But disaster seemed indeed to crown disaster, when it was rumoured that the _London_--one of Messrs. Wigram’s finest vessels, laden with a valuable cargo, and having, it was first said, more than 300 souls on board--had foundered in the Bay of Biscay, and that not a soul had escaped. At first, many positively refused to credit the intelligence that the noble vessel, which had only a few days left our shores, had succumbed to the fury of the gale, and gone down a wreck. It seemed impossible. Relatives and friends were loth to receive the terrible truth that they had taken a last farewell of many, the grasp of whose hand they still felt warm within their own, and whose last words of love and friendship were still ringing in their ears. All were slow to admit that there was no hope, and there was a general clinging to the expectation that there had been some mistake. The _London_ might, perhaps, have been injured by the tempest, and compelled to put back to port; but that she could have foundered, or even if this calamity had occurred, that her crew and passengers had been unable to effect their escape--this indeed seemed almost beyond belief! Too soon, however, the newspapers brought the sad and affecting story before the eyes of all, and never did story of shipwreck, however thrilling, excite a grief more sincere and wide-spread. It needed no artistic craft to make the story tell, and to take it straight home to the hearts of unnumbered thousands. “This awful wreck,” said Mr. O’Dowd in commencing the inquiry directed by the Board of Trade, “has been the theme of many a pen, and the topic of many a conversation since its occurrence has been made known. Though the sympathies of our hearts ought to recognise no grades of social position, nor any distinction of education and intellect, we yet must feel the pang embittered by the loss of some of the passengers, with whose names, accomplishments, and virtues the public are now painfully familiar.”