An event now occurred in the family of Elizabeth Cullingham, of the deepest interest and importance. This was the death of her Father. On Monday, Jan. 8, 1838, about two o’clock in the afternoon, a foreign ship came in sight, and hoisted a flag for a Pilot. She was about ten miles from the shore, but although the weather was threatening, and the evening approaching, it seemed practicable to reach the ship; and as it was suspected, that others might be in the offing, which would likewise require assistance, two Pilots put off, with thirteen men in one yawl, and one Pilot with twenty-one in another. The dangers which might have terrified ordinary men, did not prevent these brave seamen from encountering the perils which threatened them in the way of duty. It was a maxim of James Cullingham, that he ought, in his duty as a Pilot, to fear no danger, and that whenever others would take him, he should go. The yawls carried their mainsails at first, and expected to reach their object. But the vessel, instead of keeping its first course towards the boats, when they were five or six miles from the shore, stood out to sea. The yawls therefore, in their effort to reach the ship, were carried far from land,—and daylight drew to a close before the men were aware of their situation. The wind meantime arose, and the snow drifted heavily. The greatest anxiety was soon felt by all on shore. The scene which presents itself on these occasions, may be conceived, but not described. Fathers, Mothers, Wives, Sisters, Brothers, and Children, are seen intently watching every change in the sky and waves, eagerly gazing upon the distance to catch a glimpse of the absent objects of their love: grasping every phantom of hope which may present itself; but at length—convinced by some undoubted sign, that they must hope no more.—Many are the vows which are then made; many are the prayers which are then offered. The watching and suspense, however, were in this case, soon at an end. At seven o’clock one of the yawls through great danger, reached the shore, and this left no doubt as to the loss of the other, in which was James Cullingham, and another Pilot. It is supposed this yawl, the ‘Peace,’ in endeavouring to get into the gat-way, had missed the light, it being thick with snow, that she got into broken water, and had gone down. But none were left to tell the tale of woe. The boat itself, sometime afterwards, was washed on shore, a complete wreck. Very few of the bodies were recovered: but amongst the number, that of James Cullingham was found, very remarkably, eight months afterwards. Twelve widows and thirty two children, were in consequence of this disaster, left destitute. This was, indeed, a night of agony, to numbers on shore. Still the possibility of escape presented itself to their minds, but it was hoping against hope. Yet was every one afraid of acknowledging to the chief mourners, what in their own minds was their fixed opinion, that