The cabin boy's locker; compiled chiefly from the volumes of the Sailor's magazine

rHE CABIN BOY'S LOCKER

THE

CABIN BOY'S LOCKEE.

COMPILED CHIEFLY F&OM

®|t Wantts flf i\t ^ailw s llags^me.

V

BY

1^ «

. r ; - C>.X 7 L A. I M -/. T '.T X O Y,

NEW YOEK PORT SOCIETY:
46 CATHARnfE Street, cor. Madisox Street,

1867.

*■ «^ » * 1 1 t

Mr. Editor :

From the moment I saw your represen-
tation of a book-case, in the Sailor's Magazine,
I have wished to congratulate the cabin-boy
on the change in his employment. Formerly,
the locker must be filled with wines, and
porter, and ale, in addition to a plentiful store
of stronger liquors ; and the cry from different
parts of the ship was almost incessant, " Ben,
give me another bottle, or another glass, or at
least a small portion, for sea-sickness ;" inso-
much, /.L&t the^ dbser^ing lad was likely to
receive 'I'.e Impression/ that the principal
charm of life musV consist" in the use of stimu-
lating drinks. ' And with his opportunities,
what coul,d v>'i . expected, 'out that he should
seek for happiness in the same course in
wliich he saw those of higher rank than
himself so eagerly pursuing? But let the
custom be changed. Let the locker be a little
elevated in the ship, and assume the form of

1*

VI INTRODUCTORY.

a book-case. Let the passengers spend
their leisure hours in reading and profitable
conversation ; and let Ben be courteously
requested to select and hand their books ; and
who does not see how different would be the
impression made upon his mind, how much
his employment would be elevated, and what
would be the probable results upon his char-
acter and prospects.

And permit me, Mr. Editor, to say a word
directly to cabin-boys, and other young sailors :

My dear young friends, — I have re-
cently watched your movements with great
interest. I have seen many of you at the
mariners' churches, well clothed, and well
behaved. I have seen many of you making
application for Bibles. I have heard many
of you say, while your countenances testified
your sincerity^ that you used no ardent
spirits. At the^p ; things I have \ rejoiced.
And now, let me entreat yoi^ to keep on in
these good ways, and^' to do: all you can to
induce your youn^; companions to go with
you; and .above all j' ^o sec|i;thfe blessing of
God, both on the sea and on the shore B.

CONTENTS.

PA9I

Introductory 8

Going to Do 11

Education 11

Brandy as a Medicine 12

Admonitory 13

Interesting and Authentic Story of the Ship Ravens-
worth 13

Two Sorts of Drunkards 16

A Tract Remembered in Death 16

The Sailor's Last Cruise 18

The Young Seamen 19

Specimen of Christianity 22

Spiritual Enjoyment » ! 24

Beautiful Anecdote 25

Anecdote of a Benevolent Female 27

The Choctaw Indian Girl 28

The Shipwrecked Mariner and His Bible 30

Important Text of Scripture in Relation to Temper-
ance, for the Use of Seamen and Landsmen 31

The Seamen's Chaplain. 83

VUl CONTENTS.

PAOI

The Wise Choice; or, Greenwich Fair 34

Affecting Anecdote. — Filial Piety 37

John Gordon 89

The Missionary Ship'. 41

Noble Conduct of Two Seamen.. . .• 43

The Infidel Sailor 47

The Self-made Man 53

Providence » 65

Walks of Usefulness in New York 56

The Confession ; a True Story 60

The Magnitude of Creation 68

The Bethel Flag 71

On Sin 76

The Sabbath 75

The Young Man from Home 76

Illustrations of Scripture 82

The First Oath on Board 84

•' Hold on, Mothjer" 86

General Washington's Idea of Profane Sweai-ing 87

The Sailor Boy 89

Valuable Testimony of a Captain 90

Smuggling 92

Young Men 94

Choose Good Company 94

The Infidel's Confession of Faith ; or, the Atheist in a

Storm 95

Retirement in a Hat , 97

A Remarkable Bible 98

" Wrong, I don't care for that" ..... 99

CONTENTS. IX

PAQI

A Warning to Youth 104

A Good Example for Boys , . . 108

Washington and his Mother 110

A Mother's Prayer Ill

The Young Student 113

Encouragement to Little Boys 116

Bad Books 117

Good Books 118

A Good Exchange 118

Diligent in Business 118

Leisure Hours 119

Habits 119

Steadiness of Purpose 120

" The Conclusion of the whole matter" 121

The Two Schoolmates 121

The Honest Boy; or, the Shilling and Guinea 124

Only One Step at a Time 126

The Art of Learning 128

Robert Lee 128

The Poor Boy in London 131

** What must I do to be Saved ?" 133

Dr. Chalmers to the Impenitent 134

What is it to Believe on Christ 134

How did you get your Wealth ? 136

The exception 137

Prepare to meet thy God 137

The Sailor Boy 141

" So near home only to die" 162

The Power of Prayer 167

X . CONTENTS.

rioB
The Sailor and his Praying Mother 160

A Mother's Influence 162

The Dead of the Sea ". 164

The Sailor Finding Peace 173

Prayers for Seamen 1 84

Home ; a Story of Real Life 185

POETRY.

The Compass ; or, Christian Sailor 46

Lines suggested on Seeing a Splendid Lamp over one

of the Gin Palaces in Hull, England 88

The Seaman's Prayer on Leaving Port 93

Reflection 117

Unkindness 117

True Wisdom 120

Days of my Youth 136

Lines on the Death of Rev. J. DielL 140

"They that seek me early shall find me" 151

A Mother's Blessing on her Sailor Son 156

Day of Judgment 172

THE CABIN BOrS LOCKER

« » ♦ » t

« GOING TO DO."

This sentence, thougli a short one, is too
long. Its length occasions a great deal of
difficulty. If it could be reduced to a proper
length, it would prevent most of the mischiefs
resulting from want of promptitude. But
how short would you have it ? We would
have it but one word, and that word should
contain but two letters. — " Do."

EDUCATION".

Education is a companion which no misfor-
tune can depress — no crime destroy — no
enemy can alienate — no despotism enslave.
At home, a friend — abroad, an introduction —
in solitude, a solace — and in society, an orna-
ment. It chastens vice — it guides virtue — it
gives at once grace and government to genius.
Without it, what is man ? A splendid slave
— a reasoning savage I

12 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER

BRANDY AS A MEDICINE.

" Doctor," said a gentleman, who had re-
cently joined a temperance society, to hia
family physician, "I have been in the habit
of taking brandy at my dinner for a number
of years ; but lately, for the sake of my neigh-
bors, and by way of example, I have quit it
altogether suddenly, and I am afraid it will
injure my health. What do you think of
it?" "Sir," said the doctor, "1 never saw
you look better than you do now." *' I am
not sick, exactly, but I feel an uneasiness
in ray stomach — something like dyspepsia."
'• Then I would advise you to take an emetic,",
said the physician. " Oh 1 sir, I am not sick
enough for that; but I was thinking a tea-
spoonful of brandy or gin might relieve me,
as I stopped it all at once." " Indeed, sir,"
said the uncomplying physician, " I cannot
give you that advice ; for having made so
many drunkards by such counsel, in the
former part of my practice, I have determined
never again to advise ardent spirits as a medi-
cine, so lung as I live." The gentleman has
since acknowledged, that had his physician
given him the counsel he asked, he should
have felt himself released from his pledge, and
his daily use of brandy, he fears, would have
been the result. What encouragement is
here for a manly candor in the intercourse
with our patients I If every physician would

THE CABIK boy's LOCKER. 1^

deliver his soul in this matter, we might drive
ardent spirits from every family we visit.

Americmi Lancet,

ADMONITORY.

My brethren, let me assure you, that some
of you might appropriate five, some ten, some
fifteen, and some twenty thousand dollars a
year, for benevolent purposes, and still retain
enough to ruin your children. What a lesson !
How little regarded by parents in general I
How fully borne out by the career of a large
number of those who inherit independent
fortunes, without the necessitj^ of attending to
biisiness. — Dr. Gardner,

INTERESTING AND AUTHENTIC STORY OF THE
SHIP RAVENS WORTH.

In our paper (Tyne Mercury, ISTewcastle,
England) of ISTovember 16th, 1830, we ex-
tracted from Mrs. Alaric Watts' New- Year's
Gift, a rather romantic story, respecting the
ship Ravensworth breaking from her moor-
ings, and going to sea with only a little boy
on board, which possessed a local interest from
the event stated occurring at Shields. We
find that the circumstance excited a great
sensation here, and is perfectly remembered
by some gentlemen older than ourselves. It
may be interesting, therefore, to record the

2

14 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

facts whicli took place, as tliey differ from the
fictitious narrative in several particulars. The
Ravens worth, in the first place, was not an
old Greenland whaler, as she is represented,
but was a small ship, of 13 or 14 keels (200
tons), belonging to Messrs. Moselej and Aive-
ry, coal fitters, of Newcastle, Mr. Robert
Atkinson commander, regularly employed in
the coal trade between Newcastle and London.
She was light — not laden — having just ar-
rived from the Metropolis. She was driven
from her moorings, at North Shields, while
there was a strong freshet in the river. All the
crew, as stated, were at the time on shore,
except the cabin-boy, a lad about eleven years
of age. This occurrence, which, as we have
observed, excited great interest in the neigh-
borhood, took place about 1792 or 1793.
Soon after it was known that the vessel bad
gone to sea with the little boy only on board,
the Unity, belonging to Mr. North Clark,
went out with Captain Atkinson, the master
of the Ravens worth, in search of her. They
did not succeed, however, in meeting with
her, and returned. It is not true, as stated,
that the Ravensworth was three weeks tossing
about on the German Ocean, and was then
driven on the coast of Holland. The little
sailor, who constituted her sole pilot, had the
prudence, as mentioned in the tale, to lash
the helm, so as to keep her from the shore,
and he not only hoisted the fore-staysail, but
hoisted what is called '*a jack," on the foie-

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 15

topmast rigging. This attracted the notice of
a Harwich smack, when she was near FJam-
borough Head, on which she went to her assist-
ance, and, as we are informed, took her safely
into Harwich, after she had been buffeting
with the waves for five days. It is worthy of
note that the ballast port was open at the time.
The little fellow was busy frying pancakes
when the Harwich smack ^came to the Ravens-
worth. It is perfectly recollected here, that
when the young sailor returned to Newcastle,
he was taken on the exchange, and shown as
a little hero, and several of the merchants
gave him silver in token of their admiration.
The author of the story in Mrs. Watts' Annual
represents him as an old gentleman in his wig,
recounting his adventures. This is not quite
correct. If he is now alive, he must be under
fifty years of age.

')

TWO SORTS OF DRUNKARDS.

We kne-w a man who would get dead drunk
about oTice in two or three months. He lived
many years in -this way, and it is believed is
still living. He never tastes any liquor except
at these periodical revels. We knew another
man who took a little every day — not enough
to make him*tipsy — just enough to answer for
a " medicine" for some complaint he had. He
always passed for a sober man. A year ago
he was one of those who thought it ridiculous to

16 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

join a temperance society. He thought a man
ought to have judgment enough to know wlien
he had drank enough. He is now dead. His
physician assures us that he died of delirium
tremens, though never suspected of intemper-
ance. He informs me, moreover, that this
dreadful disease is generally produced in that
way. If a man gets thoroughly drunk, the
poison works its ovvn cure, as in some other
cases, where a large dose of a well-knowu
poison works itself off, when a small dose
would have been fatal. It is the small quan-
tity, remaining in the system, constantly at
work there, that wears off, thread by thread,
the cords of life. As you value reason and
life, don't be every day sipping a little : rivet-
ing your chains, and wearing out life by
inches. — Genius of Temperance.

Sickness should teach us these four things :
What a vain thing the world is ! What a
vile thing sin is ! What a poor thing man is !
What a precious gem an interest in heaven is !

A TRACT REMEMBERED IN DEATa

Thomas Bradford, Junior, Esq., in a public
address before the Tract Society of Philadel-
phia, related the following fact: "

" A lady, who is engaged as a teacher in
a colored Sal)bath school in this city, some
months since distributed among the children hear

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 17

usual supply of tracts. One of these — * Pcor
Sarah' — was conveyed, by the providence of
God, to a poor, aged black woman ; and as
she could not read, it was read to her by the
child. The contents of this precious tract
affected her heart ; and such was her eager-
ness to treasure up its interesting incidents in
her memory, and to appropriate its Divine
consolations, that she was wont to crave often
of such as were instructed, the favor of reading
it to her. It became her constant companion ;
and once, in particular, while journeying in.
one of our Delaware steamboats, she was
known to beg a similar favor of the captain,
which was readil}^ granted. On her return to
the city, the little book, the herald of mercy
and gTace, which she then enjoyed, was still
with her.

" A short time ago, she was visited by sick-
ness, which soon proved to be a ' sickness
unto death;' but she had received the good
seed in her heart, and it sprung up, bearing
its fruit — faith, hope, patience, and charity —
for her support in the hour when flesh and
heart were faling her. For this seed, and
these good fruits, she declared herself to be
instrumentally indebted to the story of poor
* Indian Sarah.' She descended into the
dark valley with songs of triumph, asking no
other favor than that her much-loved tract
might be deposited in the narrow house with
her then dying body. This was done. She

nt)W rests from her labors and her sufferings,.

2*

18 THE CABIK BOr'S LOCKER.

and her released, redeemed spirit is doubtless
rejoicing in the realms of ligbt, with the glo-
rious assembly and church of the first-burn,
whose names are written in heaven."

THE SAILOR'S LAST CRUISE.

The lamented Brain ard, who now sleeps on
the banks of his own native Thames, was a
sincere admirer of the genuine sailor, and
often remarked they were the most peculiar
men he had ever met, as they appeared to de-
spise the ordinary comforts of life, and seemed
never more pleased than when placed 'in some
dangerous position, or engaged in some haz-
ardous duty.

In his lament for Long Tojn, he gives the
closing scene, which he feared was the case
with too many of that interesting class of
men, who, in the discharge of their duty, are
exposed to be cut off in the midst of life.

" Thy cruise is over now,

Thou art anchored by the shore,
And never more shalt thou

Hear the storm around thee roar :

Death has shaken out the sands of thy glass ;
Now around thee sports the whale
And the porpoise snuffs the gale,
And the night-winds wake their wail,
As they pass.

" The sea-grass round thy bier
Shall bend beneath the tide,

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 19

Nor tell the breakers near ;
Where thy manly limbs abide;

But the granite rock thy tomb-stone ihall be.
Tliongh the edges of thy grave
Are the combings of the wave^
Yet unheeded they shall rave

Over thee.

* At the piping of all hands

"When the judgment sigaal 's spread —
"When the I!^la^ds, and the lands,
And the seas give up their dead,

And the south aud nortli shall come •
When the sinner is betrayed,
And the just man is afraid,
Then heaven be thy aid
Poor Turn." *

THE YOUNG SEAMAN.

A youth about 'seventeen yoars ot age, called
upon a young man to purchase a tract. He
was asked if he had been at any of the ser-
vices on board a ship. He said "Yes, the
last evening only. Yesterday I landed from
my voyage, and this afternoon I am bound to
Scotland to see my friends. My visit to the
Bethel chapel has been the means of great
comfort to my mind."

" I am glad you have found it so," observed
the secretary. " Were you unhappy ?"

"I will relate sir," said he, "What took
place during my late voyage. I sailed from
London in a Scotch vessel for the West
Indies, as second mate, the most wicked
wretch that ever sailed on salt water ; chiefly

20 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

for swearing. Our captain, though a good
seaman, and kind to the ship's company, cared
not for his own soul, or for the souls of his
ship's crew. We had been at sea about six-
teen days ; it came on night ; it was my watch
on deck ; the night was dark and lowering,
and but little wind at the time ; we had most
of our lower sails set: I was walking fOre and
aft on the leeward side of the ship, when
a sudden puff of wind caused the vessel to
give a heavy lurch. Not prepared to meet
it, I was capsized, and came right against one
of the stanchions. Feeling much hurt, I gave
vent to my anger by a dreadful oath; cursing
the wind, the ship, the sea, and (awfi^l to
mention) the being who made them. Scarcely
had this horrid oath escaped. my lips, when it
seemed to roll back upon my mind with so
frightful an image, that for a moment or two
I thought I saw the sea parting, and the vessel
going down. I took the helm from the man
who was at it, and put the ship's head close to
the wind. All that night my awful oath was
passing before my eyes, like a spectre ; and its
consequences appeared to be my certain dam-
nation. For many days I was miserable.
Ashamed to own the cause, I asked one of
the men if he had any book to lend me to
read. He offered me a French novel by
Rousseau. I asked if he had a Testament or
Bible ; he answered me bv askinsf if I were
going to die. For his part, he said, he never
troubled his head about Bible or prayer book ;

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 21

he left all tliese matters to the priest, to whom
he left part of his pay, to pray for him ; if I
had doue so, I should not be so squeamish
The captain, I knew, had a Bible ; but I was
unwilling to ask the loan of it.

