Witnesses—William Taylor, George Horsefield.

Twenty-eighth.—MISS ELLGARD.* (1837.)

This young woman, who, there is reason to suspect, was a similar character to Mrs. Webster, fell from McDonald's wharf, into Toronto Bay, America. I had in charge at this time a vessel belonging to Mr. Garsides, and when walking down to the wharf, one cold night, in the month of October, I heard a heavy splash in the water, and the next moment a loud scream. I ran to the place and saw this woman struggling in the water. She was very difficult to get at, but at last I caught hold of her, and soon landed her on the wharf. A man was waiting to receive her, and they instantly walked off. A few days after, however, she called at Mr. Baker's, 'Black Swan' Inn and asked for me, and on going to the door she told me that I had saved her life, and that she was twenty-nine years of age. Now there had been some strange reports about her and the man who met her; indeed it was commonly believed, in Toronto, that he had pushed her overboard. But she said, 'The report is false. I fell overboard.' She thanked me very kindly; I urged her to tell me her name, which she did, after I had promised not to tell anyone; this made me suspect that there was something wrong in connection with her being overboard. She urged me to accept some money, but I would not for I am sure her gratitude amply satisfied me for what I had done for her. Witnesses—Thomas Thomas, John Baker.

Twenty-ninth.—JANE GOUGH.* (1843.)

When seven years old, she fell into Hessle harbour; her mother gave the alarm, and in a few moments I was in the water and saved her. I remember but little about this case, but the girl's father often says, when referring to myself, 'That man saved my child's life twice, and the second time was as good as the the first.' I will explain the second case. Miss Gough, many years after her deliverance, married Mr. Shaw, a captain, and together they have brought up a family of children, in respectable circumstances. Mrs. Shaw knew me well, but I had not seen her for many years, when this strange event took place:—I was captain of the Dock Company's steamer, and on going one dark night into the Victoria Dock, I found a deep timber-laden vessel, with her stem upon the bank and her stern in the channel, and she was rapidly filling with water. I at once went to her assistance, and having fastened a strong rope to her, and then to my packet, I tried, first in one way and then in another, to pull her off, but she seemed immoveable; and I began to fear I should not accomplish my object. But I always believed in that little catch,

and we did try again; and after trying many ways but in vain, we put the tow-rope on board, and running our packet at full speed, off the vessel came. All this time there was no person on board except the captain's wife and her children. So I put them ashore, and went on board the vessel myself, and let go the anchor. Now, I did not know who the woman was until she offered me a sum of money, for what I had done. I told her I did not want aught, and that she was heartily welcome to the timely service I had rendered her. She then said—and I shall never forget it—'Mr. Ellerthorpe, you don't seem to know who I am?' I said, 'No, I don't;' when, to my surprise, she answered, 'I am that little girl, Jane Gough, whom you saved from drowning in Hessle harbour.' My feelings were indescribably pleasant and joyous. Witnesses—Jane Shaw, John Gough.

Thirtieth.—WILLIAM TURNER. (1844.)

This deliverance took place one dark night, when we were rounding Flambro Head, and while a strong wind was blowing and a heavy sea rolling. Turner, while doing something at the main sheet, fell over the vessel's side. I caught him, and got him on board, with a quickness that has always surprised me. Mr. Turner, who is at present foreman of the Humber Dock Company, Wharfage department, thus writes:—'I am one of the persons whom Mr. Ellerthorpe has saved from a watery grave. In the year 1844, and during a voyage from Scarborough to Hull, in the yacht, "Gossamer," I fell overboard while crossing Burlington Bay. He sprang to my assistance and saved me, otherwise I should have been drowned. I remember also, when coming over the Humber Dock Bridge, one night, about nine o'clock, I saw an old lady fall from a height of about twenty feet, into the lock-pit. Soon after I heard a tremendous splash, and to my surprise, I found it was "Our Hero," who had plunged his carcase into the lock to rescue the old lady from her perilous position, which he did manfully. I also saw him rescue John Eaby. In the great and terrible struggle which took place in the water, Mr. Ellerthorpe bore up with the greatest coolness imaginable, although at a great risk of losing his life.—William Turner.'

