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[From the Dublin University Magazine ] > THE GHOST AND THE BONE-SETTER “ Why, thin, 'tis a quare an’ as | tbrqp as you’re sittin' there . ami I*d make j bould to gayrfhere isn't a hoy in the seven parashes could tell it better nor crickthcr thap myself, for ’(was my father himself it happened to, an' tnanys the time I hcerd it out iv his own mouth ; an’ I can say, an’ I’m proud a? that flame, my father’s word was as incredible as any squire’s oath in the counthry ; and so signs an’ if a poor man got. into any unlucky throuble, he was the boy id go into the court an’ prove; but that dosen’t signify—-he was as hon est and as sober a man, barriu’ he was a little .bit too partial to the glass, as you’d find in a day’s xvalk; an’ there wasii’t the likes of him in the counthry round for nate labourin’ and baan diggin’ ; and he was mighty handy entirely for carpenther’s work, and mendin’ ould spudetlirees, an’ the likes i’ that. An’ so he tuck up with bone-setting, as was most nathural, for none of them could come up to him in mendin’ the leg iv a stool or a tabic; an’ sure, there never was a bone-setter got so much custon —man an’ child, young an’ ould—there never was such break in’ an’ mendin’ of bones known in the memory of man. Well, Terry Neil, for that was my father’s name, began to feel his heart growin’ light and his purse heavy; and he took a bit iv a farm in Squire Phalinn’s ground, just undher the ould castle, an’ a pleasant little spot it was; an’ day and mornin,’ poor crathurs not able to put a foot to the ground, with broken arms and broken legs, id be coinin’ ramblin’ in from all quarters to have their bones spliced up. Well, yer honour, all this was as well as well could be : but it was customary when Sir Phelim id go any where out iv the country, for some iv the tinants to set up to watch in the ould castle, just for a kind «fa compliment to the ould family— an’ a mighty unpleasant compliment it was for the tinants, for there wasn’t a man of them but knew there was something quaro about the Quid castle. The neighbors had it, that the squire’s old grandfather, as good a gintlcman, Ciod be with lain, as 1 heer’d as ever stood in shoe leather, us ed to keep walkin’ about in the middle iv the night, ever sinst he bursted a blood vessel pullin’ out a cork out iv a bottle, as you or I might be doin’, and w ill too, j plase God ; but that dosen’t signify. So, as I was sayin’, the ould squire used to ! come down out of. the frame, where his j picthur was hung up, and to brake the i bottles and glasses, God be marciful to j us all, an’ dhrink all he could come at — an’ small blame to hitn for that same ; and then if any of iho family id be coinin’ in, he id be up again in his place, look ing as quite au’ innocent as if he didn’t know any thing about it—the mischiev ous ould chap. “Well, your honour, as I was sayin’, one time the family up at the castle was stayin’ in Dublin for a week or two ; and so as usual, some of the tenants had to sit up in the castle, and the third night it keiri to my father’s turn. ’Oh tare an ouns,’ says he unto himself, ‘an’ must I sit up all night, and that ould vagabond of a sperit, glory be to God,’ says he, ‘serenading through the house, an’ doin’ all sorts iv misehief.’ However, there was no gettin’ alf, and so he put a hould face on it, an’ lie went up at night-fall with a bottle of pottieen, aud another of holy wathcr. “ft was rainin' smart enough, an’ the evenin’ was darksome ami gloomy, when my father got in; and what with the rain he got, aud the holy wathcr he sprinkled on himself, it wasn’t long till he had to! swailce a cup iv the pottieen, to keep the 1 cowdd out iv his heart. It was the ould ' steward, Lawrence Connor, that opened I the door—and he an’ my father wor always very great. So when he seen who it was, au’ my father toultl him ho>v it was his turn to watch in the castle, he off.rcd to sit up atong with him; and you inny be ! sure ray father w asn’t sorry for that same, j So says Larry. “ ‘Wc’II have a bit iv a fire in the par lor/-says he. “ ‘An’ why not in the hall?’ says my father, for he knew that the squire’s pic thur was hung in the parlour. “ ‘No fire can be lit in the hall,’ says Lawrence, ‘for there’s au old jack-daw’s nest in the chimney.’ “ *Oh thin,’says my father, ‘let us stop in the kitchen, for it's very unproper for the likes iv me to be siltin’ in the parlor,’ says he.' ‘ “Oh, Terry, that can't he,' says Law rence; ‘if we keep up the ould custom at ail, we may as well keep it up properly,’! says he. “ * Divil sweep the ould custom,’ says j my father.—to himself, do ye tointf, for he didn’t like to let Lawrence see that he was more afeard himself. “ ‘Oh, very well,’ says he; ‘l’m agree-j able, Lawrence,’ says he; and so down they both went to the kitchen, until the 1 fire id be lit in the parlor—an’ that same wasn’t long doin’. “Well, your honour, they soon wint up again, an’ sat down mighty comfortable by th« parlor fire, and they beginn’d to talk, an*%p amoke, an’ to dhrink a small taste iv the pottieen; and, moreover, they had a good rdusing fire of bogwood and turf, to warm their shins over. “Well, sir, as I was saying’, they kep cotivarsin’ aud smokin’ together most a greeable, until Lawrence beginn’d to get sleepy, as was but nathural for him, for he was an ould sarviutman, and was used to a great dale of sleep. “ ‘Sure it’s impossible,’ says inv father, “it s gettin’ efeepy you are!’ “ ‘Oh; divil a taste,’ says Larry, ‘l’m only shuttin’ my eyes,’ says he, ‘to keep out the parfumc of the tibacky smoke, that’s makin’ them wather/ says he. ‘So don’t you mind other people’s business,’ says he, stiff enough, (for he had a mighty high stomach av his own, rest his soul,) ‘and go on,” says he, ‘with your story, for ; I’m listenin’ says he, shuttin’ down his i eyes. “Well, when my father seen spakin was no use, he went on with his story. By i the same token, it was the story of Jim Sooiivan aud his ould goat he was telliu’ —an’ a pleasant story it is—an’ there was so much divarsion it in, that it was enough ! to waken a dormouse, let alone topervint a Christian goin’ asleep. But, faix, the way my father tould it, I believe there 1 never was the likes heerd sinst nor before, for he bawled out every word av it, as if the life was fairly leavin’ him, thrying to keep ould Lary awake; but, faix, it was no use, for the hoorsness came an him, an’ before he kem to the end of his story, Larry O’Connor heginn’d to snore like a bagpipes. “ ‘Oh, blur an’ ngres,TayiTmy father, ‘isn’t this a hard case,’ says he, ‘that ould villain, lettin' on to be my friend, and to go asleep this way, an’ us both in the very room with a sperit,’ says he. ‘The crass o’ Christ about us,’ says he; and with that he was goin’ to shake Lawrence to waken him, but he just renumbered if lie roused him, that he’d surely go off to his bed, ail’ lave him coinplately alone, an’ that id he by far worse. “ ‘Oh thin,’ says my father, ‘l’ll not disturb the poor boy. It id lie neither friendly nor good-natlmred,” says lie, ‘to tormint him while he is asleep,’ says lie ; ‘only 1 wish I was the same way myself,’ says he. “An’ with that he beginned to walk up an’ down, an’ sayin’ bis prayers, until he worked himself into a sweat, savin’ your | presence. But it was all no good ; so he |dhruuk about a pint of sperits, to coni ] pose bis mind. “ ‘Oil,’ says he, ‘I wish to the Lord I was as easy in my mind us I.arry there. Maybe,’says he, ‘if I tliried I could go a sleep;’ an’ with that lie pulled a big arm chair close beside Lawrence, an’ settled witnself in it as well as he could. “But there was one quare thing 1 for got to tell you. He couldn’t help, in spite av himself, lookin’ now an’ thin at, the picthur, an’ he immediately observed j that the eyes a v it was tolly in’ him about, an’ starin’ at him, an’ winkin' at him,! wherever he wint. ‘Oh,’ says he, when j he seen that, ‘it’s a poor chance l have,’ says he; ‘an’ bad luck was with me the day 1 kem into this unfortlituiate place,’says lie; ‘but any way there’s no ; use in bein’ freckened now,’ snvs he; ‘for j if 1 am to die, 1 may as well parspire un daunted,’ says he. “Well, your honour, he tliried to keep lhmseif quite an’ asv, an’ lie thought two j or three times he might have wint asleep, I but for the way the storm was groanin’ jand crcekin’ through the great heavy | branches outside, an’ whistlin’ through the ould chimnies iv the castle. Well, after one great roarin’ blast iv the wind, you’d think the walls iv the castle was just goin’ to fall, quite an’ claue with the shakin’ iv it. All of a suddiat the storm stopt, as silent an’ as quite as if it was a July evenin’. Well, your honour, it wasn’t stopped blowin’ for