Smith had given up all hope of ever seeing a human face again. His feet were sore from walking on the rocks. He had tied pieces of cork out of the life preserver to his feet, and the rope with which he bound them chafed terribly. He found some oil in the crabs, and it healed the sores on his feet. " I thought it was pretty hard to be left there and die alone," he said yesterday to a Herald reporter. He had become so weak that lie was unable to crawl on the rocks, and still there was no sign of salvation. '

Fifteen days he had passed on the rocks. On the sixteenth day a schooner came in sight. He raised a signal, using the pantaloons which the dead friend had left. He saw the schooner twenty-four hours before anybody noticed his signal. What agony he suffered thinking every moment that the schooner would sail away and leave h:m to die. " I heard a voice," Smith said to the reporter ; "it appeared to me almost like a dream." A human voice ! He had not heard a human voice since his friend died. He was lying on the rock, sick, unable to move. "Here is a man," the voice said, " but I don't know whether he is dead or alive." Smith heard another voice — " No, captain, this man is not dead ; I see him move." No, he was not dead. The words he had heard had revived him. He jumped up and fainted into the arms of the captain and the mate, who had come to take him on board the, schooner. Yesterday his brother and his wife received the brave fireman at his home here in New York. While on the dreary rocks of Abaco he had dreamed of them every night, and now he was sitting before a bright, blazing fire, hugging them to his heart.
