occasion by their own coachmen and footmen.
From hissing they proceeded to break
the lamps and outside windows. They then
extinguished their flambeaux and pelted the
company with brickbats. Swords were drawn;
in the scuffle one servant was run through
the thigh, another through the arm, and many
others were wounded. Four were seized
and being carried before the justices, one was
committed to Newgate, one discharged by his
master and bound to good behaviour, one set
at liberty on his asking pardon and promising
to discover his accomplices, and one
discharged,—no person appearing against him.

I long to see Ephraim's face when he reads
this paper.

THE LESSON OF THE WAR.

THE feast is spread through England
   For rich and poor to-day;
Greetings and laughter may be there,
   But thoughts are far away,
Over the stormy ocean,
   Over the dreary track,
Where some are gone whom England
   Will never welcome back.

Breathless she waits, and listens
   For every eastern breeze
That bears upon its bloody wings
   News from beyond the seas.
The leafless branches stirring
   Make many a watcher start,
The distant tramp of steed may send
   A throb from heart to heart.

The rulers of the nation,
   The poor ones at their gate,
With the same eager wonder
  The same great news await!
The poor man's stay and comfort,
   The rich man's joy and pride,
Upon the bleak Crimean shore
   Are fighting side by side.

The bullet comes—and either
   A desolate hearth may see;
And God alone to-night knows where
   The vacant place may be!
The dread that stirs the peasant
   Thrills nobles' hearts with fear,—
Yet above selfish sorrow
   Both hold their country dear.

The rich man who reposes
   In his ancestral shade,
The peasant at his ploughshare,
   The worker at his trade,
Each one his all has perilled,
   Each has the same great stake,
Each soul can but have patience,
   Each heart can only break!

Hushed is all party clamour;
   One thought in every heart,
One dread in every household,
   Has bid such strife depart.
England has called her children,
   Long silent—the word came
That lit the smouldering ashes
   Through all the land to flame.

O you who toil and suffer,
   You gladly heard the call;
But those you sometimes envy
   Have they not given their all?

O you who rule the nation,
   Take now the toil-worn hand,—
Brothers you are in sorrow
   In duty to your land.
Learn but this noble lesson
   Ere Peace returns again,
And the lifeblood of Old England
   Will not be shed in vain!

SIR JOHN FRANKLIN AND HIS
CREWS.

IN order that our readers, at a future time,
when the Esquimaux stories shall have been
further tested, may be in possession of them
as originally brought home, we have
procured from DR. RAE a faithful copy of his
Report for publication. We do not feel
justified in omitting or condensing any part
of it; believing, as we do, that it is a very
unsatisfactory document on which to found
such strong conclusions as it takes for granted.
The preoccupation of the public mind has
dismissed this subject easily for the present;
but, we assume its great interest, and the
serious doubts we hold of its having been
convincingly set at rest, to be absolutely
certain to revive.

York Factory, Hudson's Bay, 1st Sept., 1854.

I have the honour to report, for the
information of the Governor, Deputy
Governor, and Committee, that I arrived here
yesterday with my party, all in good health;
but, from causes which will be explained
hereafter, without having effected the object
of the expedition. At the same time
information has been obtained, and articles
purchased from the natives, which prove
beyond a doubt that a portion, if not all, of
the survivors of the long lost and unfortunate
party under Sir John Franklin had met with.
a fate as melancholy and dreadful as it is
possible to imagine.

By a letter dated Chesterfield Inlet,
ninth of August, eighteen hundred and fifty-
three, you are in possession of my proceedings
up to that time. Late on the evening of
that day we parted company with our small
consort, she steering down to the southward,
whilst we took the opposite direction to
Repulse Bay.

Light and variable winds sadly retarded
our advance northward; but by anchoring
during the flood, and sailing or rowing with
the tide, we gained some ground daily. On
the eleventh we met with upwards of three
hundred walrus, lying on a rock a few miles
off shore. They were not at all shy, and
several were mortally wounded, but one only
(an immensely large fellow) was shot dead
by myself. The greater part of the fat was
cut off and taken on board, which supplied
us abundantly with oil for our lamps all winter.

On the forenoon of the fourteenth, having
a fair wind, we rounded Cape Horn, and ran
up Repulse Bay; but as the weather was