"Several days thus passed in the greatest tor-
ment, this dreadful oath was always before me.
I could not pray : indeed I thought it of no
use. On the fifth day I was turning over some
things in my chest, when I found some trifles
I had purchased for sea stock, wrapped in
paper — in this piece of paper;" (putting his
hand at the same time into his jacket pocket,
and from a small red case, pulling out the pa-
per, which was a leaf of the Bible, containing
nearly the whole of the first chapter of Isaiah.)
*'0h ! how my heart throbbed when I found it
a piece of the Bible."

At that moment the tears fell from his eyes,
and he pressed the leaf to his bosom. " But,
sir," continued he, ''conceive what I felt when
I read these words — ' Though your sins be as
scarlet, they shall be as white as snow ; though
they be red like crimson, they shall be as
wool.'" Here he paused to wipe away the
tears. "0, sir," he added, "like a drowning
man I clung to this life-buoy. I then prayed
and the Lord was graciously pleased to remove,
in some measure, the great guilt from my con-
gcience ; though I continued mournful and
bow.ed down, until last evening on board the
Mayflower (Liverpool) I stowed away with the
Bethel company. I felt much comfort in the ser-

22 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

vice. It deeply aifected me, and I now hum*
bly trust that thd Lord has forgiven my
great sins."

Keaderj consider this instance of the value
of a single fragment of the sacred Scriptures ;
and let me beg you to read the chapter which
was made so great a blessing to the young
man. And may the Spirit of God so stamp it
upon your mind, that it may lead you to the
Lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the
world.

SPECIMEN OF CHRISTIANITY.

Some years gone, a whaling ship out of New
London, being commanded by a Nantucket
man, touched at New Zealand for recruits. A
boat coming alongside to trade, it was observed
that a large mat lay spread over the bottom
of the boat, and several times it was discov-
ered to move. The captain was anxious to
know 'the occasion of it ; but the Indians at
first refused to give any information, but at
length were prevailed upon to remove the
mat, when the captain beheld a man lying
lashed to a pole, his whole length. Inquiry
being made, the information given was, that
the man was a prisoner, taken in war from a
distant tribe, and their intention was to roast
him, and have a feast. The captain of the
ship, struck with horror, requested them to
deliver up the prisoner to his care, but they
refused. The captain, as well as the whole

THE CABIK boy's LOCKER. 23

crew of the ship, were desirous to relieve the
prisoner, and proposed baying him ; (there
was one on board the ship who partly under-
stood their language) ; at length, by offers or
considerable value, they consented to sell the
prisoner. After paying a good round sum
for him, he was delivered on board the ship.
When on board, the poor fellow seemed ready
to faint, believing, as the saying is, that he
had "jumped out of the frying-pan into the
fire ;" but being assured, that he would be
treated like a brother, he came to, and was
able to give a narrative of the war, and what
tribe he belonged to — how he was taken, and
what harbor belonged to the tribe. The
captain of the ship immediately got his boats
in readiness, with a supply of food and water,
and taking the poor fellow as pilot, proceeded
to the landing where the Indian originally
belonged. The tribe was observed as they
came down by hundreds, in their mode of re-
joicing, with instruments of music, and took
the Indian and carried him to the village, and
then demanded to know what they had to pay
for his ransom. The captain told them they
had nothing to pay, and all that was required
of them was to be good to the white men
when they came to visit them ; at which the
whole tribe had a day of rejoicing, and loaded
the boat with vegetables, and would have
loaded the ship with different kinds of the
produce of the place, if permitted.

Now, my sea-faring brethren, I want we

24 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

should improve upon this, so as to realize the
blessed feeling that will always attend us when
"We are striving to fulfil the universal sermon
— that is to saj, he good. — An Old Sailor,

SPIRITUAL ENJOYMENT.
" Do unto others as ye would they should do unto you."

In our pursuit of the things of this world,
we usually prevent enjoyment by 'expectation ;
we anticipate our own happiness, and eat out
the heart and sweetness of worldly pleasures,
by delightful forethoughts of them, so that
when we come to possess them, they do not
answer the expectation, nor satisfy the desires
which were raised about them, and they
vanish into nothing. But the things which
are above are so great, so solid, so durable, so
glorious, that we cannot raise our thoughts to
an equal height with them ; we cannot enlarge
our desires beyond the possibility of satisfac-
tion. Our hearts are greater than the world ;
but God is greater than our hearts ; and the
happiness which he hath laid up for us, is like
himself, incomprehensibly great and glorious.
Let the thoughts of this raise us above this
world, and inspire us with greater thoughts
and designs than the cares and concernments
of this present life.

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 25

BEAUTIFUL ANECDOTE.

In Mr. Kiipin's school were two bojs,
brothers, from 11 to 12 years old. One of
these children had, after repeated admoniiiou,
manifested a determined obstinacy, and sulky
resistance. Mr. Kilpin told him that the result
of such conduct would be a chastisement not
easily to be forgotten. He was preparing to
inflict it on the still hardened child, when his
brother (Paul) came forward, and entreated
that he might bear the punishment in the
place of his brother. Mr. Kilpin remarked,
" My dear Paul, you are one of my best boys ;
you have never needed chastisement ; your
mind is tender ; I could not be so unjust as to
give you pain, my precious child." The dear
boy said, " I shall endure more pain to
witness his disgrace and suffering, than any-
thing you could inflict on me. He is a little
boy, and younger and weaker than I am.
Pra}^, sir, ^llow me to take all the punishment.
I will bear anything from you. O do, do, sir,
take me in exchange for my naughty brother."
" Well, James, what say you to this noble
offer of Paul?" He looked at his brother^
but made no reply. Mr. K. stood silent.
Paul still entreated for the punishment, that
it might be finished, and wept. Mr. K. said,
" Did you ever hear of any one who bore
stripes and insults to shield offenders, Paul ?"
*' 0 yes, sir ; the Lord Jesus Christ gave hia

3

26 THE CABIN boy's LOCKEB*

back to the smiters for us, poor little sinners,
and by his stripes are we healed and pardoned.
0 sir, pardon James for my sake, and let me
endure the pain. I can bear it better than
he." *' But your brother does not seek pardon
for himself. Why should you feel this anxiety,
my dear Paul ? Does he not deserve correc-
tion ?" *' O yes, sir ; he has broken the rules
of the school, after repeated warnings. You
have said he must suffer ; therefore, as I knew
you would not speak an untruth, and the laws
must be kept, and he is sullen, and will not
repent, what can be done, sir ? Please to take
me, because I am stronger than he." The
boy then threw his arms round his brother's
neck, and wetted his sulky, hardened face
with tears of tenderness. This was rather
more than poor James could stand, firmly.
His tears began to flow, his heart melted, he
sought forgiveness, and embraced his brother.
Mr. K. clasped both in his arms, and prayed
for a blessing from Him, of whom it is said,
" He was wounded for our trans^essions, He
was bruised for our iniquities : the chastise-
ment of our peace was upon him ; and with
his stripes we are healed."

It would be easy to make remarks on this
(in my opinion) beautiful anecdote, but they
would be like pointing the diamond. — Ifenioir
of Rev. Samuel Kilpin.

I'HE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 27

ANECDOTE OF A BENEVOLENT FEMALE.

Some time since, a ladj whose name has
been respectfully announced, and whose time
has been much devoted to promote the objects
of the British and Foreign Seamen's Friend
Society and Bethel Union, going on board a
ship of war, was received by an officer on
deck, not without respect, but accompanied
with many of those expressions which, unfor-
tunately, are too frequent in the lips of sailors.
The lady expressed her wish that while she
was on board he would have the goodness to
desist from language of that description. He
professed his readiness to oblige her, and
during the period of her being on board, not
one oath escaped his lips. She pursued her
course, distributing to the sailors her tracts
and Bibles, and above all, hdr admonitions.
On her return, she was accompanied by the
same officer, and had an opportunity of thank-
ing him for his kindness in attending to her
request. He expressed his readiness to oblige
her on any occasion, and said there was no-
thing she asked him to do that he would not do.
Then (said she) I'll thank you to read that
book, giving him a Bible. He felt himself
surprised (or, if jou please, taken in), but
considering that he had given his promise, he
was bound to fulfil it.

The lady afterwards visiting a distant part
of the country, went to the church, heard a

%9 THE CABIN BOl'S LOCKER.

sermon, and was returning, when the clergy-
man, running after her, said, *' If I mistake
not, I am addressing such a lady ?" (mention-
ing her name.) " That is my name," said she,
** but I have no recollection of you." " No,
madam," said he, " does not your ladyship
recollect visiting such a ship, and giving an
officer a Bible ?" •' Yes," said she, " I do."
" Then, madam, I am the person, and the
good effects of it are what you have seen this
morning:."

THE CHOCTAW INDIAN GIRL.

A poor Choctaw Indian, whose hut stood
alone in the wilderness, was brought to the
knowledge of the Saviour, at a camp-meeting.
He went home with his heart full of love and
gratitude, that God had given his Son to die
for sinners. He immediately began to pray
in his family, and seek the blessing of his
Heavenly F'ather on his humble meals, and
\aught his family all he knew about God. His
wife soon became a Christian. His little
daughter, five years of age, began to pray,
and was so happy, that she prayed many times
a day. She soon learned one of the hymns in
her language, and was delighted in singing it
She would often go into the fields and woods,
and there pray and sing. She used to ask
many questions about Gid, as, " Where is he?
Does he see me ? Does he love me ? I love

THE CABIlSr boy's LOCKER. 29

him, and want to go and see him, and be
where he is." She never would eat, whether
at home or abroad, without hfting her heart
to her Father above, for his blessing. She
continued in this state of mind about six
months, when she was taken sick. During
her sickness, she was calm and happy, though
her pain was very severe. She was all the
time thinking of God, and praying to him.

On the day she died, while her parents
were weeping over her, they heard her say,
" Uba Anka maV My Father above, open
the door, and let me in — open the duor^ and let
me in. Then looking at her parents, she said,
" My father and mother — issa ha laniana.^^
Do not hold on to me. The door is open : I
shall enter in — the door is open : I am going ;
and then sweetly fell asleep in Jesus. No
doubt the blessed Jesus, to whom she loved to
pray, opened to her the gates of Heaven,
where she is now singing the song of Moses
and the Lamb. Now, this little heathen girl
had never seen a missionary, but all the in-
struction she had was from her ignorant father.
But she was taught by the Holy Spirit.

0 that the children who read this account
of a heathen girl would do as she did, that
when they lie on a death-bed they may say,
the door of heaven is open to me, and Jesua
stands ready to receive ! — Youth's Friend.

3*

80 IIHE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

THE SHIPWRECKED MARINER AND HIS BIBLE.

The following anecdote was related at a late
meeting of the Aberdeen Bible Society, in
Scotland, bj the Rev. Mr. Grant, one of the
ministers of the Orkney Islands, who was an
eye witness 'of the scene :

'^ Last year (1833), a Swedish vessel was
driven upon our coast, in a tremendous gale,
and went to pieces. All on board perished,
except one man, who was driven on shore,
upon a piece of wreck, entwined among the
ropes, half naked, and half drowned. As soon
as the people rescued him, astonishment filled
tlieir minds, by observing a small parcel tied
firmly round his waist, with a handkerchief.
Some of them concluded it was his money ;
others, it was the ship's papers, <fec. To their
astonishment, it was his Bible : a Bible given
to the lad's father, from the British and
Foreign Bible Society. Upon the blank leaf
was a prayer WTitten, that the Lord would
make the present the means of saving his soul.
Upon the other blank leaf was an account
how the Bible came into the old man's hands,
and a tribute of gratitude to the Society. The
request was, that the son should make it the
man of his counsel ; and that he could not
allow him to depart from home without giving
him the best pledge of his love, a Bible, though
that gift deprived the other parts of the family.
This bore evident marks of being often read."

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 31

IMPORTANT TEXTS OF SCRIPTURE, IN RELATION
TO TEMPERANCE, FOR THE USE OF SEAMEN
AND LANDSMEN.

It is good neither to eat flesh, nor drink
wine, nor anything whereby thy brother
stumbleth, or is offended, or is made weak.
—Bom. 14 : 21.

Woe to them that rise up early in the morn-
ing, that they may follow strong drink ; that
continue till night, till wine inflame them ;
and the harp, and the viol, and thje pipe, and
wine are in their feasts ; but they regard not
the work of the Lord, neither consider the
operations of his hands ; therefore, hell hath
enlarged herself, and opened her mouth with-
out measure. — Isaiah^ 5 : 11, 12, 14.

Strong drink shall be bitter to them that
drink it. — Isaiah^ 24 : 9.

Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging,
and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise.
—Prov. 20 : 1.

Do not drink wine, nor strong drink ; thou,
nor thy sons with thee, when ye go into the
tabernacle of the congregation, lest ye die. —
Lev. 10 : 9.

Woe to them that drink wine in bowls;
that cause the seat of violence to come near ;
but they are not grieved for the afiliction of
Joseph. — Amos^ 6 : 6.

Who hath woe ? Who hath sorrow ? Who
hath wounds without cause ? They that tarry

82 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

long at the wine ; tliat go to seek mixed wine^
^Prov. 23 : 23.

Be not among wine-bibbers ; among riotous
eaters of flesh ; for the drunkard, and the
glutton, shall come to poverty. — Prov. 23:
20, 21. '

Come ye, say they, I will fetch wine, and
we will fill ourselves with strong drink, and
to-morrow shall be as this day, and much
more abundant. — Isaiah^ 66 : 12.

Nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards,
shall inherit the kingdom of God. — 1 Cor. 6 :
10.

For the day cometh that shall burn as an
oven, in which the proud, yea, all that do
wickedly, shall be stubble, and the day that
cometh shall burn them up, saith the Lord of
Hosts, that it shall leave them neither root
nor branch. — Mai. 4:1.

Let us walk honestly, not in rioting and
drunkenness. — Rom. 13 : 13.

Woe to him that giveth his neighbor drink,
that putteth thy bottle to him, and makest
him drunken also. — Habak. 2 : 15.

Saying, I shall have peace, though I walk in
the imagination of my heart, to add drunken-
ness to thirst ; the Lord will not spare him ;
but then, the anger of the Lord, and his jeal-
ousy, will smoke against that man ; and all
the curses that are written in this book, shall
lie upon him ; and the Lord shall blot out his
name from under heaven. — Deut. 29 : 19, 20.

But and if that evil servant shall say in his

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 88

heart, my Lord delayeth his coming, and shall
begin to smite his fellow servants, and to eat,
and drink with the drunken, the Lord of that
servant shall come in a day when he looketh
not for him, and in an hour that he is not
aware of, and shall cut him asunder, and
appoint him his portion with the hypocrites ;
there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
—Matt. 24 : 48, 51.

THE SEAMEN'S CHAPLAU?.

Some years ago, a vessel which was blessed
with a pious chaplain, and was bound to a
distant part of the world, happened to be
detained by contrary winds, over a Sabbath,
at the Isle of Wight. The chaplain improved
the opportunity to preach to the inhabitants.
His text was, " Be clothed with humility."
Among his hearers was a thoughtless girl,
who had come to show her fine dress, rather
than to be instructed. The sermon was the
means of her conversion. Her name was
Elizabeth Wallbridge, the celebrated " Dairy-
man's Daughter," whose interesting history,
by the late Rev. Leigh Richmond, has been
printed in various languages, and widely cir-
culated, to the spiritual benefit of thousands.
What a reward was this for a single sermon,
preached 'out of season," by a seamen's chap
lain.

84 THE CABIN BOY'S LOCKEB.

THE WISE CHOICE ; OR, GREENWICH FAIR.

Sailors, when in foreign ports, are often
very anxious to have daj^s of liberty, as they
are called, wherein they may go on shore,
and recreate themselves. To guard young
sailors against the evils of this practice, we
recommend to them the careful perusal of the
following story of one whose industry and
integrity raised him from being a poor, friend-
less boy, to respectability and affluence :

"When I was a young man," said he, "I
worked five years at one place, without ever
asking for more than one holiday, and that
one I shall have reason to remember all my
days. When I applied for it, my master said
to me, ' Thomas, I have no objection to your
having a holiday, but I should like to know
how you intend to spend your time.' * Why,
Bir, I have heard a great deal of Greenwich
Fair, and never having seen it, I intend to go
there.'

" ' Ah, Thomas, so I thought ; but it is my
duty to tell you, you had better not go. In
the first place, you will lose half a day's
wages ; in the next, you will spend at least
two day's wages more; and it is not ^ery
unlikely that you will get into bad company.
What mischief bad company will do you, it is
impossible to say ; but it often leads young
men to ruin. You may run into excess ; and
ii'you think rightly of the follies and accidents

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 35

that excess brings about — sometimes ill health,
and sometimes sudden death — you would be
persuaded, and not go.'

