this big woman
in my arms as I did when I went towards her; this I think was
impossible, seeing I was but a little man, and that she was such a big
heavy woman. Isaac Whittaker, Esq., who saw me rescue her, gave me
half-a-crown to get some grog with. But what pleased me far better was,
the gratitude of Mrs. H. She resided, if I remember rightly, in Blanket
Row, and on going to see her, next morning, I found her ill in bed. She
seemed full of gratitude, and that gave me great pleasure. I have often
seen her since, and she always acknowledges me as saving her life.
_Witness_--Robert Todd.

_Nineteenth._--ROBERT BROWN.* (1835.)

He was a sailor, from North Shields, and fell overboard, near the
Victoria Hotel, Hull, while on watch. It was the first night of Dacrow's
Circus appearing in Hull, and Brown's mates had gone ashore, either to
see the performance inside, or to hear the music in the streets. I was
watchman that night on board the 'Magna Charter' steamer. A heavy gale
was blowing from the north, accompanied with sleet storms. While closing
the cabin door for the night, I heard a splash, and running aft, I
called out, 'Is anyone overboard?' But there was no answer, for the
pier was deserted, the people having thronged to the circus. I could not
see anything; but at last I thought I heard a voice, and plunging into
the water, I soon found poor Brown; indeed he seized me before I was
aware of him, and got upon me in such a way that I could not swim, and,
I must confess, I was in a great passion. At length I got one arm at
liberty, and made for the shore. I turned round and round a great many
times, and, at last, after a desperate struggle, which I shall never
forget, we reached the steps at the end of the pier. Brown took hold of
the rail, walked up the steps, and seemed as if he didn't care about me;
I was quite exhausted, and had to hold by the railings for several
minutes before I could recover my breath. I then sat down on one of the
steps and felt very ill, and I thought I should have died on the spot. I
remember seeing the lights, and hearing the music from the shore, but
there was no one near to render me any help. Bye-and-bye I recovered a
little and _crept_ to the top of the steps, where I found poor Brown,
crying most piteously. Two men, Joseph Crabtree and John Young, came
from Lawson's tap-room, and I asked them to get some drink for the
youth, who was in a distressing state, and I would pay for it. They