In one of the most characteristic festivals which still remain to Venice, the festa of the Redentore, this is done by the whole city. It is in July, in the bathing season, when there are but few visitors, except those who are native Italians. Then every gondola, barca, big hulk that can be rowed and will float, is called into service, and small and great pour forth. It is in celebration of the staying of the great plague in 1576, to commemorate which was built the church of the Redentore on the Giudecca Canal, Palladio's grand dome, which the visitor to Venice will recollect chiefly as affording a shrine to some of Gian Bellini's most lovely Madonnas. The endless stream of boats pour forth with music and all kinds of decorations, green boughs and flowers, each with its joyous company. Their course is to the Lido, the same route which in other days was taken by the Doge on his way to wed the Adriatic. The city is left silent behind, all shining like a

city made of light, in the custody of the old and feeble. Any sudden party of travellers arriving at this moment, might wander through the water-streets without encountering anything but a black barge, moored here and there by the door - posts. Venice is all abroad, feasting, singing, in full enjoyment of the moonlight and intoxication of the night. And there Venice remains, until-bel divertimento! loveliest of all sights, the sun rises up over Torcello, glorious like a bridegroom from his chamber, shedding colour and radiance such as no mortal pigments have ever learned to copy, upon the dazzling miles of the sea. Should an old Dandolo or Mocenigo return to the scene of his sovereignty on one of these July nights, it might seem to him, with a little less grandeur, gilding, and magnificence, his own Venice, triumphant as of old, all the more beautiful for a presence which might puzzle the ancient hero, the fair, noble, and beloved figure of a beautiful young queen.

ONCE upon a time (and not so very long ago) the inhabitants of Great Angle, a seaport town in one of those islands in the West where the institutions are different from ours, and where the King of the Red-cotton ribbon holds firm but gentle sway,—the inhabitants, I say, of Great Angle were destined to be the witnesses of a scene to which they never can allude but with glowing cheeks and accents trembling with the emotion which the mere recollection of it arouses in their breasts.

My information is derived from one who was an eyewitness, and who took an active part in that memorable event.

It was late on a cloudy afternoon in the beginning of May 188-. The sun was shining brightly over the busy streets and crowded wharfs of the town; but there were white horses out at sea, and those who were not too busy to notice it, observed that a heavy bank of clouds was coming up from the south. Behind one side of the town was a high range of cliffs, and the promontory on which the older part of it was situated formed a natural breakwater, which, prolonged and strengthened by a magnificent pier, formed one side of the finest harbour along the whole of that coast.

The mouth of it was narrow, however, owing to the cliffs, which, receding for some distance from the sea, and leaving a low strip of land on which the modern town had sprung up, suddenly jutted forth again opposite to Dallying Point, as the promontory was called. The entrance was difficult in consequence; but once within, no better anchorage could be found

for hundreds of miles, and ships of all nations might here be seen lading and unlading their merchandise, steamers bound for every part of the world panting out their volumes of smoke, and smaller craft scudding hither and thither like May-flies over a pond.

But while I am describing the scene the clouds have not been still; they have spread all over the south side of the horizon. A few heavy drops of rain fall slowly and at long intervals; but the storm is still a long way off, and though you can see the lightning, it is only by listening attentively that you can hear the low distant rumble of thunder.

A group of fishermen were standing on one of the quays, lazily watching a ship coaling, and making desultory remarks to each other.

"It will be a dirty night, I'm thinking," said one, looking up at the sky and twisting a straw in his mouth.

"Ay," said another, "we'd best go and see after them boats; come along, lads," and he walked off, slowly followed by the others.

They went down a dingy street or two, crossed the promontory, and soon found themselves on the beach at the foot of the cliffs, where the fishing-boats were lying. As they emerged from the shelter of the houses a sudden gust of wind staggered them for a moment, and they hurried their pace, one merely remarking, "I thought as much."

