to Birmingham to visit his friends. While there his
wife was taken ill of fever and died. This had such an
effect upon his mind, that on the 19th of September he
attempted to cut his throat with a razor, about 12 o'clock
at night in his bed-room, while his brother was in bed,
but the wound was slight. After this he swallowed a
tooth-brush, the noise of which in his gullet awoke his
brother, whom he told what he had done. His brother
got the neighbours to his assistance, and the unhappy
man became so violent that it took five men to hold him.
On the following day he was removed to the lunatic
asylum, where in a few days he expired. After death
the tooth-brush was found in his stomach.

Another House has Fallen in the neighbourhood of
the Strand. On the night of the 10th instant, a house
fell down in Pettifort-court, a thoroughfare leading from
the north side of the church of St. Mary-le-Strand.
Three children, belonging to one of the lodgers, were
in bed in a front room on the third floor of the house,
the adjoining room being occupied by a woman of the
name of Seymour, the other inmates not having retired
for the night; and about 12 o'clock they were alarmed
by the roof falling in with a fearful crash. The first
impulse was to rush into the street, but some of the
more courageous proceeded as well as they could up
stairs, and extricated the children, who, although
covered with the fallen rubbish, were found to be
uninjured, except a few bruises. The adjoining house was
being pulled down, no shoring having been put up, the
consequence of which was the falling in of the roof. For
some time past the whole of the courts and alleys in
this district have been excavated for the purpose of
making new sewers, and from the natural looseness of
the sub-strata, the foundations of the old and ricketty
houses have been greatly impaired. It was not until
there were evident signs of danger that any shoring was
placed up.

A Collision at Sea happened near the Mouse Light
(some miles below the Nore) on the night of the 5th
instant, between the Trident steam-ship, Captain Morris,
and the brig Harewood, of London, Mr. Graham, master,
which ended in the almost instantaneous foundering of the
latter vessel, with six of the crew, who perished. The
Harewood was coming up the river, and was nearly in
mid-channel, when the crew descried a bright light
and then immediately a red one on the brig's weather
bow. It was at once conjectured to be those of an
approaching steamer, and the master took his signal
lantern to the weather gangway, and waved it for three or
four minutes, and it was thought that it had been observed.
The red light then was missed, and almost immediately
afterwards a green one appeared in sight, which at once
intimated to them that the steamer had changed her
course, and was bearing down upon the brig. Most of
the hands were forward calling out to her with all their
might to alter her helm; however she came on, her
weather bow striking the weather bow of the Harewood.
The concussion was so tremendous that the steamer,
although she had stopped her engines, almost ran over
the brig. The force of the blow canted her on one side,
and she immediately began to fill, and in less than two
minutes went down in 12 fathoms, not a scream nor a
cry escaping from the six unfortunate men who
disappeared with her. As the steamer was passing from the
wreck. Mason, a seaman, caught hold of the netting of
the poop, and so got on board, and observing his vessel
go down he jumped into the quarter-boat of the Trident,
and called for assistance. Accompanied by the mate, he
pulled off to the spars, and discovered the captain in the
topmast rigging, which was a few feet above water.
After some difficulty he was extricated and got into the
boat, but nothing could be seen of the remainder of the
men.

Another appalling Shipwreck took place in the
Channel, on the morning of the 19th inst. The
Dalhousie, a fine ship of 800 tons, sailed from Blackwall
on the 12th, for Australia, with a cargo valued at above
£100,000. Her passengers were confined to chief cabin
class, and about twenty berths had been secured. Of
these there went on board at Gravesend Mr. and Mrs.
Underwood and three children, Mrs. Simpson and three
children, and Miss Radford; and the following passengers
expressed their intention of joining the ship at
Plymouth, where she had to touch—Major Hawkes,
Capt. R. Daniel, Mr. J. Baldwin, Miss Macintosh and
her maid, Mrs. Hill, and Miss A. M. Castles; Mrs.
Butterworth being anxious to accompany her husband,
Capt. Butterworth, (the master of the vessel) to
Plymouth, where she would leave, she went on board
with three of her sons for the trip down channel. The
eldest, however, on the ship reaching the Downs, went
ashore with the pilot at Deal to return to school, which
is in the neighbourhood. On the 18th, the ship's
departure from the Downs was telegraphed to Lloyd's,
and the next that was heard of her was about 5 o'clock
on the following afternoon, when a boat reached Dover
from the brig Mitchel Grove, which was lying off in the
roadstead, reporting the loss of the ship, and landing
the only survivor, Joseph Reed, a seaman, every soul
on board having perished with the vessel. All that is
known, or is likely to be known of this melancholy
event will be found in the subjoined statement, made
by Joseph Reed, lately an able seaman on board the
ship. Having described the voyage as far as to 7 o'clock
on the evening of the 18th until when all had been
right, Reed says, "At that time, the vessel being 8 or
10 miles to the westward of Dungeness, the wind shifted
to the S.S.E., and gradually freshened from that
quarter. At 10 p.m.. Captain Butterworth took in the
top gallant sails, and at midnight all hands were called
to reef topsails, the wind increasing rapidly from the
southward and eastward, and a strong sea getting up.
The light on Beechy Head was then in sight, six or
eight miles on the starboard beam, and at 1.30 a.m. the
mainsail and jib were stowed. At 2, a.m., I took the
helm, and from which position I had the means of
observing everything which took place subsequently,
and at 4, a.m., the fore and main-topsail were double
reefed, and the mizentopsail stowed. The wind was
then blowing a gale, accompanied by a heavy sea, in
which the vessel laboured greatly. Up to this time she
had shown herself to the best of my judgment a lively
manageable ship, and during the gale in the Downs she
had behaved remarkably well. The pumps had been
sounded night and morning, and she was quite tight,
and upon trying them as usual at 8, p.m. (previous
night), no water (excepting that always in the bottom)
could be found. Towards 4 a.m., the ship began to
lurch deeply in the sea, going a long way over on her
broadside, and she seemed unable to recover herself
when she rolled. I began to suspect that there must be
a considerable quantity of water in her, and I mentioned
to one of my shipmates that the vessel seemed like a
water-logged ship. Shortly afterwards the starboard
quarter boat was carried away by a sea, and about
5 a.m., the crew, by the commander's orders,
commenced throwing overboard water-casks, sheep-pens,
and other lumber from the deck. While they were so
occupied the ship gave a violent lurch to starboard,
and a heavy sea at the same time breaking over her to
leeward washed overboard the longboat, which was full
of live stock. The weather was then getting worse,
and the ship was kept hauled to the wind (on the port
tack) under the double-reefed fore and main topsail,
foresail, and fore topmast staysail, the foresail being
hauled up, and the main topsail being lowered down
on the cap. She continued to lurch violently, and
at half-past 5 a.m. she rolled right over on her
starboard beam ends, and remained in that position, with
her mast-head in the water, lying at the mercy of the
sea, which then made a clear breach over her, and
washed away the larboard quarter-boat. A great
many of the crew took refuge in the main-top, and I
got outside the ship on the weather quarter galley, it
being impossible to stand on deck. A sea broke into
the main topsail and carried away the main topmast,
with all its gear, and likewise washed four men out of
the maintop. Captain Butterworth, the chief and
second mates, the carpenter, cook, and some of the
crew, joined me on the weather quarter, and they
dragged through the gallery window four passengers,
consisting of a gentleman, his wife, and two children,
who took refuge with them. The declarant and
another seaman also succeeded in getting out of the
water a young lady who had come out of one of the
poop cabins, and had afterwards fallen into the sea. I