" ' Why, sir, I mean to walk there, and
that will cost nothing ; then I can take a bit
of bread and cheese in my handkerchief, and
need not spend anything ; as to bad company,
I think I am proof against any temptation of
the kind.'

"'No doubt you think so, Thomas; you
do not know what Greenwich Fair is. If you
have made up your mind to go, we will have
dinner at one o'clock, that you may be off at
two ; but again I tell you, you had better not
go.'

" ' Why, sir, I have set my heart upon it,
and shall think it hard not to go there once
in my life.'

" ' Very well, Thomas ; at two o'clock you
may go.'

" Exactly at one o'clock my master ordered
in dinner ; and no sooner did the clock strike
two, than he told me I was at liberty. I took
but a short time to get ready, and set off for
Greenwich, with my little stock of provisions,
to' prevent me spending money. A great
many people are going over London Bridge ;
for all the way to Greenwich, on a fair time,
the road is like a market. At the foot of the
bridge, at the time, there were some water
works, and I leaned over the bridge to look
at them. I thought of the crowds of people
at Greenwich Fair, and of the water worka

86 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

that I was looking at ; but I thought more of
what my master had said to me, than all put
together. When words at once get a firm
hold on you, it is a very hard matter to get
rid of them. Here had I a half day's holiday,
victuals and money in my pocket, the sun
shining, and crowds of people hastening to
enjoy themselves ; and yet, for the life of me,
I could not go on. The advice of my master
was uppermost in my mind, and I thought
that I should do better in attending to it, and
going back to my employment, than in going
forward to Greenwich Fair. I cannot say but
it cost me a great deal to give up the point. I
looked one way, and then the other way, and
the scales vvere so nicely balanced that a
feather would have turned them. When I
thought of Greenwich, it seemed impossible
to give up the fair ; when I thought of my
master's advice, it was impossible to go on.
At last, prudence won the day, and I made
the best of my way back to my work.

" ' Why, Thomas, is it you ?' said my
master, when he saw me. ' Why, I thought
you were frolicking at Greenwich. What hui
brought you back again ?'

" I told him that on stopping on London
Bridge, to look at the water-works, I had
thought over the advice he had given me, and
had made up my mind to come back to my
work. 'You are a prudent lad, Thomas,' was
the remark he made to me, and I set to work
a great deal more comfortable in my mind

THE CABIN BO^ *S LOCKER. 37

tban I had been since I first set off for Green-
wich.

"Nothing more was said about it during
the week, but when Saturday night came, my
master paid my wages in full, and then put
down a guinea by itself. ' There, Thomas,'
said he, ' take that. You have acted pru-
dently in following your master's advice, and
not going to Greenwich, and I trust you will
not have occasion to repent of it.'

" For aught I know, this was a turn in my
life. Had I gone to Greenwich Fair, it is
not unlikely that things would have happened
just as my master said ; and if nothing elee
had occurred, perhaps it would have been the
beginning of bad habits, which might have
clung to me all my days ; whereas, by taking
good counsel, I had got a golden guinea, the
good opinion of my master, and the conscious-
ness of having acted properly." — Youtli^s
Friend,

AFFECTING ANECDOTE.— FILIAL PIETY.

A young lad, but newly admitted into the
military school, soon made himself appear of
rather a singular disposition, by his remark
able abstemiousness. Whatever variation of
diet was allowed, he never ate anything but
bread and soup, and drank nothing but water.
The governor being informed of this conduct,
BO very uncommon in a boy, attributed it to

4

88 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

an indiscreet devotion, and reproved him
for it. Nevertheless, the lad persisted, and
the governor mentioned the circumstance to
Monsieur Paris Duvernej. He had the boy
called before him, and with his usual mildness
and moderation, represented to him that such
singularity was by no means proper or allow-
able in a public institution, and that he must
certainly conform to the rules and diet estab-
lished there. He afterwards unsuccessfully
endeavored to find out the reason that could
induce the boy to act in such a manner, and
said that he would send him home again to
kis family. This menace had the desired
effect, and he then disclosed the motive of his
conduct. " You will not, I hope, be displeased
with me, sir," he said ; " but I could not bring
myself to enjoy what I think luxury, while I
reflect that my dear father and mother are in
the utmost indigence. They could afford
themselves and me no better food than the
coarsest bread, and of that but verv little.
Here, I have excellent soup, and as much fine
white bread as I would choose. I look upon
this to be very good living ; and the recollec-
tion of the situation in which I left my parents,
would not permit me to indulge myself by
eating anything else."

Monsieur Duverney and the governor could
not restrain their tears at such an early instance
of fortitude and sensibility. " If your father
has been in the service," said M. Duverney,
" how comes it that he has got no pension ?"

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 39

" For want of friends and money, sir," replied
the yoath. " He has been upwards of a year
soliciting one, but his money and resources
failed ; and rather than contract debts at Ver-
sailles, he is content to languish in the manner
I have told you." " Well," said M. Duverney,
" if the fVict appears to have been as you have
stated it, I will engage to procure your father
a pension of five hundred livres. In the
meantime, here are three louis d'ors for your-
self, as a present from the King, and I will
advance your father six months' pay, out of
the pension I am certain of obtaining for
him." " How can you send the money to
him, sir ?" said the boy. " Let that give you
no uneasiness," rep!ied M. Duverney ; " I
shall find means." "■ Ah, sir," said the boy,
with precipitation, " if you can do it so easily,
be pleased to send him these three louis d'ors
you were so kind as to give me. I want
nothing here, and they would be of the great-
est service to my father, for my brothers and
sisters." How delightful to the sensible mind
are such emanations of pious gratitude 1

JOHN GORDON.

One man was taken on board in Baffin's
Bay. He was a good seaman ; but he swore,
drank, and had all the bad qualities of a
seaman, also. By the merc}^ of God, he was
led to Mr. Cooper's school, where the Word

41!^ THE CABIN" BOY'S LOCKER.'

was blessed to his soul. The man was ill iter*
ate ; but so greatly had the Bible enlightened
his mind, that I often got more good — more
real information — from him than from a
sermon. He had the most correct views of
the way of salvation, and adorned the profess-
ion which he made, by his conduct. He ac-
companied ns in three of our expeditions, and
proved to be one of the best men in the crew.
If there was any post of danger — any part of
the expedition that was more trying than
another — any duty that was more difficult
than another — there Gordon was found ready.
When the fourth expedition was fitted out,
he was one of the first to enter the ship. But
on coming down the river, when we got to
Gravesend, the men were employed in a boat
sending out an anchor and -a hawser. Gordon
was in the boat. The object was to throw out
the anchor. Suddenly a tremendous outcry
was heard, and it was found that the archor
had caught the gunwale of the boat, and thiit
the men were in danger. Gordon, who was a
very powerful, athletic man, full six feet high,
was the first to rush forward, and to aim to
lift with his muscular arm the whole weight
of the anchor. He succeeded in lifting it ;
but the cable got twisted round his body, ho
was dragged out into the sea, and was seen no
more. I have no fear for John Gordon ; but
I earnestly entreat all who hear me to use
their utmost endeavors to make hundreds and

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 41

thousands gf Jolin Gordons, that they may be
fully prepared for all that may await them —
Captain Sir Edward Parry.

THE MISSIONARY SHIP.

When that day which beholds the dawn of
millenial glory shall arrive, all the various
employments in which men are now engaged
will be made to contribute to the extension
and establishment of the reign and kingdom
of Christ. Men will then go to their labor,
and pursue it with alacrity, in order that they
may thereby contribute to the furtherance of
the gospel. Whole nations and sceptred kings
shall emulate each other in the work of send-
ing the light of divine truth over the' world.
Commerce, and all the improvements of civil-
ized nations, will then furnish increased facil-
ities for the spread of the gospel over the
whole earth. Then the vast caravan that
traverses the pathless desert, with its camels
and dromedaries, laden with spices, and gold,
and incense, shall traverse those same burning
sands, laden with Bibles, .tracts, and mission-
aries, to make known to the remotest land the
glad tidings of salvation. Then the countless
ships, whose sails now whiten every sea, bear-
ing merchandise and the products of each
climxC to almost every spot on the globe, shall
be wafted over those same seas, laden with.
the bread of life, and the preachers of recon*

4*

42 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

ciliation, going to every land upon which tho
sun shines, to make known the unsearchable
riches of Christ.

An event that occurred just before we
reached England, in a recent visit to that
country, strikingly reminded us of the coming
of that glorious day, to which we just alluded.
The event to which I refer was the departure
of a missionary ship to the South Sea Islands.
The ship Camden was fitted out for the express
purpose of being employed in missionary
work. It was destined not only to convey a
cargo of missionaries to those distant islands,
but to be employed in their service. Previous
to the departure of the ship, there was a large
and most interesting meeting held in the Tab-
ernacle, at London, to which we adverted in
our last number, in the article headed, " The
Honored Missionary." One of the principal
missionaries, about to sail in that ship, and
who was the centre of attraction and interest
on that memorable evening, was the Rev.
John Williams.

So novel was the'occurrence of a ship being
sent out solely on the Saviour's errand, that
for many days previ(;us to its departure,
though it lay in the West India export dock,
a distance of seven or eight miles from large
portions of the city and suburbs of London,
vast numbers continually clustered to the pier,
And crowded her deck. And at times this
vessel was so thronged below with living
beings, that they w^re literally wedged togeth-

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 45

er, and could not get up nor down, neither
backward nor forward. But one single vessel,
I believe, ever before sailed from the shores
of Great Britain on a similar expedition, for
the sole purpose of carrying the light of divine
truth to the nations sitting in darkness. That
vessel was the ship Duff, which left England
in 1796.

It can well be conceived, from the facts to
which we have just adverted, that the meeting
on the evening previous to the departure of
the missionary ship, was one of deep and over-
whelming interest, and that immense crowds
thronged there to listen to the parting words
of those eminent servants of God, who were
going back to renew their labors among those
who were perishing for lack of knowledge.

May the time speedily come when there
shall sail, not only from the British, but also
from the American shores, many ships, beard-
ing many such missionaries, in spirit, zeal,
and devotedness, as the Rev. John Williams.
— Episcopal Mecorder.

NOBLE CONDUCT OF TWO SEAMEN. ,

The generous character of a sailor is proverb
ial ; but seldom has it fallen to our happy
lot to record an action more truly noble than
the following, which took place a few days
ago, in this city. A poor widow woman,
who occupied two rooms in the lower part of

M THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

Commercial street, since the deatli of her
husband, about six month-s since, has been
compelled to. earn a living for herself, and a
family of young children, by taking in wash-
ing ; and with all her industry and economy,
her quarterly rent bill became due before she
could scrape together sufficient to discharge it.
Unfortunately for her, the landlord was one
of " Old Crumbs' " school : cold and calcu-
lating, mercenary and unfeeling. liis sole
business was to collect his rents, and all his re-
creation seemed to be to distress the virtuous.
She begged of him to grant her time. He
gave her two days. She asked for more, and
he refused, stating that unless her rent was
paid before twelve o'clock on the following
day, every stick of her furniture should be
put out of doors. ,

The time arrived, when, agreeably to prom-
ise, his lackeys were sent down, and the threat
was begun to be put into execution. The
poor woman prayed the unfeeling landlord to
desist in his purpose, but her prayers were in
vain. At length, giving up entirely to despair
and wounded pride, she seated herself upon
her forlorn bed, with her little children crying
around her. At this moment, two jolly
American tars happened by, and espjdng the
work going on, the door open, and the wretched
woman and her children weeping, immediately
stopped their course, and began to reconnoitre.

*' I say, ship-mate," cried onej *' there ia

THE CABIK boy's LOCKER. 45

Bome foul play going on in ttiese waters — lei's
overhaul the craft !"

"Ay, ay, Jack," replied the* otner, ''the
young 'oman by the bed has hoisted signals
of distress — her pumps are going in rignc
earnest — let's give her a long hail."

The tars called the woman to them, and from
her soon learned the whole of her story.

" Well, now, shipmate, if that land-pirate
hadn't ought to be lathered Vith hot tar,
scraped with a rusty hoop, and then keel-
hauled, for laying his grappling-iron on her
few loose spars that are scattered about this
wreck. Never mind, my good 'oman ; keep
your spirits up, and we'll set you in the right
course, with plenty of ballast and provisions.
I say, you land-lubbers, just belay there upon
them things — well be responsible for the
damage."

" How much do you owe this land-pirate ?"

The woman told the amount, when Jack
took from his wallet the same, in hard cur-
rency, and paid the bill, made the woman a
present of a handful of silver, while his ship-
mate, in the mean time, went to a butcher's
shop near by, and brought back a large joint
of meat, for the dinner of herself and poor
children. They left, after receiving the poor
woman^s blessings, and wishes for their pros-
perity, and went whistling through the streets,
as though nothing had happened. — Boston Her-
ald,

4A THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

THE COMPASS ; OR, CHRISTIAN SAILOR

Dark is the night, and loud the wind ;

The seaman's dreary watch I keep,
And strive in this lone waste to find
Some solace for the weary mind,

Denied the balm of sleep.

And is there not a lesson taught

The s(Jamau, as his course he steers i
Behold his precious compass, fraught
With document of serious thought,
And quiet for his fears.

The needle, see, its course maintain I

Though mountain-high the billows roll,
And foam, and toss, and pour again
Their briny torrent, 't will remain
Aye steady to the pole.

Why ? with the magnet's wondrous powei,

An artist touched the quivering steel.
It knew no guidance till that hour.
Nor since hath wandered ; storms may lower,
'Twill still that influence feel.

So I, though rude, may learn to know
The power of grace upon the soul :
The storm may rise — the tempest blow —
My heaven-taught faith no change shall knoif,
Aye steady to its pole.

The winds are hushed, the storm is o'er ;

Light moves the ship on ocean's iM-east ;
Soon shall we reach the wish'd-for shore:
When reach — ah, when — to leave no more.

The port of endlesa rest ?

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 47

THE INFIDEL SAILOR.

The young man whose conversion we are
about to relate, and whom we shall, for conve-
nience, call Jack, was born of parents decidedly
pious — parents who devoted their only child
to the Lord, and said, with Hannah, " As long
as he liveth he shall be lent to the Lord."
When the germ of intellect began, to unfold
itself, they commenced their parental instruc-
tions. They were mindful to nip in the bud
the first fruits of obstinacy and passion, and
instil and cherish amiable sentiments and
habits. They taught him diligently the way
of the Lord, and talked to him of the com-
mandments of God, " when they sat in their
house, and when they walked by the way,
when they lay down, and when they rose up."

At eight years of age. Jack indicated a seri-
ous turn of mind. This favorable omen raised
the hopes of his parents. Many times they
looked forward with joyful expectations to
the period when their son should not only
" rock the cradle of declining years," but be a
father in Israel, and a useful member of soci-
ety. But, alas ! alas ! in a short time, to all
human appearance, their hopes were blighted
and their expectations cut off; for, at fifteen,
their son associated with two youths of deist
ical principles, who soon placed in the hands of
their new companion some of their favorite pub-
lications j and, at seventeen, Jack was a deist.

48 THE CABIISr boy's LOOKEi..

He threw off all parental restraints, and forgot
all filial obligations. The entreaties, reproofs,
directions, tears, and groans of his parents,
were apparently abortive. " He hated instruc-
tion, and his heart despised reproof." He re-
solved in his mind to be a sailor; and early
one morning, prodigal like, he left his father's
house, taking with him ten pounds from a
private drawer. He wandered to Hull, and
engaged with a captain for four years.

During this period, his strong and ardent
passions were enlisted, with prodigious effect,
in the service of Satan. His irreligion was
open and fearless ; it was a resistless current,
bearing everything along with it. Soon,
indeed, did it sweep away the ramparts of a
religious education, and all the restraints it
had imposed upon him. No one could have
appeared at a greater distance from the king-
dom of God.

At the expiration of his service, Jack had
become a confirmed infidel. After spending
some time in Hull, he determined to visit Liv-
erpool. Accordingly, he commenced his jour-
ney ; and although he travelled within thirty
miles of his father's house, he turned not aside
to tarry for a night ! On his arrival at Liver-
pool, he engaged with a captain who was
bound for New York. In a short time they
set sail ; and not many days elapsed before
Jack was called to witness a scene, which, of
all others, was to him the most unpleasant.

