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"D-n your easy impudence. We'll have five thousand majority in the city alone."

"Order! order!" cried Raynor. Gentlemen, have the goodness to come to order, for a song from Venus Raynor, Esquire, one of his own composing-that song, Venus, you made about the people that were drowned down to Oyster pond point."

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The usual apologies and excuses were soon disposed of, and then Venus opened his mouth and sang a most pathetic ditty, to which we all listened with sincere delight, for it was sung with the pathos, tenderness, and grace of nature. I was enraptured with it, and, next day, got Venus to go to the lighthouse and write it out for me. The following is a copy verbatim et literatim ;

"Come all ye Good people of evry degree
come listen awhil with attention to me
a sorowful story i am going to relate
a mournful disaster that hapenned of late

O Oyster-pond tremble at that awful stroke
remember the voice that gehovah has spoke
to teach us we are mortals exposed to dath
and subgect each moment to yield up our breath

on monday the 12th of december so cold

in the year 18 hundred as i have been told

the winds blowing high and the rains beating down
when a vcssle arived at Oyster-Pond town

their anchors being cast thir ships tore away
all hands for the shore were preparring straitway
down into the boat soon they did repair
and on to the shore was praing to steer

But mark their hard fortune it is mournful indeed
yet no one can hinder what god has decread
the council of heaven on that fatal day
by death in an instant calld numbers away

A number of men in their halth and their prime
called out of this world in an instant of time
the boat turning plundge them all into the deep
and 5 out of 7 in death fell asleep.

the sorrowaful tidings was caried straitway
to freinds and relations without more delay
but o their lamentins no launge can express
more point out of joy great grief and distress

the widows are bereaved in sorrow to mourn
the loss of their husbands no more to return
besides a great number of orphans we hear
lameting the loss of their parents so dear

Also a young damsel a making great mourn
for the untimely death of her lover that gone
for the day of their nuptials apointed had been
and the land of sweet wedlock those lovers to join.

Alas all their lamentings are all but in vain
their husbands are drowned they can't come again

o friends and relations lament not to late
the council of heaven has sealded their fate

their bodies when found were all conveyed home
on the sabbath day following prepard for the tomb.
their bodies in their coffin being all laid a side
in Oyster-Pond meeting house ally so wide

"Bravo!"—" Well sung, Venus ;"-" Encore !"—"That's a damnation nice song ;"-and several other critical eulogiums where wreathed around the head of the beach troubadour.

"Now, Raynor," said I, "we've had nothing out of you, yet. Since Venus has given us a wrecking song, suppose you give us a wrecking story—a true one. Tell us about your saving the life of Captain Nathan Holdredge."

"No, no," protested Raynor; it's late now, and soon as the moon gets up. we've got to go into the surf;—and you know all about it."

"Tell it. Go ahead; or I'll summon a court of Dover and have you fined.”

"Don't do that. Here goes then for THE WAY THE OLD MAN SAVED CAPTAIN HOLDREDGE;" and the intrepid veteran went on as follows; I took it from his own mouth, and the whole story is his without embellishment, or addition. If I could only give his voice-his eye-his hand-his attitude— I should be happy :—

"It was eighteen years ago. The lighthouse war'nt built. I was fishing off agin Bellport, twenty miles east of here. I got up on the 17th day of October, early. The first thing I see, was a ship on the beach. I went over to her, and it appeared as if they wanted no assistance; the wind was blowing at the east, and it was stormy-rain storm—it was between break of day and sunrise. I was going to return back again to the hut where we staid, and they beckoned, and hollowed to us to stay;-then they let down their jolly boat under the stern ;-the captain, second mate, and one sailor came ashore in her. When they came ashore, I knew the captain. It was Captain Holdredge. After being there a little while, the captain invited me to go on board with him and take something to drink with him—some brandy ;—and he would send a demijohn on shore for the rest of the crew, -my crew. I discovered that there was much agin difficulty in goin to the ship, as there was coming from her. The

wind was off shore, and sea breaking on ;-then I told him, if you will let me and one of my men and him go aboard, I would go he wanted to take the two sailors, and they insisted upon going, and he was a' mind they should too,—but if them two sailors is a going to go, I sha'nt go. These sailors seemed to be rather affronted at my opinion, and seemed to think that they could go as well and long as me or any other man.

“Then I told him I choosed not to go. Then Holdredge said, stay where we was, and he and the men would go and get a demijohn of brandy, and bring it ashore. They then started for the ship. She lay in the surf. The surf was pretty big. The vessel lay about one hundred yards from the dry land. It was this same Raccoon beach. The wind was east. The ship's name was the "Savannah." She was a packet ship. She had five passengers. She was from Savannah, loaded with cotton- four hundred bales, as I was told. "When they got off against the ship, they was about twenty yards to the west of her. The current carried them there; —then, heading up east to the ship, brought them right broadside to the sea;—the second sea capsized them-turned the two sailors out, and pitched the captain underneath. The two sailors came immediately ashore by the help of the sea; -and the jolly boat kept, to all appearance, about the same distance from the beach, and worked westward. I endeavored to try to get to her, for I knew the captain was under her. I endeavored to get to her all I could. The sea broke over my head and knocked me down two or three times-I still endeavored to assist him at some rate or other-I got so that I touched the jolly boat-I just put my hand on her, and whether it was my touching of her or not, she took a pretty rank heave of the sea, and she turned down on one

side pretty smartly, and the captain came out on the side opposite from me. I discovered that he was alive and apparently made some effort to help himself-but the current of the sea carried him along faster than I could travel, and in one moment he appeared to give up all, and roll along the sea. Then I thought to myself it was no way to get him. So I then thought to myself there was no way to save him, but to return to the beach, and run about one hundred yards of the west of him. All the while I was running, I kept my eye on him. I kept watch of him-when I came to a sea poose— I went in to the east of it-went out into the ocean as far as he was standing and bracing against the sea-breaking over my head—and just afore he got to me, there come a large sea and seemed to hide him-buried him all up—and as he about come abreast of me, I discovered him, and catched him by the collar of his coat—I then sung out for assistance to some of the rest of my crew who was on the beach-It was about forty yards from the dry sand. One man run in. I gave him left hand-I had hold of Holdredge with my right hand. More of the crew came in and took hold of hands, and it made a smart and long trail of it. I should think there was as much as eight of us—and so we drawed him up on the beach. Some of the crew said he was stone dead, when we got him out. I discovered that he was not dead by his stirring one of his arms. I turned him round on the beach where it shelved, and got his head the lowest, and then rolled him backwards and forwards on his face, till he discharged considerable water out of his mouth, and some blood out of his nose. I suppose this blood from his nose, was from the jams he got under the jolly boat. All the time I discovered he was coming to. I told the crew, that owing to the cold storm, he never would come to, unless we got him

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