Thirty-first.—JOHN ELLERTHORPE. (1846.)

He was my son, and first-born child. Mr. G. Lee, the gentleman who first gave me employment in connection with the Hull Dock Company, had engaged me to teach his son the art of swimming. We went to the Stone Ferry Baths, for that purpose, and wishful that my own sons should learn this invaluable art, I took John with us. When we got to the baths, I found the water was too warm to bathe in, so Mr. Lee and myself went into one of the adjoining rooms and had a long conversation about swimming, while the two boys were left behind. At length I went to test the temperature of the water, it was remarkably clear, and, to my horror, I saw my son prostrate at the bottom of the bath! My feelings can be better imagined than described. Instantly, and without either throwing off a single garment or putting my watch from my pocket, I plunged into the bath and brought him up. He was full of water, and frothed at the mouth, and was very ill for a long time after. Witness—Mr. G. B. Lee, Jun.

Thirty-second.—THOMAS ROBINSON.* (1846.)

He belonged to a schooner, lying in the Junction Dock, Hull. I was walking near the dock, when I saw a great many people running from every direction, and was soon told that a man had fallen overboard. I ran to the spot, and for some time I could not ascertain the nature of the case. At length the captain of the schooner, said, 'He went down close to the vessel, and has been seen twice.' Instantly I dived to the bottom of the dock, but could not see him. I swam to and fro for some time, and at last saw him under the vessel; he seemed quite dead, but I seized him and brought him up. They were busy with the grappling irons, but as he was under the vessel, the probability is he would never have been got out of the water alive. I went home and got some dry clothes on, and when I returned and inquired how he was, I was told he rapidly recovered. I have never seen this young man, or heard a word of him from that day to the present. He was a sailor, and may have been in Hull since then, but if he has, he never made himself known to me. Witnesses—John Moody, John Kidd.

Thirty-third.—WATSON.* (1846.)

While going on the Humber bank, to Hessle, I passed some youths who were bathing, but took little or no notice of them until I had got about 300 yards past them, when I saw some men running from a field close by, and heard a youth call out, 'A boy is drowning.' I ran back, and swam to the lad, and soon brought him out and laid him on the bank. I drank a glass of grog and smoked a pipe, and then returned to Hull, for a change of raiment. I caught a severe cold on this occasion, for I had got half way to Hessle when I saved this boy, and had on my wet clothes for nearly three hours. I have never, that I am aware of, seen that boy since. Nor am I quite certain about his name; some one said they called him Watson; but a man who saw me save him told me he would let me know the boy's right name, but he never did. Somebody disputed my saving the lad, so I got a paper signed by a man who witnessed the whole affair, and whose name was Johnson. Witness—Mr. Johnson.

Thirty-fourth.—SAMUEL DAVIS. (Nov. 6, 1850.)

He was employed on board a 'mud tug' that was used for removing mud from Hull Harbour into the Humber. I saw this tug in a sinking state, and called out to the men to escape from her at once. All left her and got into a boat, except Davis; he was rather lame, but had time enough to make his escape as well as the rest. The men had not left the 'tug' more than five minutes, when she capsized, and Davis was thrown into the water. I was on board a 'tow boat' at the time, and between the drowning man and myself, there lay three heavily-loaded ballast lighters. I turned my steamer astern, and by jumping from one lighter to another, I soon reached Davis. I felt confident I could save him, and having a mud scraper in my hand, I threw the end of it to him, and said, 'Now, don't be afraid, you'll soon be all right.' I did save him, but alas!—and my hand trembles while I write it—the first utterance that fell from his lips was a fearful oath, 'D—— my eyes!' O, how grieved I was to hear a man, just at the point of death, utter such an expression. We soon got him on board of our packet, and put him in some warm and dry clothes. On Friday night, December the 6th, 1867, a fire broke out in Hull, and my son Joseph, was there, and sprung the rattle, giving the alarm, and the first man that came to the spot was Davis. One of my son's companions called out, 'Ellerthorpe!' when Davis said, 'Is John Ellerthorpe that young man's father?' 'Yes,' was the reply. 'Ah!' said Davis, 'he saved my life, and but for him I should not have been here to-night.' I trust the Lord will yet save him, and that I shall meet him and others whom I have rescued, at the right hand of the great Judge.

