I WANT TO 3E A CUB-PILOT.

53

could not well have helped it, I hung with such homage on his words
and so plainly showed that I felt honoured by his notice. He told
me the names of dim capes and shadowy islands as we glided by them
in the solemnity of the night, under the winking stars, and by and

( HIS TEARS DRIPPED UPON THE LANTERN.'

by got to talking about himself. He seemed over sentimental for a
man whose salary was six dollars a week—or rather he might have
seemed so to an older person than I. But I drank in his words
hungrily, and with a faith that might have moved mountains if it
had been applied judiciously. What -was it to me that he was soiled