three minutes, before he thought he hard a sort iv a noise over the chimney piece; an’ with that my fath er just opened his eyes the smallest taste in life, an’ sure enough he seen the ould squire gettin’ out iv the picthur, for all world as if he was throw in’ all’ his ritlin’ coat, until he stept out claue ail’ com plete, out av the chimney-piece, an’ thrun himself down an the lloor. Well, the slieveen ould chap—an’ my father thought it was the dirtiest turn iv all —before he beginned to do anything out iv the way, he stopped, lor a w hile, to listen wor they both asleep; an’ as soon as he thought all ! was quite, lie put out his hand, and tuck hold iv the whiskey bottle, an’ dliranke at I luste a pint iv it. Well, your honour, j when he tuck his turn out iv it, lie settled it hack mighty cute intirely, in the very same spot it was in before. An’ he be ginned to walk up au’ down the room, j lookin’ as sober ail’ as solid as if he nev er done the likes-at all. An’ whiuever lie ; went apast my father, he thought lie felt | a great scent of brimstone, ail’ it was that j that freckened him entirely; for lie knew {it was brimstone that was burned in hell, savin’your presence. At any rate, he often heer’d it from Father Murphy, an’ he had a right to krnnv what belonged to J it—he’s dead since—God rest him. Well, | your honour, my father was asy enough . until the sperit kem past him ; so close, God be marciful to us all, that the smell iv the sulphur tuck the breath claue out iv him ; an’ with that he tuck such a fit iv coughin’, that it al-a-most shuck him out iv the chair he was sittiu’ in. | “ ‘IIo, ho!” says the squire, stoppin’ .short about two steps all’, and turnin’ round facin’ my father, ‘is it you that’s in it?—an’ how’s all with you, Terry Neil? , “ ‘At your honour’s sarvice,’ says my I father (as well as the fright id let hun, for he was more dead than alive,) ‘an’ it’s proud I am to see your honour to-night,’ says he. ‘ 1 erence,’ says the squire, ‘you’re a respectable man (an’ it was thrucYor him), an industhrious, sober man. an’ au exam-; pie of inebriety to the whole parish,’ says] he. “ ‘Thank your honour,’ says my fath- geft in’courage,‘you .were always a BRUNSWICK ADVOCATE. civil spoken gintlcman, God rest ;our j honour.’ “ ‘Rest my honour,’ says the sferitj (fairly gettin’ red in the face with the 1 madness,) ‘Rest my honour?’ says lie —j ‘Why, vou ignorant spalpeen, says by,, ‘you mane, niggarly ignorsmush,’ inys he, ‘where did you lave your manners?’ saye he. ‘lf lam dead, it’s no fault iv mine,’ says lie; ‘an’ it’s not to he thrun in my teeth at every hand’s turn, by the Ikes iv you,’ says he, stampin’ his foot an the llure, that you’d think the boords id sirash! under him. “ ‘Oh,’ says my father, ‘l’m only abol ish, ignorant, poor man,’ says he. “ ‘You’re nothing else,’ says the sqiire; ‘but any way,’ says he, ‘it’s not to b« lis tenin’ to yottrgosther, nor convarsin* with the likes iv you, that I came up —down I mane,’says he, —(an’ as little as the mis take was, my father tuck notice iv r.) — ‘Listen to tne now,’ Terence Neil,’says he, ‘I was always a good inasther to JSath rick Neil, your grandfather,* says he. “ ‘Tis thrue for your honour,’ says my father. ~ “ ‘And, moreover, I think I wss al ways a sober, riglar gintlcman, says the squire. “ ‘That’s your name, sure enough,’j says my father (though it was a big lie] for him, but he could not help it.) “ ‘Well,’ says the sperit, although I was] as sober as most men—at lnste as nost gintlemen’—says he; ‘an’ though I was at different pariods a most extemporary Christian, and most charitable and inun- i man to the poor,’says lie: ‘for all that I’m not as asy where I am now,* says lie, ‘as! I had a right to expect,’ says he. “ ‘An’ more’s the pity,’ says my father; ‘maybe your honour id wish to have a 1 word with Father Murphy?’ “ ‘llould your tongue, you mishenble Niggard,’ says the squire, ‘it’s not iv my i sowl I’m tbinkiii’—an’l wondher you’d j have the impitence to talk to a gintlcman consaruin’ liis soul; —and when I want i that fixed,’ says he, slappin’ his thigh, ‘l’ll. go to them that knows what belongs to the likes,’ says lie. Tts not my sowl, says ] lie, sittin’down opposite my lather; it’s not mv sow! that’s annoyin’ me most—l’m nnasy on mv right leg,’ says lie, ‘that I brack at Glenvnrloch cover the day 1 kill ed black Barney.’ (“My father found out afther, it wss a I favourite horse that fell undher him, af ther leapin’ the big fmee that runs along by the glen.) “ ‘I hope,’ says my father, Hour hon our’s not nnasy about the killin’ iv him? i “ ‘llould your tongue, ye fool,’ said the squire,‘an’ I’ll tell you why I’m anasy an my lesj,’ says lie. ‘ln the place, where 1 spend most iv my time,’ says lie, ‘except the little leisure 1 have for lookin’ about me here,’ says lie,’ I have to walk a great dale more than I was ever used to,’ says lie, ‘ and by far more than is good for me either,’ says lie; ‘ for I must tell you,’ says lie, 1 the people where I am is uncom monly fond iv could wather, for there is nothin’ betther to be had; an,’ moreover, the weather is hotter than is altogether plisint,’ says lie; ‘ and I’m appinted,’ says he,’ to assist in carryin* the wather, an’ gets a mighty poor share iv it nivsell,’ says lie, ‘ an’ a mighty throublesotne, warin’ job it is, I can tell you,’ says he; ‘for they’re all of them surprisingly dliry, and drinks it ns last as my legs can carry it,’ says lie; ‘but what kills me entirely,’ says he, ‘ is the wakeness in tny leg,’ says he, * an’ I want you to give it a pull or two to bring it to shape,’ says he, ‘ kind that’s the long an’ the short iv it,’ says he. “ ‘Oh, plase your honour,’ says my lath er (for he didn’t like to handle the spirit at all,) ‘ I wouldn’t have the impitencte to do the likes to your honour,’ says he; ‘it’s only to poor crathurs life myself I'd do it to,’ says he. “ ‘None iv your blarney,’ says the squire, ‘here’s my leg,’ says he cockin' it up to him, ‘pull it for the bare life,’ jays he; an’ if you don’t ‘by the immortal pow ers I'll not lave a bone in your carcisli I’ll not poudher,’ says he. “When inv father heerd that, lie seen there was no use in purtendin,’ so he tuck hold iv the leg, an’ he kep pullin’ an’ pull in,’ till the sweet, God bless us, beginned to pour down his lace.” “‘Pull, you divil,’ says the squire. “ ‘At your sarvice, your honour,’ lavs my father. “‘Pull harder,’ says the squire. “My father pulled like the divil. “‘l’ll take a iitttle sup,’ says the squire, I rackin' over his hand to the bottle,‘to keep up my courage,’ says ho, lettin’ an to be very wake in himself intirely. But as cute as he was, he was out here, for he tuck the wrong one. ‘Here’s to your good health, Terence,’ says he, ‘an’ now pull like the very divil,’ an’ with that he lifted the bottle of holy w ather, but it was hardly to his mouth, when he let a screech out, you’d think the room id fairly split with it, an’ made one chuck that sent the leg claue ass his body in niv father’s hands; down wint the squire over the table, an’ bang wint tny father half way across the room on his back, upon the llure. Whin he kem to himself the cheerful mornin’ sun was shinin’ through the windy shut thers, an’ he was lying fiat an his back, with the leg iv one of the great ould chairs pulled clane out iv the socked an’ tight in his hand, pintin' up to the ccilin,' an' ould Larry fast asleep, an’ snorin’ as loud as ever. My father wint that mornin’ to Father Murphy, an’ from that to the day of his death, he never neglected confission nor mass, an’ what he tould was betther believed that he spoke av it but seldom. An*, as for the squire, that is the sperit, | whether it was that he did not like his liquor, or by fason iv the loss iv his leg, he was never known to w alk again.” LOSS OF THE STEAMER PULASKI AND DESTRUCTION OF MORE THAN ONE HUNDRED LIVES. We give below, from the Wilmington Ad vertiser, the first account of this awful calami ty. Words are all too weak to give expres sion to the deep, and heartfelt emotions of hor ror with which we receive this intelligence. Not a circumstance, even of accident, allevi ates the grief of the many surviving friends and relatives of those, who have perished by this fatal event; not the most minute fact as yet appears in mitigation of the murderous guilt of those whose gross negligence, or whose childish ambition have occasioned this wide spread destruction. From the Wilmington Advertiser, extra, June 18th. HEART-RENDING CATASTROPHE!! Loss of the steam packet Pulaski, with a crew of 37, and Job or JGO Passengers. On Thursday, Nth inst. tlie steamer Pulas ki, Capt. Dubois, left Charleston for Baltimore with about 150 passengers, of whom about 50 were ladies. At about 11 o’clock on the same