A piece of plate was presented to Captain
Cook, of the Cambria, by the officers and
passengers of the Kent, and the Duke of York
publicly thanked him for his humane zeal and
promptitude. The secretary of war (Lord
Palmerston) authorised a sum of five hundred
pounds to be given to the captain and crew of
the Cambria, and the agents of the ship were
also paid two hundred and eighty-seven pounds
for provisions, two hundred and eighty-seven
pounds for passengers' diet, and five hundred
pounds for demurrage. The East India
Company awarded six hundred pounds to Captain
Cook, one hundred pounds to the first mate, fifty
pounds to the second mate, ten pounds each to
the nine men of the crew, fifteen pounds each
to the twenty-six miners, and one hundred
pounds to the ten chief miners for extra stores,
to make their voyage out more comfortable.
The Royal Exchange Assurance gave Captain
Cook fifty pounds, and his officers and crew
fifty pounds. The subscribers to Lloyd's voted
him a present of one hundred pounds; the
Royal Humane Society awarded him an honorary
medallion; and the underwriters at Liverpool
were also prominent in their liberality.

So ended the last scene of a calamitous event,
attended with the loss of eighty-one persons.*

*  One woman, twenty-five children, one seaman,
and fifty-four soldiers.

A DANGEROUS HAND.

HAVE you ever been in Switzerland? No?
Then go to Thun, one of the drollest little towns
in the world, and one of the pleasantest. It stands
in a noble park — the valley of the Aar — and at
the extremity of an ornamental piece of water
designed by the very First of Landscape
Gardeners. The houses and the streets have entered
into a conspiracy with the mountains, with the
lake, the clouds, and the river, to fascinate and
detain the onward traveller, that he may leave a
little of his cash in the place. Every nook and
lane is a gem begging the photographer to come
and copy it; every opening is a scene, every
wide space a panorama.

The town of Thun itself, small yet varied, quaint
yet pretty, is one of the most original habitations
of men. The balconies, the arched projecting
roofs, and the pointed turrets, run each other
hard in their rivalry for the prize of attractive
coquetry.

It was at this same Thun that I first caught
sight of her. Now, happily, I have the right to
say her. You have seen, at some theatre, a lovely
fairy, in a pork-pie hat, step out suddenly from
behind the wings, charming all the male beholders
ranging between the ages of fourteen and four-
score. That morning, the drying-ground, a little
below the market-place, was full of sheets—
twenty times more than would be required to
serve as screens for a Private Theatricals.
Behind them, I heard a silver voice which said,
" This way, papa! I am sure this is the way
to the Freienhof."

And then there came forth from behind the
white curtain a vision which made me forget
everything else. I had of course seen pretty
girls before, but I had never yet seen my pretty
girl. It was not the fair, clear complexion, nor
the flaxen hair, nor the coral lips, which shot the
dart; but it was the bright, spontaneous way in
which those hazel eyes met mine; the
extraordinary quickness with which. we exchanged a
glance; the slight blush and the gentle smile
which followed as her eyes dropped immediately
afterwards; and the involuntary halt, as if one
had something important to say and the other
expected something important to be said. As
for papa, I don't think I saw him at all that
time. You have heard of love at first sight?
That is just what it was.

They went their way, through the tiny market, i
nto the street; and I think I remember that she
walked very slowly, as if she would have been
glad to sit down and rest. I was nailed to the
spot, looking after her until she was out of sight.
Of one thing only was I thoroughly conscious.
I had seen my wife, if ever I was to have a wife.
That face, that figure, and that voice, had a rent in
the clouds of futurity through whose long
perspective a secret presentiment showed me my
future. Talk of your magic mirrors, your
enchanted crystals! Talk of distant events revealed
in drops of ink! There is no magic like a
sympathetic glance.

The way to the Freienhof! It was the very
hotel I was staying at. But the direction they
took was not the way to the Freienhof. Were
they going for a stroll of discovery, or had they
merely mistaken their way? Time would show.
Saith the proverb, "Everything comes to him
who can wait." I could wait; and did wait
where I was.

While wondering at, though perfectly
understanding, the novel ferment which then was
working within me, my field of view was crossed
by a solitary individual who was proceeding
onward with uncertain steps. His make-up was
fashionable, though perhaps a little seedy; but
that tells for nothing on a continental trip. His
black hair might be a little too ringletty;
his whiskers a little too Dundrearyish. His
hat had contours and lines of beauty in its
rim more suited to Rotten Row than to searches
after the picturesque. He made you doubt
whether he were a very gentlemanly man indeed,
or not a gentleman at all. You must have seen
him on some race-course, or somebody
excessively like him. The face looked a little tired
and worn; but it bravely carried the cast-iron
smile which is peculiar to opera-dancers and
people of the world obliged to play the part of
universal amiables.

"I beg your pardon, sir," he said, perceiving
me. " I really beg ten thousand pardons; but
would you do me the very great favour to tell
me the way to the Freienhof ?" He italicised