or repaired for sea; the fine old-fashioned ship, the Howe, 121 guns, being one of the latter.
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We hired the first boat that came alongside to take us to the landing-ship at Neyland; nor were we at all surprised to see a brawny woman with her great hat, forming, as we thought, the better half of the boat’s crew, for no women in the world pull a better oar or dredge more manfully for oysters than the Amazons of Milford Haven. She had come, however, on no such errand; and our luggage and ourselves, three in number, being snugly stowed away, we gave the order to push off, when our female friend stood up and refused to let the boat proceed, until she had received a deaf and dumb child on board, who she persisted had arrived with us in the steamer. This was stoutly denied from on board, no such passenger had embarked; none such was forthcoming. I now ordered the boatman to pull away, and he proceeded to obey; but the tall woman, still standing calmly, said, the boat should not stir. To our consternation the boatman, though pulling with all his might, could make no weigh whatever—the boat was immoveable. The superstition of the people, as to the magical power of cunning women, is great; and the man’s courage was evidently giving way. He probably remembered a similarly strange fact which undoubtedly occurred within a few yards of the same spot when a great launch was once about to take place. A resolute Welsh woman (supposed to be what in the North would be termed “no canny”) presented herself for admittance, as a spectator, in the best seats; but was, as a matter of course, having no order, refused an entrée. She coolly said, with a haughty sneer, “Then there shall be no launch to-day.” When the ship began to run down the slips, from some perfectly undiscoverable cause she came to a sudden and stubborn halt before she reached her new element. And sure enough there was no launch that day, nor for many a day afterwards. We were more fortunate; we found means to transfer our evil genius to another boat. I, at the same time, unshipped our rudder, which had no doubt got foul of some hidden rope, and we sped merrily on our way across the ferry, to the infinite relief of our valiant Charon, and were soon under the roof of that prince of Welsh inns which flanks, with its pretty grounds, the Neyland Railway Station.
THE ROUND TOWER AT JHANSI.—June 8, 1857.
A hundred, a thousand to one; even so;
Not a hope in the world remained;
The swarming, howling wretches below
Gained, and gained, and gained.
S look’d at his pale young wife:—
“Is the time come?”“The time is come.”
Young, strong, and so full of life;
The agony struck them dumb.
“Will it hurt much?”“No, mine own:
I wish I could bear the pang for both.”
“I wish I could bear the pang alone:
Courage, dear! I am not loth.”
Kiss and kiss: “It is not pain
Thus to kiss and die.
One kiss more.”“And yet one again.”
“Goodbye.”“Goodbye.”
