THIS little book is prepared under the conditions of saving the Mail
which leaves England on the 12th, and of being a complete narrative of
the Wreck. The one condition is adverse to the other; but I have
endeavoured to meet them both.
F.
_London, November the Eighth, 1859._
"Forth from the polar caverns of the snows,
Dripping with winter, leapt a northern storm,
And shook himself, and she lay buried white....
Oh! and we were homeward bound!"
_Balder._