Front Cover
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Chapter I
 Chapter II
 Chapter III
 Chapter IV
 Chapter V
 Chapter VI
 Chapter VII
 Chapter VIII
 Chapter IX
 Chapter X
 Chapter XI
 Back Cover

Group Title: Captain's story, or, The disobedient son : adapted from the German
Title: The captain's story, or, The disobedient son
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00055328/00001
 Material Information
Title: The captain's story, or, The disobedient son adapted from the German
Alternate Title: Disobedient son
Physical Description: vi, 108, 4 p., 2 leaves of plates : ill. ; 15 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Martin, William S
James Nisbet & Co ( Publisher )
Sanson and Co ( Printer )
Publisher: James Nisbet & Co.
Place of Publication: London
Manufacturer: Sanson and Co.
Publication Date: 1870
Subject: Ship captains -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Obedience -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Youth -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Sea stories -- 1870   ( rbgenr )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1870   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1870
Genre: Sea stories   ( rbgenr )
Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Scotland -- Edinburgh
Statement of Responsibility: by William S. Martin ; edited by C.S. Harington.
General Note: Publisher's advertisements follow text.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00055328
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002223058
notis - ALG3306
oclc - 56881772

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
        Page i
    Title Page
        Page ii
    Table of Contents
        Page iii
        Page iv
        Page v
        Page vi
    Chapter I
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
    Chapter II
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
    Chapter III
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
    Chapter IV
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
    Chapter V
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
    Chapter VI
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
    Chapter VII
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
    Chapter VIII
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
    Chapter IX
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
    Chapter X
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
    Chapter XI
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
    Back Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
Full Text



The Baldnin Librdry
Ura,- invers.iy
111zS 4

Ci i' STORY.
"Hestdwnt et isl.










The Stranger-The Castle-The Captain's Soli-
loquy-The Pastor-The Invitation 7


The Children's Expectation Disappointed-The
Scapegrace-The Forester's House-Curi-
osity of the Villagers-Their Remarks-
The Captain's Luggage 13


Invitation to Tea--Negroes-Curiosities-The
F'able of the Grasshopper and the Ant-
The Explanation 24


The Portrait-The Captain begins his Story-
His Wilfulness-Goes to the University-
Bad Behaviour there-His Father's Letter
-Refuses to send him Money-He Runs
Away 30


He writes to his Father-Arrives at Amsterdam
His Father's Answer-The Curse-On the
Quay-Meets a Fellow-Countryman-Is
Kidnapped and Robbed-Sent to Sea-
Endures many Hardships 36


The Tempest-All Hope Lost--The Ship
Founders-The only Survivor-The Spar
-Remorse- The Rock-A Sail in Sight-
The Signal- Despair--The Sail in Sight
again-The Signal Seen-Saved-HeWorks
his Passage to England Is Tired of a
Seafaring Life 44


He Arrives at Portsmouth-Resolves to Return
to his Father-Arrives at Rotterdam-
Sunday Morning-Writes to his Father-
Is Penniless-The Curse of Disobedience-
The Sermon-Is Starving-Obtains Tempo-
rary Relief from an Old Fellow-Student-
Receives News of his Father's Death-His
Sorrow and Remorse-Goes to Sea Again
-Becomes Captain of a Ship 52


His Marriage-The Portrait-His Terror-His
Good Fortune Deserts him-Heavy Losses
-The Beggar-Recognises an Old Enemy
-His Two Children are Drowned-His
Wife Dies-Is Bankrupt-In Prison-The
English Clergyman-Is Brought to Repent-
ance-Is Set Free-The Fisherman and
Basket-maker 68


AcceDts the Command of a Ship-The Pirates--


The Fight--Victory-Meets an Old Friend
-His Friend's Adventures 88


Makes Several Successful Voyages-Becomes
Rich-Buys a Ship of his Own-Makes his
Fortune-Retires from the Sea-Returns to
his Native Village 96


The Curse Revoked-Conclusion 102



The Stranger-The Castle -The Captain's Soliloquy-
The Pastor-The Invitation.

"I travelled among unknown men,
In lands beyond the sea;
Nor did I know, sweet home, till then,
What love I bore to thee.
"'Tis past, that melancholy dream!
Nor will I quit thy shore
A second time; for still I seem
STo love thee more and more."

TOWARDS the close of a beautiful day in
autumn, the last rays of the setting sun were
gilding the tops of the mountains, which


overhang the picturesque valley of Berg-
strasse, along which winds the road from
Heidelberg to Frankfort. The heavily laden
country carts and waggons were toiling
slowly along the dusty highway, both horses
and drivers looking hot and tired, and both,
no doubt, very glad that they had nearly
reached the end of their day's journey; while
every now and then a horseman, or a car-
riage with ladies and gentlemen inside,
dashed rapidly along, and soon left the more
heavily loaded vehicles far behind. What a
striking picture of human life and the great
journey we all are taking-some of us strug-
gling wearily, and oftentimes painfully, but
always, let us trust, hopefully, under a heavy
load, and others trotting merrily along their
course, happy, and apparently at least free
from care. Who shall say which of the two
shall reach the end most safely!
While the broad high-road presented this
animated scene, the steep rocky footpath cut
in the side of the mountain, and leading up
to the old ruined castle of Aurburg on its


summit, was almost deserted; not quite
deserted, though; for, toiling up the steep
ascent was an old man, who, in spite of the
help afforded him by his stout bamboo cane,
looked very tired as he went slowly along.
He was rather a strange-looking old man,
respectably dressed, and with a pleasant-
looking face; but his clothes and general
appearance were different from those of the
people commonly seen about there, and his
bronzed, weather-beaten features showed him
to be, if not a foreigner, one who had evi-
dently been for some time in a foreign
country. Indeed, the little boy who passed
him on his way down to the valley with his
goats, and the little girl going home with
her bundle of sticks for the fire, seemed half
afraid of him as they bade him good-night,
and even when he had gone by, they turned
round to look at him as he went on up the
In spite of his evident weariness, the
stranger kept bravely on; and just as the
sun was disappearing behind a long rance


of mountains in the west, he reached the
ruins of the old castle, of which only one
tower and a few walls were then standing.
Here he sat down to rest himself on a large
heap of stones which had long since fallen
from the walls of the castle, and were now
all overgrown with lichens and ferns, and
seemed for some moments lost in thought.
His eyes wandered over the rich landscape
which lay spread out beneath his feet; then,
giving vent to the emotions which filled his
heart, he exclaimed: "Yes, this is the old
place again, and after forty years' absence
I have at last returned to take one more
look at these mountains and forests which
I remember so well. There, too, far away
down the valley, glides the beautiful river,
along whose banks I so often wandered
when I was a boy. Ah, it is a true saying,
'There is no place like home!' And yet,
after all, our real home is not in this world,
but in heaven. There are all who were dear
to me, and there I trust soon to meet them
again; but now I am left alone-alone in


the world! What a change a few short
years have made!"
The old man sat silent for a few minutes,
and then in a voice full of emotion began
singing part of a beautiful English hymn,
which touchingly expresses the instability of
all human affairs:--

"Change and decay on all around I see:
0 Thou that changes not, abide with me."

While he was singing, two children, hear-
ing him, came close up behind him, and
when he had finished began to cough in
order to attract his attention. For some
time he took no notice, but at last he turned,
and saw two nicely-dressed children, a little
boy and girl, who wished him good evening
and made a bow. He was about to speak to
them, when their father, who had also heard
him singing, came up, and supposing him to
be an Englishman, said to him in English,
"Although, sir, we are strangers, it is true,
those beautiful words you were singing,
which I am sure come from your heart,


prove to me that we both look up to one
common Father in heaven. I am the pastor
of the little village you can see down there,
at the foot of the mountain. But it is grow-
ing dark, and if, as I presume, you are a
stranger in these parts, I can gladly offer
you the simple accommodation of my cottage
for the night."
The stranger answered in German: "Your
kind invitation is very welcome, sir. An old
sea-captain like me is not much in the habit
of paying compliments; I can only say I
gladly accept your hospitality."
Guided by the last glimmer of twilight,
they took their way at once towards the
peaceful village, the steeple of which was
just peeping up above the trees. On their
way the captain told the pastor that he had
only arrived at the neighboring village of
Aurbach that afternoon. But," said he, "I
could not rest, tired as I was with my day's
travelling, until I had been up here to look
at the old castle, which I have not seen for
forty years."



The Children's Expectation Disappointed-The Scape-
grace-The Forester's House-Curiosity of the Vil-
lagers-Their Remarks-The Captain's Luggage.

"I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curled
Above the green elms, that a cottage was near;
And I said, If there's peace to be found in the world,
A heart that was humble might hope for it here.'
It was noon, and on flowers that languished around,
In silence reposed the voluptuous bee;
Every leaf was at rest, and I heard not a sound
But the woodpecker tapping the hollow beech-tree."