Thirty-fifth.—A BOY—NAME UNKNOWN.* (1850.)

At this time I was captain of the Hull Dock steam tug. One night, about eleven o'clock, the railway goods station was on fire, and I was summoned from my bed to go and remove our packet, which was moored close to where the fire had broken out. In the space of two hours, three men fell overboard, all of whom I rescued, with the assistance of others. Soon after I had to take the Dock Company's fire-engine on board our packet, as they could not find enough water on shore. The wind was blowing a heavy gale, and before I could get the packet to a convenient place, sufficient water had been found, and the engine was not needed. While I was busy with the packet, a man was drowned, and I felt greatly distressed on his account. So I went and sat down on the paddle-box and placed a boat hook at my side, to be ready should any one fall into the water. I had not sat many moments when I saw a youth, about seventeen years of age, fall overboard. I jumped from the paddle-box on to the dock wall, and ran as fast as I could to the spot. While the fire was blazing before me I could see the boy distinctly, but when I got past the fire it was pitchy dark, and I lost all trace of the drowning youth. Thousands of people were thronging and shouting in every direction, and I lost all hopes of saving the youth, who was now submerged in the water. But when I could not get any further, for the press of the people, I threw in the boat hook; it was eighteen feet long and the tide was very high. I knelt with one knee on the wall, and felt the boy at about fifteen feet under water. The hook caught the bottom of his waistcort, and I felt him take hold of it with both his hands. I never could ascertain the boy's name, but the whole case was fully reported in the local newspapers at the time, and hundreds, yea, thousands of people now in Hull, well remember it. Witnessed by thousands.

Thirty-sixth.—GEORGE PEPPER.* (1852.)

George was the son of my shipmate, who witnessed the whole affair. He was a scholar in the Trinity House school, but it being Easter Monday, he had a holiday, and came to spend the afternoon on board, with his father. The packet started suddenly, and the rope by which she had been fastened to the pier, struck the boy, and overboard he went. The packet was in motion, but I leaped into the water, while George's father went to fetch a boat hook, but it is my opinion the boy would have been drowned had I waited for the hook. The boy's father was a good swimmer, but he has often told me that he always wanted to think a few moments before he durst leap into the water. However, I saved his son in a few moments, and without much difficulty; indeed, when his mother said to him, 'George, what did you think when you was in the water?' he replied, 'O, mother, I hadn't time to think, for Mr. Ellerthorpe caught me directly.' Next morning, George was ready for school and I was ready for my work, and scarcely any one knew aught of the affair. The fact was, both Pepper and myself were to blame in not warning the boy of the danger that had nearly cost him his life. George is now a young man, and sails, I believe, from the port of Hull, and he seems to think as much of his deliverance now as he did fifteen years ago. Witness—Henry Bolton.

Thirty-seventh.—ROBERT WOODMAN.* (1854.)

He was a youth belonging to the brig 'Janet,' of South Shields, which was leaving the Victoria Dock, Hull, and he had the misfortune, while unfastening the check-rope, attached to the 'Dolphin,' to fall overboard. For some time he struggled in the water, helpless, and it was apparent that he was drowning. At the time I was on board the Dock Company's tug, which was about thirty yards from the spot, when, fortunately, I happened to see the youth, and I immediately sprang into the water with all my clothes on. I succeeded in seizing the boy as he was sinking, and placed him in such a position as enabled me to keep him above the water, when I made the best of my way to the brig's boat, a few yards off. The poor lad, in his almost insensible state, got upon my head and clung to me tightly, and in a few moments, so entwined himself around my arms as to render me almost incapable of swimming, and the probability at that time was, that both of us would be drowned. I saw and felt my perilous position, as he threatened to draw me again into the water, by his desperate struggles; but at last, with the strength and force of desperation, I managed to reach the painter of the boat, which fortunately being 'taut' from the ring, enabled me to raise myself and the youth out of the water, and we were both got into the boat, though in a most exhausted condition; indeed I had to be conveyed home. The boy soon recovered and left the dock the next tide, and I never saw him again. But I wrote to the captain of the ship, and received this beautiful letter from the youth's father:—

Now, I can truthfully say, that this letter paid me well for the great risk I had run, as it gave me great pleasure. Some time after, the 'Janet' returned to Hull, and I went on board to see if I could find the youth, but the bird had flown, for the captain told me he had run away from his ship, and that he had no idea where he was. The captain was glad to see me and wanted me to have a glass of grog, but I refused, having become, a short time before, a pledged abstainer from all intoxicating drinks.

