le. It can be therefore easily imagined that it was
with feelings almost amounting to agony that Maclean saw himself
separated from his last friend. His first impulse was to follow his
companion, but better judgment prevailed, and he determined to await
the result. Never for a single instant did his eyes turn from the bold
swimmer: they followed his every stroke. At one time, he thought he
had sunk; at another, the ripple of a wave appeared to his distorted
imagination like the fin of a shark. Anxiety for the fate of his
companion kept his mind on the stretch until distance rendered the
object no longer visible. 'Then, indeed, did he feel that he was
alone.'

Meldrum was naturally a good swimmer, and every nerve was strained in
this last struggle for life; buoyed up by hope, he had accomplished
about two-thirds of his weary task when his strength began to fail,
his dying eyes turned towards the brig, and with one last effort he
raised his voice. He was heard: a boat was lowered from the brig, and
he was taken on board. The perilous situation of his comrade was made
known; and thus by his gallant exertions were preserved the lives of
the two survivors, of the ill-fated Magpie.

This tale might almost be discredited, but the facts from which it was
taken bear the signature of the officers composing the court-martial
who sat upon the two remaining men. Mr. Maclean is at the present
moment alive, and is now serving as a lieutenant in the coast-guard.
Meldrum was promoted for his gallantry to the rank of gunner, and died
two years ago.

THE THETIS.

His Majesty's ship, Thetis, Captain Samuel Burgess, sailed from Rio
Janeiro on the evening of the 4th of December, 1830, having a large
amount of treasure on board. The weather was so thick, that as they
worked out of the harbour, the islands at its entrance were not
visible; but as the evening was tolerably fine, with the exception of
the fog, Captain Burgess determined to persevere in his course. The
following morning the fog dispersed, but it was soon succeeded by such
heavy rain, that the obscurity was nearly as great as before. The ship
continued her course with the wind upon the starboard tack, until
half-past one in the afternoon, when, from the reckoning, they
supposed Cape Frio to be about thirty-eight miles distant, lying north
36 deg. east. From the hour of their departure from Rio Janeiro, till the
time of which we speak, neither sun, moon, nor stars had