"Dead low, within the half hour, sir." "Not much that we can do, then, I'm afraid. A boat wouldn't live a moment in that sea, would it ?" "Lor' bless, ye no! Not if it was Noah's Ark, yer "To the point then, and--has any one a rope?" "No!" "Fetch one then, and come on at once." honor." The orders were issued like orders; no hesitation, no speaking twice. Richard Fortescue had forgotten all but the wreck. And not one of those who heard him had a thought beyond doing what he bid them. Ten minutes more and they had battled against the wind over to the north-western point of the bay, where the cliffs rose high and precipitous, partly protecting them from the wind, which could only get at them in finer eddies, round the corner. Beyond the cliff the rock ran out in a long sharp point called the Tanner's Nose. It was here that a vessel coming from the north-west must certainly strike unless something could be done to change her course, and so round the end of it into the bay. A short consultation was held under the lee of the cliff, and then a party of the strongest and most daring men, headed by Richard Fortescue, left the shelter, and tried to make their way out to the end of the rock, which could not be even seen from the shore on account of the clouds of spray that rose above it. It was no easy matter. The gusts of wind came with almost hurricane force, and the blinding clouds of salt mist bewildered the senses, so that it was hard to know in what direction they were going. Still they battled their way, like strong brave-hearted men as they were. Richard Fortescue was the foremost man, and it was strange to see, and it seemed strange afterwards to those who followed him, what an influence his manner and bearing had on them. At last he stopped, "Can "We can go no further" shouted he, using his hands as a speaking trumpet. "The water is rushing over here like a mill stream!" you make out anything Jackson?" he shouted again, after a pause, during which all crouched down to escape some of the force of the wind, and gazed out to seaward. "Not a sign your honor! Mayhap she'll clear us yet!" "God have mercy on her if she does not," said Richard solemnly. There was a silence again on the men's part for some minutes, and every sense was strained to the uttermost for a sight of the vessel. "She must be gone by sir, I think," shouted Jackson at last t; we hain't heard a gun these ten minutes !" "Thank God if it is so-but no! Look !-there to windward! Merciful heaven!" A It was the ship. There she came, looming large and black through the misty air, but close upon them before a sign of her was visible. cry of horror burst from that daring group of men. In another moment the ship seemed to tower, huge and grand, over their heads; and then— every man of them closed his eyes involuntarily-there was a crash!far above the roar of wind and waves-and a fearful cry. Then a dull, heavy, grinding sound. She had come down on a part of the reef not fifty yards beyond the spot where the group of fishermen were standing in helpless horror. Again came that wild unearthly scream, and then, with one hideous lurch, the great ship received a wave on her broadside, and rolled over before their eyes into the black chasm of spray on the leeward side of the reef. "Oh, God!" was the involuntary exclamation of each man on the rock. The next moment, our hero, shouting to his companions to hold on by the rope, one end of which he had fastened, unobserved, round his body, ran forward, and taking a spring, almost disappeared in the rushing struggling waves, where the huge ship had but just gone down. They could, however, with great effort just manage to trace his course; and, after a moment's horrible suspense, Jackson, who was famous for his powers of sight, shouted— "He has him! Pull in-pull in, for your lives! live in that sea five minutes." A man can't Pull in they did, with a will; and yet it was all they could do to stem the rush of that fearful current. He did, however, reach the shelf of rock, and was in safety; and in his arms he bore the apparently lifeless body of a man. "To the village!" he gasped, as soon as he could find the strength to speak, and pointed to the body. "It's all that ever will be saved from the wreck." He was right. From that hour till this no mortal has seen or heard aught of the crew of the good ship Golden Promise.' Whether they lie in the deep bay of Beachford, or, as is more likely, were carried out to sea through the opposite passage, is a mystery now, and must so remain-for ever! No! not for ever. The rescued man was better. He sat before the fire in old George Thurstal's cottage; and there, too, sat his deliverer, and Jim, who had never lost sight of his young master from the moment he recognised his tall figure running down towards the village. The man was much better; but, as yet, had never spoken. He sat with his hands over his eyes, and moaned at intervals. At last, our hero ventured to ask him if he felt better. He started at the question, and muttered, "Yes, yes," almost inaudibly. "I think it will do him good to rouse him," he whispered to Jim. Jim nodded. "What ship was it?" he asked, touching the man gently on the arm. "What ship!" echoed the man, wildly. The 'Golden Promise'-heaven help me-the he shuddered fearfully. "What ship! Oh, God! Golden Promise' "—and "Golden Promise! Where was she bound for?" ON THE LAST WINTER AND PRESENT SUMMER. ON reviewing the past winter of 1862, as regards the effects it produced on our summer crops, we observe that the rain set in about the middle of last May, and continued until nearly the end of September, with very few fine days intervening. The consequence was that the ground was saturated to overflowing, compressed, and sodden; the roads became rotten; entrance-gates to fields almost impassable; and where the fields were heavily stocked (more especially on retentive soils), every foot-mark stood full of water. The winter was very mild; we had no frost in the neighbourhood of Auckland to blacken the leaf of a heliotrope; the grass continued growing, and cattle were not in so bad a condition as might have been expected. It was, however, an exhausting winter for the soil, as the present summer shows. The spring set in