"A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast: but the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel." Prov. xii. 10. This tract is said to be a "true relation of the inhuman cruelties exercised by the cavaliers at Birmingham in Warwickshire," and it is published to "correct the many false reports already spread abroad, and to prevent all false narrations for the future;" which would doubtless prove a difficult, if not an impossible task. We are told that it "hath beene collected from the several informations of divers trusty and intelligent inhabitants of Birmingham, who were eye-witnesses of, and sufferers under many of the said calamities of that towne." It has clearly been carefully prepared, with a view to act upon the country, and to incense the people against the cause of the King. From its graphic description of the attack on the town, we gather the following facts: the reflections and animadversions of the writer or writers, may well be buried with the passions which gave them birth. According to this report, it appears that after Lord Brooke's death (he was killed at the siege of Lichfield Cathedral, on March 2, 1643) the Country was infested with "divers troopes of robbers and plunderers," and the inhabitants of Birmingham resolved to arm themselves, and to attempt the defence of the town. While engaged in making some slight mounds and breast-works, in the week before Easter, they learned that Prince Rupert, with 1500 or 2000 men, four drakes, and two sacres was ravaging the country about Henley. On Easter Monday, between two and three o'clock in the afternoon, he approached the town and assaulted it. The small forces of the place, consisting of about 100 Musquetiers and their two Capitains, opposed them for some time, but in vain. They were too unequally matched. The Cavaliers, with Lord Denbigh at their head," singing as he rode," marched along Deritend, firing at the windows and killing whom they could. At the further end of the town, Dale End or Bull street, then called Chapell Street, Captain Greaves, with a troop of horse charged them, and received "five small wounds, which were soon healed." In this charge the Earl of Denbigh was "knockt off his horse, and laid for dead, and his pockets rifled." The noble Earl died soon after of his wounds. Captain Greaves retreated to Lichfield, and the Royalists "rode desperately round the town, leaping hedges and ditches," in their pursuit of the flying inhabitants. In this way they killed about fourteen men, whose names are given in the report. One man, a minister named Whitehall, who had been a lunatic for many years, and whom they believed to be Mr. Roberts, the Puritan Minister, of Birmingham; is said to have been cruelly mangled and hacked to death. Some forty persons were taken prisoners, who, with the exception of two or three, were released on the payment of small sums of money. Having obtained possession of the town, the Cavaliers commenced to plunder it. The value of their booty is given at £3000, and £20,000 as the amount of loss inflicted on the town; an extremely large sum for that period. They stripped the walls, broke the windows, and carried away what goods they could, and burnt the rest. It is added as a crowning proof of their insolence, that the soldiers, in their drunken sports, made the townspeople drink health to Prince Rupert's dog. On the next day they set the town on fire in divers places, shouting, as the flames rose in the air, "Where's your Coventry now? Where's your God Brookes now? You see how God fights against you!" &c. The number of houses burnt is estimated at 87, besides barns, stables, shops, and other back buildings; by which upwards of 340 persons were reduced to "extreme distress." It is said in this report that the Royalists took away two cart loads of wounded men, "about 12 in a cart," but their principal loss was the death of Earl Denbigh. And so ended Prince Rupert's visit to Birmingham. The remembrance of those terrible days, and of the punishment inflicted on the town by the Cavaliers, did not speedily pass away. Tradition says that long after the wounds of the civil war had, in a measure, been healed, and the destruction committed had been repaired, mothers were wont to frighten unruly children by telling them Prince Rupert was coming. J.A.L. HOW WE CAUGHT A SHARK. He had been following the Sarawak for days. At least so the sailors said, who regarded the shark as their mortal enemy and spoke of him as disrespectfully as if he had been the devil. As for me I looked for him in vain, though I looked for him constantly. We were just crossing the Line, and I felt awfully languid with the heat, besides being very tired of my two months voyage. On one of these drowsy days I fell asleep, out of sheer weariness of looking over the ship's side, and as I dozed, I dreamed. I was at New Street Station, and yet I was at the Equator. The Midlands of England were inextricably mixed up with the tropics, and the familiar station was ornamented with wonderful tropical growths, and tropical animals ran about there as they do at the Zoological Gardens. Before me, puffing along the rails, was a great snorting shark of enormous dimensions; and before me also was a conspicuous sign board, with the words "CROSS THE LINE BY THE BRIDGE, IT IS DANGEROUS OVER THE RAILS." Cross the Line? How could I cross the Line by the bridge? I had'nt seen a bridge for weeks. Yet stay. Bridge did it say-bridge? Yes there it is in front of me-Friday bridge, and there is the shark just turning the corner into Gt. Charles Street. Why cannot they catch him? There he goes as steadily as a steam roller. But how can I cross the Line by Friday bridge? Is the puzzle any nearer solution? Of course I wish to cross the line, we have been trying to cross it for days, but have been becalmed. It is strange that my mind should be in this condition-it is as though I were dreaming. Am I dreaming? I