" SIR you observe that ?" we asked, one autumnal evening in the year of grace and so forth, when, with a score of others, we were peering into the darkness from the weather-side of Ratnsgate Pier.

'•What, sir? where, sir?" replied a chorus of voices. " Why, the fireworks, out there," we replied, pointing about east. At that moment up went another; no mistake about it tills time— a regular rocket, the boom of a gun at sea being distinctly heard. As if death and destruction " DIB you observe that ?" we asked, one autumnal evening in the year of grace and so forth, when, with a score of others, we were peering into the darkness from the weather-side of Ratnsgate Pier.

'•What, sir? where, sir?" replied a chorus of voices. " Why, the fireworks, out there," we replied, pointing about east. At that moment up went another; no mistake about it tills time— a regular rocket, the boom of a gun at sea being distinctly heard. As if death and destruction might be momentarily expected from the gun we heard fired, my companions bolted—some in the direction of a watch-house, from whence a rocket was fired; others to a landing-place, down the stairs of which they speedily disappeared.

To make matters worse—to add fear to astonish-ment—a steam-tug in the harbour set up a dismal kind of roar, somewhat (as it appeared to us) re- sembling a railway whistle with a cold, but which, we have since been informed, is so arranged that it may not be mistaken for an ordinary signal.

We were so thrown " aback," as sailors say, with the sudden turn matters had taken, that we •were beginning to regard the whole affair as a capital joke, when, approaching the inner side of the harbour, we beheld at a glance an explanation of the whole; my late companions were manning a large white boat, which until then had quite escaped our notice, but which will be in future re- garded by us with infinite satisfaction. A few round English oaths, hurried words of command, a lighted lantern dancing about like a will-o'-the-wisp, a scuffling and noise as of oars being shifted, the hissing of steam, the working of paddles as the tug backed to take the boat in tow, a multitude of sturdy forms along the pier, shouts of gratuitous advice, an officer with a speaking-trumpet — " Keep the light full on your weather-bow," a manly " Ay, ay, sir," a loud, ringing cheer from the aforesaid sturdy forms, a revolving of the steamer's paddles, another cheer, boys — " Hurrah ! hurrah !" a sense of being lamentably dull at not having comprehended the affair sooner, and " God speed the life-boat," for such it was! Kind reader, what we have endeavoured to describe took place so suddenly and so excitedly, that we were sorely tempted to offer our services upon any expedition whatsoever—to the North Pole, if necessary; we were so bewildered, in fact, with the occurrences of the moment, that the boat was almost out of the harbour before it occurred to us to inquire where it was going.

" Ship ashore. Nor' Sands'ead," replied anything but an insinuating kind of individual, who, in his haste to reach the sea-wall, nearly precipitated us into the harbour.

An intelligent public will readily perceive that as we do not proceed to sea in the boat, we are compelled to drop the curtain on the scene until tile following morning, when, at the hour of six, our " young lady of all-work " having conde- scended to arouse us, and to add interest to the occasion by observing that it had been " an awful bad night, sir," we will endeavour to proceed with our story.

That our handmaiden's account of the weather •was perfectly true, we should not have been sur- prised to have had ocular demonstration of; not that we expected to see the wind—that right, we believe, being wholly reserved by old sows and young porkers ; but that the roof had disappeared, and would only be recoverable piecemeal in the neighbourhood of Minster or St. Lawrence, would not have surprised us in the least. At our •windows throughout the night the howling of the pitiless storm, and the pattering of the driven rain (as though beseeching to be let in) had been incessant, while at times an occasional blast, more sturdy than its fellows, would seize with its giant arms the very building itself, and seemed, quoting from a household rhyme, to " Huff and puff till it blew the house in,"—a simultaneous rumbling in the chimney, like the voice of some low bully ap- pearing to agree with it in its lawlessness of in- tention.

Hastily performing our ablutions, we hurried down to the pier, when such a tumultuous, roaring, boisterous scene met our gaze as we had not seen the like of before. The sea ran veritably moun- j tains high, engulpMng this, tearing away that, upheaving the other, bounding over the wall, drenching this person, knocking down that, and, ' in fact, altogether behaving in a most unruly manner. " Ay, ay, Mr. Rambler," methinks I , hear my readers say, " but how about the life- boat ?" We will explain. Appealing to an " old I salt" of about eighty or ninety years of age (they arrive at maturity in these parts), who was shel- tering himself in an angle of the wall, he gave us to understand that "the life-boat warn't in yet;" "Maybe she wouldn't come at all;" "Maybe she'd make for Dover." At that moment a ju- j venile of about five or six-and-forty, with a sou'- wester on like unto a dustman's hat, and from the behind part of which a small river of rain kept running down his back, struck in with " She's all j right, daddy; she's bowling along under sail; she'll soon be here." Looking in the direction ! indicated by OUT sagacious informant, -we dis- covered, at a distance of about three miles, the object of our search, one moment visible on the crest of a wave, the next lost to sight in the trough of the sea.

We will pass over the time intervening between | the last remarks and the arrival of the boat in the harbour. Suffice it to say that by that time hun- dreds of persons had assembled on the pier ; that the greatest enthusiasm and excitement prevailed, owing to the steam-tug having colours hying, de- noting that lives had been saved. And now let us direct our kind reader to the inner side of the pier, along which hundreds are pushing and crowd- ing to obtain the best view, or to escape the drenching spray of the sea. " Hurrah P shouts one, "here she comes!" Up rises the boat on a towering sea at the entrance to the harbour.

Cheer upon cheer rends the air. The life-boat men hear it; " Hurrah ! hurrah 1" they reply.

" Another cheer, lads, and she's alongside." And a right down good hearty one they got, too. " Now then, stand back, here t make way (the ruthless sea still upheaving and grinding the side of the boat against the side of the stairs, as though making one last desperate effort for its prey! Stand back, I tell you, stand back !" repeats a stalwart official to a number of thoughtless sight- seers, all eager to catch a glimpse of the human waifs of the sea. The first, a poor, pale creature of a woman, with a child, over which she is sob- bing piteously, borne in the arms of two of her rough salvors as gently and as delicately as when her mother did that office years ago. The next, a venerable old man (her father, perhaps), whose white locks fluttering in the wind from under his old skin cap, came tottering up, with a faint smile playing about his lips, as the bystanders, in their kindliness, bade him be of good cheer. The next, two lads, apprentices in appearance, to whom a ! Christian lady, pressing a piece of money into each of their hands, spoke to them of heaven and of their escape from death. The next, ten seamen, evidently foreigners; some of them very pale and inactive, others joyous and light of. heart, vrho, shaking hands with their salvors, would have kissed the ground they landed on. Lastly, the captain of the ill-fated ship—a fine man (a Nor- wegian), of noble mien, and of good heart, who, stepping out of the boat, addressed those who had saved him thus:—" God bres you; you are von brave lion-heart (he smote his breast as he spoke).

You sav my life; you sav my wife ; you sav my schild. I vill pray for you; de Great Heaven (pointing upwards) bres you ! I vill nare forget you. No, no, no! "—K. H. GOOCH..