The captain and mate, who were truly pious,

THE CABIN boy's LOCKEll. 49

were accustomed to call together, on the Sab-
bath day, as many of the men as could be
spared, for the purpose of religious worship^
which consisted of singing, reading, and
prayers. This procedure J;ick: hesitated not
to pronounce nonsense. He cursed and swore
bitterb^, and many hundred times he wished
himself on shore. The captain informed him
that one regulation of the ship was, to line for
every oath. At this remark, Jack found him-
self annoyed, and, with a heavy oath, declared
he might fine his blood and bones, if he liked ;
he would do his work as a man, but he would
have his own way ; observing, at the same
time, that he had *left home because of such
nonsense, and he never intended to be plagued
and pestered with it abroad. The captain
caught one sentence which dropped from the
lips of Jack : " He had left home because of
such nonsense." This begat in his mind a
peculiar feeling towards the thoughtless and
impenitent 3^outh.

Through the good providence of God, they
got safe to New York. Jack had declared
many times that he would leave the ship.
But although he resolved and re-resolved, he
never could muster courage and power to go.
There was a loadstone in that ship, to which
Jack was a stranger, — there was prevaleucy
in the faithful prayers of the parents, with
which he was not acquainted.

The time came when they had to return
to England, and Jack was in his place. Od

5 '

i50' THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

their return, about the second Sabbath, Jack
attended the reb'gious service of the day, in a
manner he had not been wont to do. During
the remainder of the week, he evinced great
concern of nnnd ; and, on the following Sab-
bath, he was fully convinced of the error of
his way, while the captain was reading the
third lecture of the Rev. George ?oungV
" Lectures on the Book of Jonah," entitled,
"Jonah's guilt detected," especially the follow-
ing paragraph : *' In numerous instances the
effects of sin fall not on the sinner alone, but
on all who are connected with him. Ungodly
parents often entail misery and shame on their
offspring ; and, on the other hand, the crimes
of children often bring down the gray hairs of
their parents with sorrow to the grave. In
like manner, how often do we see wicked
husbands, brothers, or friends, imbittering the
lives of their relations, or brino:ingj them to
ruin, by their vicious courses 1 How baneful
are the effects of sin ! How wide the havoc
which it causes, and the sorrows which it
spreads in families, societies, or States ! We
cannot abhor too much that abominable thing
so hateful to God, and so ruinous to man.
Let us hasten to escape from this worst of
enemies, by believing in that divine Saviour,
who came ' to put away sin by the sacrifice
of himself,' and ' who gave himself up for us,
that he might redeem us from all iniquity,
and purify unto himself a peculiar people,
zealous of good works.' "

THE CABIN boy's LOCKEK. 51

ft was then that the light of heaven struck
the sinner with deep conviction. Tie was
awakened to a sense of his real state. ■ The
depravity of his nature, and the evils that had
flowed from that corrupt fountain, were laid
open to his view. He retired apart, and wept.
O how gentle and tender are the methods by
which God often reclaims the prodigal from
his wanderings in a far country !

It was not by the terrors of Judgment that
the subject of this narrative w^as induced to
lay down the weapons of his rebellion, which
he had so long wielded against the Majesty
of Heaven, but rather by the still small voice
of mercy, overcoming the aversions of the
heart wholly set upon the perishable objects
of time and sense. The emotions struggling
within could no longer be concealed. Inward
conviction of sin led to its external abandon-
ment. The change which took place in the
moral habits of Jack, induced the captain to
interrogate him irf reference to his family
connections, when he made a frank confession,
and told him he was born of praying parents,
related the manner in which he was brought
up, his associations with two young men of
deistical principles^ his leaving home, and the
life he had led since that time. This cpniess-
ion was made with sighing and weeping.
The captain gave him suitable instructions,
and directed him to the "Lamb of God, which
taketh away the sin of the world."

In a few days after this, Jack " found Him

62 "■ THE CABIN boy's LOCKER,

of whor.i Moses in the law and the prophets
did write," to tbe joy of his souL What a
happy circiuTistance ! The soul of a prodigal
restored — the soul of an infidel saved — the
soul of a sailor on the bosom of the deep
converted from the error of his ways ! This
event would give joy to angels ; " for there is
joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth !"
Old things passed away, and all things became
new. Jack was a new creature in Christ Jesus.
He often talked with the captain, in a very
feeling manner, of his parents : whether they
were dead or alive, as he had not heard of
them f(jr more than six years ; and wished to
be at liberty, as soon as the ship arrived, that
he mio^ht return to his father's house. This
request was readily granted by the pious
captain ; for, on his arrival in Liverpool, Jack
was permitted to go home.

On his way, his mind was variously exer-
cised. Sometimes his spirit rejoiced in him,
at the thought that in a short time he should
communicate to his distressed parents the pleas-
ing intelligence of his conversion to God ; anon,
his mind was greatly depressed, lest, on arriv-
ing at the destined spot, he should be under
the painful necessity of .dropping the unavail-
ing tear over their mouldering ashe:^-

At the close of the second day's journey,
he arrived at the place of his nativity. On
entering the village, he inquired of an old
man, who was crossing the road, if such a
person lived at the high end. On receiving

THE CABIN BOY'S LOCKER. 63

an answer in the affirmative, his heart leaped
for joy. He thought within himself, he should
knock at the door, and see if they would recog-
nize him.

On approaching the house, he heard the
voice of devotion. It was his father's prayer.
He listened, and among the petitions heard
the following : " 0 Lord ! thou knowest where
he is, who is near and dear to us. If he is
alive, follow him with the strivings of the
Spirit ; and may it please thee to restore the
prodigal again to his father's house."

Jaciv could no longer forbear. He knocked
at the door — his ali'ectionate mother appeared
— he threw his arms about her, and kissed
her — his father, rising from his knees, em-
braced his long-lost child, and, with inexpress-
ible feelings of pleasure, exclaimed, " This
my son was dead, and is alive again ; he was
lost, and is found." All were suffused with
tears, and every countenance bespoke the
inward emotions of the heart. — Episcopal Rg"
corder. *

THE SELF-MADE MAN.

It ought to be deeply impressed on the
mind of every youth, that respectability is
attached to no profession. No station can
confer it, and no employment, how^ever hum-
ble, can deprive a man of it, if the duties of
that station be uprightly and virtuously per-
formed. Merit in the man renders his station

5*

54 THE CABIX boy's LOCKER.

respectable. Without intelligence and virtue,
the man of property, the physician, the lawyer,
or a man of any other station, claims no respect;
and with it, the young mechanic, or the farmer,
is truly respectable ; and respected by all who
know him, he cannot fail to be. Let young
men employed in the various mechanic trades
but use their leisure time for improving their
minds ; let them, while so doing, shun vice,
and abhor the arts of those who would fill
them with discontent, poison their principles,
and hurry them on to rashness and folly, and
they will secure respectability. Franklin was
a printer's boy. Sobriety, good conduct, and
the judicious improvement of his time, raised
him to distinction.

Arkwright occupied the humble post of a
barber : but his skill, aided by reading, reflec-
tion, and a good conduct, raised him to aiSu-
ence, the honors of knighthood, and the stili
greater honor of great usefulness, and an
unsullied reputation.

Eoger Sherman, of Connecticut, was a shoe-
maker. He rose to eminence at the bar, to a
seat in Congress, and to a great and merited
celebrity throughout his country ; not by rail-
ing at religion, or drinking the debasing pleas-
ures of vice, but b\' applying his powerful
mind to reading and thinking, and by deter-
mined adherence to the dictates of right prin-
ciples. The same road is open to all ; and
though every young farmer cannot hope to
become a Washington, nor every mechanic ao

THE CABm boy's LOCKER. 65

Arkwright, or a Sherman, jet all may become
virtuous, well informed, and respectable ; and
at this very day, young mechanics may see
before their eyes living examples to show that
virtue, industry, and intelligence lead the
mechanic to competence, confer on him respect,
and array him with influence. Let onl}^ the
season of youth be rightly improved, and no
station of life, no employment, can possibly
debar a young man from that weight in the
community to which intelligence and virtue
always entitle their possessor ! — Rev, Mr.
Hamilton,

PROVIDENCE.

A careless sailor, on going to sea, remarked
to his religious brother : " Tom, 3'oa talk a
great deal about religion and providence ; and
if I should be wrecked, and a ship was to
heave in sight, and take me off, I suppose you
would call it a merciful Providence. It's all
very well, but I believe no such thing. These
things happen, like other things, by mere
chance, and you call it Providence ; that's
all 1" He went upon his voyage, and the ca^se
he had put hypothetically, was soon literally
true. He was. wrecked, and remained upon
the wreck three days, when a ship appeared,
and seeing their signal of distress, came to
their relief. He returned, and in relating it,
said to his brother, " 0 Tom, when that ship
hove in sight, my words to you came in a

56 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

moment to my mind. It was like a bolt of
thinider ; I have never got rid of it ; and now
I think it no more than an act of common
gratitude to give myself up to Him who pitied
and saved me." — Church,

WALKS OF USEFULNESS IN NEW YORK.

Having reached the wharves at the lower
part of the city, I resolved to try the sailors,
who appeared to be very busy about their
vessels. So I walked up to one, and said to
him, " I suppose you have been several
voyages." " Yes sir," said he, " I have fol-
lowed the seas ever since I was fourteen years
old, and I have never remained on land more
than two months at a time." "And you
must have had much rough weather during
your life," said I. The pride of the honest
tar immediately began to swell, and he gave
me a comprehensive history of his dangers
and sufferings. " Well, friend, I also am
bound on a voyage, and expect it will be full
of variety." " Where are you bound ?" said
he. " To heaven," I replied. " To heaven I"
said he, " I do not recollect to have heard of
that port. Pray, sir, in what part of the world
is it?" "It is in no part of the world, and it
is invisible to mortals ; and no one who has
reached it ever wishes to return to visit his
friends." "Indeed," said he, " it must be a
gingular place. What ship do you sail in ?"

THE GAJ3IN BOi'S LOOKER. 57

'• In tlie ship called Divine Providence. I
have now been more than thirty years on tlie
voyage, and I know not that I shall reach my
place of destination for thirty years to come."
Upon this he set np a very hearty laugh, and
called to his comrades, who very soon came
around him. " Here is a queer fellow," said
he to them. " He says he is bound on a
voyage to heaven, sails in the ship Divine
Providence ; that he has been more than thirty
years already on the voyage, and does not
know that he will reach his port for thirty
years to come." They all laughed immoder-
ately, and were about to ask many curious
questions ; but I desired them to be serious,
assuring them there was more meaning in my
language than they imagined. I told them
they were all bound on the same voyage with
myself, though I feared they would not reach
the same port, unless they changed their
course. " The voyage," said I, " is human
life, which is under the direction of Provi-
dence ; and I perceive that some of you, my
friends, have been a considerable time on this
voyage. We must all have met with some
rough weather ; but He who guides the ship
has preserved us from sinking. Now, tell
me where you expect to be when this voyage
is ended ? There are but two ports to receive
every voyager : these are heaven and helL I
fear many of your companions have already
gone to the last place, and you will surely
reach there, unless you ' tack about.' " A seri*

58 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

ousTiess appeared in every countenance, wliicb
encouraged me to proceed. " I have with
me," said I, " a most excellent chart of the
voyage above-mentioned, which I will give
YOU, to direct you in the right track. It was
drawn by the Master, under whose direction I
sail, and by several of his experienced servants;
but it was all inspected by him, and is very
accurate." So saying, I pulled out a Bible
from my pocket, and requested them to accept
it, assuring them that if they steered their
course by this, they would certainly reach the
kingdom of heaven. " This will show you
where every danger is, and throw such light
upon your course, that you cannot mistake it.
If at any time you are in doubt as to the right
way, or if you should get out of the way, by
consulting your chart you will soon get back
again. The reason wliT sc any get wrecked
on their voyage is, that they are too proud or
too ignorant to examine their chart. They
will sail ^fooording to their own notions, and
hencie they always go wrong, and many do
,1 get convinced till it is too late to alter
their course. But let us now drop this ligura-
tive language, and converse in a plainer style."
" O yes"^" said one, " and you are a clever
fellow, and 3^ou intend to give us good advice.
You are cf the same stamp of the man at
^Philadelphia, who preaches to sailors. I have
heard many a good lecture from him, and I
hope they have done me good." " Well
then," I observed, " I suppose you have often

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 69

been in very perilous situations when at sea.'
"Yes sir,'' said the man who had just spoken,
" sailors are often at their wits' end, and very
frequently there is but a step between them
and death." " And, I suppose, when you
have seen yoar danger, and have expected to
be swallowed up in the deep, you cried to the
Lord for mercy." " Yes," said another, " I
remember when our ship sprang a leak in a
storm, and we were told we must soon be in
eternity, I fell to prajang very earnestly. I
said if God would deliver me from death, I
would never be so wicked again as I had
been ; I would never swear, nor quarrel, nor
do anything which I knew to be wrong."
" And did you remember your resolutions,
and 'pay the vows which your lips uttered
when you was in trouble?'" "0 no, sir, I
soon forgot the danger, and became as thought-
less and wicked as ever." Several of them
acknowledged that they had conducted in a
similar manner. "How great has been the
mercy of God," said I, " toward you. He
has delivered you in six troubles ; he has
quelled the boisterous waves, when they were
ready to swallow you up. You ought to have
remembered his wonders in the deep, and to
have praised his name. I hope you will think
upon your ways, and turn your feet unto God's
testimonies , that you will make haste and
delay not to keep his commandments ; and
may we all remember that we are wafted upon
the ocean of life towards that ' undiscovered

60 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

country, from whose bourne no one returns.
And may we so live in this world, through
the faith of the Son of God, who loved us, and
gave himself for us, that we may all be safely
anchored in that haven, where the wicked
cease from troubling, and the weary are at
rest." I cast my eye over the little group,
and perceived the tears trickling down the
weather-beaten cheeks of several. As I parted
from them, they all pulled off their hats in a
respectful manner, and pronounced many bene-
dictions.— Guardian and Monitor,

THE CONFESSION— A TRUE STORY.

Children should be early impressed with
the necessity and imj>ortance of recalling and
confessing their sins. To confess particular
sins is often a profitable exercise, as by repeat-
ing only a general confession, tliey may
acquire a habit of passing it thoughtlessly
over, or looking upon sin merely as something
of common and unavoidable occurrence. The
following story was related to me by the
person under whose observation the incident
happened, and will serve as a striking instance
of the hardness of heart which may come upon
those who neglect or omit tliis important duty.

*' Several years since, the commander of a
vessel, on the eve of sailing for America, from
Calcutta, was applied to by a seaman, for the
purpose of being engaged in his employ. He

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 61

professed to be an Englishman, and, "6y hia
conversation, appeared to be above the class
of ordinary sailors. He was pale and thin,
ind withal had such a careworn and dejected
2ountenance, that he seemed hardly fitted to
undertake the duties of a long voynge. He
produced, however, testimonials of fiiitii fulness
and industry from several respectable employ-
ers, and, as he declared himself in good health,
and stated that the climate had caused his
temporary emaciation, he was engaged, and
forthwith entered upon the duties of his new
station.

"After the vessel had set sail, he became
distinguished among his fellow-seamen for his
reserve, and unwillingness to be associated
with them, evidently not from pride, or per-
sonal dislike to them, but from a peculiar
sullenness of temper ; and the abstracted and
unhappy look which he always wore, and the
short, repulsive answers which he gave to all,
soon estrano:ed him from the kind re2:ards,
and even the passing notice of his companions.
He was, however, steadily seen at his duties,-
passively and silently obedient to every order,
neglecting nothing that was assigned to hiin,
and, under all circumstances, appearing cold,
and unmoved, and uninterested.

•''Never,' said his commander, 'have 1
seen such a personification of a statue. His
features were as of chiselled marble — fixed and
unrelaxing, and his eyes with one amazing
expression of sullen despair. In so large a

6

.62 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

ship's company, we were not often thrown
into close and familiar contact, and when not
m the act of obeying my immediate orders,
he would always avoid me when I approached
him. Though there were several things in hia
air and conduct to repel inquiry, yet I several
times ventured to ask him particulars of his
health or history. His answers, though re-
spectful, were short and unsatisfactory ; and,
indeed, he seemed possessed of a peculiar
faculty of repulsing even his superiors.'

"'Nearly two months of the voyage had
passed without any incident occurring worthy
of note. I had remarked no change in him,
except that he had become evidently much
emaciated ; and although no complaint escaped
him, he was visibly and daily losing strength.
When I tokNiim I was willing to excuse him
from his more laborious duties, he coldly
replied : ' I do not Vish to be idle. I am not
so strong as I might be, but I am well enough.'
This was said in his usual repulsive tone, and
as I saw his unwillingness to receive even the
expressions of kindness or interest, I forbore
to molest him further.

