came to quit the rock, took the woman in his arms, grasped the rope, and began the perilous transit.  Alas! he was not permitted to gain the desired shore.  When he had made about half the distance, the rope parted—­not being strong enough to sustain the additional weight and strain, it broke; the seaman and his burden were seen but for an instant, and then swallowed up in the foaming eddies.  With them perished the last means of preservation that remained for Captain Baker and those who were with him on the rock.  Their communication with the mainland was cut off; the water rose, and the surf increased every moment; all hope was gone, and for them a few minutes more must end ‘life’s long voyage.’

The men on shore tried every means in their power to save them.  They tied every handkerchief and available material together to replace the lost rope, but their efforts were fruitless; they could not get length enough to reach the rock.  A party was despatched in search of help.  They found a farm-house; and while they were in search of a rope, those who stayed to watch the fate of their loved and respected commander and his three companions, saw wave after wave rise higher and higher.  At one moment the sufferers disappeared in the foam and spray; the bravest shuddered, and closed his eyes on the scene.  Again, as spell-bound, he looked; the wave had receded—­they still lived, and rose above the waters.  Again and again it was thus; but hope grew fainter and fainter.  We can scarcely bring our narrative to an end; tears moisten our page; but the painful sequel must be told.  The fatal billow came at last which bore them from time into eternity—­all was over.  When the party returned from their inland search, not a vestige of the rock, or of those devoted men, was to be seen.

    And is he dead, whose glorious mind
      Lifts thine on high? 
    To live in hearts we leave behind,
      Is not to die.  CAMPBELL.

We feel how inadequate have been our efforts to depict the self-devotion of Captain Baker, and the courage and constancy of his crew.  The following letter, addressed to Lieutenant Booth, formerly an officer of the Drake, will go farther than any panegyric we can offer, to display the right feeling of the ship’s company, and their just appreciation of their brave and faithful commander.

’SIR,—­Your being an old officer of ours in a former ship, and being our first lieutenant in H.M. ship Drake, leads us to beg that you will have the goodness to represent to our Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty the very high sense of gratitude we, the surviving petty officers and crew of his Majesty’s late ship Drake, feel due to the memory of our late much lamented, and most worthy commander, who, at the moment he saw death staring him in the face on one side, and the certainty of escape was pointed out to him on the other, most stanchly and frequently refused to attempt procuring his own safety, until every man and boy had been rescued