NIGHT had already closed in when they
reached the village, and the moon was just
appearing over the tops of the mountains.
Here they were met by the pastor's wife.
She had already heard of the stranger's
arrival from the two children, who had run
home before. "Pray do not be alarmed at


the sight of a strange and unexpected guest,"
said the old man to her, "I hope my arrival
will not inconvenience you at all." "Not in
the least, sir," replied she, "you are very
welcome to such accommodation as we can
Upon this they entered the house, and
were soon comfortably seated in the parlour,
while the children, who had heard that the
stranger was a great traveller, listened very
attentively, hoping that he would begin
talking of his long voyages, and perhaps tell
them some interesting stories of his. adven-
tures. This evening, however, they' were
doomed to be disappointed, for though the
captain could easily have satisfied their curi-
osity, and amused them for a long time with
an account of some of the dangers he had
passed through, and the many foreign coun-
tries he had visited, he seemed just then to
be more inclined to seek for information on
different points, than to talk about himself
and his own doings.
He began by asking the pastor a great


many questions about different places in the
neighbourhood, and the people (several of
whose names he knew) who used to live
there; and seemed very much interested in
all he heard. He then inquired whether
there were still living any descendants of
the former pastor, a Mr Buchman. "So
far as I know, there are none," replied the
pastor, "indeed, I understand he had only
one son, a regular scapegrace, who left home
a long time ago, and has never been heard of
since." ."It must be nearly forty years since
Pastor Buchman lived here," he added, "per-
haps-you remember him ?"
"Indeed I do," said the captain, "I rerem-
ber him well, for he was my father, and I am
no other than the only son you spoke of!"
"Is it possible?" cried the worthy man,
a little disconcerted; "are you indeed that
very young man, of whose wilful character I
have heard so many speak ? Forgive me, my
friend, for having spoken of you as a scape-
grace. How could I imagine that you, who
as a boy were so wild and disobedient, would


have become a quiet and pious man, as you
seem to me to be." "Yes, thank God," said
the captain in a voice trembling with emo-
tion, "He has at length, after many hard
trials and severe chastisements, shown me
the error of my ways, and guided my feet
into the way of peace. But pray excuse my
speaking more on this subject just now. I
could scarcely relate all the details of my
long story to-night, and, fatigued as I am, it
would be too much for me; indeed, as it is,
the idea of passing the night under your
roof almost overcomes me; for this is the
very house that I was born in, and here, too,
my parents both died."
Nothwithstanding his anxiety to hear a
full account of the extraordinary events in
the life of his guest, the worthy pastor con-
siderately forebore to touch on the subject
again during the evening. As. to the chil-
dren, they did not cease to pay the greatest
attention, hoping to hear, at least, something
interesting, but in vain. The captain sat
buried in thought, and during the short time,


before supper scarcely spoke a word. Di-
rectly after supper, the pastor read a chapter
from the Bible, and made a short evening
prayer, and then the children had to go to
bed. This seemed to them a greater hard-
ship to-night than it had ever done before,
and they could not help thinking, as they
went up-stairs, that perhaps the captain
might relate his adventures after they had
gone, and so they should miss hearing them.
They kept all these thoughts to themselves,
however, for they were good, obedient chil-
dren, and went to bed without murmuring.
After they had left the room, the captain
still refrained from speaking on the subject
of his travels, only telling the pastor of his
intention of spending the rest of his life in
his native village, if he could find a suitable
house, either to rent or buy. His host heard
this resolution with pleasure, and told him
that there was a neat, comfortable cottage,
close by his own parsonage, which was for
sale; it had belonged to a forester who had
died about six months ago, and would, he


thought, be very likely to suit him. They
continued talking on various subjects for
some little time, till the pastor's wife re-
minded them that it was past ten o'clock.
Upon this they went up to bed; but for
nearly an hour afterwards the pastor heard
his guest, who slept in an adjoining room,
walking up and down, and occasionally
praying in a loud voice. After a time, how-
ever, all was silent, and peaceful sleep closed
the labours of the day.
The next morning the two children were
the first down-stairs. They had always been
accustomed to get up early, and little Willie,
when only four years old, once said to his
father, "Isn't it a shame, papa, to let the
sun get up before we do ? He must be more
tired than we are, for he has such a long
way to go every day." Their father usually
employed the first part of the morning in
taking them both out for a walk, either up
the mountains, or in the fields, or perhaps
into the forest, where they would gather
ferns or flowers, and get him to tell them


their names. But to-day they seemed so
anxious to hear the captain's adventures, that
they did not like to go out far, for fear they
might miss some opportunity of hearing his
story; and they could scarcely contain their
joy when their mother told them that he
was not going to leave Dornbach (that was
the name of the village), but was going to
live at the forester's house.
In a retired country village like Dorn-
bach, where everything went on from one
week's end to another in the same quiet
manner, it was rarely indeed that anything
occurred to furnish the villagers with a new
topic of conversation, and every traveller
who stopped at the road-side inn, if it were
only to bait his horse, created quite a sensa-
tion. If the stranger should happen to get
into conversation with any one, for the next
three days at least every one in the place
would be talking about him. This was
specially the case now when the report was
spread that the captain of a ship had arrived
at the parsonage, not for a passing visit, but


with the intention of settling in the neigh-
bourhood; and when it was further reported
that this old captain was no other than the
much talked-of, son of the late Pastor
Buchman, well remembered by the older
inhabitants as the scapegrace, the excitement
of the good people of Dornbach was im-
mense. This was now the subject of every-
body's conversation. The people all seemed
to have forgotten their ordinary occupations;
everywhere they were to be seen gathered
together in groups, talking about the news of
the day, of which, however, as yet they knew
very little.
"Oh yes, I have seen him," said old
Hannah; "I saw him yesterday, when he
first came to the village."
"Is he not very rich ?" asked another.
"Of course he is," said Frau Margaret;
"how can he be otherwise, if he is really the
captain of a ship ? I'm sure he must have
a million of money."
"A million of money !" muttered the old
bailiff; "if he had half as much as that he


would never think of shutting himself up in
an out-of-the-way village like this."
"If he had twice as much," said old father
Nicholas, with an air of irony, "he would
not have it long, if he is anything like what
he used to be. Ah, I remember him well:
I was at school with him, and if ever there
was a spendthrift in the world, one who did
not even seem to know there was such a
word as 'save,' believe me, he is the man."
In short, every one had something to say
on the subject, in spite of the fact that no
one knew anything about it; and after a
great deal had been said, they came to the
conclusion that there was nothing for it but
to wait and see what would happen.
While all this was going on in the village,
the captain had sent down to the inn at
Aurbach, where he had left his luggage, and
ordered it to be sent to Dornbach, to his
new house, which the bailiff had put into
.good repair for him. He had also borrowed
some necessary furniture from his good
friend the pastor, until he could get some


of his own from the neighboring town.
When the cart arrived with his boxes and
portmanteaus in it, the curiosity of the
villagers received a fresh impetus. "What
can he have in that strong-looking box?"
said one. If it were money, two men could
could never carry it. And look what a,
number of packages besides! I can't think
what a single man can want with so much
How do you know he is single?" answered
another: "he may, for all we know, have a
wife and family, who will come down here
when his house is ready for them."
"Well, well, perhaps that is it," said a
third, who stood opposite; "we must wait
and see."
Willie and his sister Mary were quite as
curious as any one else, and kept asking their
papa what all those boxes contained. "I
really do not know," was his answer; "perhaps
when he has unpacked them he will show
you some day, if you are good children."
The captain soon set to work unpacking,


but for more than a week he did not ask any
of his friends to go and look at his treasures.
Even the old servant whom he had engaged
was not allowed to go into the room where
most of his boxes were, so that for a time
every one's curiosity remained unsatisfied.
As it was only a few steps through his garden
(which joined that of the pastor) to the
parsonage, he had made arrangements with
the pastor's wife to dine with them regularly,
so that he might not be troubled with the
duties of housekeeping."



Invitation to Tea-Negroes-Curiosities-The Fable of
the Grasshopper and the Ant-The Explanation.

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round;
And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups,
That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful evening in."

ONE evening, a little more than a week after
the captain had moved into the forester's
house, he invited the pastor and his wife and
the two children to go and take tea with him.
On arriving at the house they were shown
at once -into the room which had been kept so
securely locked up since the luggage had
arrived, and were delighted at seeing the
result of his labours. The children, too,


were much amused with looking at some
tapestry which covered one of the walls,
representing three black slaves in the act of
handing coffee and refreshments to the
visitors. These were as large as life, and so
well done, that at first the children were
quite frightened, believing them to be real
negroes. When they were all seated, the
captain gave them some genuine and very
rare tea served in fine porcelain cups which
he had brought from China, and also some
nice preserved fruits and sweetmeats from
the Indies. The room was quite full of
curiosities of all kinds, and the pastor's wife
was much interested in looking at some
beautiful silks from the Levant, and several
curiously carved boxes containing spices from
the Molucca Islands, and also coffee and
cocoa-berries, cotton-pods, and specimens
of many other useful articles, which in their
prepared state were well known to her.
The chief attraction for the pastor and the
two children was a fine collection of objects
of natural history, which the captain had


already found time to put in order. There
were some stuffed birds from foreign coun-
tries, which the captain had shot, and several
cases containing a great many splendid
butterflies from Brazil. They saw also,
hanging on the walls of the room, wooden
spears and roughly-made axes, with bows
and arrows, and other weapons used by the
savages of different countries which their
host had visited. On the mantel-piece, too,
were some lumps of amber from the Black
Sea, porphyry from the ruins of Carthage,
large shells and fine pieces of coral, agate,
and many other curiosities from the sea.
Beside the large shells on the mantel-piece,
there was a beautiful collection of smaller
ones in a small cabinet on the sideboard.
In another cabinet, which was made of
ebony, and handsomely inlaid with mother-
of-pearl and silver, they were shown a
valuable assortment of precious stones from
Persia and the Indies.
The delight of the children when they
saw all these curiosities was unbounded,


