himself protests: "If all the favour and pity that I have used among them to their amendment were B. 255. known, it would, I warrant you, well and plain appear [that I hate the vice of heretics and not their persons]; whereof, were it requisite, I could bring forth witnesses more than men would ween; referring probably to those who had been handed over to him as Chancellor to be punished, and whom he had gained by gentle persuasions-means similar to those he had B. 122, 123. used in the case of William Roper, the husband of his beloved daughter Margaret, who for a time, even in More's own household, had professed an attachment to the new Lutheran opinions. If, in regard to the modern notion of toleration, which is only superficial after all, and in other respects, the " 'Utopia" does not bear out all that some of the author's admirers have discovered in it, it does show his humanity, taking the word in its widest sense, his desire to advance the general good of the people U. 190. even should the pride of the few suffer; and herein it is consistent with his beautiful life and glorious death. J. B. E F. O WISE kind face of Atropos the Fate, And brow yet knit with old pain oft renewed; A mind with which no sister's mind could mate; Wise head to will the Right, whate'er ensued, True heart whereon no falsehood dare intrude, Happy am I, who found you, not too late. The others understood not, but we two, But we two understood, and are secure ; Striving towards what we knew of good and true, Through all the years to come our love is sure, You will give help to me and I to you, Surely to dare and strongly to endure. Two loves I have, that draw me either way; Dulled by soft music till our day be done; And so these twain divide my very heart, And nowise know I which way I must choose. Make answer thou, if true and brave thou art, Were't well, for dreamful ease the world to lose? Were it not wiser, from sweet ease to part:Not cowardly, a great fate to refuse? C. SAPSWORTH. A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. URING this "Long" the Skipper has left the Thistle to rest peacefully on the quiet water of Ipswich Dock, and decides to make his long-talked of Norway trip in the yawl Kate, 26 tons, of which he has recently become the owner. He has of course found it necessary to add to his former crew, and, reinforced by the Mate, the Doctor, the Navigating Officer, one A.B., and a professional steward (engaged to do only the cooking, with a view to save us from inconvenience resulting from having to face the stove in a sea), he feels that he is equal to cope with the North Sea and arrive all standing at Bergen. Unfortunately we lack the presence of the Savant, and so must forego the benefit of that philosophic reference of all marine discomfort to natural causes, which never failed us so long as he was able to speak. It is proposed to leave the Kate in some port in Norway with a view to fitting out during next spring for a cruise still further north, and her crew have been much impressed with the details vouchsafed by the Skipper from time to time of the projects he has for penetrating the unknown, and hastening the extinction of the ice bear. At all events, the first thing to do is to get safely to Bergen, and one dull and squally afternoon late in August we assemble at Brightlingsea, fired with the idea that we are entering on a trip which is the first stage of an amateur North Pole expedition. The Skipper is anxious to get round to Lowestoft without delay and pick up the Mate, who is to join VOL. XVII. G us there. His desire to depart is intensified by the state of the weather, a condition of mind on his part which some of us have observed before, and which is usually, as on this occasion, accompanied by the statement that he "would like to shake down his crew in the bit of a tumble that we are sure to meet with outside." However, from the strength of the squalls it is pretty obvious that we shall feel some of the tumble if we stay where we are for to-night, and the crew is respited for the present and turn in with the information that squalls or no squalls we must be up before daybreak to catch the morning ebb. About 3.30 we come on deck in a perfect deluge of rain, in which, after about an hour's hard work we fail to get the anchor on board. By this time as the tide has fallen rapidly the yacht touches bottom again, and it is now useless to think of starting before the afternoon. As we shall be careened on the mud for the next twelve hours, the crew go ashore after breakfast to get dry, while as Bo'sun I remain in charge. Wind and rain continue all day long and about two o'clock the Kate is run into by a large trawler which is trying to beat out. Single-handed nothing can be done except stand clear of the smash, but the collision does not result in much damage beyond tearing away all the bowsprit rigging on one side. The crew see the disaster from afar and come aboard at once, when the Skipper, after inspecting the damage, decides that it can be repaired at Harwich, and that we must not lose this tide. From the look of the sea over Colne Bar it is obvious that his hopes with regard to his crew in connexion with a tumble will be fully realised. Our oilies have kept the rain out so far, but once out of the shelter of the creek the water comes along the deck with each wave and everyone is drenched through in two minutes, while the Doctor is his own patient, and bandages up an eye which has been damaged by some tackle which has broken adrift. Once over the bar we do not ship so much water and all hands are no longer required. It is not my watch and so I devote my time to an effort not to disgrace myself before the new hands, or at any rate not to succumb before the Doctor, whose eye is now recovering, but who has withdrawn into himself in an ominous manner. This subject need not, however, be pursued further-suffice it to say that the Doctor and Bo'sun are companions in misfortune before we reach Harwich Harbour. By about nine in the evening we run a little way up the Stour, and after arranging the remains of our medical officer in his berth, a process which all hands are sufficiently convalescent to assist in, we have dinner and set an anchor-watch, as it is now blowing hard. Next morning the weather is no better, but we are glad to find that the guardship Hotspur is no nearer to us than she was last night, for if we had commenced dragging, the Kate would probably have been brought up by that ironclad's ram. The Doctor, who has not time to cross to Norway, decides to leave us here, volunteering to find the Mate and tell him how we have been delayed. The damage to the bowsprit takes a day to repair, and it is not till next morning that we get to sea again. Harwich to Lowestoft is not a long run, but nearly every kind of weather is met with on this halfday's sail. A good S.W. breeze takes us nearly to Orfordness and then fails entirely. A sort of noncommittal thunderstorm soon varies the calm, and finally passes into a steady drizzle, in which we sit about on deck and grumble, while the Kate creaks and rolls on a slight lop left by the morning's breeze. By about three o'clock we creep past the Ness into a white fog and are becalmed again off Aldeburgh, till finally a holding breeze comes up astern, and |