" ' About this time, we experienced a severe
hurricane, which required every one at his
post, and at active duty. In the course of the
day, I missed the English seaman, and on
asking for him, was told he was so feeble as
to be unable to leave his bed. Being myself
constantly engaged in the duties of my station,
I gave orders that he should be well taken

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 63

care of; and when I afterwards inquired aboi. .
him, I was always told, that he was we
enough, but was too cross and lazy to woi
— that it was no use to offer him any kindnesfe
as he Avould only answer angrily in return;
and that he was of too bad a temper even to
eat more than occasionally a sea biscuit. Even
if I had had leisure to attend to him, I own I
had almost conceived a dislike to the man, so
forbiddins: and disas^reeable had been his whole
behavior; consequently, I felt but little incli-
nation to have more intercourse with him than
was necessary. My engagements, however,
were too peremptory to admit of farther atten-
tions on my part than inquiries respecting
him.

" ' For three weeks we experienced such a
continuance of boisterous and seYere weather,
that every man in the ship was almost in con-
stant requisition. I was myself worn down
with want of rest; and I should have thought
two hours of uninterrupted sleep a luxury.

" ' At length we were cheered by the return
of fair weather, and never was rest more need-
ed and welcomed by all. It had become al-
most a perfect calm, and about midnight I had
thrown myself across a berth and fallen asleep.
I had been sleeping probably not more than
hiilf an hour, when I was awakened by a'
slight noise, and standing up, I beheld at the
foot "of the cabin stairs a tall, strange-looking
figure, wrapped in a sheet, which nearly touch-
ed the ground ! One wasted arm was exposed,

64 THE CABIN BOY'S LOCKER.

and as the emaciated hand grasped the sheet,
it seemed as if through the transparent skiri
every bone could be counted. The bright
moonlight enabled me to discern every fea-
ture, and so intensely were the black sunken
eyes fixed upon me, that for an instant a
feeling of awe came over me. The next
moment I was on my feet, and receiving no
answer to my question of ' Who are you?' I
stepped forward and raised my hand as if to
grasp the arm, when the man replied in a low
voice, ' Do me no harm, sir, I am Ned Wilson.'
It was the English sailor, whom I had not
seen for three weeks, and who had become so
altered, that not until I had looked fixedly at
him, did I recognise his pallid features. I said
to him in astern tone, 'And what has brought
jOM here at such an hour? Come, go immedi-
ately to bed.' He answered, but in a tone of
voice so unlike his usual manner of speaking,
that I was touched in a moment. 'Don't speak
harshly to me, sir, I beseech you.' ' Well
then,' I said, as kindly as I could, 'tell me
what has brought you here at such an hour.
It is not fit that one so enfeebled as you ap-
pear to be, should be out of his bed. Come, I
will take you back.' 'No, no,' and he gasped
for bi-eath as he laid his hand upon my arm,
Uhey — my messmates — would hear what I
have to say, and it must not be.' The thought
instantly occurred to me that he was not in his
right mind, and I again said to him, ' Come,
come, you must go back it is very wrong for

THE CABI2T BOY'S LOCKER. 65

you to be here — you will be better in bed.'
*Sir,' said he in a solemn tone, 'you must hear
me. I rise from my death bed to tell you
what no other ears must hear, and which must
be told before I die, or,' he stopped, and a con-
vulsive shuddering shook his whole frame.
' Or what I' I asked. * Or my soul, is lost for-
ever!'

*' 'I was for a moment subdued and awed by
his unearthly appearance, and the solemn still-
ness that reigned around added, effect to what
he said. It again occurred to me that he
might be raving, and I again endeavored to
persuade him to go to bed. But he stopped
me with — ' As a dying man, I will be heard ;
and if you will save my soul, you will hear
me.' Willing to soothe his increasing agita-
tion, I told him to be brief, as, — if he wished
to communicate anything secretly to me — we
should be interrupted by the awakening of
those sleeping near us. He looked suspiciously
around, and approaching me closely, whis-
pered, 'But you must swear, swear solemnly,
never, never to reveal what I shall confess.' I
promised faithfully to keep his secret ; and as,
in broken and detached sentences, he related
the particulars of a dreadful crime which he
had committed several years before, I became
almost as agitated as hnnself. As he conclud-
ed he seemed relieved of a fearful burthen.
We were both silent for several minutes.
*And now,' said he, grasping my arm and
looking in my face, as if his destiny deperded

6*

66 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER

on my answer, ' tell me if my soul is lost for«
ever.'

" 'I replied, 'yours is a dreadful crime; but
to the repentant sinner there is offered free
forgiveness.'

"'Repentant!' he exclaimed, 'God, who sees
my heart, knows if I have repented or not;
but I have never ventured to ask his for2;ive-
ness, convinced that he would have no mercy
for me.'

" ' Why have you presumed to set limits to
his mercy ?' I said. He paused, and then an-
swered, ' For so many years have I been ac-
customed to think of Him only as the angry
judge of my soul, that I have never thought
of His mercy? If I had thought of it, I
should also have remembered that He has
promised to punish the wicked.'

" 'I replied, 'He will punish the wicked, but
the penitent sinner He will receive and
pardon.'

"'But my sin!' said he emphatically, 'can
such be within reach of his mercy.'

"'I answered, 'The blood of Jesus Christ
cleanseth from all sin ; wash in it, and be
clean.'

'• 'Oh, those precious words!' he exclaimed,
*they are like some half-remembered dream.
I have heard them many, many years ago;
can they indeed speak to me?' He sank
back faint and exliausted, and with difficulty
I conveyed him to his bed. I offered him
Bome refreshment, which somewhat revived

THE CABIN BOY'S LOCKER. 67

him, and giving him in charge of one of hit
companions, was leaving him to repose, which
he seemed so much to require, when he beck-
oned me to remain, and made signs to me to
speak more. I told him he was not in a con-
dition to hear more that night, and that I
would see him in the morning. He stretched
out his hand, and clasping mine would not
relax his hold. I stopped and whispered
*I must leave you alone with God; to him
make confession of your sin, and implore
forgiveness. I cannot save you from His
wrath, but One mighty to save you has inter-
ceded for you, and He will prevail. He has
invited you to come to Him, and accept the
salvation which he died to obtain for you.'

"'He pressed my hand and then released
me, repeating almost inaudibly, 'to-morrow.*

*'The next day, so soon as my leisure would
permit, I again visited him, carrying with me
a Bible, which I presented to him. He re-
ceived it joyfully, and exclaimed, ' This is the
message of salvation.' He was extremely
weak, and spoke with difficulty. His calm and
pleasant answers had attracted the attention
of his companions ; and they gathered around
him, with their characteristic kindness, to ad-
minister to his wants. I heard them as I
passed, wondering what could have changed
nis angry way towards them. He told me
himself, he felt like another being ; and from
day to day he continued to rejoice in the new
view he had of the character of God.

48 THE CABIN boy's LOCKEB.

" 'He lingered two or three weeks, an 3 then
died calm and resigned. As his bodily frame
became more wasted and feeble, his mind
seemed supported and strengthened. His
Bible was always open before him, and he
was almost constantly engaged in prayer, his
lips moving when he could no Longer articu-
late. He expressed strong faith in the merits
of a Saviour, and when thanking me for
having led him to that safe refuge, he said:
* Sir, it was confession of sin that brought me
■ to his feet. If I had been taught in early life
to confess my sins constantly to God, I should
never have despaired of His mercy. But I
went on from sin to sin, reckless and kard-
ened, until I was tempted to commit that
fearful crime. I thought I had already sinned
past forgiveness, and that this one could make
me no worse. But confession of sin brought
repentance for sin ; then this hard heart was
softened, and first felt the need and sufficiency
of the Saviour. Oh, those who confess their
sins to God, and repent, will never stay away
from Christ.' " — From the Journal of Religious
Education.

New York, Feb, 5. 1839.

THE MAGNITUDE OF CREATION.

The number of systems in the heavens
which lie within the range of our telescopes,
is reckoned to be at least one hundred mill

f

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 69

lions. In the regions of infinite space, beyon-d
the boundaries of these, it is not improb-
able, that ten thousand times ten thousand
millions of other systems are running their
ample rounds. With each of these systems,
it is probable that at least a hundred worlds
are connected. Every one of these worlds
and systems, we have reason to believe differs
from another, in its size, splendor and internal
arrangements, in the peculiar beaunes and
sublimities with which it is adorned, and in
the organization and capacities of the beings
with which it is furnished. The immense
multitude of rational beings and other ex-
istences with which creation is replenished,
is an idea which completely overpowers the
human faculties, and is beyond the power
of our arithmetical notation to express. Even
the multiplicity of objects in one w^orld or
S3^stem, is beyond our distinct conception.
How very feeble and imperfect conceptions
have we attained of the immensity of radia-
tions .of light incessantly emitted from the
sun, and falling upon our globe, and of the
innumerable crossings and recrossings of these
rays from every object around, in order to
produce vision to every beholder! — of the in-
calculable myriads of invisible animalculas
which swim in the waters and fly in the air,
and prevade every department of nature ! — of
the pai'ticles of vapor which float in the
atmosphere, and of the drops of water con-
tained in the caverns of the ocean! of the

^ THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

millions of individuals belonging to every
species of vegetables, of which 60,000 different
species have already been discovered, and of
the number of trees, shrubs, flowers, and plants
of every description, which have flourished
since the creation !— of the countless myriads
of the lower animals, and of the human species,
which have been brought into existence since
the commencement of time, and of those which
are yet to appear in regular succession, till
time shall be no more ! — of the immense
variety of movemoits, adjustments, and adap-
tations connected wiih the structure of an
animal body, of which fourteen thousand may
be reckoned as belcuging- to the system of
bones and muscles comonsed in the human
frame, besides a distinct variety of as numer-
ous adaptations in each of the 60,000 different
species of animals which are already known to
exist !' — of the countless globules contained in
the eyes of the numerous tribe of beetles, flies,
butterflies, and other insects, of which 27,000
have been counted in a single eye ! And if
the multiplicity of objects in one world over-
whelms our powers of conception and compu-
tation, how much more the number and variety
of beings and operations connected with t}ie
economy of millions of worlds! !No finite
intelligence, without a profound knowledge of
numbers, in all their various combinations, can
form even a rude conception of the diversified
scenes of the universe ; and yet, without some
faint conception, at least, of such objects, tho

THE CABIN BOYS LOCKER. 71

perfections of the Creator, and glories of hia
kingdom, cannot be appreciated. — Dr. Dick,

THE BETHEL FLAG.

The inquiry is often made, at what time the
efforts for the spiritual improvement of seamen
were commenced, and particularly under what
circumstances the Betliel flag was adopted as a
signal of worship.

It was sometime in the year 1814, when it
was discovered, that a few pious sailors, on
board of the coal ships at Rotherhithe, near
London, were in the practice of meeting
together, for prayer. A few religious men
from the shore began to attend occasionally
with them, and meetings of this description
became somewhat common. They began to
call them " Bethel meetings," applying to these
assemblages the name which Jacob gave to the
place where God met him in the field, affirm-
ing it to be none other than the house of God,
and the gate of heaven. The idea of convert-
ing a vessel, a place which had been proverb-
ially wicked, into the very gate of heaven to
souls, led probably to the custom of calling it
" a Bethel."

The work of God gradually advanced ; many
ships were added to the number for encourag-
ing prayer ; and, it being winter, a lantern,
hoisted at the main top-gallant mast-head, was
fixed on as the signal to apprise the sailors

^ THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

what sliip was agreed on for the night. As the
spring advanced, it was agreed tliat a blue flag
should be made, the word Bethel in the centre,
and a star in the corner, rising in the East, ia
red. Another flag, with a dove bearing aa
olive-branch, has since been added. This was
first hoisted on the Lord's day afternoon, on
board the Zephyr, when the people assembled
were more numerous than on any former occa-
sion.

This took place in the early part of the year
1817, and the Bethel flag continued to be used
as a signal for worship, in England, from that
day forward. Its introduction on board of
American vessels was about four years after,
and it is thus related by the Rev. John Allen,
of Huntsville, Ala.., who w^as principal actor in
the scene :

'* During mj stay in London, the executive
committee of the British and Foreign Sea-
men's Friend Society determined to send out
to this country a Bethel Union Flag, and
desired me to be the bearer of it. At a meet-
ing held at the Free Mason's Hall, by the
friends of seamen, I publicly pledged myself
to hoist the Bethel flag.

" On the 22d of February, 1821, Mr. Phil-
ips, a devoted friend to seamen, and one of
the leading members of the British and Sea
men's Friend Society, sent to my lodgings th«.
promised Bethel Union Flag. On Friday, the
2d of March, I sailed from Liverpool for
New York, in the packet-ship James Monroe,

THE CABIN BOY'S LOCKER. 73

commanded by Captain Eogers. On the 11th
of March, 1821, the second Sabbath after
leaving Liverpool, having previously obtained
permission of the Captain, I hoisted the flag
with my own hands, agreeably to a pledge
given at the meeting at the Free Mason's Hall,
referred to above. It was a most lovely day
— not a cloud was to be seen. We had now
fairly cleared the coast of Ireland, about
which, and in the channel, we had been con-
tending with head winds. We were now
enabled to keep our course, under an easy
press of sail. Early in the morning, the
Captain furnished me a hand to rig the flag.
The man had never seen a flag of this descrip-
tion before, and very naturally asked me what
nation it belonged to ? I told him it was for
all nations, explaining to him the object of
the invention. He listened witli great inter-
est. The necessary preparations being made
for, hoisting, I took hold of the halyard, and
run up the Bethel Union Flag, with great
pleasure. As it floated gaily over the stern
of our gallant vessel, I gazed on it with delight.
Never had I seen a flag possessing in my view
so much interest. Indeed, it was an object of
pleasing contemplation to all on board. There
was something in the device so beautifully
appropriate, it oould not fail to excite some
interest in the bosoms of all who beheld it.
After this, it was regularly hoisted on every
Sabbath, at which time we uniformly had
public worship. Agreeably to a suggestion

7

-0

74 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

of the Captain, we i/i tended entering the
harbor of New York with the Bethel Fhig
flying at the mast-head, but in this we were
disappointed, as we came in during a snow-
storm, with our top-gaUant mast down, snugly
stowed away on deck. We landed c^ the 17th
day of April, and found the whole city covered
with snow. On the next day, I handed over
the Bethel Union Flag to the Eev. Ward
Stafford, at that time engaged in preaching to
the sailors in New York."

The Flag thus presented by Mr. Allen to
Mr. Stafford, was first displayed at the Mari-
ner's Church, in New York, in June following.
The following note, from a manuscript journal
of the late Capt. Christopher Priner, records
the fact :

" Sunday, June 8, 1821. The Bethel Flag
is to be hoisted at the Mariner's Church to-
day. . This flag was made in England, and
sent out to us as a present, showing their
approbation of the interest we have taken in
the salvation of mariners ; inviting us to perse-
vere unto the end, and that they would unite
with us in that glorious cause. Mr. Ballintine,
a Baptist minister, performed the services. His
text was, 1 Timothy, 1 : 15. ' This is a faithful
saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that
Christ Jesus came into the world to save siu-
ners ; of whom I am chie£' "

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 7S

ON SIN.

Satan knows that one sin lived in and
allowed, will as certainly shut the soul out
of heaven, as many. One sin allowed and
countenanced, will spoil the sweet music of
conscience. One sin allowed will m-ake death
as terpil^le and formidable to the soul as many.
O remember, that as one hole in the ship will
sink it — as one glass of poison will kill a man
— as one act of treason makes a traitor, so one
sin loved and practised, will ruin a man for-
ever. Satan can be contented that men yield
to God in many things, provided they be true
to him in some one thing ; for he knows very
well that one sin allowed and lived in, gives
him as much advantage against the soul as
more. There never was a false professor who
did not live under the power of one sin ; and
who can say that it is otherwise with him, I
dare assure that man, in the Lord's name, that
he is no hypocrite.

THE SABBATH.

Let the difference which you put between
the Sabbath day and other days, be from
conscience, not from custom.

The day before the Sabbath should be a
day of preparation for the Sabbath ; not of
our houses and stables, but of our hearts.

76 THE CABEST BOY'S LOCKEB.

The stream "of religion runs either deep oi
shallow, as the banks of the Sabbath are kept
or neglected.

D

He that never examines his own heart, ia
like a captain of a vessel who never examines
his ship, to see if there is a leak ; and without
reformation, all such will finally shipwreck
their souls, and all will be lost. Alas I what
multitudes who once shone as burning lights,
have perished for lack of self-examination.
Header, art thou secure ? — Matthew Henry.

THE YOUNG MAN FROM HOME.

AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE.