and they asked so many questions, first
about one thing they saw and then about
another, that it was impossible for the
captain to satisfy their curiosity in one
evening. When the time came for them
to go home, they were very sorry, but were
consoled by the hope of often visiting their
kind friend, and getting him to tell them all
about his different treasures. After this first
visit, the children were often allowed to go
over to see the captain, and each time they
did so he had something new to surprise
them with-either some curiosity to show
them, or perhaps a long and interesting story
to tell them about some of the foreign
countries he had visited. Sometimes, too,
he would let them read to him out of a little
book full of pretty stories and fables which
he had bought, and then he would explain to
them all that they read.
One day they had been reading the fable
of the grasshopper and the ant, in which the
grasshopper is represented as blaming the
ant for working so hard during the fine


summer weather, instead of enjoying the
bright sunshine, and leaving the future to
take care of itself. The ant replies that she
knows it is very pleasant to have nothing
to do but to play and sing among the grass
and the flowers, but instinct has taught her
that the bright warm weather must in time
be exchanged for cold gloomy days with
frost and snow, when no food is to be got,
and so she is seeking, while she has an
opportunity, to lay up a store against a rainy
day. The captain asked little Mary if she
knew what was meant by the grasshopper in
the fable. "I don't know," was her answer;
but I think it must mean a man."
"Yes, my dear," said he, "it does represent
a man; but what sort of man? Perhaps
Willie can tell us."
"I suppose," said Willie, after thinking a
little while, "that the grasshopper in the
fable is intended to represent those people
who live without any care for the future, and
who, when they have plenty of everything
around them, forget that a time may come


when they will not be able to work, and who
never lay up anything for their future wants."
"That is quite right," said the captain,
"and we may learn, too, from this fable, to
make a good use of our opportunities while
we have them,-not only to lay by money as
a provision for old age, but, while we are
young, to try by diligence and study to lay
in a store of useful knowledge, and above all
to 'remember our Creator in the days of our
youth,' instead of leaving it to an old age,
which we may never live to see."



The Portrait-The Captain begins his Story-His Wil-
fulness-Goes to the University-Bad Behaviour
there-His Father's Letter-Refuses to send him
Money-He Runs Away.

"In all my wanderings round this world of care,
In all my griefs-and God has given my share-
I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown,
Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;

Around my fire an evening group to draw,
And tell of all I felt, and all I saw."

EVERY time the pastor went to see the cap-
tain, he could not help noticing that his eyes
were very often fixed on a portrait. which
hung just over the looking-glass, and he
noticed, too, that whenever he was looking at
it, his eyes were filled with tears. At first,


from a feeling of delicacy, he did not like to
ask him the cause of this; but at length he
thought that his title of friend added to that
of pastor made it his duty to endeavour to
free his friend from the burden of some un-
happy memory, under which he was evi-
dently labouring. One day, then, when he
found him alone, he said to him, My dear
friend, how is it that you are always gazing
at that portrait with such an expression of
sadness on your countenance ?"
"Ah, my dear pastor," answered the cap-
tain, "your question touches the spring of all
my grief. Even now, that all my wanderings
are over, and I am settled down here, leading
such a peaceful, quiet life in my native village,
how can I be happy when every moment the
memory of him whose face you see there
comes up before my mind ?"
"Whose portrait is it, then ?" asked the
"It is my father's," was the reply; "but for
you to fully understand my feelings when I
think of him, you must know something of my.


history; and as the present is a good oppor-
tunity, I will relate my story to you and to
your family. I should like you all to know
what troubles I have passed through."
The pastor's wife and children did not
want asking twice to come and listen to
the captain's adventures, which they had
so long been hoping and longing to hear.
When they had all come and were seated,
he began his story.
"I was, as you know, born in this village
in the year 17-. Shortly after my birth,
my mother died, leaving me, her only child,
to my father's care. He, sadly distressed at
her loss, resolved never to marry again. He
was a pious and very learned man, and as I
grew up he took great pains to instruct me
in the fear of God; but his parochial duties
and his studies prevented him from having
me constantly under his own eye. I was,
indeed, left in a great measure to the care of
an old aunt, who was very deaf, and whose
weak, easy good-nature could not restrain
my naturally headstrong disposition, so that


I had no lack of opportunities for disobeying
my father's commands, and satisfying my
own taste for amusements of which he did
not approve. I never found any difficulty in
learning, and indeed could always get my
tasks done long before the time I had to say
them, so that I had a great deal of spare time
on my hands which I used to spend in the
streets, playing with the little boys of the
village, who taught me a great many bad
habits. Whenever I was found out, it is
true, I was severely punished, and for a little
while was more sharply looked after, but I
too often managed to deceive my father, and
did not hesitate even at falsehoods in order
to be able to follow the bent of my own bad
My father had intended that I should
become a pastor like himself. My taste,
however, was rather for a life of travels; but
I dared not set up my will in opposition to
his, and in my eighteenth year I left his
house and entered the University at Giessen.
The liberty which the students there en-


joyed pleased me amazingly, and I endea-
voured to avail myself of it to the utmost.
I studied, however, with great diligence, and
my natural aptitude for learning always left
me plenty of time to devote to pleasure.
Little by little I found my studies become
irksome to me, and my desire for amusement
increase, until at length I entirely gave up
all serious occupations, and used to pass all
my time either in pleasure-parties or in the
public house. Before I left home my bad
behaviour had gained for me the name of
the Scapegrace, and at the University I did
my best to show myself worthy of the title.
"It was not long before my father was
informed of my disorderly conduct, and you
can understand what impression such a
report made upon him. He wrote me a
most affectionate letter, full of the most
touching exhortations to give up my evil
course. This at the time sensibly movod
me, and made me seriously resolve to turn
over a new leaf. Soon, however, my love of
pleasure, aided by the influence of bad com-


panions, made me break through all my good
resolutions; I was ashamed of what my
associates called my weakness, and I soon
fell lower than ever. Oh how deeply has
the experience of that time proved to me the
truth of that saying of an old French writer,
' The being ashamed of what is right is the
root and source of all our misery.'
When my father saw that all his exhorta-
tions were without effect, and all my pro-
mises without any result, he tried the plan
of refusing to send me any more money,
hoping that the want of means to indulge
my bad habits would bring me back to a
better frame of mind. This plan, however,
was far from being successful. I soon got
into debt, and when at last no one would
trust me any longer, I sold my books and
every article of value that I had, and getting
on the coach, I resolved to make my way to
Amsterdam and go to sea. The journey to
Amsterdam suited me very well, for I found
most of my travelling companions were young
men of about my own stamp, and with them


I passed the time pleasantly enough. Over
and over again, I repeated to myself the
foolish wish, 'Oh that I could be always as
happy as I am now.'"



He writes to his Father-Arrives at Amsterdam-His
Father's Answer-The Curse-On the Quay-Meets
a Fellow Countryman-Is Kidknapped and Robbed
-Sent to Sea-Endures many Hardships.

"Thorns and snares are in the way of the froward: he
that doth keep his soul shall be far from them."--Pov.
xxii. 5.

"BEFORE quitting Giessen I had written
to my father to tell him of my resolution,
and I had also the effrontery to ask him to
send me some money. He was, you may be
sure, deeply grieved on receiving such a
letter, but when I reached Amsterdam I
found an answer from him, in which he en-
closed 20. The letter contained the most
earnest and affectionate exhortations to me
to return and repent, assuring me of his
willingness to forgive me if I did so; if,


however, in spite of all he could say, I
should refuse and still persist in my mad
and wicked course, he added, 'My curse
shall be upon you, and follow you always.'
I was much agitated by these terrible words,
and I seriously thought when I read them
that I dared not go on; but whether it was
that I was ashamed to go back, or from my
desire to travel about the world, or the idea
that such a threat uttered, I was sure, in a
moment of anger, would never be fulfilled, I
hardened my heart against my better feel-
ings, and obstinately persisted in the course I
had chosen. Alas, how soon was I to know,
by bitter experience, the terrible effects of a
father's curse !
"However, I strove to dismiss all such
thoughts from my mind, and went down to
the quay with all my money, nearly 30, in
my pocket, to look out for a ship about to
sail either for North America or the Indies.
I was not very particular which,. my great
desire being to get to sea as soon as possible,
and then, I thought, my happiness will


begin. Having heard that there was a fine
vessel then loading for Surinam, I took a
boat and went on board to see the captain,
but I soon found my means were insufficient
for such a long voyage, and returned from
the ship quite low-spirited. This may seem
strange, but it is a fact that whenever we
are doing wrong wilfully, and pursuing any
course which our conscience cannot approve,
the slightest repulse is sufficient to cause us
great uneasiness, and any little hindrance we
may meet with, which at another time we
should think nothing of, is then enough to
make us quite unhappy. This was the case
with me, and I felt very miserable as I was
walking up and down the quay. The course
I had chosen was one of disobedience and
sin, and I was realising the truth of the
words, 'There is no peace to the wicked.'
"I had been walking up and down for
nearly a quarter of an hour in this way,
when on raising my eyes I noticed a well-
dressed young man apparently waiting to
speak to me. When I got near him he


