Then danger's self is lure alone."

The following description, from a lecture delivered in Halifax, by Dr. J.
Bernard Gilpin, will commend itself to our modern Robinson Crusoes:

"Should any one be visiting the island now, he might see, about ten miles'
distance, looking seaward, half a dozen low, dark hummocks on the horizon.
As he approaches, they gradually resolve themselves into hills fringed by
breakers, and by and by the white sea beach with its continued surf--the
sand-hills, part naked, part waving in grass of the deepest green, unfold
themselves--a house and a barn dot the western extremity--here and there
along the wild beach lie the ribs of unlucky traders half-buried in the
shifting sand. By this time a red ensign is waving at its peak, and from a
tall flag-staff and crow's nest erected upon the highest hill midway of
the island, an answering flag is waving to the wind. Before the anchor is
let go, and the cutter is rounding to in five fathoms of water, men and
horses begin to dot the beach, a life-boat is drawn rapidly on a boat-cart
to the beach, manned, and fairly breasting the breakers upon the bar. It
may have been three long winter months that this boat's crew have had no
tidings of the world, or they may have three hundred emigrants and wrecked
crews, waiting to be carried off. The hurried greetings over, news told
and newspapers and letters given, the visitor prepares to return with them
to the island. Should it be evening, he will see the cutter already under
weigh and standing seaward; but, should it be fine weather, plenty of
day, and wind right off the shore, even then she lies to the wind anchor
apeak, and mainsail hoisted, ready to run at a moment's notice, so sudden
are the shifts of wind, and so hard to claw off from those treacherous
shores. But the life-boat is now entering the perpetual fringe of surf--a
few seals tumble and play in the broken waters, and the stranger draws his
breath hard, as the crew bend to their oars, the helmsman standing high in
the pointed stern, with loud command and powerful arm keeping her true,
the great boat goes riding on the back of a huge wave, and is carried high
up on the beach in a mass of struggling water. To spring from their seats
into the water, and hold hard the boat, now on the point of being swept
back by the receding wave, is the work of an instant. Another moment they
are left high and dry on the beach, another, and the returning wave and a
vig