From Castro the English officers were taken to Santiago, the capital of Chili, where a Spanish officer generously cashed their drafts on the English consul at Lisbon. They received the sum of six hundred dollars, with which sum they purchased suitable equipments. They remained at Castro two years on parole, and eventually reached France, and thence escaped to England, after a series of hardships and adventures such as have rarely been equalled, and which were "protracted above five years." The adventures of the eighty men who had left Wager Island in the long-boat were little less terrible. Many perished of starvation, and those who had money or valuables offered unheard-of prices for a little food. "On Sunday, the 15th of November," for example, "flour was valued at twelve shillings a pound, but before night it rose to a guinea." There was a boy on board, aged twelve years, son of a Lieutenant Capell, who had died on the island. His father had given twenty guineas, a watch, and a silver cross to one of the crew to take care of for the poor boy, who wanted to sell the cross for flour. His guardian told him it would buy clothes for him in the Brazils, whither they were bound. "Sir," cried the poor boy, "I shall never live to see the Brazils; I am starving. Therefore, for God's sake, give me my silver cross." But his prayers were vain. "Those who have not experienced such hardships," observes the narrator of this scene, "will wonder how people can be so inhuman.... But Hunger is void of compassion." Of the eighty men only thirty survived to reach England by way of Valparaiso. [Illustration] THE LITTLE PATIENT. Five of us farmer's children, and one from a city street Who never in all his lifetime knew that the roses were sweet; And he's come to us pale and frightened, but he'll soon grow plump and strong, So, Rover, old fellow, you hear me: just gallop and gallop along, And carry this poor little patient--for that's what he is, they say-- Down where the willows are gazing into the brook all day. And go like the wind, dear Rover, you shall rest when the work is done And we'll give you part of our dinner, and more than half of the fun. Mother was ever so happy when father came up the road Bringing this boy for a visit; he wasn't much of a load. And we'll feed him on cream and biscuits, and give him the best of care, A bed that is soft as clover, and the very freshest of air. But, Rover, all that would be nothing--I see that you're looking wise, And shaking your shaggy coat, dear, and laughing out of your eyes-- Nothing, unless we loved him, and gave him plenty of play So hurrah for our little patient, and, Rover, scamper away. A FOURTH-OF-JULY WARNING. BY AN OLD BOY. I remember the accident well enough, though it happened nearly forty years ago.