Two young men, the children of pious and
wealthy parents, felt themselves exceedingly
displeased at being constantly refused the
family carriage on the Lord's day. It was in
vain they urged their confinement during the
week, as a sufficient reason why they should
be thus indulged on the Sunday. It was the
father's settled rule, that the authority which
commanded him to rest, included also the
servants and cattle ; he therefore turned a
deaf ear to their entreaties and remonstrances.
In their madness, or in their folly, they deter-
mined to resent this refusal, by leaving their
situations, and going to sea. Intelligence of
this step was transmitted to the Eev. John
Grifnn, of Portsea, and he was requested to

THE CABIN BOl'S LOCKER. 77

make diligent inquiry, and on finvling them,
to use every possible means to induce them to
return home. After some search he found
them in a rendezvous house, and introducing
himself, he stated his business, and urged their
return. He, however, urged in vain ; for, bent
upon the fulfilment of their design, they
thanked him for his advice, but determined to
reject it. Among other reasons for their
return, he urged the feelings of their parents,
and especially those of their mother.

" Think," said the good man, " what must
your mother's situation be, after years of
anxious watching and fervent prayer ; after
looking forward to this time, when in your
societ}^, and in your welfare, she hoped to
meet a rich reward for all that she had suffered
on your account ; yet, in one moment, and by
one imprudent step, she finds you plunged into
misery, the depths of which you cannot coijr
ceive, and herself the subject of a wretchedness
she has never deserved at your hands." In
the heart of the youngest, there was a sense
of gratitude, which answered to this appeal ,
and, bursting into tears, he expressed his sor-
row for his conduct, and his willingness to
return. Still, the eldest remained obstinate.
Neither arguments persuaded him, nor warn-
ings alarmed him. The carriage had been
repeatedly refused; he had made up his mind
to go to sea, and to sea he would go. " Then,"
said Mr. Griffin, " come with me to my house ;
I will get you a ship, and you shall go out a9

7*

TO THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

a man artd a gentleman." This he declined,
assigning as a reason, that it would make his
parents feel to have it said, that their son was
gone as a common sailor ; therefore, he would
go. *' Is that your disposition ?" was the
reply. "Then, young man, go," said Mr.
Griffin, " and while I say, God go with you,
be sure your sin will find you out, and for it
God will bring you into judgment." With
reluctance they left him ; the younger son
was restored to his parents, while all traces of
the elder one were lost, and he was mourned
for as one dead.

After the lapse of many years, a loud knock-
ing was heard at Mr. Griffin's door. This was
early in the morning. On the servant's going
down to open the door, he found a waterman,
who wished immediately to see her master.
Mr. Griffin soon appeared, and was informed
that a young man under sentence of death,
a'nd about to be executed on board one of the
ships in the harbor, had expressed an earnest
desire to see him, urging, among other reasons,
he could not die happy unless he did. A
short time found the minister of religion on
board the ship, when the prisoner, manacled
and guarded, was introduced to him, to whom
he said, " My poor friend, I feel ior your con-
dition, but as I am a stranger to you, may I
ask why you have sent for me ? It may be
that 3^ou have heard me preach at Portsea."
*' Never, sir. Do you not know me ?'' " I
do not." " Do you not remember the two

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 79

young men whom you, some years sinc^
urged to return to their parents, and to their
duty ?" "I do I I do remember it ; and I
remember that you were one of them." " I
have sent, then, for you, to take my last fare-
well of you in this world, and to bless you for
your elibrts to restore me to a sense of my
duty. Would God that I had taken your
advice ; but it is now too late. My sin has
found me out, and for it Grod has brought me
into judgment. One, and but one consolation
remains. I refused the offer of going to your
house until I could be provided for, assigning
as a reason, that it would make my parents
feel to have it said that their son was a
common sailor. A little reflection showed
me the cruelty of this determination. I
assumed another name, under wliich I entered
myself; and my chief consolation is, that I
will die unpitied and unknown."

What the feelings of Mr. Griffin were at
this sad discovery, may be more easily
conceived than described. He spent some
time with him in prayer, and offered him that
advice which was best suited to his unhappy-
case. The prisoner was again placed in con-
finement, and Mr. Griffin remained with the
officer who was then on duty. " Can nothing
be done for this poor young man ?" was one
of the first inquiries made after the prisoner
was withdrawn. " I fear not," replied the
officer ; " the lords of the admiralty have
determined to make an example of the first

^ THE CABIN BO'i'S LOCKER.

offender in tbat particular crime. He imfor*
tunately is that offender ; and we hourly
expect a warrant for his execution." Mr.
Griffin determined to go immediately to Lon
don, and in humble dependence upon the
Lord, to make every effort to save the crimi-
nal's life, or to obtain a commutation of the
sentence. It was his lot on the day of his
arrival at the metropolis, to obtain an inter-
view with one of the lords of the admiralty, to
whom he stated the respectabilit}^ of the young
man's connexion, his bitter and unfeigned
regret for the crime which had forfeited his
life ; and, with that earnestness which the
value of life is calculated to excite, ventured
to ask if it was impossible to spare him. To
his regret, he was informed that the warrant
for his execution had been that morning
signed, and was on its way to the officer
whose melancholy duty it was to see it exe-
cuted. With compassion the nobleman said,
" Go back, sir, and prepare him for the worst.
I cannot tell what is to be done ; but we are
shortly to meet his majesty in council, and all
that you have urged shall then be stated ;
may it prove successful." Mr. Griffin returned,
but discovered that the morning of his reach-
ing home was the time appointed for the young
man's execution. Joy, and fear, and anxiety,
by turns, possessed his mind, as within a few
minutes after his arrival came a pardon, accom-
panied with the most earnest request to go
immediately on board, lest the sentence of the

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 81

law should be executed before he coald reach
the ship.

Upon the issue of a moment now rested the
life of a fellow-creature, and perhaps the salva-
tion of an immortal soul. The minister reached
the harbor, and saw the yellow flag, the signal
of death, flying, the rigging manned, and, for
aught he knew to the contrary, the object of
his solicitude at the last moment of his mortal
existence. He reached the ship's sidcj and
saw an aged man leaving, whose sighs, and
groans, and tears, proclaimed a heart bursting
with grief, and a soul deeper in misery than
the depth of the water he was upon. It was
the prisoner's father ! Under the assumed
name, he had discovered his wretched son,
and had been to take his last farewell of him.
Yes, it was the Mher who had brought him
up in the fear of the Lord ; who, in his earliest
days, had led him to the house of God ; and
who, when lost, had often inquired in prayer,
*' Lord, where is my child ?" Fearfully was
he answered ; he had found him, but it was to
part, never in this world to meet again. Such,
at least, must have been his conclusions at that
moment, when, having torn himself from the
embrace of his»son, he was in the act of leaving
the ship. Tlie rest is told in a few words.
With Mr. Griffin he re-entered the vessel at
the moment when the prisoner, pinioned for
execution, was advancing towards the fatal
spot, where he was to be summoned into the
presence of God. A moment found him in

.82 THE CABIN" boy's LOCKER

the embrace, not of death, but of his father,
his immediate liberation followed the knowl-
edge of his pardon ; and a few daj^s restored
the wanderer to the bosom of his family. — Bev.
J, Angell Jaraes,

ILLUSTRATIONS OF SCRIPTURE.

In scaling the walls of a city, the shields
were placed over the head. Hence the allu-
sion, Joh^ xli. 7, " Canst thou fill his head
with barbed irons ?■'

In the ancient games, the judges determined,
not only whether a person had won, but
whether he had done it fairly. In allusion to
this, Paul says, 2 Tim. ii. 5, '' And if a man
also strive for masteries, yet ife he not crowned,
except he strive lawfully."

1 Cor. iv. 9, " For 1 think that God hath
set forth us, the apostles, last, as it were,
appointed unto death : for we are made a
spectacle unto the world, and to angels, and
to men." An allusion this to the practice of
compelling condemned criminals to fight with
each other, or with wild beasts, until death.

The custom of washing the, hands before
meals, originated from the ancient practice of
conveying food to the mouth iu the fingers.

Luke., xviii. 12, "I fast twice in the week."
'i^he Pharisees were accustomed to fast twice
a week, viz. : on the Thursday, when, they
supposed, Moses ascended Mount Sinai, anc}

THE CABIN- BOY'S LOCKER. 8^

on Monday, wben he descended. The name,
Pharisee^ means one who is desirous of know-
ing his duties, in order that he may do it.

Jerusalem is in latitude 31^ 50' N., thirty-
seven miles from the Mediterranean, and
twenty-three from Jordan.

When viewed as the work of very ancient
times, and in reference to the notions which
then prevailed, Solomon's Temple may be
considered magnifice-nt ; but it ought not to be
compared with more recent specimens of archi-
tecture.

In every city there was a tribunal of seven
Judges, with two Levites, which decided
causes of less moment. It was denominated
krisisj or " the judgment." See Ilatt. v. 22,
" He shall be in danger of the judgment."

The time at which causes were tried was
the morning, and hence the expression, Jer.
xxi. 12, "Execute judgment in the morning."

Job J xiv. 17, " My transgression is sealed
up in a bag, and thou sewest up mine iniquity."
The charge against a person, and liis defence,
were both committed to writing, and sealed up,

A drink of wine, mingled with myrrh, waa
given to criminals before their sufferings, to
produce intoxication. This was refused by
our Saviour, who chose to die with the facul-
ties of his mind undisturbed and unclouded.

The dress of the crucified persons was
always given to the soldiers. Hence, Ifatt,
xxvii. 35, and other places.

In Egypt there are still found the reniaina

84 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

6f splendid sepulchres, which, when we con-
sider their antiquity, their costliness, and the
consequent notice which they attracted, ac-
count for the expressions in Job^ iii. 14 : " Then
had I been at rest with kings and counsellors
of the earth, who built desolate places for
themselves."

Sepulchres are ofte'n painted or whited
without. Hence the force of our Lord's com-
parison, 3fatt. xxiii. 27.

" A Sabbath day's journey" is 729 English
paces, and three feet. Acts i. 12. This meas-
ure is a sort of Jewish invention, founded on
JEx. xvi. 29. — Johi'ts Biblical Archceology.

THE FIRST OATH ON BOARD.

" My lads," said a captain, whpn reading
his orders to the crew on the quarter deck,
to take command of the ship, " there is one
law that I am determitied to make, and I shall
insist upon its being kept ; indeed, it is a favor
which I ask of you, and which, as a British
officer, I expect will be granted by a crew of
British seamen. What say you, my lads, are
you willing to grant your new captain, who
promises to treat you well, one favor ?" " Ay,
ay, sir," cried all hands. '* Please to let us
know what it is, sir," said a rough- looking,
hoarse-voiced boatswain. " Why, my lads,"
said the captain, " it is this : that you must
allow me to swear the first oath in this ship,

THE CABi>;r boy's locker. 85

This is a law I cannot dispense with ; I must
insist upon it ; I cannot be denied. No man
on board must swear an oath before I do. I
am determined to have the privilege of swear-
ing the first oath on board H. M. S. C .

What say you, my lads, will you grant me
the favor ? Kemember, you will come aft to
ask favors of me, soon. " Come, what do you
say ? Am I to have the privilege of swearing

the first oath on board the C ?" The

men stared, and stood for a moment quite at a
loss what to say. " They were taken," says
one, "all aback." ** They were brought,"
says another, " all standing." They looked at
each other for a moment, as if they would say,
why, there is to be no swearing in the ship.
The captain reiterated his demand, in a firm
but pleasant voice : *' Now, my fine fellows,
what do you say. Am I to have the privi-
lege from this time of swearing the first oath
on board ?"

The appeal seemed'^o reasonable, and the
manner of the captain so kind and prepossess-
ing, that a general burst from the ship's com-
pany announced, " Ay, ay, sir," with their
accustomed three cheers, when they left the
quarter deck.

" I say, Jack," said one of the sailors to the
boatswain's mate, as they went down the main
hatch- way ladder, " my eyes, but what a skip-
per we've skipped now. Stand clear, Jack,
tackling fore and aft, now ; look out for
squalls now every day on board ; mind you

8

86 THE CABIN boy's L3CKER.

don't rap out, Jack, as you generally do ; clap
a stopper on tlie red rope now ; keep your
eye upon the corporal, all hands ; the captain 's
to swear the first oath ; depend upon it, he '11
have the first fellow to the gangway who
swears an oath before he begins."

The eff'ect was good. Swearing was whollj
abolished in the ship.

« HOLD ON, MOTHER."

The exhortation of a sailor to his widowed
mother. She has several children, for whom
she has " praj^ed day and night, exceedingly."
Manifestly in answer to her prayers, one after
another has been awakened by the spirit of
God, convinced of sin, and subdued into saving
reconciliation, through the mediation of Christ
crucified. One of her sons has for eleven
years " followed the seas." Much has she
prayed for her *' poor- sailor boy," and many
a letter has she written him, rich with mater-
nal counsel and solicitude. When at home,
she has taken unwearied pains, such as none
but a pious mother would take, to withdraw
him from all improper associations, and to
interest him in whatever things are pure, and
true, and lovely.

At length she has received letters from him,
which breathe a new spirit, and speak a new
language. I have just listened to the voice
of that mother, as with "joy unspeakable,"

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 87

she has read to me three of those letters, richly
expressive of the views and feelings of a new-
born soul. In them all, he acknowledges his
special indebtedness to her faithful warnings,
and her persevering prayers. In one he
speaks of the condition and prospects of her
children who still remain impenitent ; and in
order to encourage her to do for them as she
had done for him, he says, " hold on, mother ;
your prayers may yet be answered in their
conversion."

What better counsel can I, or can any one
give to every praying mother in the land ?
" Hold on, mother." Your children may not
be converted to-day, or to-morrow — this year,
or the next ; but " be not weary in well-doing ;'*
" hold on" to the divine promise, and divine
faithfulness, and " be not faithless, but believ-
ing."

" It shan't be said that praying breath
Was ever spent in vain."

GENERAL WASHINGTON'S IDEA OF PROFANE
SWEARING.

DEDICATED TO ALL OFFICERS, MILITART OE CIVIL.

Extracts from the orderly book of the army,
under the command of Washington, dated at
bead quarters, in the city of New York,
August 8, 1776 :

" The General is sorry to be informed, that

88 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

the foolish and wicked practice of profane
swearing, a vice heretofore little known in an
American armj-, is growing into fashion. He
hopes tlie officers will, by example as well as
infmence, endeavor to check it, and that both
they and the men will reflect, that we can
have little hope of the blessing of heaven on
our arms, if we insult it by impiety and folly;
added to this, it is a vice so mean and low,
without any temptation, that every man of
sense and character detests and despises it."

LINES SUGGESTED BY SEEING A SPLENDID
LAMP OVER ONE OF THE GIN PALACES IN
HULL, ENGLAND.

Saw you yonder brilliant light ?

Ask you why it shines so bright?

Why, 'midst all the rest, 'tis seen.

Varied, erimsou, amber, greeu ?

Sure 't is lit to warn from danger

Neighbor, friend, and passing stranger,

Or direct you in, to where i

Christians meet for praise and prayer.

List ! I'll tell you what's oft told :
♦' All that glitters is not gold,"

Nor is all that chines so bright,

Pure and hallowed heavenly light.

Would you shun the path to ruin ?

Would vou 'scape your soul's undoing ?
** Enter not the bar" — 'tis death ;

Flee its pestilential breath.

Haik ! what sounds of mirth and madnesBi

Oaths and curses, sighs and sadness ;

See, what " babbling" and "contention,"
" Woe and sorrow," not to mention;
** Eyes of redness," pallid faces,
* Causeless wounds," and faltering paces ;

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 89

Trace them to their cheerless hearth :
Mark, what misery, want, and dearth,
Weeping children, wife heart-broken ;
Of peace and plenty not one token.
0 ! surely, then, this brilliant light
Is presage sad of endless night,
Of sorrows deeper I could tell ;
Flee, then, O flee, these gates of Hell.
UuU, 1840. W. F. T.

THE SAILOR BOY.

" Fifteen years ago," said a pious sea cap-
tain, " I commanded a ship in the merchant
service. It fell to my lot to lodge under the
roof of a pious widow, who had one son, the
stay and support of her age.

*' This lad conducted with great propriety
in his situation ; but all in a moment, like a
clap of thunder, the report came to his moth-
er's ears, that he had committed an offence,
which, though morally speaking, w^as not of
the most serious nature, it was nevertheless
sufficient to touch his life. The poor mother,
by the advice of some friends, wms induced to
send her son on board a man-of-war ; and who
would have thought, that in sending him
there, he w^as to be brought to know and love
the truth ? But God has his way in the deep.
He soon became acquainted with a corporal
of marines, the only man on board who, knew
and loved the truth. He began to speak to
him of the love of Christ for poor sinners.
This v/as the very conversation suited to hia

8*

It THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

heart, whose crime was yet on his conscience;
and the pious man was glad to make known
to him the way of hfe and comfort, as exhib-
ited in the Holy Word. Thus these two
sparks in the midst of the ocean, came in con-
tact, and here they met, under the scoffs and
sneers of a licentious crew. These two became
three, and then four, and five, and so on, till
in time fifty of their shipmates, among whom
were some of the officers, became tile humble
followers of Clirist. You will readily believe
how glad the heart of the poor widow was,
when she received the first letter from her
son, to find that the storm which seemed to
threaten nothing but destruction to his peace,
should break in blessings on his head. The
vessel was four years on the Mediterranean
station, and engaged in some bloody battles,
in which the poor, despised Christians, gave
the strongest proof of their valor. And when
the vessel was paid off, and every one rolled
in money, they gave the noblest testimony
that the work of Sod upon them was real and
divine." — Youth^s Monitor.