thought I saw a shark but—. Here in a moment I opened my eyes and was broad awake at once, and there before me stretched the blue water, and the ship was 66- like a painted ship Upon a painted ocean," and precisely as I opened my eyes, the shark-the real shark-not the dreamy one, lifted his ugly head above the water, made a snap at something and disappeared! It was done so quietly, and yet the monster had such an air of sinister power with him, that I shuddered. This was the Ever since shark, they I did not wonder now, that the shark is the devil of the sailor. A dead calm was upon the sea and the ship was motionless. opportunity the sailors had been looking for for weeks. "Bill the Whaler," and "Long Tom" had "sighted" the had had the tackle ready in the forecastle, and now at a nod from the mate it was soon all to hand at the "starn." This tackle consisted of a steel hook about two feet long, and strong in proportion, which was hidden in a lump of salt pork of six or seven pounds weight, and attached to a six feet length of chain which terminated in a long and stout rope. Hitching on to this Brobdignagian fishing-tackle a piece of wood about half the size of a railway sleeper for a float, the sailors threw their baited hook overboard. The pickled pork took quite naturally to the briny ocean, and sunk. After ten minutes of impatience we saw the polished steel-coloured nose of our prey cautiously smelling round it. This was "fysshinge with an angle" indeed. I could not help wondering what Izaak Walton would have thought of it, and what a detailed account he would have written of the operation. Whether the fish suspected mischief, or whether the sight of so many eager faces made him shy I don't know. Everybody in the ship was by this time looking over the ship's side, from the steady, grizzled old Scotchman, who was going out to manage a bank in New Zealand, to the odd little schoolmistress in green spectacles, who always looked the picture of prim propriety. But with a swish! of his tail, round the fish went, giving us a capital view of his formidable broadside. Again and again he floated with apparently no effort to the same spot, and as often swish! went his tail in the most provoking manner, and away he darted as actively as a minnow. Just as our patience was getting exhausted, what the sailors call a "cat's paw," rippled the water and bore our ship slowly onward a yard or two. Long Tom now began paying out the line, and the bait was soon a considerable distance astern. We could just see our prey dallying with the pork, and at length with great excitement we watched him turn half round on his axis, and in a sharky manner, bolt the meat with a snap that made the float dance and wobble. The cold iron of course did not agree with him and he tried to get away. I rather think he wished the bait at "Hanover," or the place analogous to Hanover in fish geography. The old Scotchman suggested that now the shark wished he had been a Jew, for then of course he would never have touched pork. We began to pull him in and he began to pull away from us. But everybody got to the rope, and our united efforts were too much for him, and in a few minutes he was lashing the water into foam below us like a great mill wheel. Bill the Whaler dropped over the side to give Long Tom a hand, and the two played their fish with a great deal of sportsmanlike skill-we above following their directions-now paying out as his struggles became furious, and again hauling in as he paused to rest. This continued for about ten minutes and then the word was given to "haul away" which we did with a will until warned to desist. The rope was then made fast and we saw upon looking over the stern that the game was ours, for the rapacious monster who doubtless had in his time bolted his man or so, now lay quietly enough alongside with the bait still fixed in the most ridiculously firm way in his jaws. We inexperienced ones thought that nothing more remained to be done but to lift him on deck, but our two old whalers knew better, and watching favourable moment one of them slipped a "bow line" over the tail and hauled it "taut," and then giving the word of command, called upon us to draw him up, which we did with comparative ease by united efforts. But we were not prepared for the demonstration he made when he found himself for the first time in his life "high and dry." With Mammoth strokes he lashed the deck with his powerful tail, threatening all who came within his reach. But Long Tom was ready for him, and after allowing him to display his strength a moment or two, during which the noise he made was like a succession of gunshots, a blow from the broad axe of the carpenter severed the tail from the body or nearly so, and in the same second he lay motionless-all muscular power ceasing in the most marvellous way. After duly examining the rough sides, the formidable teeth, and the ponderous proportions of our prey, which measured seventeen feet in length, we gave him over to the tender mercies of the butcher, who soon rendered a good account of him. Souvenirs in the shape of pieces of skin, teeth, &c., became our property for a small consideration, and a stick, now in my possession, numbering with its ninety-six vertebræ, the days of our voyage to New Zealand, is a piece of his spine. When I am taking a quiet nap on a Sunday afternoon, and one of my youngsters gets this weapon, and after various sword exercises with it, brings it into violent contact with my nose in an accidental manner, it wakes me at once, and I remember with mingled feelings, "How we caught a shark.” THRIEMS. OUR BABY. A few months since, and like a star A trembling spark of light divine, Beamed on our sight that mystic day. We kissed the tiny face with fear, A few weeks more, our Baby girl The little cry for infant needs, The tender wakening soul, that now Those blue eyes, now suffused with tears, Then from his home that father strayed |