bowed politely, and addressed me in German,
'Excuse me, sir, but you seem to be a
stranger in this town, and, if I am not
mistaken, a German. I am also quite a
stranger here, and I am rejoiced to meet
with a fellow-countryman.' I was very glad
to hear this, and assured him of the pleasure
I felt at meeting him, and thus we soon got
into conversation together.
"When he heard that I intended to go
abroad, and thought of going to North
America, he seemed agreeably surprised,
and told me that he had just engaged a
passage to New York in a vessel which was
to sail the next day, and added, 'If you like,
I can take you to the captain's house, for I
think he has room for another passenger, and
on our way we can see the vessel, which is
not far from here.' I thanked him for his
kind offer, and we walked arm in arm down
the quay, where he soon showed me the
ship riding at anchor. She was a fine vessel,
newly painted, and looking very trim and
neat. It seemed a very long way to the


captain's house, and I am sure we must have
gone more than a mile together before we
got there. My new friend seemed to know
the house well, and led me down several
passages, to a little room at the back of the
premises, where he left me, telling me he
would go and call the captain. As he went
out, I heard a slight grating noise, as though
he had locked the door after him; and,
though I quite laughed at the idea, yet after
waiting impatiently for nearly half-an-hour
for the captain to come, I thought I would
just look up and down the passage and see
if I could find any one who would tell me
where he was.
"On reaching the door, you may imagine
my consternation at finding it was indeed
locked. Horror seized me, for I found I
was like a mouse caught in a trap. I flew
to the window and found it was securely
nailed down, and then saw, what I had not
noticed before, that it was guarded outside
by stout iron bars. I now began to realise
the situation I was in, and concluded that


I was the victim of one of those crimps,
or kidnappers, who in those times infested
seaport towns, and, as I had read, used all
manner of artifices to decoy unwary travel-
lers into their dens in order to rob them, and
then sell them into. the military service of
some distant colony. This thought almost
drove me frantic. I tore my hair and wrung
my hands, and stamped on the floor with my
feet. I screamed and called for help, but all
in vain: my prison was too well chosen for
my cries to reach any but the persons of the
house, and after an hour spent in vain endea-
vours to escape, I sank exhausted into a
chair, and sullenly awaited my fate.
"After waiting about two hours (as it
seemed to me) in this terrible state of rage,
grief, and despair, I heard the door unlocked,
and prepared myself to make one desperate
effort for my liberty. The door was thrown
open, and I felt my last chance of escape was
gone, when I saw two men enter with pistols,
loaded and cocked, in their hands. They
soon compelled me, by threats of instant


death if I resisted, to hand over all my
money to them, and then I was obliged to
change my clothes for a very dirty sailor's
dress which one of them had brought with
him. They were deaf to all my entreaties
for pity, and though I wept and besought
them to let me go, even if they took all I
had from me, and promised them a liberal
reward, it was all in vain; they took no
notice whatever of my complaints, and
merely putting down some bread and cheese,
and a mug of water on the table, they
gathered up all my clothes, and left me to
my own reflections.
"When night came on, I was again aroused
and taken out of the house by a back-door
and conveyed on board a ship, where I found
several other young men, who, I concluded
from their melancholy and dejected air, were
in a similar predicament to myself. Our cap-
tors were too numerous and well-armed for
resistance to be of any avail, and as I could
see that anything of the kind must only end
in making our situation still worse than it


was, I made up my mind to suffer all my
misery as patiently as I could.
"As long as we were in sight of the land
we were kept down in the hold, and care-
fully guarded day and night by armed men,
and I was quite thankful when we got well
out to sea, and were allowed to go on deck.
We soon found, however, that our masters
had no intention of letting us be idle during
the voyage, for we were kept constantly
employed about the ship, and made to do all
the hardest and dirtiest work. This was
very distasteful to me with my lazy habits,
for I had never done a day's hard work
before in my life, and latterly even study
had become quite irksome to me. The curse
which my father had pronounced upon me
had already begun to be terribly fulfilled,
and I now began to believe that it was
indeed to follow me always."



The Tempest-All Hope Lost-The Ship Founders-The
only Survivor-The Spar-Remorse-The Rock-A
Sail in Sight-The Signal-Despair-The Sail in
Sight again-The Signal Seen-Saved-He Works
his Passage to England- Is Tired of a Seafaring Life.

"Colder and louder blew the wind,
A gale from the north-east;
The snow fell hissing in the brine,
And the billows frothed like yeast.
"Down came the storm and smote amain
The vessel in its strength;
SShe shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed,
Then leaped her cable's length."

"WHEN I was at the university, I had indeed
been accustomed to low society; but when I
came to hear the conversation of some of the
sailors on board, my hair stood on end with
horror. I would have given anything to


have been employed in some way, so that I
might have avoided hearing all day long the
terrible oaths of these wicked men, com-
pared with whom I seemed to myself to be
a very model of excellence; but as I had
neglected the study of mathematics when I
had the opportunity, I had not sufficient
knowledge of the principles of navigation to
be employed in anything but manual labour.
Our ship was freighted for Batavia, so that
I had no hope of any change for the better
in my miserable condition for a long time,
and my wretchedness reached its height
when I was told that on our arrival I should
be compelled to join a regiment of Dutch
troops. No life, indeed, could be less to my
taste than that of a soldier, on account of the
strict discipline which is always enforced in
the army. It was, however, decreed that we
should never reach our destination.
"Soon after we had crossed the Line, a
sudden and violent gale drove our vessel
out of her course, and for two days and
nights we were driving at the mercy of the


wind. No sooner had we .succeeded in
making some little way against this gale,
than a violent tempest arose, and we were
obliged to devote all our attention to saving
the ship. All round the ship the sea and
sky were enveloped in thick darkness, broken
by repeated flashes of lightning, which served
only. to show us the danger of our position.
At one moment the vessel rose on the tops
of the immense mountain-like waves, and
the instant after plunged down into a vast
hollow, leaving the waters standing up around
us like a wall. While one party of the
sailors were trying in vain to furl the sails,
the rest were kept busily at work at the
pumps. By this time the hold was half full
of water, and every moment we were expect-
ing the ship to go to pieces, as her timbers
were too old and rotten to bear the strain
Supon them. Soon we lost all hope of saving
the ship, and the crew ceased making any
further exertions, every one seeking for some
means of saving his own life. The vessel
then began to settle deeper and deeper in the


water, and soon after disappeared beneath
the waves.- Before this, however, I had
thrown myself into the sea, and was then
clinging-to a part of the mast, which had
been washed away. Several of the crew
beside myself had sought for safety in a
i similar way; but when the sky grew a little
S: ight-er, and'I was able to look around me, I
could see no one, I seemed to be the only
"The storm continued to rage furiously all
:ig t, :aid it was witl difficulty that I
managed to keep on the slippery spar which
was now my only ,lpp'oit. -All night long,
a mid the howling of the tempest, I seemed
to hear 1my. f.thi's words ringing'in my ears.
I tried to: pray,but remorse was busy in my
:eart, 0c:iil :ounLcieic:e kept repeating to me,
'Why did you n:t return to your father,
like the prudi.il son, when you knew he
was retdIv to forgive you, and to' receive you'
with outstretched arms?' At lhIth this-
t. illiibl,- uih1t, the lou:ng.-t I h.vt eve.i passed'
S tluougl, catme to, an en.1, nd wheu at La-.
." '~ : **
t .' ; "


' Clirj h; ,.:. Lag part of the mast, which had been waashed away."
Ie --


daylight returned, I was very thankful to see,
close by me, a large rock, which I managed
to reach, though not without great difficulty.
Benumbed as I was with passing the night
in the water; I clung eagerly to it, and, after
resting a while, dragged my weary limbs as
high above the water as I could, and gazed
eagerly out over the wide expanse of sea.
For a long time, however, I looked in vain
for any signs of help; but at length, to my
great joy, I described a sail far away in the
distance, apparently making towards me.
I was so weak and faint with my long im-
mersion, that although this sight seemed to put
new life in me, it was as much as I could do
to clamber up to the top of the rock, and my
hands and feet were much cut by the sharp
shells and edges of rock. I scarcely noticed
this, so great was my eagerness to make a
signal to the ship I had seen, and to let
those on board know that on this solitary
reef there was a poor shipwrecked mariner.
I had of course no means of making a fire,
so I at once pulled off my shirt and waved


it in the air, as the only way I had to make
myself seen. All was in vain:. the ship was
too far off to notice my signals and instead of
coming nearer, as I had hoped, she tacked
round on another course, and gradually dis-
appeared in the distance.
"As the vessel slowly faded away from
my sight, I sank down on the rock in
despair. My situation was indeed desper-
ate; the small rock on which I was, was
only about fifty yards in circumference, and
had nothing but a little moss and sea-weed
growing on it. It is true there were a few
shell-fish clinging to it, but I knew it would
be impossible for me to support myself long
on them, and besides, I had not a drop of
water. I feared that I had only escaped
death by drowning, to perish more miserably
still by starvation. But even in this ex-
tremity, God's goodness was watching over
me, although I had so long despised and
forgotten Him. Suddenly a breeze sprang
up from the westward, and I had the un-
speakable joy of seeing the very ship which


had passed in the morning heave in sight
once more. Again I waved my shirt in the
air, and made every signal I could think of,
and, after a long time, what was my delight
to see that I was observed. A boat was soon
lowered, and half an hour afterwards I found
myself on board the good ship Morning
Star, homeward bound to England from
The captain received me very kindly, and
supplied me with some dry clothes, giving
me at the same time a good meal, of which I
stood much in need. The anxiety and ex-
posure I had undergone, however, made me
quite ill, and for three or four days I was
under the doctor's care. On my recovery, I
was obliged to work my passage home, and
this employment became so distasteful to
me, that I quite lost all my love of roving,
and made up my mind, if once I got safely
on shore, never again to set my foot on board



