second coxswain at
once shouted, "I'll go again, sir!" This man's bravery produced a
wonderful moral effect. He was not permitted to go, being already too
much exhausted, but his example caused volunteers to come forward
promptly. Among them were men of the coastguard, a body to which the
country is deeply indebted for annually saving many lives. Several
gentlemen of the town also volunteered. With the new crew, and the
chief officer of the coastguard at the helm, the noble boat was launched
a second time.

The struggle which followed was tremendous, for they had to pull direct
to windward in the teeth of wind and sea. Sometimes the boat would rise
almost perpendicularly to the waves, and the spectators gazed with bated
breath, fearing that she must turn over; then she would gain a yard or
two, and again be checked. Thus, inch by inch, they advanced until the
wreck was reached, and the sailors were successfully taken off. But
this was not accomplished without damage to the rescuers, one of whom
had three ribs broken, while others were more or less injured.

Soon the boat was seen making once more for the beach. On she came on
the wings of the wind. As she drew near, the people crowded towards her
as far as the angry sea would permit.

"How many saved?" was the anxious question.

As the boat rushed forward, high on the crest of a tumultuous billow,
the bowman stood up and shouted, "Nine saved!" and in another moment,
amid the ringing cheers of the vast multitude, the lifeboat leaped upon
the sand with the rescued men!

"Nine saved!" A pleasant piece of news that was to be read next day in
the papers by those who contributed to place that lifeboat on the coast;
for nine souls saved implies many more souls gladdened and filled with
unutterable gratitude to Almighty God.

But "Twenty lost!" A dismal piece of news this to those at whose door
the murders will lie till the day of doom. Even John Webster, Esquire,
grew pale when he heard of it, and his hard heart beat harder than usual
against his iron ribs as he sat in the habitation of his soul and gazed
at his deceased wife's father over the chimney-piece, until he almost
thought the canvas image frowned upon him.

There was more, however, behind these twenty lost lives than Mr Webster
dreamed of. The links in the chains of Providence are curiously
intermingled, and it is impossible to say, when one of them gives way,
which, or how many, will fall alon