launches, and rescued some of the crews of
the burning vessels. An hour later two
more of the Spanish ships blew up, and our
boats being in danger then had to return,
having bravely rescued three hundred and
fifty-seven Spaniards, who were at first
afraid to surrender to us. Many of the
prisoners were dreadfully wounded. The
enemy lost about two thousand men, including
prisoners. The English, after all these
storms of fire, which they returned with
eight thousand three hundred rounds, lost
only thirteen men and sixty-eight wounded.
Pleased with his red-hot shot, the governor
after this erected kilns in various parts of
the garrison, which were large enough to
heat one hundred balls in an hour and a
quarter. Before this the "roast potatoes"
were cooked in movable grates, or in
bonfires at the corners of old houses near the
batteries. The enemy now fired about five
hundred shells and six hundred shot in the
twenty-four hours.

In October news came that Lord Howe
was at hand with thirty-four sail of the
line and a reinforcement of sixteen
hundred men for the garrison; but he failed to
get in, and was followed by the Spanish
fleet, which he considerably punished.
The enemy after this did but little more
mischief, except now and then with the
gunboats.

On the 2nd of February, 1783, the Due
de Crillon informed the governor that peace
had at last been signed between Great
Britain, France, and Spain. The Spaniards who
brought the news cried out in a transport
of joy, "We are all friends!" When the
Due de Crillon came to see Gib, and was
shown over the Rock galleries and covered
batteries, he exclaimed, "These works are
worthy of the Romans!"

On the 23rd of April, St. George's Day,
the sturdy old governor (whom Reynolds
afterwards painted grasping the large keys
of Gibraltar) was invested with the Order
of the Bath, in a colonnade erected on the
rampart of the King's Bastion. He was at
once raised to the peerage as Lord
Heathfield; and he died soon after of paralysis
at Aix-la-Chapelle.

Thus ended this stubborn siege of three
years seven months and twelve days. It
will hardly be believed that after firing
two hundred and fifty-eight thousand three
hundred and eighty-seven shot and shell,
the Spaniards only killed three hundred
and thirty- three of our men, and disabled
one hundred and thirty-eight. Poor Paris
may take some small comfort from this fact,
which seems to prove that bombardments
(at least of old) frightened more than they
hurt.

CONFESSIONS OF A DREAMER.

I NEVER attained the condition of that
strange man, described by Lord Lytton,
in his Pilgrims of the Rhine, who so
connected his successive dreams, that they
formed one continuous life, to him more
valuable than the life of his waking hours,
the fragments of which appeared to be so
many unwelcome interruptions; but I have
a notion that my own dreams are not quite
as those of other people. I do not profess
a shadow of belief in the prophetic value
of our nocturnal visions, but to me mine
are very important, inasmuch as they
occupy a large portion of my time. I cannot
say with Hamlet, "to sleep, perchance to
dream," for with me there is no chance in
the matter. Sleeping without dreaming is
to me a thing unknown.

One of the peculiarities of my dreams is,
that I am never absorbed in them entirely. I
never lose the conviction that I am dreaming,
and whatever visionary troubles befal
me, I know that they will come to a speedy
end— a comfortable assurance, since my
dreams are almost invariably bad. If I am
hotly pursued by a wild beast or an
irresistible foe, I throw myself, as I suppose,
on the ground, and covering my face with
my hands, by a violent action of the will,
force myself into wakefulness.

I will give a curious instance of my
peculiarity in this respect. In the course
of one of my dreams, I was brought as a
captive into the presence of some Algerian
despot, who sat on a throne, with a
numerous body of soldiers on each side of
him, and who menaced me with horrible
tortures. I listened patiently, and when
his discourse was ended, I said with perfect
calmness:

"This is very well now; but you are
perfectly aware, that when I open my
eyes, you and your soldiers will all go to
the——"

Evidently the nail had been hit on the
head. The soldiers nudged each other, and
uneasily exchanged significant winks,
indicating that I had discovered the secret
of their nothingness. The sultan or dey
(whichever he was) looked crestfallen, but
put on as good a face as he could, and said,
with evident reluctance:

"Well, you may go."