He Arrives at Portsmouth-Resolves to Return to his
Father-Arrives at Rotterdam-Sunday Morning-
Writes to his Father-Is Penniless-The Curse of
Disobedience-The Sermon-Is Starving-Obtains
Temporary Relief from an Old Fellow-Student-Re-
ceives News of his Father's Death-His Sorrow and
Remorse-Goes to Sea Again-Becomes Captain of a

Wild is the whirlwind rolling
O'er Afric's sandy pl.in,
And wild the tempest howling
Along the billowed main;
But every danger felt before-
The raging deep, the whirlwind's roar,
Less dreadful struck me with dismay,
Than what I feel this fatal day."

"AFTER a favourable voyage we arrived at
Portsmouth, to which port the ship was
bound. I took leave of the captain to seek
my fortune elsewhere. He wished me good


luck, and paid me my wages for the home-
ward passage, which, however, did not last
me long. Finding myself again penniless, and
without any means of earning my living, I
resolved to return to my father. Accord-
ingly, I shipped as a common sailor on board
a bark bound for Holland. We had beauti-
ful weather, and after a very good passage I
landed at Rotterdam. It was early on a
Sunday morning, and as there was no busi-
ness connected with the ship to prevent me,
I thought I could not do less than go to
church, and there give thanks to God for the
great deliverance He had given me. This
will show that the dangers through which
I had passed, and the experience I had
gained, had not been without some influence
on the state of my soul. I had become
more serious, my outward conduct, at least,
was much improved; but, notwithstanding
this, I had as yet experienced no real change
of heart.
"Had I but fully realized the meaning of
the sermon I heard that day, I should have


felt that something more than this was neces-
sary-a real inward purification, and a com-
plete renunciation, even in thought, of the
sins which had led me astray. One part of
the discourse ran thus:-' God regards not
only those things which a man does, not
only his outward actions; His eye can also
see our inmost thoughts, and He knows the
true motive of every action of our lives. He
regards not the outward appearance, but the
inner reality; not the shell, but the kernel;
that is, the inmost feeling and disposition of
the heart; the shell is only the outward act.
He sees the grain, and not the husk only;
the treasure, not the box which contains it;
the sword, and not the scabbard which hides
it from our less penetrating view. What can
it avail to have the scabbard ornamented
with gold and jewels, if in the day of tattle
the sword is found edgeless, and covered
with rust ? Who would value a crop, how-
ever fine it might look as it stands in the
field, if all the ears of corn were blighted and
withered ? Doubtless it is well that our


outward actions should be of the highest and
noblest character; this is indeed the sign of
a well-regulated and religious life; but- only
truly are they such when they proceed from
pure and noble motives, and are the expres-
sion of sound principles within.'
The same day I wrote to my father again,
and told him how I was situated. I assured
him of my true repentance, and begged him
to send me sufficient money to enable me to
return to him. But while waiting to hear
from him, I had only about two shillings in
my pocket, and this was entirely gone by
Wednesday. I knew his reply could not
reach me for four days, and in the meantime
I had not a penny to pay for board and
lodging. I would not beg, though my cir-
cumstances were really worse than those of
the poorest beggar in the streets, and I had
not then that faith and trust in our heavenly
Father's care, which I have since through
His mercy been enabled to feel. I knew not
as yet what it was to be a child of God. I
determined, however, to bear my hunger till


some relief arrived from my father. All day
on Friday I had literally nothing to eat, and
by Saturday night I felt weak and ill in the
extreme; and still those words of my father
were ringing in my ears, My curse shall be
upon you.' I had long lived in abundance,
and squandered away pounds upon pounds;
now I was to know by experience what it is
to be in want. In this pitiable condition,
having no means of obtaining a lodging, I
crept under a boat hauled up upon the beach
for the night, and obtained a few hours' for-
getfulness of my misery.
When I awoke, I felt very wretched and
low-spirited; but remembering that this was
Sunday, I determined to go to church again,
and listen to another sermon, hoping to hear
something there that might afford me some
comfort. My hope was not in vain. The
minister spoke most feelingly of the love of
God, and of the care which He takes of all
His creatures. His text, and the explana-
tion he gave of it, seemed so exactly suited
to my own case, that I almost thought the


preacher must have known my circumstances,
and chosen it expressly for my benefit. I
was much affected, and on my return I wrote
on a sheet of paper (which I have ever since
carefully preserved), the following passages,
which seemed peculiarly applicable to my
own case. The text was from St. Matthew
vi. 26, 'Behold the fowls of the air.'-' Yes,
consider them attentively, for even they can
teach us a lesson. How beautiful they are !
how lively and active in all their motions!
They of all created things seem specially
adapted to give delight to the eye of man by
their brilliant plumage and graceful evolu-
tions, and to charm his ears by their melodi-
ous songs. Their homes are in the tops of
the highest trees; they wing their course
far up above our heads, and indeed seem to
belong more to heaven than to earth.
"'Let us consider now what we are told
about them in the text. "They sow not,
neither do they reap." They are, in fact,
utterly ignorant of the fact that an ear of
corn sown carefully in the ground would in


due season bring forth sixty or a hundred-
fold. They see the berries and the corn,
about the growth of which they have never
troubled themselves, and there they find
enough for their daily wants. Their free
and joyous spirit seems to have no care for
the future; they never "gather into barns."
How many animals are otherwise! Look at
the squirrel with his hoard of nuts, the bees
with their rich provision of honey, the care-
ful ants, and many others, whose foresight
teaches them to provide against the season of
scarcity. These, too, are all the creatures of
God, and His "tender mercy is over all His
works;" but how different is their life from
that of the birds! Singing and rejoicing
seems the sole end and aim of their life.
Their songs, and all their joyous motions in
the air, are like a perpetual hymn of praise
and thanksgiving to God, by whose provi-
dence they are sustained. "Your heavenly
Father feedeth them." Is He indeed the
Father of the ravens? Is He indeed the
Father of the sparrows ? Only inasmuch as


He is their Creator, and the supplier of their
wants. But to you, my friends-to you He
is more than this: to you indeed He is a
Father-the true and loving Father of all
who hear His words, and "remember His
commandments to do them." Oh, let us not
forget all His benefits; let us remember that
from Him alone we have all the blessings we
enjoy, all blessings both of body and soul.
But, above all, let us thank Him for the
unspeakable gift of His dear Son, Jesus
Christ, for our redemption, and of His Holy
Spirit for the renewal of our hearts.
"' And oh! as we think over all His benefits,
as did David when he penned the 103d
Psalm, must not all that is within us bless
His holy name ? And whatever His provi-
dence may send us, whether wealth or
poverty, sickness or health, let us look up to
Him with thankfulness for His mercy, and
say, "Doubtless Thou art our Father."
"'Behold the fowls of the air;' their work,
indeed, seems to be only singing and rejoic-
ing; but what is yours ? "Are ye not much


better than they?" You, who are children
of God, heirs of God, and joint-heirs with
Christ, who are strangers and pilgrims in
this world of sorrow and suffering, but whose
home is in heaven; you, for whom God hath
prepared an eternal mansion in'the kingdom
of heaven, to which, indeed, you shall one
day go to enjoy bliss unspeakable and full of
glory, if only while here below, you walk as
children of the light, and trust in that great
salvation which Christ accomplished. for you,
by His life and by His death,-" Are ye not
indeed much better than they ?"'
Here Willie interrupted the captain's story
by asking, Why, then, are we taught in the
fable to blame the careless and improvident
grasshopper for not laying up a store for the
winter, when the birds are praised for liv-
ing without troubling themselves about the
future ? I can't quite understand this."
His father answered him: "All animals,
my dear boy, follow the instinct which God
has implanted in them; it is not for us to
blame them or to praise them. But, at the


same time, they may be used as examples to
us, so far as we find in each anything good,
loveable, or useful: and one and all may be
employed to illustrate the characters of differ-
ent men. From the ant, for instance, the
idle may learn to work, and the careless to
save. Do you remember who says, 'Go to
the ant, thou sluggard, consider her ways and
be wise?' So, on the other hand, from the
birds the covetous and over-anxious may
learn that it is possible to live, however
scanty our store may be, if we only have faith
in our heavenly Father's care. It is wrong to
be too anxious and troubled about the things
of this world, while, at the same time, we must
avoid falling into the opposite error of care-
lessness, idleness, and improvidence." Then,
turning to the captain, he said, "Excuse our
interrupting you, my dear friend; pray con-
tinue your story."
The captain then resumed his narrative in
these words:-" The pastor's sermon seemed
to console me very much, and gave me fresh
courage, and I thought to myself-' I am, it