Thirty-eighth.—ANN MARTIN.* (1860.)

While the Humber Dock gate was being closed, this woman, who was forty-eight years of age, came up to the bridge, and refusing to wait until the proper time for passing, she attempted to step from one half of the bridge to the other, and in making the attempt, she fell, head first, into the water below. It was high tide at the time, and she was rapidly carried away by the stream. The night was dark and I was very ill, but when I heard that a woman was overboard, I ran to the spot; but alas! I could not see her, and for a moment I thought there was no chance of saving her. But knowing that assistance must be immediately rendered or the woman would be out of sight, and beyond the reach of help, I plunged into the water and soon brought her to the bridge. They let down a boat hook to which we both clung, and then a ladder, up which to ascend. But I told them I would rather have a boat, which was soon brought and we were landed in safety. While clinging to the hook, the woman, as might be expected, was full of alarm, but I knew she was safe enough, so to allay her fears, and wile away a few moments of painful, but unavoidable waiting, I jocosely said to her, 'Hold fast now, Missus. You are as safe now as though you were watching the pot boil over.' She afterwards told me that the most pleasant sensation she ever experienced in her life, was at the moment when she felt some one had hold of her in the water. This woman has manifested the liveliest gratitude for what I did for her, and she never crosses the bridge without calling at my house to enquire after me, and she often says, to my good wife, 'You know I aint right if I don't see the master about.' She was very poor at the time I saved her, but on the following Christmas she brought me a duck for my dinner. I refused to take it, for I knew she could not afford to give me it; but she said, 'You must take it; I meant giving you a Goose, but I could'nt afford to buy one. Now do take the duck, do, Sir.' I saw it would grieve her if I refused, so I took it; and this is the first, and only occasion that I have taken aught from those whom I have rescued. And I am sure in this case, it was more blessed to give than it was to receive, for the woman was both satisfied and delighted. The gratitude of this poor woman, and also that of her family, seems unabated. Witness—William Turner.

Thirty-ninth.—JOHN EABY.* (July 30, 1861.)

Police Constable Green, 69, was on duty at the South-end about half-past ten o'clock, on the morning of the above date, and about one hour before high water, when he saw Eaby, in a fit, fall from the quay into the Humber Dock basin. He immediately called out, 'A man overboard,' and with the assistance of another man, got the grapplings and caught hold of Eaby by his clothes, but he being of great weight, they tore asunder, and he again dropped into the water. Green then called for further assistance, when our friend ran to the rescue, and urged by Eaby's fearful condition, and the benevolent feelings of his own noble spirit, he immediately jumped into the water and seized the drowning man. From the effects of the fit, the man struggled desperately. Our friend tried to get a rope round him, but could not; he got his hand into his preserver's mouth, and would have drowned him, had not Mr. Ellerthorpe had so many opportunities of trial in such cases. Eaby's first expression on coming out of his fit was, 'What are you doing here?' when his deliverer replied, 'Havn't I as much right here as you have?' then Eaby went off into another fit. By this time a boatman, named John Tickells, came to our friend's assistance, and was joined by Robert Ash, gateman, Humber Dock, who slipped the grappling rope into the boat. They then both seized Eaby, and got him into the boat and tied his legs, otherwise, so desperate was he, he would have split the boat up. They then assisted our friend into the boat. Eaby struggled so desperately that the men had great difficulty in holding him in the boat. He was taken to his house, 20, Dagger Lane, where he was attended by Mr. Lowther, surgeon, accompanied by policeman Green. He soon escaped, without clothes, and, followed along the street by a crowd of people, ran into No. 11, Fish Street, and got into one of Mr. Alcock's beds. He was thirty-seven years of age, and had been subject to fits for years, which were often very violent. Witnesses—William Turner, William Steadman.