night, while off the North Carolina coast, say 80 miles from land, weather moderate and night dark—tiie starboard boiler exploded and the vessel was lost, with all the passengers and crew except those whose names are enumerat ed among the saved in the list below. We have gathered the following facts from the Ist mate, Mr. Ilibberd, who had charge of the boat at the time. Mr. Ilibberd states that at 10 o’clock at night he was called to the com mand of the boat and that he was pacing the promenade deck in front of the steerage house, —that he found himself shortly after up on the main deck, lying between the mast and side ot the boat—-that upon the return of con sciousness, lie had a confused idea of having heard an explosion, something like that of gun powder, immediately before he discovered him self in his then situation. He was induced, therefore, to rise and walk aft, where he dis covered that the boat midships was blown en tirely to pieces; that the head of the starboard boiler was blown out, and the top torn open— that the timbers and plank on the starboard side were forced asunder, and that the boat took in water whenever she rolled in that di- 1 rection. lie became immediately aware of j the horrors of their situation, and the danger of! letting the passengers know that the boat was j sinking, before lowering the small boats. Ifc j proceeded thcretore to do this. Upon drop- i ping the boat, lie was asked his object, and he ! replied that it was to pass around the steamer i to ascertain her condition. Before doing this, how ever, he took in a couple of men. He or dered the other boats to be lowered and tw o ! were shortly put into the water, but they leak ed so much in consequence of their long ex- I posure to the sun, that one of them stink after j a fruitless attempts to bail her. He had in the interim taken several from | the water until the number made ten. In the j other boat afloat there were eleven. While | they were making a fruitless attempt to bail ] the small boat, the Pulaski went down with a 1 dreadful crash—in about 45 minutes after the | explosion. Both boats now insisted upon Mr. 11libberd’s directing their course to the shore | but he resisted their remonstrances; replying j that he w ould not abandon the spot until day” I light. At about 8 o’clock in the morning, they started in the midst of the wailing of the hopeless beings, who were floating around in every direction, upon pieces of wreck, to seek land which was about thirty miles distant After pulling about 13 hours, the persons in both boats became tired and insisted that Mr. Ilibberd should land; this lie opposed, thinking it safest to proceed along the coast and to en ter someone of its numerous inlets, but lie was at length forced to yield to the general desire, ana to attempt a landing upon the beach, a little east of Stump inlet. He advis ed Mr. Couper, who had command of the other boat, and a couple of ladies with two children under his charge, to wait until his boat had first landed, as he apprehended much danger in the attempt, and should they succeed, they might assist him and the ladies and children. There were eleven persons in the mate’s boat, (having taken two black women from Mr. Couper’s.) Os these, two passengers, one of the crew, and the two negro women were drowned, and six gained the shore. After waiting for a signal, which lie receiv ] cd from the mate, Mr. Couper and his compan i ions landed in about three hours after the first j boat, in safety. They then proceeded a short ] distance across Stump Sound, to Mr. Redd’s, jof Onslow county, where they remained from j Friday evening until Sunday morning, and i then started for Wilmington.* The mate and J two passengers reached here this morning, (18th June) about !