is true, a stranger in this large city, without
money or friends, but there is One above who
knows my pitiable condition; His eye is
upon me, and if it seem good to Him, He
can easily feed me this one day at least, as
He feeds 'the young ravens who cry unto
Him.' Soon after leaving the church, I
noticed a young man, whose features seemed
well known to me, reading the Latin inscrip-
tion on the monument to Erasmus, which
stands in the middle of the market-place.
For some minutes, I could not remember
clearly who he was, or where I had met him
before, but all of a sudden I recognized him
as an old fellow-student at the University of
Giessen; and stepping up to him, I held out
my hand, saying, 'Korbec, is it you '
'That is my name,' said he, staring at me,
'but I can't say I recollect you.' I then
remembered that, what with my sailor's
dress, my famished appearance, and my
bronzed and weather-beaten features, it was
scarcely likely that any of my old com-
panions would know me at first sight. I


soon told him who I was, and he recollected
me at once and shook me heartily by the
"I had no need to tell him I was hungry;
my appearance sufficiently showed that, and
he considerately spared me the shame and
pain of asking him for relief, by taking me
to an inn close by. Here a good dinner was
quickly provided for me, and I need scarcely
say I ate with the ravenous appetite of an
almost starving man. As soon as I had
satisfied my hunger, I told him some of my
adventures. He saw at once that I was in
need of further help, but as he was just
about to join a ship to which he had been
appointed surgeon, he had need of all his
money, and was only able to give me a few
shillings. These I accepted with gratitude,
and was very glad to be in a position to pay
for a night's lodging. Thus God, who 'filleth
all things living with plenteousness,' supplied
me with the necessaries of life, as soon as I
began to trust to His care; even before I
had learned truly to know Him, He dealt


with me as though I were one of His faithful
children. Oh that I had been able to recog-
nise this love to me! But as soon as I
found my distress relieved, I thought no
more of His love who had helped me, and
very soon fell again into my former state of
The money my friend had given me was
almost all gone, when on the following
Wednesday a letter reached me, not indeed
from my father, but from one of my uncles,
who told me that my father was dead, and
that what little property he left had been
barely sufficient to pay off my university
debts. The letter also contained an order
for five pounds, which my uncle sent me,
without, however, telling me whether I was
expected to return home, or whether I was
left free to continue my wandering life. On
reading the sad news of my father's death, I
fell into a chair, and covered my face with
my hands. I seemed again to hear those
terrible words, 'My curse shall be upon you,'
and I was for a long time unable to utter a


word, or to shed a single tear. At length,
however, my grief found vent, and I passed
the greater part of the night in bitter and
passionate weeping.
"When the day broke, my troubles began
again, and the future now looked to me
blacker than ever. What was I to do?
Whither should I direct my steps ? What-
ever I undertake, I thought, I can never
escape the terrible curse which I have
brought upon myself by my disobedience.
My father is dead, and it is now too late to
obtain his forgiveness! Oh, what would I
have given to have seen him alive once
more! I would have thrown myself at his
feet, and on my knees have sought his pardon
for my wickedness, until he exchanged his
curse for a blessing. But now, alas! it is
too late-too late!
Eeproaching myself thus, I at last made
up my mind that it would be useless now to
return to my old home, and that the only
course open to me was to go to sea again,
and I determined to go and offer myself as a


sailor on board the ship in which I had
come over. The captain received me very
kindly, and engaged me as their mate, pro-
Smising, at the same time, to teach me some-
thing of navigation. We soon set sail, and
before we had been very long at sea, the
second mate, who had been drinking too
much, fell overboard. It was dark at the
time, and there was a heavy sea on, and
though the boats were lowered, no traces of
him were discovered. As I had -in that
short time paid great attention to my duties,
and to the kind instructions of the captain, I
was promoted to his place. The next voyage
I was made first mate, and some years later
I became captain of a ship bound for Peru,
and continued in that capacity for about ten
years. During this time, I had a good oppor-
tunity for making private speculations, which
proved so successful, that at the end of the
ten years I was able to buy a ship of my
"While I was thus busily engaged, I had
little time to think of my father, and his last


letter to me; and so long as I continued in
prosperity, I neglected prayer altogether.
Yet I passed before all the world for aW
honest man, and, judged only by my out-
ward acts, no one would have doubted that I
was a God-fearing one."



His Marriage- The Portrait- His Terror-His Good
Fortune Deserts him-Heavy Losses-The Beggar
-Recognises an Old Enemy-His Two Children are
Drowned-His Wife Dies-Is Bankrupt-In Prison
-The English Clergyman-Is Brought to Repent-
ance-Is Set Free-The Fisherman and Basket-

"God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
"Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will,
"Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning Providence
He hides a smiling face."
"ABOUT this time, too, I had got married,
being then about thirty-five years of age.


This was at Liverpool, and after the cere-
mony was over I called at the clergyman's
house to get a certificate. While he was
writing it out for me, I looked round the
room, and saw hanging on the wall that very
portrait which you see there over the looking-
glass. I started back 'with astonishment,
and began trembling violently, so much so,
indeed, that I was obliged to support myself
by holding on to the table. The clergyman
asked me what was the matter. 'Oh,
nothing, nothing at all, it is only an attack
of giddiness,' said I, with my eyes still
riveted on the portrait. I seemed to see my
father alive before me, with his eyes fixed
upon me in anger; and in my agitation I
even fancied I saw the lips of the picture
move, and thought I again heard those
terrible words, 'My curse shall be upon you,
and follow you always !' 'No, no,' I cried
aloud, being unable to overcome my terror,
'Oh, do not, do not curse me !' The clergy-
man, filled with astonishment, asked me the
cause of so strange an exclamation. I con-

"' 'I ,'
,I I ,ll

I found a poor iserable-looing beggar with a wooden leg.
-e -7_.s 9
-I o d ao_ r e o g


have deserted me. We met with very rough
weather before we had been a month at sea,
and in order to save the ship I was obliged to
order a great part of the cargo to be thrown
overboard, so that when at length we arrived
at our destination I found I had lost several
hundred pounds on the voyage. The home-
ward voyage was equally unfortunate, and
when, after nearly twelve months' absence, I
reached my home and found my dear wife
ready to welcome me with our baby in her
arms, the joy of such a meeting was marred
by the fear that the punishment of my dis-
obedience might fall on the heads of those I
"I have little to tell you about the next
six or seven years, during which time my
bad fortune still followed me, and the
state of my affairs grew gradually worse and
worse. One thing, however, I must relate.
I had been out one afternoon for a walk, and
on returning, just at dusk, I found a poor
miserable looking beggar, with a wooden leg,
sitting on the grass near our cottage door,


eating some food which my wife had just given
him. I said a few words to him when I came
up, and as some of his answers interested me,
I asked him to stop a little while and give
me an account of himself.
"He began, 'I was born at Amsterdam'-
and in a moment I recollected him. He was
no other .than the very crimp whom I met
on the quay when I first went to that city,
and, who had decoyed me into .his house,
where I was robbed and sent to sea as I
have told you. I said nothing, however, but
let him go on with his story. He told me
that he had been once in business, but had
met with so many losses that at length
he was obliged to go as a sailor in the
English navy, and that during an engagement
he had received a bullet in his left leg, which
had to be amputated, so that when he re-
ceived his discharge he was compelled to
get his living as he could. While he was
speaking, a thousand recollections crowded
on my mind, and when he had finished I
fixed my eyes sternly on his face and said,


'Do you remember me ?' He said he had
no recollection of ever having seen me before,
Thereupon I told him the story of our meet-
ing on the quay at Amsterdam, and reminded
him of what had followed his treachery. As
I spoke somewhat loudly and angrily, he
became quite pale with terror, and did not
attempt to deny that he was the man who
had used me so cruelly; in fact he seemed
quite paralysed with fright. 'Don't be afraid
of me,' I said, 'God Himself has punished
your wickedness, and I will not revenge
myself on you. Only take yourself off from
hence, and never let me see you again.'"
The captain here broke off to ask the
children whether they thought he had done
well in acting thus ?
"Oh yes, certainly," said Mary, "you
were surely right not to be revenged upon
"That is true," said Willie, "but the Bible
says we are to love our enemies, and I think,
sir, if you had loved this man, you would
not have driven him away from you."