This rescue—the last of a large number that Mr. Ellerthorpe was the honoured instrument of achieving—was witnessed by hundreds of spectators, who were filled with admiration and wonder. These were seen in their countenances and heard in their shouts of applause, as he struggled with this poor unfortunate man. Not only so, but it led the public to raise a subscription for Mr. Ellerthorpe. Two working men, Mr. William Turner, and Mr. William Steadman, who witnessed the humane and heroic conduct of their fellow townsman, took the initiative, and how hard they worked, and how nobly they accomplished their object, will be seen from our next chapter.

The above list of thirty-nine persons saved by our friend, contains three little girls, fifteen youths, six women, and fourteen men, in the strength and vigour of their days; and one old man burdened by the weight of seventy-five years.

They were saved at the following places: (America,) Quebec, two; Toronto, one; Barton, one; Castleford, one; Humber Bank, one; Burlington Bay, one; London, two; New Holland, three; Hessle, five; Hull, twenty-two.

These deliverances took place in the following years: 1820, two; 1822, one; 1824, one; 1825, two; 1826, one; 1828, two; 1830, one; 1833, three; 1834, three; 1835, three; 1836, seven; 1837, two; 1843, one; 1844, one; 1846, three; 1849-50, two; 1852, one; 1854, one; 1860, one; 1861, one.

But though Eaby was the last person our friend actually rescued, his readiness to imperil his own life, that he might save the lives of others, did not expire on that ever memorable occasion. A clergyman called to see him, and amongst other things, said, 'Now Ellerthorpe, your work is done; God has honoured you above most men, be satisfied; remember the old adage, "the pitcher goes often to the well, but gets broken at last."' Our friend shook his head and said, 'Do you think, Sir, I could see a man overboard and not plunge in after him? No, Sir.' And though upwards of sixty-one years of age, and suffering acutely at times from his oft exposures in the water and cold, he yet thought as deeply and felt as strongly as ever for his drowning fellow creatures; and on two or three occasions his old zeal rose to furnace heat. In proof of this we give the following extracts from the Hull papers:

Respecting this case our friend says, 'Mr. Bates spoke to me in the water, and said, "I shall soon be all right," and I thought he would too. The water was piercingly cold, and I went and changed my clothes, and when I returned to see how the poor man was, Dr. Lowther had pronounced him dead. I never felt such a sense of distress as I did at that moment; I did my very best to save him; indeed, Mr. Lowther says, "The man died in an apoplectic fit." It was deeply distressing to see the poor widow, when her husband was pronounced dead; she was overcome by the suddenness of the stroke, and Mr. Dale Brown kindly sent her home in a cab. This man, and Ashly Taylor (aged 75 years), are the only instances out of upwards of forty I have rescued, of death taking place in consequence of their being in the water.'

We have seen in several instances, that our friend, after having rescued the drowning, remained with them until all fears of immediate death were totally dissipated. Indeed his kindly ministrations in the watch-house of the Humber Dock Company, have been scarcely less remarkable than his exploits in saving the drowning from the water. In that room is the 'Royal Humane Society's apparatus for the recovery of persons apparently drowned or dead, accompanied with directions for the proper treatment of such cases.' And there our friend stood for hours together, in his wet clothes, during the piercing cold of winter and the oppressive heat of summer, endeavouring to restore suspended animation. He says, 'I always felt very anxious about those I had rescued, and in dangerous cases generally remained with them until they came round. By remaining in my wet clothes on these occasions I have often seriously damaged my health; but I felt so anxious about them that I often forgot altogether my own wet state. Dr. Henry Gibson says I have seriously injured my constitution by these long exposures in wet clothing, and I am afraid he is right, and that it will shorten my days.'