> o’clock, j Thus have we hurriedly sketched the most j painful catastrophe that has ever occurred up on the American coast Youth, aue, and in fancy have here been cutoff in a single night, and found a common death under the same billow'. ‘•Days, months, years anil ages will circle ■ away, And still the vast waters will over them roll.” Wc have never seen a deeper sensation per vade onr community than the reception of this i intelligence has produced. The profoundest sympathy is engraved on every countenance, | and all wear tire aspect of those sorrowing for their own dead. We feel assured that all feel an anxious solicitude to alleviate the distress of those unfortunate survivors who may come among us, and vehicles have already been sent out to bring them into our town, and provision made for their reception, j. Passengers tcho left Charleston. ' Mrs. Nightingale and servant, Mrs. Fraser; and child, Mrs. Wilkins and child, Mrs. Win. j Mackay, child and servant, Miss A Parkman, I ; Miss C. Parkman, Miss T. Parkman, Mrs. j Hutchison, two children and servant, Mrs. La . niar, Miss R. Lamar, Miss M. Lamar, Miss R., | S. Lamar, Miss E. Lamar, Mrs. Dunham, Mrs. i ! Gumming and servant, Mrs. Stewart and scr-j vant, Mrs. Wort, Mrs. Taylor, Mrs. Wagner, ! child and servant, Miss Drayton, Mrs. Pringle I and child, Miss Pringle and nurse. Mrs. Mur-! I ray, Miss Murray, Mrs. Rritt, .Miss Ilealcl, ■ Mrs. Rutledge, Miss Rutledge, Mrs. 11. S. j Ball, nurse, child and servant, Miss Trapier, i ! Mrs. T,ongworth, Mrs. F.ddings and child. Miss } j MikeH, Mrs. (’ey and child, Miss Clarke, Mrs. B- F. Smith, Mrs. N. Smith, Mrt. Gregory, ] Mrs. Davis, Mrs. Hubbard, Mrs. Merritt, Miss 1 Greenwood, Gen. Heath, Col. Dunham, Maj.! Twiggs, Judge Rochester, Judge Cameron, Rev. E. Crofts, Rev. Mr. Murray, Dr. Stewart, Dr. Cuinining, Dr. Wilkins, Messrs. S. B. Parkman, G. B. Lamar, C. Lamar, W. Lamar, T. Lamar, R. Hutchison, R. Brower, L. Liver more, B. W. Fosdick, H. Eldridjje, C. Ward, G. Huntington, J. H. Couper, 11. B. Nichols, L. Bird, A. Lovejoy, W. W. Foster, J. L. Wort, C. Hodson, W. A. Stewart, I). Ash, A. Hamil ton, S. Miller, R. W. Pooler, R. W. Pooler, Jr. W. C. N. Swift, A. Burns, 11. N. Carter, Prin gle, Rutledge, H. S. Ball, Longworth, F. Mc- Rea, T. C. Rowand, Eddings, R. Seabrook, S. Keith, G. W. Coy, T. Whaley, W. Whaley O. Gregorio, N. Smith, B. F. Smith, G. Y. Da vis, R. D. Walker, E. W. James, Hubbard, J. Auze, Bennett, Clifton, Merritt, Greenwood, Evans, and Freeman. Passengers saved in the two yawls. Mrs. P. M. Nightingale, child and servant of Cumberland Island, Ga. Mrs. Wm. Frazer and child, St Simon’s Ga. J. H. Couper, of Glynn county, Ga. Capt. R. W. Pooler, Savannah, Ga. R. W. Pooler, Jr. do. \V T m. Robertson, Savannah, Ga. Elias L. Barney, North. Carolina, Solomon. S. Hibbert, first mate Pulaski. VV. C. N. Swift, of New Bedford, Mass. Z. A. Lachtonberg, Munich. Charles C.Tappan, New York. Gideon West, New Bedford, Boatswain. B. Brown, Steward, Norfolk. Persons drowned in landing. Mr. Bird of Bryan Cos. Ga. An old gentleman from Buffalo, N. Y. and ! recently from Pensacola. A young man, name unknown. Jersey, a colored woman. Priscilla, a colored woman, Stewardess. LAT E R ! FURTHER PARTICULARS. Office of the Wilmington Advertiser, June 20. , 8 o’clock, A. M. JOYFUL INTELLIGENCE FROM THOSE WRECKED IN THE PULASKI. We are truly gratified to state, that 80 of the Pulaski’s passengers were picked up yes terday morning, about ‘J o’clock, 15 or 20 miles north of the New Inlet, by the sclir. Henry Cainerdon, on her passage from Phila delphia to Wilmington, and were landed at our wharf about 7 o’clock same day. Their sufferings are more readily imagined than de scribed.” We have not time for further partic ulars now, but hope to despatch a 2d edition of this extra by to-day’s 1 o’clock mail. These unfortunate sufferers were immediately invited to the private residences of our gentlemen, where we feel assured every effort will be made to soothe their cares and to alleviate their sufferings. Vessels are now cruising along the coast, with the hopeoT rescuing oth ers of these unfortunate beings from a watery grave. We here annex the names of the 80, except ; a fireman, name unknown. A Lovejoy, Camden County, Ga. Maj. Heath, Baltimore. Maj. Twiggs and son, Richmond Cos. Ga. ! Mr. Greenwood, Augusta, Ga. ] Mr. O’Gregory, do. j Mrs. Noah Smith, do. I Miss Rebecca Lamar, do. Charles Lamar, Savannah. I Robert Seabrook, Edisto Island, S. C. j Masters T. and W. Whaley, do. do. Mr. R. Hutchison, Savannah. Mr. A Hamilton, Savannah, Ga. ! Capt Pearson, Baltimore. Mr. Edings, Edisto Island, S. C. Mr. C. Ward, Savannah. Kitchen, Ist Engineer. I E. Joseph, New York. ! C. W. Clifton, Canton, Mississippi. I D. Walker and nephew, Thomas Downing, Charleston. Warren Freeman, Macon, Ga. Mr. Burns, New York. John Cape, fireman, Baltimore. • , fireman. Patrick and Bill, deck hands, llhynah, a negro woman. A negro woman belonging to Dr. Stewart. P. S. We are happy to state