ly) of everybody; and lived a
life of perpetual public martyrdom and protest.

Silence having been obtained, the secretary of the Lifeboat Institution
rose, and, after a few complimentary remarks on the enthusiasm in the
good cause shown by the town, and especially by the lady who had
presented the boat, he called Captain Harry Boyns to the platform, and
presented him with the gold medal of the Institution in an able speech,
wherein he related the special act of gallantry for which it was
awarded--telling how that, during a terrible gale, on a dark night in
December, the gallant young captain, happening to walk homewards along
the cliffs, observed a vessel on the rocks, not twenty yards from the
land, with the green seas making clean breaches over her; and how that--
knowing the tide was rising, and that before he could run to the town,
three miles distant, for assistance, the vessel would certainly be
dashed to pieces--he plunged into the surf, at the imminent risk of his
life, swam to the vessel, and returned to the shore with a rope, by
which means a hawser was fixed to the cliffs, and thirty-nine lives were
rescued from the sea!

Well did every one present know the minute details of the heroic deed
referred to, but they were glad to hear the praises of their townsman
re-echoed by one who thoroughly understood the merits of the case, and
whose comments thereon brought out more clearly to the minds of many the
extent of the danger which the gallant captain had run, so that, when
Harry stepped forward to receive the medal, he was greeted with the most
enthusiastic cheers. Thereafter, the secretary presented silver medals
to two fishermen of the Cove, namely, Old Jacobs and Robert Gaston, both
of whom had displayed unusual daring at the rescue of the young lady who
was the donor of the lifeboat. He then touched on the value of
lifeboats in general, and gave an interesting account of the origin of
the Society which he represented; but as this subject deserves somewhat
special treatment, we shall turn aside from the thread of our tale for a
little, to regard the Work and the Boats of the Royal National Lifeboat
Institution, assuring our reader that the subject is well worthy the
earnest consideration of all men.

The first lifeboat ever launched upon the stormy sea was planned and
built by a London coach-builder, named Lionel Lukin, who took out a
patent for it in November 1785, and launched it at Bamborough, where it