The latest addition to the Roll of Quiver Heroes and Heroines is Captain James Hood, of the London tug Simla, who, on October 17th last, was by his self-sacrificing courage and presence of mind instrumental in saving twelve members of the crew of the Blengfell off Margate. The circumstances attending the conspicuous act of Captain Hood are probably still fresh in the minds of all our readers, and it is only necessary to recall that on the day in question his tug was in attendance on the naphtha ship Blengfell, when the latter vessel was suddenly rent in two by a terrific explosion, which resulted in the sudden death of the captain of the doomed ship, his wife and child, and six other persons. Hood immediately saw that the only way to save the men left on the wreck and those struggling in the sea was to steam right alongside the burning ship, there being no time to lower boats. This he courageously did in the face of several minor explosions, and knowing full well that at any moment the remaining barrels of naphtha might ignite and blow his vessel to pieces. Fortunately he was successful in rescuing the survivors, and was able to steam away in safety from the burning ship. Our readers will undoubtedly endorse our opinion that Captain Hood has nobly earned the Silver Medal of The Quiver Heroes Fund, which it has been our pleasure to hand to him.
CAPTAIN HOOD.
(The latest Quiver Hero.)
(Photo: W. Bartier,
Poplar, E.)
Unusual Diffidence.
An able public man known to the writer was asked the other day to speak at a conference upon one of the subjects to be debated. He replied that he could not do so, as he did not know much about the question and had not time to study it in all its bearings. How much shorter and more profitable would speeches and sermons be if those who deliver them were as conscientious as our friend! But "fools rush in where angels fear to tread," and speak loud and long out of the abundance of their ignorance. When a man has only one idea, has seen only one side of a thing, knows only a limited number of words, and is in possession of good lungs, there is no reason why he should ever stop speaking.
Distributing Mansion House Money.
Four great famines in India have marked the reign of Queen Victoria—each more widespread than the last, but each successively occasioning less loss of life. It was in the famine of 1868-69 that Lord Lawrence initiated, as a working principle for the Administration, a sense of personal responsibility for every life lost. In the last, that of 1896-97, the scarcity extended from the Punjab to Cape Comorin, but the skill in checking starvation was greater than in the preceding one of 1877, and the number of sufferers relieved exceeded three millions. Whilst many of India's sons gazed up at the cloudless sky with the calm desperation of fatalists, the Government and missionaries fought side by side to repel hunger and death. England subscribed £550,000 through the Mansion House Relief Fund alone. The scourge fell most heavily on the Central Provinces, and the paternal Government had not only to deal with present necessity, but to provide for the future. Our illustration is copied from a photograph of a scene in Central India. An English Government servant sits at a table covered with money from the Mansion House Fund, and he is granting fifteen rupees to a cultivator for seed rice. A crowd of applicants for similar relief surround him.