that the BO have now been one ni glit among us, and are much refreshed by a comfortable night’s rest —at least, all from whom we have heard, and it is sincerely hoped that they will soon be suf ficiently recovered to return to their friends. Further part iculars oJ~ the loss of the Steam Pack et Pulaski, on tlic night of the lAth instant. We think it highly inportantto state, in the first place, that gentlemen of unquestionable character and judgment concur in saying, the fatal catastrophe was caused by gross negli gence on the part of those who had the direc tion of the machinery. Solomon, a black waiter on board, who had once been a fireman, states, that a Ijttlc allcr 11 o’clock, as he turn ed from the fire room, he heard the 2d Engin eer, who was on duty, turn the water-cock, and from the shrill whistle which ensued, he knew that the water had got too low, and that there was imminent danger. Mr. Couper, Mr. Love joy and others,give it as their opinion, that the blow-cock had been negligently left open— that the boilers had been emptied—which alarmed the Engineer, and caused him in his fright, to fill them suddenly with fresh water. The boiler being heated to redness, this body !of water was instantly converted into steam, I with an expansive force which the sides of the | boiler were too feeble to resist. It is further j positively stated, that during the whole passage , to within twenty minutes of the catastrophe, j the steam guage-cock indicated from 27 to 12f> inches steam. ' The facts which immediately followed, are I given correctly by Mr. Hibbert, as published in our Extra of the lcth, until it reaches the statement of the sinking. This was not the case, but she parted into three pieces. In the breaking up, the whole boat went underwater, but upon the separation of the keel from the upper part of the boat, the bow and stern emerged again. Very shortly after the forward portion of the stern was depressed beneath the water, and the hinder portion el- j evated in the air; upon the highest portion of j which were 50 to 00 persons; more than two thirds of whom were ladies and children. This continued within the view of those pas sengers upon the bow of the boat, (from whom this statement is made,) about an hour, when it entirely disappeared. The keel, after its separation, came to the surface bottom up-1 wards, when it floated in immediate contact! with the bow for half an hour, when it was i seen no more. There was lio one upon this j fragment Wc will now proceed to speak of the bow ! and the fate of those whom it contained. Up on this portion of the wreck there were origin ally 18. AH immediately proceeded to lighter, the fragment, by throwing into the sea every thing not necessary to secure salvation, which gave it greater buoyancy. On Friday, about 12 o’clock, while floating upon the ocean, two sails were seen, one in a N. Easterly direction, and the other in a S. Westerly direction, about sor six miles distant On Saturday morning early, a portion of the wreck was discovered about 5 miles distant with a small sail and a flag flying, this remnant made a successful at tempt to reach those upon the bow, whom they joined about noon. They were five males, and attached themselves immediately to their fellow sufferers upon the bow, whose number they swelled to 23, and abandoned their raft The 23 then proceeded to erect a jury mast, upon which a square sail was hoisted —the wind continuing to blow from the S. E. (in which quarter it had been ever since the wreck,) they were blown towards land, which ; became visible about 4 o’clock, P. M. Atsun set quite a strip of land was seen, and trees j discovered. The night was passed without j any material change, and on Sunday morning ; upon the occasional lifting of fog, land was quite apparent about three or four miles off, i which they continued to approach until they j got within half a mile. The wind which had been gradually coming round settled down to ! N. E. about 11 o’clock, which blew the wreck along the coast, about the same distance from land, during the day. The wind gradually in creased in violence, aud the rain poured down during the whole of Sunday, until 5 o’clock, when it became calm and the rain ceased. On that night the wind came out from the N. W. On Monday it was clear and quite calm. At 12 that day the wind blew a light breeze from the southwest. About 4 o’clock