e active
and strong fellows."

"Sir," said he, taking off his hat, "I thank you in the name of my
unfortunate countrymen."

"Show us, then, where we may be most useful."

He turned and pointed to a house higher up, the offices of which were
blown down. "There are living beings under those ruins."

"Come, my lads," said I; and sore as they were, my men hastened with
alacrity to perform their task. I could not help them myself, my side
was so painful; but I stood by giving them directions. In half an hour
we had cleared away, so as to arrive at a poor negro girl, whose cries
we had distinctly heard. We released her and laid her down in the
street, but she fainted. Her left hand was dreadfully shattered. I was
giving what assistance I could, and the men were busy clearing away,
throwing on one side the beams and rafters, when an officer on horseback
rode up. He stood and asked me who we were. I told him that we belonged
to the brig, and had been wrecked; and that we were giving what
assistance we could until they were at leisure to send us to prison.

"You English are fine brave fellows," replied he, and he rode on.

Another unfortunate object had been recovered by our men, an old
white-headed negro, but he was too much mangled to live. We brought him
out, and were laying him beside the negro girl, when several officers on
horseback rode down the street. The one who was foremost, in a general's
uniform, I immediately recognized as my former friend, then Colonel
O'Brien. They all stopped and looked at us. I told who we were. General
O'Brien took off his hat to the sailors, and thanked them. He did not
recognize me, and he was passing on, when I said to him in English,
"General O'Brien, you have forgotten me, but I shall never forget your
kindness."

"My God!" said he, "is it you, my dear fellow?" and he sprang from his
horse and shook me warmly by the hand. "No wonder that I did not know
you; you are a very different person from little Peter Simple, who
dressed up as a girl and danced on stilts. But I have to thank you, and
so has Celeste for your kindness to her. I will not ask you to leave
your work of charity and kindness, but when you have done what you can,
come up to my house. Anyone will show it to you; and if you do not find
me you will find Celeste, as you must be aware cannot leave this
melancholy employment. God bless you!" He then rode off, followed by his
staff.

"Come, my lads," said I, "depend upon