Quite true, my boy," rejoined the captain,
"and if I had followed the example of our
blessed Saviour, I should have tried to help
this man out of his troubles, and endeavoured
to obtain some influence over his heart, and
so have been really useful to him by leading
him to see how wicked he had been. But I
could not do it, I did not even know my own
heart, and I thought I was doing a wonder-
fully good action in not punishing him for
his cruelty and inhumanity towards me. I
lived many years longer holding this good
opinion of myself until God gave me the
grace of humility, and brought me by means
of more troubles to know the wickedness of
my own heart.
As my affairs became gradually more and
more embarrassed I was often very much
troubled on account of my children, of whom
I had now two, for during these few years
all my savings had been expended, and I
could not see my way clearly to provide for
their education as they grew up. Their pro-
mising dispositions were, however, a source


of great satisfaction to me, and I comforted
myself with the hope that things might yet
soon improve with me, and that one or two
successful voyages would place me in a
position to provide for all their wants.
"With my mind thus filled with mingled
feelings of joy at my safe return to my family,
and anxiety for the future welfare of those
dependent upon me, I returned one day late
in the summer of 17-, after a three months'
voyage. I had written. to my wife a few
days before to tell her when I should be at
home, but having got into port a day earlier
than I had reckoned upon, I. anticipated
giving my wife and children a pleasant
surprise by my unexpected arrival. Even
at this distance of time I can scarcely trust
myself to speak of the terrible disappoint-
ment that awaited me. On entering 'ny
cottage, instead of being greeted with the
affectionate caresses of my dear wife and
children, I was surprised to see that the only
person in the room was a good woman, who
lived in a neighboring cottage. As she


looked up and recognized me on my entrance,
something in her manner made me fear that
all was not well with my family. I eagerly
inquired after them, and the woman, who
was an old friend of my wife's, burst into
tears, and in a few words told me the extent
of the misfortune that had befallen me. My
two children, for whose welfare I had been
so anxious; were both dead, and my poor wife
was confined to her bed by illness. I learned
afterwards, for I was so overcome by the
news of this awful calamity that I could not
listen to the particulars just then, that the
two little ones had gone down to the sea-
shore to play with a little companion about
a fortnight before I reached home; the last
time they were seen alive they were amusing
themselves in one of the fisherman's boats
which was lying upon the beach. By some
means or other they must have got the boat
afloat, and so been carried out to sea un-
observed. The night proved very stormy,
and the next day the boat was seen floating,
bottom upwards, out at sea, and during the


day their dead bodies were washed ashore.
The anxiety of my poor wife during that
awful night, and her great agony of sorrow
on learning their unhappy fate, had preyed
so much upon her health that it was scarcely
expected that she would ever recover from
the shock. I pass over the events of the
next few days-it would be too much for
me, even now, to enter into any detail of
the meeting between my wife and myself;
nor can I, without tears, think of her as I
watched her day by day growing weaker and
weaker. Within a fortnight after my arrival
she, too, followed our children to the grave,
and I was left alone in the world.
"This surely should have been enough to
soften even a heart of stone like mine. It
was not so, however. I only hardened my
heart more and more. This is the punish-
ment of my disobedience,' I thought to
myself. The concluding words of my father's
letter echoed again and again in my ears, and
instead of producing a good effect upon me,
only made me more obstinate in refusing to


listen to the gentle appeals of my Saviour.
If I did not remember, but too well, my
feelings at this time of my life, I could not
now believe that any poor wretched human
being could carry his pride of heart and
stubborn rebellion against God to such a
pitch as I did.
"In order to divert my mind from the
harassing reflections which beset me, and
made the solitude of my once happy home
intolerable, instead of bowing to God's holy
will, and recognizing, as I can now do, the
fact that all that had befallen me was sent
in love to my soul by a heavenly Father,
who is too wise to err, and too good to be
unkind, I sought relief, where no one ever
yet found it, by giving myself up to those
bad habits which had been the cause of all
my misery. I spent my whole time in the
society of wicked and thoughtless men, and
turned a deaf ear to the remonstrances of all.
my real friends. There were many who
expressed the deepest sympathy with me in
my sorrows, and made many vain efforts to


recall me to a sense of my duty. But I dis-
regarded all their kind exhortations,- and
always answered sullenly, 'What is the use
of my trying to do right? I am 'under a
"Such a state of things could not last
long. For the last year or two, my income
had been insufficient to support my family,
and I had unavoidably contracted some few
debts, and now my extravagances rapidly
increased them. My creditors soon began to
importune me for payment, and after putting
them off from time to time, I was obliged to
tell them that I was utterly and hopelessly
bankrupt. I was then brought before the
court, and my ship, my house, and all my
goods, were ordered to be sold, and these
being insufficient to meet the claims against
me, I was thrown into prison. Then, indeed,
my cup of sorrow was full. Again I heard
my father's malediction sounding in my ears,
and this time without being able to drown
the painful memory in the riotous pleasures
of the world. And though, in my former


troubles, I had not shrunk from upbraiding
God's providence for oppressing an innocent
man, as I called myself, I could not but feel
that this new misfortune was the just conse-
quence of my own folly and extravagance.
I was now forced to listen to the reproaches
of a conscience racked with remorse. Never-
theless, I could not yet resolve to recognize
the justice of God. I obstinately resisted
His appeals, and still remained impenitent.
"I cannot tell what I might have become
while in prison, had I been left altogether to
myself. All men seemed to have forgotten
me entirely, but God had not even then
deserted me. He had pity on me in my
extremity, and by an extraordinary dispensa-
tion of His Providence, sent to me that very
clergyman in whose house I had seen the
portrait which so resembled my father. My
first words when I saw him were, 'You see I
was right: my father's curse is following
me, and you see to what a state it has
brought me.' 'No,' replied he, 'this is not
the effect of your father's anger; it is the


consequence of the curse of sin. If you had
seriously turned to God, He whose property
is always to have mercy and to forgive
would assuredly have delivered you from
that curse, and would have turned it into a
"I refused to listen to these words, and
obstinately persisted in saying that God had
doomed me to misery, and that nothing
could alter my fate. 'Take care,' said the
clergyman, solemnly, 'that *you do not pro-
voke God's anger still more by your rash
and inconsiderate words. He has surely
shown you, plainly enough, that to rebel
against Him is the act of none but a mad-
man. Tell me, have you ever tried to free
yourself from your load of sin? Have you
ever prayed earnestly for God's help to
deliver you out of your troubles?' 'No,
said I,' I have never tried. I cannot do so!
I am suffering beneath the weight of an
unjust curse, while thousands of other men,
who are worse than I am, never suffer any
punishment at all, but prosper in all they


undertake.' My answer to that,' said the
good man, 'must be, that you who have
studied for the ministry, as you told me,
must know, on the authority of God's own
word, that one single sin is sufficient for a
man's condemnation; how can you then dare
to call your punislunent unjust ? As to your
objection that thousands of men are never
punished for their offences in this world,
that can have no weight; for, even if no
punishment reaches them here, they cannot
escape at the great Day of Judgment in the
world to come. You ought rather to thank
God for the just chastisement you have re-
ceived, which is a proof that His pity and
His love are not yet wholly withdrawn from
you. Every misfortune you have undergone
is as the voice of God calling you to serious
repentance. Remember, whom the Lord
loveth He chasteneth," and beware lest by
your obstinacy you bring down His wrath
upon your head.'
"-I could not answer such arguments as
these; but though my reason was convinced,


my heart was untouched. On leaving me,
the clergyman gave me a New Testament,
and persuaded me to read it with attention,
and particularly recommended me to medi-
tate prayerfully upon the Epistle to the
Romans. He then left me, and promised to
come and see me again. When he had gone,
I thought to myself there could be very little
good in my reading the book he had left me.
In my university studies, I had read it so
often, that I knew pretty well what it con-
tained, and I did not expect to find anything
in it that I did not know before. Accord-
ingly, I left it unopened for some days, and
it was only to divert my melancholy thoughts
that I at length, for want of anything else to
read, opened the Testament, and began to
read the Epistle to the Romans. 'Is this
indeed the same epistle that I used to read
at the university ?' was my first thought,
when I had read a few verses. It was in-
deed the same, word for word; there was no
alteration in the book, but since I last read
it, I myself had undergone a change. Since


that time, I had passed through the rough
school of adversity, and the experience of
years had shown me more than I then knew
of the corruption of my own heart. When I
read the words, 'That every mouth may be
stopped, and all the world may become guilty
before God' (Eom. iii. 19), I was filled with
terror, and to this was added an overwhelm-
ing sense of the infinite majesty of God,
whose goodness and justice I had so lately
dared to question. Then I came to the pas-
sage, 'For God hath concluded them all in
unbelief, that He might have mercy upon all.
O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom
and knowledge of God! how unsearchable
are His judgments, and His ways past finding
out! For who hath known the mind of the
Lord ? or who hath been His counsellor ? or
who hath first given to Him, and it shall be
recompensed unto him again ? For of Him,
and through Him, and to Him. are all things;
to whom be glory for ever. Amen.' (Rom.
xi. 32-36.) Upon this, a ray.of hope dawned
upon my heart, and I cried out with emotion,


'0 God, since Thou hast mercy on all who
come to Thee, have mercy also on me.'
"Little by little my heart was softened,
and tears of true penitence streamed from
my eyes. I was weeping when the clergy-
man came to see me again. 'God be praised,'
said he, as he entered, seeing the tears in my
eyes,' God be praised, for He has had com-
passion on your soul.' I could not answer,
for my heart was too full for words. He
then knelt down with me, and prayed with
much earnestness, that God would carry on
the good work He had begun in me; and as
he prayed, I was deeply affected, and at last
I too called aloud to God for mercy. This
cry was not in vain; the peace of God
descended upon my heart, and I was enabled
to believe in the possibility of obtaining
pardon for all my sins, through faith in a
crucified Saviour. After this, I found my-
self in a much happier frame of mind. I
acknowledged that I had been a miserable
sinner, and that but for the infinite mercy of
the Most High, I must have perished in my


sins; I saw now that all my misfortunes had
been in reality a token of the loving-kindness
and tender mercy of Him, who 'willeth not
the death of a sinner, but rather that he
should be converted and live.' The Word of
God, which for so many years had been a
dead letter to me, had now become a source
of sweet and life-giving nourishment to my.
soul; and I spent the greater part of my
time while in prison in reading and medi-
tating upon the precious volume. The clergy-
man offered to lend me some other books;
but I declined them all, telling him that the
Book of books was enough for me.
After this worthy man had thus attended
to my spiritual wants, he busied himself in
endeavouring to set me free from my un-
happy confinement. By his exertions, and
those of several friends, whom he had inte-
rested in my behalf, it was not long before I
was set at liberty. I was glad to be once
more a free man, but could not regret my
imprisonment, inasmuch as it was in the
prison that I had been led to a knowledge of