four vessels passed within three miles steering East On Tuesday morning about sunrise the Schr. Henry Cainerdon, Capt Davis, was seen about 5 miles off in an easterly direction. She continued to near until within 3 miles when the exhausted sufferers were discovered, she then immediately squared sails and bore down to the wreck, which she spoke about half past 8 o’clock, A. M. She then passed by, and an chored within a short distance. Capt Davis lowered his boat immediately and succeeded in transferring the whole of the sufferers to his vessel, where every proper comfort, at his command was humanely furnished these unfor tunate beings. Intelligence was given by these that they had seen another portion of the wreck during the whole of the preceding day, and early the next morning. Tiie Captain immediately bore down in the direction designated (easterly) and in about an hour came up to it; from this he had the gratification of rescuing Mrs. Noah Smith, and Miss Rebecca Lamar, Charles La inar, two gentlemen and two negro women, in an exhausted and worn out condition. This work of humanity being finished, Captain Da vis bote away immediately for Wilmington, where lie arrived about 7 o’clock on Tuesduv P. M. To attempt to describe the feelings of those 80 persons towards their preserver, Capt. Da vis—the sympathy of the crowd assembled at the landing—or the mingled emotions of those companions in misery who had been sep arated, and here met again in safety, tho’ in suffering—time does not allow, nor is human language adequate. P. S. Since writing the above we have re ceived the followingadditional intelligence: 13 persons saved, among them Mr. Lamar. They reached shore near New River Inlet Mr. Lamar and several others came asliore in. a boat; the others on fragments of the wreck.. Five are said to be within 12 miles of town. All are said to be likely to live. Two of these have just arrived. .Samuel Brylev, Talbert County Md. Owen Gallagher. The only other names of this party known, ! are Andrew Stevens. G. B. Lamar. G. Y. Davis. Two gentlemen from New York Mr. Bennett, of Missouri. Lieut. Thornton, U. S. A. B. W. Forsdick, Boston. Mr. Merritt, Savannah. We can only add that 59 souls in all have escaped a watery grave, of whom 48 have al ready arrived in this community, all of whom it is hoped and believed will be again restored to their anxious friends. [From the Charleston Mercury, 23d inst. Our readers will be not less surprised than' delighted at the news from Wilmington. It is good beyond the wildest hope. In addition to the articles from the Advertiser, we have been favored with the following particulars, com municated in a letter to a gentleman of this city, from which it will be seen that the peo ple of Wilmington were making every exer tion to preserve any who might still be floating on fragments of the wreck. We regret to add that of the number thus miraculously preserved, there are only three belonging to our city, Mr G. Y. Davis, Mr Robert D. Walker and Master T. W. Downie, so far as we have been able to ascertain. We learn from a gentleman, passenger in the N. C. and one of the number saved, that the fol lowing persons died on one of the rafts or frag ments of the Pulaski, on which they had taken refuge: , Mrs B. F. Smith of Charleston. Mr Rowand, do. Mrs Stansfield of Savannah. Rev Mr Woart and Lady. Dr Ash of New York. A daughter of Mr Robert Hutchinson of Savannah. Dr Stewart and Master T. Lamar. Mr Joseph Auze, formerly merchant in Sa vannah, and recently of Mobile, was killed in the forward part of the Pulaski, by the fall of the mast The Rev Mr Murray, who had been lashed to a part of the Pulaski, was washed off soon after the misfortune occurred, and Mr Hugh S. Ball of this city, was lost in endeavoring to swim from the bow to the stern of the boat to his lady, whom he perceived in that part of the steamer. The party of thirty saved on certain por tions of the wreck and taken oft’ by the Henry Camerdon, it will be perceived, were four days exposed to the weather, a violent gale of wind blowing from Sunday morning to the evening of the same day, with nothing to subsist on, as we have been informed by one of them, but a little flour and water. Os the whole number of passengers and crew, one hundred and seventy, it will be re collected that sixteen were rescued in the two small boats which reached Wilmington last