  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. |
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