost as unfavourable to the Dutch as the first. They had lost five men-ofwar, either taken or destroyed. Some of Tromp's captains lost heart so much-and no wonder, since they could scarcely keep afloat their shot-torn ships -that they declared further resistance to the English sea-dogs would be useless, and would fain have hied them home as best they could. He appealed, however, to their sense of duty; and ordering them to take up a position to the windward, begged them to make such a show of preparedness and resolution as might deter the English frigates from attacking the convoy. Blake followed up his enemy all night; and next morning, March 2, sighted him off Baveziers. At nine o'clock the action began. Tromp no longer hoped for victory, but aimed at keeping back the English war-ships, while his richly laden traders stole into the home ports. So vehemently, however, did the English deliver their assault, that he soon came to doubt his ability to support it for any length of time, and sent pressing orders to the merchantmen to crowd on all sail and make for Calais, as he could promise only a few hours' protection. Many of his captains had expended their ammunition; others were so discouraged that they fought listlessly or not at all. As the fury of the battle rose, he sent fresh commands: unless they moved more quickly, they would soon be inmates of English prisons! The wind, however, blowing from the French coast, delayed their progress; so that only a few of the swiftest sailers got into the security of their native waters. By this time the Dutch were in lamentable case, and many of the captains, rebelling against Tromp's persistency in so sanguinary and fruitless a contest, began to retreat upon the flying convoy. Then the battle ceased: Blake, too, had spent nearly all his ammunition; so, leaving fourteen of his frigates to harass the Dutch retreat, he stood towards the English shore, crowned with the laurels of a great victory. In the three days' action the Dutch lost 11 men-of-war, sunk, burnt, or taken; 60 merchantmen; 2,000 men and officers killed or wounded, and about as many prisoners. Three Dutch captains were taken, seven killed. The English had one ship sunk, the Sampson, and three captains killed. It was only Tromp's admirable seamanship that saved his valuable convoy from wholesale capture. (To be continued.) A PRETTY anecdote is told of an old man who, as the Queen was taking one of her drives, attempted to throw a bouquet of simple flowers into the carriage. He missed the mark, and they fell into the road. Her Majesty at once ordered the coachman to stop, in order to give the old man the opportunity of a second shot. This time he was successful, and the flowers were accepted with a smile. FISHES IN DEEP WELLS.-Sir Charles Lyell, in his "Principles of Geology," notices the discovery of live fishes in some artesian wells sunk in the desert of Sahara. They were brought up from a depth of 175 feet, and were not, like those of Adelsburg, blind, but had perfect eyes. "PLUCKED IN THE EXAMINATION."-This phrase had its origin in an ancient custom, by which anyone who objected to a degree about to be conferred in congregation, notified his dissent by plucking the sleeve of the proctor's gown. Land, the "Bo" tree in the sacred city of Amarapoora, Burmah. It was planted in 288 B.C., and is accordingly 2,171 years old. Its great age is proved by historic documents. THE British Museum has recently acquired a manuscript of It is in three volumes, large quarto, and was made about 1483 the Old Testament of extraordinary beauty and great value. in the city of Lisbon. It is believed to be a careful copy of an ancient and model codex, and designed itself to be also a morders, and the first words of sections are written in letters model codex. It has beautifully and richly illuminated of gold on a charming basis of delicate pen-and-ink workmanship. THE oldest tree on earth, so far as anyone knows, is, says THE curious custom of putting a coin into the hand of the dead, although they have never heard of Charon, is kept up by some of the French peasantry. PASSENGERS to the Pacific by the railroad across the American continent breakfast in the Sierras with twenty feet of snow around them; four hours later they find wheat four inches high, and the next day see pear and peach trees in blossom. weight, was lately captured by a Jutland fisherman. The AN eel of an enormous size, weighing nearly a hundredmonster was observed close to the southern coast, moving about with great difficulty between the large stones protruding out of the shallow water. The fisherman, after succeeding in killing the eel, flung its carcase over his shoulder, to carry it home. The monster was of such a length that, whilst the head of it was touching in front the knees of the fisherman, the tail end was dragging along in the sand. THE MYSTERY OF NEXT DOOR. CHAPTER IIL BY A YOUNG DOCTOR. EFORE going home I 66 My next visit was to Burton Street, where I found my patient slightly better. He was evidently a strong man, and according to the landlady a most temperate one. Water and toast water, toast water and water, he takes, sir, till I'm sick