d them through the remainder of their earthly
career.

[Illustration: SOUTH PORT.

_Drawn by G. Pickering. Engraved by Edw^d Finden._]

THE PHANTOM VOICE.

"He heerde a sunde but noughte he zee.
No touche upon his fleshe ther came;
Bot a swedderin witide smote heavilee,
And heavilee brenn'd the fleckerin' flame."

_--Old Ballad_.

The following tradition, like some of the preceding legends, has been
found, under various modifications and disguises, connected with local
scenery, and attaching itself in the mind of the hearer to well-known
places and situations with which he may have been familiar.

Southport, a bathing-place of great resort on the Lancashire coast, has
been pointed out as the scene of the following tragedy, which probably
occurred long before its salubrity and convenience for sea-bathing had
rendered this barren tract of sand the site of a populous and thriving
hamlet. From the mildness and congeniality of the air to persons of weak
and relaxed habits, it has been not inaptly termed, "The Montpelier of
England."

"But the coast is probably as dangerous for shipping as any round the
kingdom. The sandbanks extend in a north-westerly direction for at least
six miles, so as to render the navigation extremely difficult even to
the natives, and impracticable for strangers. Hence shipwrecks are very
frequent;" and "in a coming tide, accompanied by a strong westerly wind,
it is almost impossible for boats to put off or to live in the sea."

"It not unfrequently happens that these accidents occur in the
night-time, in very hazy weather, or at ebb tide. In the latter case it
is necessary for boats to be taken in carts over the sands down to
low-water mark, before any assistance can be attempted.

"If the captain of the vessel be obstinate, and trust to his own skill,
he increases the danger. When the crews of the vessels take to their own
boats, and disobey the directions of the Southport pilots, their
jeopardy is tenfold greater, and their loss almost inevitable."[48]

Nearly one hundred vessels have been wrecked on this coast within the
last thirty years, and more than half of them totally lost. Of these
calamities the particulars are upon record. Which of them may have given
rise to the events here detailed we have no means of ascertaining.

It was at the close of a bright and memorable evening in October that I
had carelessly flung the reins upon the neck of my horse,