VALUABLE TESTIMONY OF A CAPTAIN.

"I have," said the Captain, "never had any
difficulty in being a cold-water man. Every-
where, and in all circumstances — in the coldest
weather, and in the warmest climate — I have
found that it answers well, and saves from

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 91

many dangers. The ship's crew have invari-
ably behaved well when tee-totallers. I never
knew insubordination on board ship from
drinking water ; but I have known many
cases, arising out of the use of intoxicating
liquor. For four years I have sailed upon
the mighty deep without one drop of the
drunkard's drink. But npon one occasion
the merchant that I traded for became a brew-
er— and when about to sail he said, " Capt
H., you must be like other ships that sail for
our company ; you must take liquors on
board." "Sir," said I, "the understanding,
with which I took command of the ship was,
that I was allowed to sail upon temperance
principles; and I have only to. say that, if you
send any liquors on board, you will please
send a captain to take charge of them. I will
do no such thing." I was allowed to sail up-
on my own principles. But when I was in
London, I received a letter, requesting me to
encourage a particular public-house. I wrote
immediately, saying that I could not in any
way encourage the sellers of intoxicating drinks,
and if my employers insisted upon it, they
must send a captain to take charge of the
ship. It was no triflng matter. I had a
wifie and family to support, and no prospect
of another ship; but I was resolved, by the
grace of God, that, let the consequence be
what it might, I would not sacrifice my i^rhici'
pies, I was taken at my word ; a captain ar«

9t THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

rived to take my place ; and I never in my
life gave up anything so freely.

" But — mark the good providence of Grod !
— that very day I received a letter, offering
me a larger ship, and a new one. My ship
sailed when under my command upon cold-
water principles."

The captain related an account of a ship
that had become water-logged, the crew of
which took refuge in the rigging, and lived
for thirty-one days upon water only ; all other
means of subsistence having been washed
away. — He spoke strongly of the value of
water. — British Temj^erance Advocate,

SMUGGLING.

Capt. M was lately in company with

a gentleman who was talking very lightly
about smuggling^ and saying that there was " no
harm in it." The captain asked the gentle-
man "what religion he was of ?" The gen-
tleman said, " Why, sir, I am a Christian."
"Now, sir, then," said the captain, "I know
how to speak to you. Did not your Master
tell you to 'render unto C«esar the things
that are Caesar's ?' We conceive that such an
answer at once settles the question to every
Christian as to the payment of taxes, tithes,
rates, and tribute in every form, it does not pre-
vent any member of the community from wish-
ing to see these matters put upon a proper foot

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 93

ing, nor from suggesting any just means of light-
ening those burdens, and of thus giving every
practicable relief to the public; but as long as
these tributes are required by the laws of a
country, to keep them back is nothing short
of downright dishonesty, however men may
try to glods this over by false names.

THE SEAMAN'S PRAYER, ON LEAVING PORT

Great God ! while now each sail we spread, t-

And the breeze is fresh'ning o'er our head,
We'll lift our hearts to thee in prayer,—
Bow down, Most Merciful and hear.

Our track is o'er the curling foam,
And while we wander far from home,
Let they bright bow of promise light
Our dangerous path by day and night.

"When tempests sweep o'er ocean's breast,
And raging seas lift up each crest,
May we in faith, look up and see
Thy face in sweet beuignity.

And in the watches of the night,
"When stars shed down their trembling light,
May Ave, oh God ! thy presence own,
And lift our souls to thee alone.

Thou know'st how frail our bodies be,—
How prone to sin, how dead to thee.
Oh ! warm them into life and love.
And lift them to the realms above.

And when life's toilsome voyage is o'er,
In joy we reach the heavenly shore
With each sail furl'd, and anchor cast,
We'll sing thy praises to the last. W P

Oct 12, 1840.

94 THE CABIN boy's LOCKEB.

YOUNG MEN.

Most young men consider it a great iriisfDr*
tune to be poor, or not to have capital enough
to establish themselves, at their outset in life,
in a good business. This is a mistaken notion.
So far from poverty being a misfortune to him,
if we may judge from what we every day be-
hold, it is really a blessing; the chance is
more than ten to one who starts with plenty of
money. Let any one look back twenty years,
and see who commenced business at that time
with abundant means, and trace them down
to the present day — how many of these now
boast of wealth and standing? On the con-
trary, how many have become poor, lost their
places in society, and are passed by their own
boon companions with a look which painfully
Bays, I know you not !

CHOOSE GOOD COMPANY.

Young men are, in general, but little aware
how their reputation is affected in the view of
the public, by the company they keep. The
character of their associates is soon regarded
as their own. If they seek the society of the
worthy, it elevates them in the public estima-
tion, as it is an evidence that they respect
others. On the contrary, intimacy with per-
sons of bad character always sinks a young
man in the eye of the public.

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 95

THE INFIDEL'S CONFESSION OF FAITH ; OR, THB
ATHEIST IN A STORM.

Samuel Forester Bancroft, Esq., accompa*
nied Isaac Weld, Jr., in his travels through
North America. As they were sailing on
Lake Erie in a vessel, on board of which was
Yolney, celebrated (or rather notorious) for
his atheistical principles, which he had so often
avowed, a very heavy storm came on, inso-
much that the vessel, which had struck repeat-
edly with greac force, was expected to go down
every instant. The masts went overboard ;
the rudder unshipped ; and, consequentl}^, the
whole scene exhibited confusion and horror.
There were many female passengers and
others on board, but no one exhibited such
strong marks of fearful despair as Yolney —
throv/ing himself upon deck; now imploring,
then imprecating the captain, and reminding
him that he had engaged to carry him safe to
his port of destination ; vainly threatening, in
case anything should happen. As the proba-
bility of their being lost increased, this great
mirror of nature, human or inhuman, began
loading the pockets of his coat, waistcoat,
breeches, and everything he could think of,
with dollars, to the amount of sorpe hundreds ;
and this, as he thought, was preparing to swim
for liis life, should the vessel go to pieces.
Mr. Bancroft remonstrated with him on the
folly of such acts, saying that he would sink

90 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

like a piece of lead, with so great a weight on
him ; and at length as he became so very noisy
and unsteady as to impede the management
of the vessel, Mr. Bancroft pushed him dowa
the hatchway. Volney soon came up again,
having lightened himself of the dollars, and,
in the agony of his mind, threw himself on
deck, exclaiming, with uplifted hands and
streaming eyes, " my God ! my God ! — what
shall I do 1" This so surprised Bancroft, that
notwithstanding the moment did not very
well accord with flashes of humor, yet he
could not refrain from addressing him : "Well,
Mr. Volney — what ! you have a God now I"
To which Volney replied, with the most trem-
Dling anxiety, '* O yes ! 0 yes !" The vessel,
however, got safe, and Mr. Bancroft made
every company which he went into echo with
this anecdote of Volney's acknowledgment of
God. Volney, for a considerable time, was so
hurt at his weakness, as he calls it, that he
was ashamed of showing himself in company
at Philadelphia. But afterwards he said that
those words escaped him in the instant of
alarm, but had no meaning.

Infidelity, then, will do only ashore, in
fine weather ; but it will not stand a gale of
wind for a few hours.

Infidels and Atheists I how will you weath-
er an eternal storm ? — A Western Sailor,

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 97

RETIREMENT IN A HAT.

A sailor at the battle of Navarino rushing
to a gun at which all the men lay killed
and wounded, was chiefly instrumental in sav-
ing two ports from being beaten into one by
the heavy fire of two Turkish line-of-battle-
ships. ■

"I should like to know," said one to him,
" what was the state of your mind when you
saw the Turkish fleet, and the drum beat to
quarters as you were entering the bay?"
"All I wanted," he replied, ''was some retired
spot for prayer, that I might commend my
soul to God for a few moments, just before I
went into action." " You would find that a
difficulty, indeed, in a man-of-war, after or-
ders were given to clear away for action."
"True; but ♦there's retirement in a haty "In
a hat! I don't understand you." "Perhaps
not, and I'll explain myself. We were sailing
into the bay ; I thought there was a moment
of leisure ; and leaning over the bulkhead of
the forecastle, I took off my hat, and covering
my %ce with my hat, I secretly breathed out a
prayer : Lord into thy hands I commend
my spirit, for thou hast redeemed me, O Lord
God of truth ; thou hast the issue of life and
death ; all events are at thy command, I leave
myself entirely at thy disposal ; and if I shall
be killed, take care of my family, save my
soul, and receive me up into thy glory, 0

9

98 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

Lord, through Jesus Christ, my Lord and Sa«
vionr. Amen.' You see, sir, there is retire-
ment in a hat."

A REMARKABLE BIBLE.

"We talve the following anecdote of the
government of John Adams in the settlement
of Pitcairn's Island, from the proceedings of
the Boston Seaman's Friend Society Anni-
versary :

The Eev. Mr. Rogers, in speaking before
the Seaman's Friend Society, referred to the
case of the Bounty, Capt. Bligh, the crew of
which vessel mutinied many years ago in the
Pacific, and some of whom afterwards estab-
lished themselves with their Otaheitan wives
on Pitcairn's Island. After a few years, every
male who landed on the islan^ was swept
away by massacre, casualty, or disease, with
the exception of John Adams, as he is some-
times called. He described the course which
this man adopted in regard to the education
of the children and women there committed to
his care. The only books which he had to aid
him were the Bible and a prayer book, which
were taken from the Bounty ; and this Bible
was his only guide, and he deeply inculcated
its principles on the hearts of those who look-
ed to him for instruction ; and under his tui-
tion they learned to read, and became correct
m their manners and pious in their feelings.

THE CABIK boy's LOCKER. 99

Mr. Eogers said, that to behold the living fea-
tures of a Washington he would be willing to
sacrifice much, and he would travel far to
see Oberlin, as he appeared in life, and to ren-
der him a tribute of respect and veneration ;
but to behold that sacred instrument of so
much good, that Bible of Pitcairn's Island,
would well repay one for traversing oceans ;
and here, said Mr. Eogers, holding up an old
homely looking book, " I hold iu my hand
that very bible, now more than seventy years
old, which has been present amid such a vari-
ety of violent and eventful scenes. Its travels
are not yet ended ; and it brings even to this
land the evidence that the sailor can be affect-
ed by Christian" letters. This bible was giv-
en by a deceased aunt of its owner, to a sailor,
who presented it to Kev. Mr. Lord, pastor of
the Mariners' Church in this city. — Journal of
Commerce.

" WRONG, I DON'T CARE FOR THAT."

A Fact Foa Boys.

It was near the close of a beautiful sum-
mer's day, that I took my hat to go abroad
and enjoy the beauties of the most lovely vil-
lage in the Middle States. I'he pure air, the
declining sun, the rose and locust odors that
perfumed the gardens and streets, refreshed
my spirits and delighted my heart, after the

6eS5,S4fi

100 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

toil and the confinement of the day. Going
leisurely alang, I approached a group of boys,
botlf large and <?niall, in the middle of the
street, engaged in earnest conversatic^n. Some
made expressive gestures with the hands ; sev-
eral were speaking at once ; others, all ears,
were listening, or, all eyes, were looking.
Some were earnest, some vexed, some doubt-
ing. I cast my eyes over their healthy, happy,
bright, intelligent faces, and thought how soon
manhood would steal over them, and they be
called to stand where their fathers stood.
*' Well, I think it's wrong!" exclaimed ona
*' Wrong!" answered another, scornfully,
** wrong ! I don't care for that !"

Some of the group laughed at this bold and
reckless speech. I looked at the speaker, . a
blue eyed, light-haired boy, whose slender
frame and agile notions were full of grace.
He did not look as though he could utter and
act upon a sentiment like that. And, as I
walked on, with no other thought to interest
me, the words of the boy were resolved in my
mind. "Wrong! I don't care for that I"
How little he realizes the sad and dreadful
meaning of those words thought I ; and
yet, brief as they are, they compiiehend all
that reckless hardihood of principle which de-
solates the world with crime ! I passed by his
father's house. Quietly and beautifully it
stood beneath the shadow of tall trees. It
seemed as if the refinements and elegance
which education, piety and wealth threw

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 101

around its interior, with the rural beauty and
deep quiet which surrounded it, made thia
home a sanctuary where his rash and unholy
expression could find no favor, however it
might astonish or delight his playfellows.

Many years have passed since then. I often
think of those village boys, and, often as op-
portunity occurs, inquire with deep interest
what nook they fill in the great world's theatre.
And I now know that two of that group have
finished their earthly career, and gone into
eternity. The first who died was George. All
men spoke well of him, all men prophesied
that great and shining must be his career, in
the high places of the land.

Whatever proud hopes sometimes awoke
in the father's heart, as he looked upon his no-
ble boy, or kindled a brighter light in the sick
chamber of his suffering mother, they ear-
nestly desired but one thing for their child,
they prayed but for one blessing — they asked
for George a new heart ; they only wished to
see him numbered among the people of God.
Weeks, and months, and years passed, bring-
ing him to the approach of college days, while
life, with its lingering hopes, spread in long
perspective before his delighted fancy.

Before he left the paternal roof, their pray-
ers were answered. The earnest and tearful
entreaties of his mother, the fervent and be*
lieving prayer of the father, were blessed by
the God of all grace, and they touched his
heart with a deep and awakening power. He

9*

102 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

struggled much, but he did not struggle long.
The proud and ambitious boy was mefted into
tears by Jesus' love. George was on his
knees, penitent, contrite and prayerful. He
found peace in believing, and when he went
again among his fellows, he was an humble-
hearted serious boy. Often he went with his
father to the house of prayer ; and his pa-
rents wept, and the church rejoiced, when
they heard the low, clear tones, in deep sup-
plication before God.

George determined to become a minister of
Christ. With grateful hearts, his parents now
felt they could safely intrust him to the temp-
tations and vices of college life. How long
he there remained, I know not ; but report
came that George had left college one winter
season, to recruit health and strength by ease
and society. As the winter had too far ad-
vanced for his long homeward journey, he
took up his abode with a beloved family, near
a distant city. AVith the spring came George
to his native village. His friends ran to meet
him. joyfully ; but how was their joy turned
to sorrow, when the sunken eye, the hectic
flush, the hollow cough, the panting breath,
spoke to them, too clear, of his rapid journey
to the tomb.

None could realize that George was dy-
ing. He hoped against hope ; but when hope
had quite departed, calmly he resigned him-
self to die. Both his mother and himself were
slowly treading in the same path. During

THE CABIN BOY'S LOCKER. 103

the day, he often went to her chamber, to
catch her holy calm, to hear her heavenly
words. They grew more feeble, and before
many weeks the idolized parent and the be-
loved son parted for a few hours, to be reuni-
ted in eternity. Tbey sweetly fell asleep in
Jesus, and were buried the same day, side by
side, the mother and her eldest son. We
might weep for the early called, but we could
not wish to recall him from the bosom of God.

A beautiful brig of the United States Navy
was steadily making her way over the broad
Atlantic, on the last of the year (1842). With
her white sails all unfurled, she bent proudly
to the breeze. Her tall masts, her light spars,
her firm rigging, had outrode the storms fine-
ly and gaily. She had finished her mission
to a distant land, and with fair winds and clear
skies, was rapidly nearing her distant port.
What of her crew ? Did her commander behold
with gratification, the prompt execution of his
orders ? Were the officers respected ? Were
the sailors ready and obedient? Did the
ward-rooms, the decks, the forecastle witness
cheerful alacrity and faithfulness in the dis-
charge of duty ? Were all rejoicing to re-
turn to parents, to wives, and to little ones ?
No, within the heart of that noble vessel re-
bellion was brewing, and dissatisfaction was
heard in low mutterings. A plot was formed ;
sailor after sailor was reduced from bis allegi-
ance, and was sealed with a fearful oath to con*

104. THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

spire against his fellows. In the deep midnight,
at a given signal, they were to murder their offi*
cers, and cast their dead bodies upon the wa-
ters. Masters of the brig, they were to strike
the flag of their country, and hoist the black
colors of the pirate. Everything was ready ;
the mutineers were on the eve of executing
their daring purpose. God overruled the
fearful deed. The ringleaders were secured
and put in irons. The safety of the vessel de-
manded immediate attention and prompt ac-
tion— they were doomed to die! to die soon
— to die quick. "One hour !" besought an
unfortmiate youth. An hour passed. All
hands were called on deck; officers were
armed with cutlass and pistol — the watch was
prepared — the signal given — the cannon roll-
ed— the bodies of three were hanging on the
yard arm ! The brig was safe.