of the sight of them. And when I told him he was looking ill and ought to have something stronger, he just shook his head and said if I knew what a curse drink could be, I'd not try to urge any one to take it. Just as if I wanted him to get drunk! There's drinking and drinking, says I to myself, and if you'd take just a drop now and then it would be better for you." I thought how often that "just a drop" developed into pints and quarts, and was thankful that my patient had been so abstemious, for he stood more! chance of conquering in the fight now before him. Early in the morning I went next door, determined to see Mr. Kimberley as soon as he should return. But what was my consternation when knock after knock remained unanswered. I thundered at the door till I had roused all the neighbours, and in very shame was obliged to leave off and go home. Even then I gazed out of my back windows to see if there were any signs of life. Nay, more, I even so far forgot my dignity as to scramble over the garden wall and shake every door and window of the next house which I could reach, thereby causing decided damage to my garments, which, being accustomed to careful treatment, revenged themselves by catching on every available point. But I was too busy to spend much time in this sort of work. Changing my clothes, I rushed out to work up yesterday's arrears. "A telegram for you, sir," said a boy as I closed my door. "Oh, bother!" I exclaimed. If I had said "bother!" then, I felt inclined to stamp with vexation when I read the message. It was from Miss Livingstone, saying that her sister was so much worse that the doctor would not allow her to travel, but that she hoped to come the next day. "If not I shall come," the message concluded, and I began to think it would not be such a bad idea after all. There was no important change in Mr. Marmion that morning, but one seemed pending, so giving the nurse strict orders to watch carefully for the least dawn of reason and to send at once for me, I went to my other patients, promising to call again in the evening. Before going to dinner I once more assailed the knocker next door, but to no purpose. What could have become of them all? If only that stupid old woman had been able to write I was sure she would have managed to drop a line in the letter-box. Poor little Winnie! At seven o'clock I was once more in Burton Street. I went upstairs very quietly, and on entering the room had the pleasure of finding the nurse, who had been so strictly charged to watch the patient, sleeping peacefully. With arms folded and head dropped on her bosom, she looked as comfortable as if she were in bed. My first impulse was to shake her, but a glance at the bed showed me that some one else was also asleep; the breathing was almost normal, and that restless groaning which had before testified to the irritable state of the brain had ceased. Evidently the crisis was near. If I knew anything of my profession he ought to awake out of that sleep, weak indeed as a child, but no longer delirious. Going over to the side of the bed farthest from the door and seating myself so that I faced my patient, I sat and watched, leaving my valuable nurse to enjoy her slumbers for the present. How long I had sat thus I do not know, perhaps an hour, when a feeling of cold in my feet warned me that the fire must be low. It took me fully five minutes to coax it up, putting on the coals with a piece of paper, a mode of proceeding I would recommend to all my readers who do not wish to startle sick folks out of their senses by the clatter of tongs and shovel. Suddenly a voice sounded in the room: "Stanley, is it you?" Turning sharply round I beheld my patient sitting bolt upright and staring into a cheval glass which stood at the foot of the bed. (Horrible things they are too; I always hated them.) By his side, almost touching him, stood a gentleman whose reflection he must have seen. Before I had time to interpose, and order the gentleman from the room, he knelt down by the bedside and covering the patient's hands with kisses, whispered, "Marmion, old fellow! This is a sad case. I did not know you were as bad as this." "Then it is you," said my patient. "Thank God." And I was just in time to catch him as he sank back exhausted. The follower of Mrs. Gamp here roused herself, and with many apologies thought she had just dozed off. through, but I can't do it alone. To-morrow his wife comes, I hope." The handsome, weak face was raised to mine in tearful entreaty to be told what to do, and as I gazed at it, I understood how much easier it would ever be to Stanley Kimberley to run away from difficulties than to face them. After administering nourishment and forbidding all conversation, the patient sank to sleep again, and we two watched. man looked almost crushed with grief, and I remembered that perhaps he did not know of Stanley's return, and the news might be too much for him.. "Yes, yes," he said, mistaking my hesitation. "I know it is a marvel he did not die. But, Doctor, I did not mean to hurt him. He took away my boy, indeed he did, for I did all I could to prevent their going that foolish excursion, and then when I felt