They accomplished their work of drawing the boats up higher, and by the time they had done so, a number of other fishermen had assembled for the same purpose. The wind was rising in short sharp gusts, the sea had an angry restless look, and the clouds were scud

ding across the sky overhead, while a dark lurid glow spread over the distant horizon.

Up on the cliff the figures of a man and a boy might be seen, the former with glasses in his hand looking out to sea. "Hulloa!" he exclaimed, "there's a ship showing signs of distress; I wonder what's the matter."

"Ask the sailor, father," said the boy-"I see one coming up the steps;" and as he spoke a fisherman's imperturbable countenance came into view as he ascended the steps which led from the beach to the top of the cliff.

"What do you make of that?" said the first speaker, handing the glasses to the sailor. He looked through them attentively, and gave them back. "Well, sir, I can't exactly say; but if she can hold on a bit, she'll be in port soon. She seems very low in the water, though, and must have a heavy cargo."

"I wonder if the lifeboat is all ready, father," said the boy; "I don't think they ought to lose time, for the storm is getting worse."

"The lifeboat is under repair, sir, but it's only a matter of an hour or so, and ought to have been done long ago; but you see it's an expensive job, and them as they take orders from don't like to ask for more money just now."

"Listen, father-didn't you hear a gun?" They listened, and sure enough, in the intervals of the gusts of wind, a minute-gun could be distinctly heard. "Father, do let's go down to the quay and see what they are going to do," said the boy, excitedly.

"Ah, they have signalled from the pier to the station up there," said the sailor. "That's where the Board sits."

"What Board?” asked the boy. "Why, them as settles all the

business of the port, and when the lifeboat is to go out, and how many men are to go with it. I don't rightly understand all they do, but it's something of that, and the look-out man on the pier has to report to them all he sees, like. The head man at the Board just now is an awful clever chap, I'm told; but he thinks too much about the inside of the port, and not enough of what's outside."

"What's his name?"

'Sagewill is his name; but they sometimes calls him Self - Will. He's got round the people somehow, and can do as he likes with most of them; but I don't know

I don't know," and he shook his head. "Then there's the one below him; he's a civil-spoken gentleman, who does just what Self-Will tells him-only, when he gives a fellow a blow in the face, as he does sometimes (I mean a figurative blow, like), he wraps it up that civil that you almost think he's given you a kiss. Those are the two who have most to do with the shipping, especially the foreign ships. Grantham is the name of the civil-spoken gentleman, but for short, he's mostly called Grandam. If you look, you'll see them answer the signal from the pier."

"What did they signal last?" asked the boy.

"Ship in distress' they ran up. There now, they have answered from the Cabin; that's how we call the house where the Board sits."

"What did they say?"
"All right."

"All right? Nothing more?" "No; what should they say?" They continued to watch the progress of the ship as it got nearer and more visible to the naked eye. "It's a foreigner,” said the sailor. "She looks like one of them

Egyptian boats. I reckon it'll be "The Arab City" as was here last summer. They don't seem to have much sense on board, for they are making straight for Hopeless Reef."

"Which is Hopeless Reef?" said the boy.

"See there, where the sea curdles and dashes up-that's Hopeless Reef; and no ship that ever struck on that ever got off. There's a whole row of them rocks, and only fishing-boats can get out at high tide, and them that knows the channel well. Why, she ought to make a long tack, and come round by Dallying Point, if she wants to get safe in. By Jove! she shipped a heavy sea then; but look, they are hoisting the signal again."

Twilight was coming on fast, and objects were becoming less distinct. He steadied himself against the side of a wall, for the wind was rising to a perfect hurricane, and standing still was becoming difficult.

"Want help-shall we order out lifeboat?" A long pause, while scores of eager eyes were fixed on the signal station above the Cabin; for by this time a crowd of fishermen, sailors, coast-guardsmen, women, and children had begun to assemble round the spot where a few minutes before the three were standing alone. At last it ran up. "Keep us informed as to progress," that was all. A murmur of impatience ran through the crowd, who every moment that the apparently doomed ship came nearer, vented their displeasure in no measured terms.

"That cursed Board is no better than a rotten plank."