with harsh drying south-west winds, with occasional showers, accompanied by hot sunshine, and cold nights, with a great evaporation of the moisture in the soil. Labour could not be proceeded with till nearly the end of September, and the ground being baked with the rain, and the weather then setting in dry, it was next to impossible to work it; the spring crops went in badly; the ground would not pulverize by working, and, if I may so term it, the seed had no bed for its reception. Certainly light scoria ground wrought well, but the inert matter was either washed away from the surface or lodged deep in the subsoil so as to preclude the possibility of obtaining a crop without a large quantity of manure. The advantageous action of the atmospheric air, in passing through the soil, is due to the fact of its losing a portion of its oxygen, and thus giving rise to the formation of a larger portion of carbonic acid. Hence arises the advantage of draining. The soil being always kept porous where the water has a free egress, and from its openness preventing the accumulation of water, cultivation can be commenced earlier in spring on well-drained land than on that which has not been drained. Manures are much more energetic in their action in soil that has been drained, which is likewise two or three degrees warmer. That being the case, the decomposition of the fertilizing substance is more rapid and uniform. We are very much in want of correct Tables of Meteorological Observations showing the quantity of rain that falls in every month in the year; the temperature of the earth at one and two feet deep; the temperature of the air at one foot from the surface of the ground; the humidity in the air; and the direction and force of the wind. If we had correct information of the foregoing, monthly, it would be of great advantage to our agricultural community, and, by comparing one year with another, we might arrive, in seven or ten years, at a correct estimate of the climate. Now, to return to our present subject, I will only state a few plants that are valuable to grow in a dry season such as we have experienced. White Belgian carrots, that were sown in the last week of September in deep loamy soils, have grown well; and likewise all other plants with a tapering root that descend deeply into the earth. The later sown, however, were dried up before they had hold of the ground, or were destroyed by insects. Potatoes, planted about the same time, progressed and looked very well for a time, but the yield was inferior; that I attribute to the ground running together on losing the moisture, and the later sown ones are scarcely worth the trouble of digging. The caterpillars attacked the leaves about the time they came into flower and stripped every leaf off them. The crickets have been very troublesome of late to the potatoe crop, and likewise to the pastures; besides committing depredations on young fruit trees by barking the stems level with the surface of the ground. Sweet potatoes stand the drought well; they luxuriate in a dry, warm climate, and a friable soil. Mangold wurtzel has grown well this season, especially that which was sown in September; and no insects appear to do much hurt to it. It is a very remunerative crop to grow, as the yield per acre is over thirty tons; but it requires to be sown early in the spring on well drained ground. Cattle are very fond of it-white carrots and mangolds, sliced up and mixed in about equal proportions of each, are a most excellent food for horses, cows, and pigs. Indian corn, that was put in early, promises a large return. This is another plant that ought to be grown more extensively than it is, as the yield per acre for green food alone is very considerable. Sugar grass returns a large amount of green food throughout the Summer and Autumn months. Never allow it to rise more than two feet before it is cut; but the best way is to go over it every week, and thin the longest stalks from each stool. Cattle do not care to eat the stems when they get hard, unless they are cut in short lengths and mixed with other food. It makes good hay, cut and dried. As the hay crop is very light this Summer, and very dear, a few acres of the sugar grass made into hay would have been a remunerative speculation. Although the pastures have been burnt up of late, stock are not in so bad a condition as might have been anticipated, and rain having fallen copiously in the end of last month, will increase the feed for the season; as it is not likely we shall want for rain this Autumn. The pastures have had a good rest for the last three months, and I am in hopes that the after Spring will be better than the first. As the ground is in a fine state to receive rain, it will carry the gasses in the atmosphere down into the fissures of the earth, and expand and close them in as new stimulants for the food of roots. Trees that have been lately planted, have suffered much from the drought; but the ones that had been established for a few years have grown well. Fruit trees look healthy, and the young wood is well matured and free from blemishes. Apples and pears are a fair crop, and remarkably fine in flavour, clear and sound in the skin, especially the latter fruit. Peaches that bore a heavy crop had small fruit, and the flavour was rather indifferent; those that had a medium crop were very fine, both in size and flavour. Figs, first crop, large and fine; second crop, many falling off from the want of moisture. Seeds have ripened well. It has been a very favourable Summer for the maturing of every description of seeds; dews were not very prevalent, neither have we been visited with many storms, and what rain we did have, fell very gently, so as to be absorbed by the soil, without running DAVID HAY. to waste. SUNTHIN' IN THE PASTORAL LINE. HOSEE BIGLOW AND A PILGRIM FATHER OF HIS'N ON THE TROUBLE O' THE DAY. "Now I wuz settin' where I'd been, it seemed, He wore a steeple-hat, tall boots, an' spurs, "Ef your name's Biglow, an' your given-name "Your gret-gret-gret," sez he "That air's an argyment I can't endorse 'T would prove, coz you wear spurs, you kep' a horse ; Ain't boun' to cesh the drafts o' pen-an'-ink Though mos' folks write ez ef they hoped jes' quickenin' |