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That steamer went to rescue Sir Charles Wilson's party who were wrecked on their return from Khartoum. Near Shabluka she was attacked by a dervish fort and hulled. Lord Charles Beresford, who was in command, stuck to the vessel after the boiler blew up, and during the night it was repaired.

Many of their perilous adventures seem to belong to romance rather than to reality: the tiny gimcrack boats struggling with the strong stream of the cataract, running the gauntlet of the Arab guns, dropping disconsolately down the river with their terrible news, or wrecked and stranded on the sandbank; Stuart-Wortley rowing to the camp before Metemma for help; Beresford starting in the remaining steamer; the bursting of the boiler by a Dervish shell; Benbow mending it in a single day; Wilson's rescue and the return to the entrenchment at Gubat.

I confess I wrapped my shilling in a bit of paper and dropped it over the balcony with the wish that I knew the tragedy behind this little street drama. Willie Beresford was in a royal mood that night. You know the mood, in which the heart is so full, so full, it overruns the brim.

The history of these three months of this short-lived attempt to govern Ireland on the advice of Grattan is full of instruction. The Viceroy had not for a moment concealed his intention of thoroughly reforming the Irish administration. On his arrival at the Castle, Mr. Cooke was removed from the Secretaryship, and Mr. Beresford from the Revenue Board.

Perhaps the recent defeat of a Beresford at Waterford by a nominee of Daniel O'Connell, who had made himself the leader of the movement for Catholic relief, ought to have undeceived the Irish tories, but no one could have foreseen so daring an act as the candidature of O'Connell himself, notwithstanding that, as a catholic, he was incapable of sitting in the house of commons.

In fact, there was something odd and incredible in the idea that this was no longer plain Maurice Leigh, the most popular and one of the poorest members of this small Backwoods world, but Maurice Leigh Beresford, of Hunsdon, an English country gentleman rich enough, if he chose, to buy up the whole settlement. Maurice went on his way, however, little troubled by his new dignity, and found Mrs.

"I hope she will accept him to-night, if she loves him, estates or no estates," said Salemina, who, like many ladies who have elected to remain single, is distinctly sentimental, and has not an ounce of worldly wisdom. "Well, I think a fellow deserves some reward," remarked Mr. Beresford, "when he has the courage to drive up in a hansom bearing a green harp with yellow strings in his arms.

Here's a voucher for your pay, Special Constable Morse. I'll say to you both that it was a difficult job well done." He hesitated a moment, then proceeded to free his mind. "As for this Roman triumph business victory procession with prisoners chained to your chariot wheels quite unnecessary, I call it." Beresford explained, smilingly. "We really couldn't help it, sir.

"Your calculations were all well founded; but, of course, you could not calculate on Soult's night march across the Catalena hills, and, as you knew nothing of the whereabouts of Beresford and Silveira, you had good reason to suppose that Soult would continue his march up the valley of the Tamega to Chaves.

Ford, a Catholic solicitor, openly proposed, in the Association, exclusive dealing and a run on the banks for specie, while Mr. John Claudius Beresford, and other leading Orangemen, publicly predicted a revival of the scenes and results of 1798.