We give one instance of his ministrations in this watch-house:—

About three o'clock on the morning of July the 23rd, 1865, he suddenly awoke out of a profound sleep, and thought he heard a boy call out, 'There is a man overboard.' He sprang from his bed, threw up the window, but not a person could he see, not a sound could he hear, not a ripple on the water could he discern, to indicate danger. He concluded he had been dreaming, but when about to leave the window he saw one of his fellow workmen running with the grappling iron. The old Spanish proverb says, 'that when a man's house is on fire he does not stay to consider if the shoe pinches,' and so absorbed was our friend by the fear that some one was drowning that, without shoes on his feet, and with nothing but his night shirt to cover him, he ran down stairs, leaped over two chains, thrown across the bridge, and in a few moments he was beside the man with the 'grapplings,' who had also heard the cry but could not tell whence or from whom it had come. The surrounding waters lay calm and undisturbed by a single ripple, and there was nothing to indicate that anyone had sunk. At our friend's request, his companion sprang into a boat, and let down the grappling iron, and, strange to say, brought up Mr. Thomas Hogg, of Ulceby, Lincolnshire. They at first pronounced him dead, but after cleansing his mouth and nostrils he was thought to breathe; he was at once taken to the watch-house, where our friend, with fresh anxiety and awakened hope, applied the Royal Humane Society's apparatus, and with complete success. The process was continued till six o'clock, when scores of persons were gathered round the watch-house. The man then said to Mr. Ellerthorpe, 'Come master, it is time you were in your own house; you're not fit to be here amongst all these folks.' It was not till the man thus spoke that our friend was aware of his half-naked state. All did well on this occasion, but Mr. Ellerthorpe's conduct was exceptionally noble.

The last to claim recognition and reward for his own humane and gallant deeds, Mr. Ellerthorpe has ever proved himself the first and foremost in securing them on behalf of others. The following letter, received in answer to an urgent appeal which he made on behalf of an aged and destitute couple, will illustrate what I mean:—

In December, of the same year, he made a similar appeal to the Board of Trade, on behalf of some Hull seamen, and received the following answer:—

The following letter explains itself:—

Our friend received the following answer:—

CHAPTER VIII.

No labour is ever lost that seeks to promote the welfare of men. At the outset there may be difficulties and opposition, but patience and perseverance will in the end bring their reward. And if the warrior rejoices in the number of his victories, the patriot in the extension of his country's liberties, the statesman in the success of his peculiar polity, and the philanthropist in the mitigation of human woes, how much purer and stronger must be the joy of the man who has been the means of saving the lives of his fellow-creatures? Alexander, Emperor of Russia, whose armies had won many a victory on the field of battle, once rescued a man from drowning, and he ever afterwards said that that was the happiest day of his life. As no living individual, perhaps, has saved so many lives, on so many separate and distinct occasions, and under equally perilous circumstances, as our friend, so we may infer that his personal joy was proportionately great. He always did his best to save human life, having made that one of the chief objects of his existence, and he reaped a rich recompense. He says, 'I always thought it as much my duty to try and save the drowning, as it was their duty to try and save themselves; and I always felt myself amply recompensed, and highly satisfied, when I got them out of the water and saw they were all right. Physically, I often felt much exhausted by the efforts I had made, and could eat no food, nor could I take rest, for hours after rescuing the drowning. But I was filled with a pleasure I could not describe; sometimes my feelings found vent in tears, and at other times in loud and hearty laughter; and when questioned as to my feelings, I could only say, "I can't tell you how I feel." I had this thought and feeling running through me, throbbing within me, "I have saved a fellow creature from drowning." And that imparted to me a happiness which no amount of money, and no decorations of honour, could have given me; a happiness which no man can conceive, far less describe, unless he has himself snatched a fellow creature from a watery grave.'

Our friend also reaped a rich reward in the gratitude of many whom he had the pleasure of saving. And we have seen that he could receive no higher gratification than this. King Charles, the First, had such an unhappy manner that, even in granting a favour, he often grieved those whom he obliged. And we know that almost as much depends upon the manner of doing a kindness, as upon the act itself. Indeed, in some instances, even a frank and positive refusal will give less pain than an ungracious and grudgingly bestowed favour. Now, we hesitate not to say that, what Mr. Ellerthorpe did, was kindly and generously done. And he always felt that the cheers of the multitude as he bore the rescued to the shore, and the spontaneous thanks of those whom he had saved, surpassed in value any tribute of money which could have been placed in his hands. Wordsworth, referring to the overflowing gratitude which had gone beyond the worth of the trivial favours bestowed, says:

But our friend performed the noblest deeds, and grateful returns were always as pleasant to him as cold water to a thirsty soul. He says, 'I was always well satisfied if they manifested gratitude, but I must confess, that when they never came near me, nor in any way communicated with me, as was the case with some whom I have saved,—for instance, Mr. Leeson and Miss Hill—I was not satisfied. My pleasure at the remembrance of what I did for them is mixed with pain. It may be a weakness of mine, but an ungrateful man is, in my opinion, one of the biggest sinners in the world. I hate ingratitude, and I can affirm, that no rewards I have received from societies and individuals have ever given me half the pleasure that the gratitude of some of those I rescued gave me.'

