The increase of London, within the last twenty years, is amazing. Hundreds of acres are now covered with buildings, which twenty years since were open fields; multitudes of streets and squares, displaying the utmost magnificence, are now seen, which a dozen years ago were not thought of. London now contains nearly two millions of people; they pay two millions of dollars a week for labor; use forty millions of gallons of water a day; devour two millions of sheep, ten millions of gallons of milk, four millions of herrings, four millions of mackerel, and two millions of lobsters, every year! What will London get to be, if it goes on a century more, increasing as it has done for the last few years? [Illustration: _London two hundred years ago._] Whale Stories. NO. I.――DESTRUCTION OF A VESSEL BY A WHALE. A remarkable story is related of the ship Essex, which belonged to Nantucket, an island lying off the coast of Massachusetts, long celebrated for the enterprise of its inhabitants, in the whale fishery. This vessel, commanded by Capt. Pollard, sailed from Nantucket in 1820, for the Pacific Ocean. On her arrival at the place of her destination, the crew began to fish for whales, and for a time went on prosperously. One day, the seamen harpooned a young whale. In this species of fish, the affection of the mother for her young is very strong; and, on this occasion, that affection was exhibited in a striking manner. Having discovered that her child――if we may so denominate it――was killed, she withdrew to some distance from the ship, and then, rushing through the water with great violence, drove furiously against the stern of the vessel. Such was the force of the shock, that several of the timbers were loosened, and the vessel pitched and reeled, as if struck by a whirlwind. Not satisfied with this exhibition of her displeasure, she retired again, to the distance perhaps of a mile, and then, shooting through the waves with incredible swiftness, came like a thunderbolt upon the bow of the vessel. The timbers were instantly beaten in, and the ship began to fill with water. Scarcely had the crew sufficient warning to throw themselves into the boat, before she went down. This transition, to the seamen, was as distressing as unexpected. Just before, they were all animation; but in a moment, as it were, a dark prospect spread before them. A wide, heaving and perilous ocean lay all around them. An open boat was their only hope, and hundreds of miles separated them from land. In such a situation, what could they do? For some time, they momently expected the return of their exasperated foe; and in such an event, the “dark unfathomed caves of ocean,” they were sure, would be their grave.