A most unusual disaster has broken the continuous calm of
the transit between England and France. On the night of the 12th, the Victoria' left Newhaven with ninety-four passengers on board, and at about 3 a.m. steamed into a dense fog. Every precaution was taken, but at 4 a.m., the lights being invisible and the fog-born silent, the steamer struck on the rocks near the entrance to Dieppe Harbour. A complete panic broke out, and although the Captain maintained his authority, and four boats were lowered, the passengers were not got ashore without the loss of some sixteen lives. One of the boats, full of passengers, was overturned while being lowered into the water, a lady's shawl having fouled the block. It does not appear that the accident could have been prevented, as the failure on shore to blow the fog-horn, which was its main cause, was due to the machinery being out of order. It is pleasant in these times, when even the Catholic Church has gone wrong in Ireland, to read that a Dublin priest, Father Talin, kept his head in the panic, and confessed and absolved those of his faith who, as they thought, were about to die. And it is not unpleasant to see Mr. Popo, the second officer, at the end of a narrative which conclusively proves his energy and devotion, solemnly apologising to the passengers for " the coarse language " he had been compelled to use while " under the excitement " of saving their lives. We wonder if any of the rescued passengers complained. We dare say they did.
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