And can we wonder that he should thus write? Shakespeare says:—

Ingratitude for favours conferred is a most unnatural disposition, and is reproved even by the brute creation; for they manifest a strong instinctive feeling of gratitude towards their benefactors. 'The ox knoweth his owner and the ass his master's crib.' Some time ago, a steamer sunk beneath the surging wave, with upwards of two hundred souls on board. The captain, who was as noble a man as ever steered a vessel, sank with the rest of the passengers and crew. Fortunately, however, he came up again, and seizing a plank, he clung to it until rescued by a vessel that happened to be passing. 'Ah,' said he, on telling the story afterwards, 'If my heart's affection ever clung to anything besides my wife, and my mother, and my child, it was to that plank; it saved my life.' And yet, some forgot our friend, whose skilful hand and brave heart bore them through the foaming waters to land.

All did not. 'You shall lodge in my heart, and I will never ask you for rent,' said a grateful Irishman to one who had done him a favour. And our friend found a welcome and a home in the warmest affections of many of those whom he rescued. The blessing of many who were literally ready to perish came upon him. W. Turner, whom our friend saved in Burlington Bay, says, 'What a mercy it is that God has provided such a man as Mr. Ellerthorpe, to render assistance when assistance is required at his hands; for he is ever willing at any moment, and at the first call, to risk his life. I question whether there is such another man in the world. He has a good and kind heart, and in his general conduct displays kind feelings towards all and everybody. I hope he will remain long with us, and that at last we shall meet him in heaven, never to part again.' Robert Tether, speaking of his deliverance, says, 'Some one said to me on the occasion, "My boy, you ought ever to remember that man," and I do remember him and will never forget him. If I had but a shilling in the world, John Ellerthorpe should have half of it, if he needed it. I can say that from the time he delivered me I have always liked to see him, and I never think the place is right if I do not see him there. He shall never want if I can help him. May he live long, and always have plenty.' These, and similar expressions of gratitude, recorded on former pages of this work, were more valuable, in our friend's estimation, than stores of gold.

Though Mr. Ellerthorpe never urged his claims to public recognition, yet we rejoice to state that his humane and gallant deeds were not permitted to pass unnoticed and unrewarded. Persons of high distinction, and of great authority in the social world, spoke to him words of greeting, commendation, and encouragement. Lord Wenlock, having had recounted to him some of the incidents recorded in the last chapter, said, 'How pleasant it is, Ellerthorpe, to have the satisfaction, while living, of having done our fellow creatures good.'

Captain Wilson, whose gallant conduct enabled him, during the American War, to re-capture his ship, 'Emile St. Pierre,' from a greatly superior force, and who received, for his valorous deed, a silver tea and coffee service from 170 merchants of Liverpool, and also 2,000 guineas from the owners of the 'Emile St. Pierre,' paid a visit to Hull, and requested to have an interview with Mr. Ellerthorpe. In company with Captain Hurst, he went to the Humber Dock Gates to see him. They shook each others hand for some time; at length, Captain Wilson said, 'I'm glad to see you. I have often heard of your bravery in saving your fellow men from drowning, and I have sometimes wished I could see you; you are what I call a brave, clever fellow. They say I have done a clever action, but I may never do another. But your life has been crowded with deeds of gallantry. Go on and prosper, my good fellow, and may God bless you; and rest assured if I again come near where you are, I shall come and see you.' It must have been a pleasing sight to have seen these two men, of brave hearts and noble deeds, grasp hands in recognition of each others services.

Towards the close of the year 1835 the following statement appeared in the Hull newspapers:—

The appeal to the Royal Humane Society was sent, and Mr. Ellerthorpe received the following response:—