Him whose service is perfect freedom.' The
kind friends who had interested themselves
in me provided me with a small sum of
money, with which I took a little cottage by
the sea-side; and having bought a small boat
and some nets, I was able to get my living
all through the summer as a fisherman, and
supported myself during the winter by making
baskets, which I sold in the neighboring
town. I begged my good friend the clergy-
man to give me the portrait so like my
father, which had caused me such terror
when I first saw it in his house, but which I
could now look upon without distress of
mind, knowing that I had obtained grace
and pardon from my heavenly Father. On
receiving it, I hung it up over the fireplace
in my humble cottage."



Accepts the Command of a Ship-The Pirates-The
Fight-Victory-Meets an Old Friend-His Friend's

Come, peace of mind, delightful guest !
Return and make thy downy nest
Once more in this sad heart:
Nor riches I, nor power pursue,
Nor hold forbidden joys in view;
We therefore need not part."

"THE blessing of Heaven seemed to rest upon
my humble employment, and I was not only
able to earn sufficient to keep myself, but
was able to lay by a little money from time
to time, so that within two years I saved
sufficient to repay my kind friends the money
they had lent me to start with. Among
those who had interested themselves in my
welfare was a rich merchant who was the


owner of several ships; and on the death of
the captain of one of these, he wrote to me
and offered me the command of it. I did
not at all like the idea. of leaving my peace-
ful cottage, where for nearly two years I had
lived a very happy and contented life, study-
ing the Word of God, and rejoicing in His
mercy, but at the same time I did not think
it my duty positively to decline such an offer
as this without careful consideration.
"In this state of uncertainty, I resolved to
consult my good friend the clergyman, from
whom I had no secrets, and who had already
rendered me so many services. I did so, and
his first question was, whether I had really
considered the motives which led me to
think of accepting the offer, and if I was
quite sure that I was not influenced by the
desire of riches, or any contempt for my
present humble lot. I replied truly that no
such idea had ever entered my head. I was
quite contented and happy in my present em-
ployment, but I hoped to be able, by means
of an. increased income, to pay all my old


creditors in full, and perhaps lay by some
provision for my old age. Satisfied with this
explanation, he advised me by all means to
accept the appointment, and added that he
himself had induced the merchant to make
me the offer. Having now no longer any
doubt as to which was the right course to
pursue, I let my cottage to a fisherman, and
taking the portrait of my father with me, I
set sail, full of confidence in God's protecting
"I was now in the Mediterranean trade,
and had to call at several ports with merchan-
dise, and to take in goods for England. On
our return, we left the island of Corsica in
company with several other vessels. My
ship, however, being a very fast sailor, we
were not long before we left them all behind.
The weather was fair, and our voyage had
been very successful, so that I was in good
spirits. Suddenly the sailor at the mast-
head saw a suspicious-looking craft in the
distance. I examined her attentively with
the glass, and at length became convinced


that we were chased by pirates. I felt at
once that escape was impossible, and resist-
ance seemed almost hopeless, as we num-
bered in all only seventeen hands and six
passengers. Nevertheless, I resolved to fight
to the death rather than suffer myself and
all on board to be carried away into slavery.
I hastily ordered the decks to be cleared, and
having armed all the crew and the passen-
gers, I had our six cannons loaded, and
waited, with a beating heart, for our deadly
enemy to overtake us. The pirates evidently
did not expect any resistance on our part,
hoping, no doubt, that we should yield with-
out striking a blow. They had made no
preparations for action until they saw that
we were prepared for an engagement. We
heard afterwards, too, that their vessel had
received a good deal of damage in an action
the day before with an English cruiser, in
which several of their crew had been killed;
indeed, their vessel only escaped by her won-
derfully fast sailing. As soon as they got
within range, I fired one of the guns, which


created great confusion on board our enemy,
having, as I afterwards learned,- killed their
captain and two of the crew. I kept up a
brisk cannonade for some time, to which
they replied very feebly, and without doing
us any serious injury. In a short time they
ceased firing, and I perceived that they were
endeavouring to retreat, but had much diffi-
culty in doing so in consequence of the
damage our firing had caused. Seeing this,
I crowded all sail in chase, and we soon
came up with them, when they threw down
their arms and suffered us to board them
without any resistance. We took about
fifteen prisoners, whom I landed at Gibraltar,
and delivered over to the authorities there
to take their trial for piracy. As for the
ship, we found it needed but little repair to
render it sea-worthy, though the mainmast
was shot away, and the rest of the rigging
had suffered considerably; so, after doing
what was absolutely necessary to keep her
afloat, I brought both ship and cargo with
me to England.


"In the hold we found several prisoners
whom the pirates had taken, and whose joy
at their happy deliverance was unbounded.
Among these, to my great surprise and
delight, I recognized my old fellow-student
the surgeon, whom I met at Rotterdam, and
whose kindness to me, in my distress, had
saved me from dying of starvation. His
astonishment and joy at such an unexpected
meeting was as great as mine, and was in-
creased on finding so great a change for the
better in my circumstances. I told him my
history since our last meeting, and he in
return told me his, which was almost as full
of adventures as my own. He had, he said,
been wrecked on a desert island in his last
voyage, his ship and all the crew, except
himself and two sailors, being lost. .Having
built themselves a hut, they supported them-
selves for some months on some edible roots
and berries, which his knowledge of botany
enabled him to discover on the island, and
their fare was occasionally improved by the
addition of a bird or animal, which they


managed to shoot with roughly-made bows
and arrows. During this time they were
busily engaged in constructing a boat, in
which they hoped to be able to reach the
mainland, which was just visible in very
clear weather. After more than one failure
they succeeded in making their boat water-
tight, and set out with as large a store of
provisions and water as their frail craft
could carry with safety. Having chosen a
calm day for their attempt, and the wind
being in their favour, they reached the land
without any accident, but found themselves
scarcely in a better position, if so good, as
when they were on the island. Before they
were wrecked the ship had been driven
entirely out of her course by a terrific gale,
and they were now utterly ignorant as to
their whereabouts. They had not been many
days on shore before a band of armed savages
discovered them, and as they were not in a
position to offer any resistance, they were
taken prisoners, and led away some distance
inland. Here they suffered many hardships,


and were in constant fear of being put to
death by their cruel captors. Several months
passed away in this manner, during which
they were compelled to do the most laborious
work, and were very scantily fed, and were
often besides beaten and threatened with
death, until at length they effected their
escape, made their way to the sea-shore, and
were fortunate enough to be rescued by a
homeward-bound Austrian merchantman,
which had stood in'near the coast for the
purpose of obtaining fresh water. While
on their voyage up the Mediterranean, (the
destination of the vessel being Trieste), they
were captured by the pirate from whom I
had so providentially rescued them. When
we reached England my friend seemed so
much to dread going to sea again that I
easily persuaded him to accept from me a
sum of money sufficient to enable him to
return to his own country, where I have
since heard he set up as doctor in his native
town, and died a short time ago, beloved and
respected by all who knew him."



Makes Several Successful Voyages-Becomes Rich-Buys
a Ship of his Own Makes his Fortune- Retires
from the Sea-Returns to his Native Village.

--" This active course,
Chosen in youth, through manhood he pursued,
Till due provision for his modest wants
Had been obtained; and, thereupon, resolved
STo pass the remnant of his days untasked
With needless services, from hardship free,
His calling laid aside, he lived at ease."

"THE successful issue of my voyage not only
gained me the entire confidence of the owner
of my ship, but also put me in possession of
a considerable sum of money, with which I
was able, to my very great satisfaction, to
meet all claims against me, besides supplying
my friend's need, as I told you. This, how-
ever, left me without anything to live on, so


that I was obliged to undertake a second
voyage, in spite of a certain uneasy feeling of
which I could not get rid.
Since the time when in the prison I had
received the assurance of the pardon of all
my sins, I had been, it is true, quite satisfied
as to the safety of my soul, knowing that
God having received me into His fold, what-
ever might befall me, 'all things must work
together for good.' Still I could not alto-
gether overcome my apprehension at the
thought of my father's curse, and of its
influence on my temporal happiness and
well-being. I felt that I was justified in
this when I thought of the fifth command-
ment, 'Honour thy father and thy mother,
that thy days may be long in the land which
the Lord thy God giveth thee.' Hez.who
honours, and consequently obeys his parents,
I thought, has a promise here of a long and
happy life, not indeed of eternal life, to gain
which he must honour God and. keep His
commandments, that is, he must be converted
and have faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, for

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