"Oh, how fearfully she rolls!" cried the boy.

"Why on earth don't they send out the lifeboat?" cried another. "Every soul will be lost if they

don't make haste. Look, the signal again!"

"Shall we send lifeboat? Danger imminent."

Answer, "No - no occasion; trust she will round the Point. Keep us informed."

"That Self-Will and old Grandam between them will wreck that ship, as sure as I'm a living man," muttered a sailor to himself.

"Father, do go and see if you can't tell the Board in the Cabin how great the danger is. They can't know," said the boy.

"Bless you, they know quite well," said an old coast-guardsman; "but they are so full of that blessed scheme of theirs for dredging the harbour, which nobody wants and nobody cares for, that they won't give a thought to anything outside, though the lives and properties of hundreds may be at stake."

Another signal. They are flashing with lights now, for it is growing dark. This time it comes from the Cabin.

"Signal to ship to keep out to sea; she may injure the pier if she runs foul of it."

Answer back, "Earnest entreaty to send lifeboat, or telegraph for help from nearest port."

"Will give your request our careful consideration," from the Cabin.

During this signalling and counter-signalling the ship came labouring on, ever getting nearer and nearer the Hopeless Reef, now reeling on one side, then plunging head-foremost into the sea, then rising anew, as if to take breath before plunging again. You could fancy you could hear her creaking and groaning, struggling to right herself, then staggering as a heavy sea struck her broadside on. For a moment she would seem to rise, as it were, on the crest of the

wave, and remain for a second ominously motionless, only to dive again more deeply than ever into the surging, roaring waves.

"Can you see any one on board?" roared a sailor to the coast-guardsman who, under the lee of a house, was trying to look through a glass. "Yes; a number, I think. Look you through it.” He took the glass and raised it to his eyes.

"By Jove! she'll be gone in half an hour at this rate. I say, lads,' he shouted, as well as the roaring of the wind would allow him, "let's go down to the beach. She'll be on Hopeless Reef in ten minutes."

"Ay, ay," they answered. "Come lads, down with you; " and now running, now stopping to breathe, and then struggling on, the crowd of men and boys tumbled rather than ran down the steps, on to the beach below. Hardly had they reached it, when a sudden exclamation burst from all the men at once. "She's driving at it like a mad bull," they cried.

"No; she's keeping out."

"My God! it's all up with her," -and a silence more expressive than words fell on all, as, rushing headlong to destruction, the struggling, straining, maddened ship tore on as if all the furies were driving her. Then, even at the distance from which they stood, a crash as of a house falling fell on their ears, and a scream rose above the shrieking of the wind, as she drove straight on Hopeless Reef with a violence that made her recoil and strike it again with renewed fury."

The excitement of the spectators had risen to fever-pitch, and they had no time to observe that a signal had gone up from the Cabin. It said, "We are sending Bayard with a rope; try rockets."

"Have done so, but they don't understand how to use them."

But at this moment a movement was seen on the outskirts of the crowd; and a slightly built, determined-looking man walked quietly forward and said

Tie this rope round me, will you? I am going to swim to the ship if I can. If I can't, it's all up; but I'll try."

A shout of "Bayard! Bayard!" ran from mouth to mouth. 66 "He'll save them if any one can, but it's an awful risk."

"Who is he?" asked the boy.

"He's a right good fellow, and a tip-top swimmer; but he'll need all his swimming to-night," said an old sailor, shaking his head.

"He saved my boy when he was drowning," cried a woman in the crowd; "bless him!"

"Ay, and he brought that old Chinaman ashore when nobody else cared what became of him," cried another.

"He'll never do it," said a third; "he's going to his grave.”

Meantime he had come to the edge of the water and was fastening on a life-belt, while several others were surrounding him and bidding him God-speed.

"Here, give me my own belt," he said, as one of them was taking it from him and handing him a larger one. "It has never failed me yet; it's made made by Faith, Loyalty, & Co., and I know their work well." He fastened it round him and walked into the water.