BOATHOUSE DESTROYED--A BURIAL AT SEA.

Winter was now rapidly approaching, but before its advent something of a
very grave nature happened.

It had been a very blustering day, with occasional showers of sleet,
when about four p.m. I found myself standing by the watch-house, holding
my hat on; the sun fast setting in a very angry-looking sky.

Evidently a storm was brewing, so I hauled my saucy little "Yellow Boy"
high above high-water line, and made everything snug before I went
indoors just after darkness had fallen all around. I felt uncomfortable
somehow, but could not tell why; but when the time for bed came, and the
wind was howling round the house as if it meant to cast it bodily into
the sea, I did not for some reason care to turn in; so replenishing my
lamp I sat down to read, but the wind shook the casements so roughly
that I had to give it up. About midnight, although it was late in the
autumn, a flash of lightning lit up the room and startled me; in a few
seconds the thunder began to roll, but a long way off.

I sat waiting for another flash, and presently it came, this time with
the thunder much nearer. A little while and another more vivid flash,
with the thunder close to its heels, upon which I started up on the
impulse of the moment and donned my oilskin suit and sou'wester and
sallied out into the night; why I knew not. At first the night was pitch
dark, but a flash of brilliant lightning seemed to light up the whole
island, while at the same time came a crash of thunder, such as I hope
never to hear the like of again. It was as if the whole of the granite
island had been shivered to atoms by some awful volcanic crash; in fact,
I thought it was an earthquake. It only lasted a few seconds, but it
seemed to literally paralyze me; so much so, that I thought I should
have fallen. Other flashes succeeded, one of them striking a granite
block, which it shivered to pieces, although it weighed many tons, and
in the shock appeared itself to be broken; that is, it seemed like the
first stroke of a smith's hammer upon a red hot piece of iron, when the
sparks fly off in every direction. I dare not go along that path,
although it was now probably the safest; but as I went towards the beach
I could see the lightning run among the wet rocks like phosphorus.

As I stood by the watch-house I fancied I could detect human voices
crying for aid, but put it down to my imagination, till I saw, to my
horror, not a hun