lonely and wretched and thought of my poor boy lying alone in that awful water, it crushed the life out of me. It crushed all love for God or man out of me, too. Then came Alice's illness, and I thought I should like to have the child with me. She made the sunshine in my home again, and then the devil put it in my heart to keep her. An eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth,' you know: his daughter for my son. So I moved about from place to place, never letting him know where I was. He advertised for the child, but I took no notice. Indeed I made her happy, and I have saved all the money I can and have left it all to her. At last I met a friend who told me Marmion was in Burton Street. That very night the accident happened and he came to see me and reproached me with stealing his child. I told him a lie and said she was dead. But I have never been happy since. I went away from home, and tried to drown care by moving about, but day and night his face has haunted me. I put an advertisement in the paper for him, but had not the courage to go and seek him myself. Getting no answer, I carried the child off yesterday to Hatfield, but it was late and we could get no farther than Witham. This morning I took her to her mother, and learnt that Marmion was dangerously ill. Can I see him, Doctor, to ask his forgiveness before he dies? Don't judge me harshly, please. No one knows till temptation comes how easy it is to fall." "Unless they have some One else to lean upon," I said, solemnly. 66 "Yes, I know; but I turned my back on Him years ago, and so I had not His help, but now if there is time I want to seek Him again. Winnie will help me. Is it too late, Doctor?" Poor old man! The tears came in my own eyes as I answered his touching appeal. I have had many a strange experience since, but never one stranger than when I sat in that dark, cold room, trying to comfort the heart of the conscience-stricken old man, longing, yet dreading, to tell him the good news I had for him. "Thank you, Doctor," he said, quietly, when I paused. "I know it is all true, and I believe God will not turn away the prodigal son however bad he may have been." "Would you?" I asked, laying a strong emphasis on the pronoun. Supposing you had another son who had run away from you and hidden himself for years, letting your heart bleed for him because he was afraid of the consequences of past sins, would you turn away from him?" "No, no," he said, standing up and speaking rapidly, "but it could never be; he is dead, Doctor, dead, and I must make atonement to the living. He is dead!" "Will you come, please, at once; he is stirring a little, and I don't know what to do." It was Stanley's voice just behind us. In a second the old man recognised it and seized him in his arms, while I, closing the door, left them to the terrible joy of that meeting. About an hour afterwards father and son entered the patient's room and there remained, perfectly silent, through the whole night. Hand in hand they sat, in a sad chastened happiness, marvellous to behold, waiting for the awakening of him whom they had so sorely wronged. There is little more to tell, now that the mystery is cleared. some Winnie was brought to London by her mother, and with so much loving attention my patient made sure and rapid progress. It was, however, time before he was allowed to hear Stanley's story. He had managed to scramble out on the other side of the lake, and remembering the threatened exposure at Oxford he thoughtlessly made up his mind to run away. He found a ship just starting for America, and worked out his passage in it. Tired of his exile he had returned to England a few days before, meaning to go and confess all, but seeing the advertisement he had sought out his brother at once. The poor fellow was truly penitent, and gave firm promises of amendment if only they would give him another start. Little Winnie was not a strong child, and no doubt it was anxiety for her which took me down once a week to Hatfield. At any rate, that was the excuse I made to myself for my frequent visits, until one day I asked Miss Livingstone to be my wife, and she consented. We were married soon afterwards, and you would hardly believe how little of my attention Winnie required after that event! Next door is still inhabited by Mr. Kimberley, but the blinds are all up and flowers brighten every window, making the once miserable-looking house the ornament of the row. Dear old Anne often greets me through the window as she watches for the return of "Master Stanley" from his office. Stanley himself is doing well, bidding fair to be the prop of his father's old age, having realised from bitter experience that although Murray declares that "two negatives make an affirmative," two wrongs can never make a right. E. M. W. "DO YE NEXTE THYNGE." [An invalid who has been greatly comforted by these lines asks to have them printed. She has kept them pinned to the wall at the head of her bed, and found them a relief from "perplexity, care, and impatience."] FROM an old English parsonage Down by the sea, Hath it quieted here. Let down from Heaven, Fear not to-morrow, Trust them with Jesus! |