The bold leader of that reckless band was
one of that group of playful boys. Were not
his career and death a terrible fulfilment of
his terrible words, " Wrong ! I don't care for
that!" H. C.

A WARNING TO YOUTH

SMALL, THE MUTINEER.

In the awful death of Small, one of the
mutineers on board the brig Somers, Provi-
dence is speaking in a most solemn voice;

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 105

and, although any allusion to this sad event
may be painful to friends, yet we dare not
refrain from echoing that voice, in warning
to the young. From the few particulars in
his life ^hich we have been able to collect, it
will be seen, that he early formed habits which
very often and naturally lead to an ignomini-
ous end.

Elisha H. Small was a native of Boston.
His early training was very unfavorable to
the formation of a virtuous, moral character.
Lessons of piety, either from the lips or the
example of parents, probably never fell upon
his ear, unless he may have heard them within
the past three years, since all his habits had
attained the vigor of maturity. During that
period, his now almost broken-hearted mother
has been a consistent member of the Mariners*
Church in this city, under the pastoral care
of the Rev. Mr. Lord. While quite a lad,
Small became a member of one of our local
Sabbath schools. All we can learn of him,
while connected with the school, is this single
fact, which, however, is sufiicient to exhibit
his depravit}'-, even at that early age. His
teacher was called away by death ; and while
the announcement of this event by the super-
intendent, spread a deep solemnity over the
school, and clothed every countenance with
sorrow, young Small said, " I am glad of it."

For many years, he was a member of the
Mariners' Church Sabbath School. Here he
showed himself to be a very bad youth, and

106 THE CABIN BOY'S LOCKEIL

•

gave is teacher mucli trouble. At meeting,
too, he was inattentive and noisy, and often
requiring the presence of the sexton ; and, on
one occasion, he had to be removed from the
sanctuary. After this he was also, for several
years, connected with the Unitarian Sabbath
school in Pitts street. But his history sliows
that he could never have become much inter-
ested in either of these schools.

While very young, he formed the habit of
taking the name of God in vain, and his pro-
faneness was often heard about the streets.
This wicked practice grew with his growth
and strengthened with his strength, and he
carried it with him through life : even but a
moment before his awful death — when asked
by one of his associates in crime to forgive
him, he refused, with a dreadful oath ! He
also early became intemperate, and a Sabbath-
breaker. Within the past two years, on one
occasion, when at home from sea, he took
lodgings at the Sailor's Home. And one
Sabbath, just- before the commencement of
public worship, he sought to entice some of
the sailors to take a ride with him ; and when
they all refused to engage in such a desecra-
tion of that holy day, he became so angry
and quarrelsome, that the superintendent was
obliged to remove him from tho house. As
he performed this unpleasant duty, he gave
him a most faithful and serious admonition,
warning him of the end to which such conduct
would lead, and beseeching him to reform.

THE CABIN BOy'S LOCKER. 107

All this the profime, intemperate, hardened
Sabbath-breaker treated with the utmost con-
tempt and derision.

The last time our informant saw him, was
on Sabbath afternoon, riding furiously through
the streets, with a horse apparently almost
exhausted. The horse, it is said, was ruiued,
and the carriage broken. Soon after, and
perhaps to save the expense of repairing
damages, he enlisted in the United States
Navy, and eventually came on board the
Somers, where he suffered death at the age of
twenty- three.

We will mention but one other trait of
character in this unhappy young man. We
have seen it stated that " he was very much
attached to his mother." But when under
the influence of intoxicating drinks — which
usually converts man into a fiend — he was
certainly very undutifal to her. He has been
heard at such times to address her in the most
disrespectful and abusive language.

Youthful readers ! let the life and the mel-
ancholy death of this wretched young man be
a warning to you. Beware how you trifle
with the instructions of those who seek to do
you good, lest you wrong your own souls.
The Sabbath school, in order to be a safeguard
aofainst vice and crime, as it usuallv is, must
be loved^ not trifled with. In the language of
Commander Mackenzie's exhortation to the
youthful sailors, after execution, " Cherish
your Bibles with a more entire love thaa

108 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

Small did." Beware of taking the first step
in profaning the awful 7ir.tme, and the holy
Sabbath of the Lord, for he is a jealous God,
and will not hold you guiltless. Avoid, as
you would the gate of death, and the very pit
of perdition, all those places, however beauti-
ful and fascinating in their outward appear-
ances, where is mingled the intoxicating cup.
" When sinners entice thee, consent thou not."
And beware of dishonoring your father and
your mother, lest you be cut down ere you
have lived out half your days. If you indulge
in either of those sins, in all of which this
unhappy young man indulged from his early
youth, you enter upon a course that natu-
rally and very often leads on to almost every
other wickedness, to a ruined character, a
death of infamy, and an eternity of remorse
and despair !

A GOOD EXAMPLE FOR BOYS.

Everybody knows how a drunken man
used to be treated by the boys in the street.
He was mocked at, spit upon, and pelted with
stones. The boys never thought of pitying
him, but regarded him as the mark for merry-
making. He went rolling through the streets,
or perhaps made his bed in the gutter.

A few days since, I passed through a part
of the town where such spectacles had been
not uncommon. A sailor, partly intoxicated,

THE CABIN boy's LOCKEK. 109

was striving to steady himself against a post.
A group of boys were around hirn. Some,
"witli their hands in their pockets, and their
caps thrown back, were eagerly talking ; one
was brushing the dirt from the inebriate's
jacket; another was wiping the blood away
from a slight scratch which he had received
on the cheek.

*' Now you must — ivonH you ?" cried one
little fellow, looking up in his face.

" Oh yes, indeed, I know he will, drinking
is so wicked. It is sad to see him," said
another. " Come, if you will ; I will lead
you home, and father will help you."

" I know he will !" exclaimed a third.
" There comes Edward."

I looked at the direction of the boy's eyes,
and saw a little fellow running with all his
might toward them, bearing in his hand a roll
of paper.

" Here it is — here's the pledge ! — 'tis the
boy's pledge. Now you must sign it, and
never drink again."

"Yes," cried another, "and it's the very
one that belongs to our Temperance Society,
and we have all signed it," said the first boy,
coaxingly.

The sailor looked around bewildered.
" What is it ?" he hiccoughed out.

" Why, it's the pledge. We want you to
sign it, and be a temperate man. We are
sorry you drink, and we want you to leave off,"
said the boy, in an earnest, decided manner.

10

no THE CABIN" boy's LOCKER.

** Who be ye, who think of me, and care
for me ?" cried the sailor, beginning to com-
prehend the nature of the case. The tears
rose to his eyes, an-d rolled down his weather-
beaten face.

" Yes, he will sign it — he will. I know
he will," shouted the children, eXultingly.

" Yes, I will," said the sailor, " but take
care of me till I get sober — keep me from the
land-sharks. God bless ye — bless ye."

" Come, go with me !" cried one.

" No, I'll take him with me," said a second.

He was led away by the little boy with the
pledge, the rest of the children following, as
nappy as could be in tlie prospect of redeem-
ing the poor man from the misery of intem-
perate habits.

WASHINGTON AND HIS MOTHER.

Young George was about to go to sea as a
midshipman. Everything was arranged : the
vessel lay out opposite his father's house, the
little boat had come on shore to take him off,
and his whole heart was bent on going.
After his trunk had been taken down to the
boat, he went to bid his mother farewell, and
hf3 saw the tears bursting from her eyes.
However, he said nothing to her ; but he saw
that his mother would be distressed if he
went, and perhaps never be happy again. He
just turned round to the servant, and said^

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. Ill

" Go, and tell them to fetch my trunk back.
I will not go away to break my mother's
heart." His mother was struck with his
decision, and she said to him, " George, God
has promised to bless the children that honor
their parents, and I believe he will bless you *

A MOTHER'S PRAYER,

Mother's prayer ! How subduing the influ-
ence ! How solemnly her low and plaintive
voice falls upon the ear of a child, when pass-
ing the secret place where the mother holds
communion with heaven ! This is illustrated
by the following brief narrative from a daugh-
ter :

*' My mother," said she, " was scrupulously
regular in teaching her children the Lord's
prayer, the commandments, and the catechism;
though, in my early childhood, she was not
pious. "When I was about seven or eight
years of age, she was awakened to the con-
cerns of her soul. She continued to perform
her round of daily duties, but with an anxious
heart and saddened countenance. This, for a
long time, I saw, and it made me, though I
know not why, sad also. At length I noticed
that she was accustomed, at just such a time,
to retire alone ; and I soon found that the ob-
ject of her retirement was prayer. I could
hear her in solitude pleading with God ; and
her voice sounded so solemn, that it always

112 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

made me hasten away to some place alone,
where I could sit down and weep. When en-
gaged with the other children in play, if I saw
my mother going away alone, or if I chanced
to hear her voice in prayer, sadness would in-
stantly come over my mind, and I would
steal away from my young associates, and sit
on the door-sill, and weep and sob with grief.
However urgent the children might be in their
efforts to prevent me from leaving them, I
would always contrive to get away ; but I waa
ashamed to let them know the reason.

" After m.y mother found joy and peace in
believing, she was accustomed frequently to
converse with her children on the subject of
religion ; but she could never summon confi-
dence enough to pray with them. I well
remember how^ her conversations on the judg-
ment used to make me tremble, and fill my
heart with sadness and fear.

*' Years passed away. These solemn con-
versations were never forgotten, and that
plaintive sound of my mother's prayer never
ceased to be heard. Their influence became
more and more deeply impressed upon my
mind, till, by the Spirit of God, it was made
the means of leading me to seek an interest
in that mother's God and Saviour.

" Ye mothers ! cease not to pray for and
witli your children, and be not afraid to let
them see that there are stated seasons when
you meet God in secret prayer. Long after
you have gone to the silent grave, the remern

THE CABIN boy's LOCKEE. 113

bra-nce of those seasons may restrain your
children from sin, and instrunientally lead
them to the Lamb of God."

THE YOUNG STUDENT.

The following little story of a gentleman
who was then well known, and held some

office in N , under government, was told

by a friend of his :

.** In the early life of P , while he was

studying at E , it happened that, owing

to the disturbances of the country, his parents,
who lived at a distance, fell, at one time, into
such painful difficulties, that they were not
able to send their son his usual means of
support ; and at the same time death deprived
him of his chief friend, in the place where he
was. He was now without money, or the
means of obtaining any. He did not know
hov\^ to provide himself with the greatest
necessaries. One day, early in the morning,
with a very sad heart, he was passing a church
in the town, which stood always open. He
found it empt}^ ; and throwing himself on his
knees, he prayed that God would show him
some way out of his distress, so that his press-
ing need might be supplied.

*' As he rose and went towards the door
which k'd mto the principal street, a poor old
infirm woman, leaning on crutches, came into
the church, and asked him for alms. P. had

10*

114 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

only one sliilling left, with which he had
thought to provide himself with food for that
day; but he gave it to the poor woman, with
these silent words : ' 0 Lord, I have besought
Thee for help, and Thou causest even the
last shilling I have to be asked of me ; yet
Thou knowest a way to help — I know not
any.' With tearful eyes he passed on ; and
just as he went out from the church door, a
noble looking man rode by, who at the same

moment dropped his glove. P took it

up, and modestly gave it to the owner. The
gentleman, surprised at this attention from a
school-boy, asked his name. He told it, and
the stranger inquired if he was a son or a
relation of a famous surgeon of that name.
He answered that he was his son ; and the
gentleman immediately asked him to dine at
his lodgings, saying, ' Your father safely per-
formed a dangerous operation for me, and,
next to God, I owe my life to him.'

" My friend bowed, and the stranger rode
on. At the appointed time he went as he had
been invited to do, and was most kindly and
hospitably received. When he took leave,
the stranger took his hand, and put into it six
pieces of gold, saying, ' Students often have
little expenses, for which they do not like to
apply to their kind parents. Take this trifle
from me, as a token of gratitude towards your
father.'

" Surely, in his after life, P would

•never forget his early walk that morning, and

THE CABIN" BOy'S LOCKER. 115

his prayer in the cliurch ; nor would ever
think of it without thankfully rejoicing that
when the poor woman asked for his last shil-
ling, he had believed that it was God who
required it of him ; and had trusted that God
was able to help him, though he himself could
see no way out of his distress."

ENCOURAGEMENT TO LITTLE BOYS.

AN INTERESTINQ INCIDENT.

"I went once with Mr. Sappington," said

Mr. W , " to lodge at Gov. Turnbull's, in

Ohio, after he had addressed a temperance
meeting." Mr. Sappington, if you recollect,
was the person who came into an eating-house,
in Cincinnati, all shivering and cold, and asked
a little boy for something to drink. " No,"
said the lad, " I'll give you some hot coffee,
and something to eat, but I won't give you
any liquor ; but you must promise to go to
the AVashington Temperance Society to-niglit,
and sign the pledge." He said he did not
Icnow where it was. The youth promised to
go with him, and in the evening he was seen
leading this poor, twretched, and then misera-
ble looking object up to the stand. He signed
the pledge, and was abundantly instrumental
in rescuing many from the like degradation,
from which he himself had been rescued,
through the instrumentality of this youth;

116 THE CABESr BOY'S LOCKER. ^

and there are now hundreds in Cincinnati,
and in the country round about, that will
have cause through eternity to thank God for
the labors of Mr. Sappington. Bat to return
to the incident to which I call the reader's
attention, and who, I am sure, will pardon
this digression. " We had been," said Mr.

*W , " to a temperance meeting, and were

put to lodge in the same room. Our enter-
tainment was all that hospitality and kindness
could render it. I shall never forget," said
he, " when Sappington stepped to the bed,
and lifted up the weight of covering in his
hands, and exclaimed, with tears in his eyes,
' My God ! who could ever have thought that
I should ever again have slept in such a room,
under such a cover, and in such a comfortable
bed ? Many and many the time that I have
laid out such a night as this.' The wind was
then whistling through the crevices of the
windows, and it was piercing cold without,
while the fire blazed cheerfully within. * Yes,
many such a night, cringing and shrinking
from the cold, and almost perished, have I
lodged under a cellar door, or in the shaving
heap, in some friendly lumber-yard And
now that I should be again thus blest!' With
tears streaming from his eyes, he fell down on
his knees, in the corner of the room, and
poured out his soul in such a fervent prayer
to God, as I never before heard." You have
here, reader, a fair illustration of what suffer-
ing intemperance will inflict upon a man, and

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 117

the relief, comfort, and joy of soul to which
Temperance and Religion combined will re-
store a man.

REFLECTION.

The past — where is it ? It has .fled.

The future ? It may never come.
Our friends departed ? With the dead.

Ourselves ? Fast hastening to the tomb.
What are earth's joys ? The dews of morn.

Its honors ? Ocean s wreathing foam.
Where's peace ? In trials meekly borne.

And joy ? In heaven, the Christian's home.

UNKINDNESS.

Since life's best joys consist in peace and ease,
And though but few can serve, yet all may please,
O let th' ungrateful spirit learu from hence,
A small unkindness is a great offence. ^

BAD BOOKS.

Books are company ; and the company of
bad books is as dangerous as the company of
bad boys and men. Goldsmith, who was a no-
vel writer of some note, writing to his brother
about the education of a nephew, says:
^^ Above all things^ never let your ne-phew touch
a novel 6r a romance.'''' An opinion given in
such a manner must have been an honest
opinion. And as he knew the character of
novels, and the influence they would exert on
the young, his opinion ought to have weight.

118 THE CABLN" BOY'S LOCKER.

^ GOOD BOOKS.

The value of a good book is not often ap-
preciated. Saints are built up in their faith by
good reading, and an impenitent person is never
more disposed to read than when he begins tc
take an interest in the salvation of his soul. It
is innportant, therefore, for every family to keep
on hand a supply of useful religious books.
Religious books have a great deal to do with
the destiny of individuals, families, and com-
munities.

A GOOD EXCHANGE.

*' I shall never forget," says the Bishop of
Norwich, '* visiting the cottage of a man who
had been all his life a drunkard, and which
was an abode of misery and wrethedness.
He became a teetotaler, and in six months af-
terwards I found his abode the scene of com-
fort and domestic happiness. This man with
tears in his eyes, placing his hand on a quarto
Bible, said, 'This is the first thing that I pur-
chased with the money saved by giving up
drunkenness ; it was an alien to my house
before, but it has been my daily companion
ever since.'

DILIGENT IN BUSINESS, FERVENT IN SPIRIT.

I resolve to neglect nothing to secure my
eternal peace, more than if I had been certi-

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 119

fied that I should die within the day ; nor to
mrnd any thing which my secular duties de-
mand of me, less than if I had been insured I
should live fifty years more. — McCheyne.

LEISURE HOURS.

It was a beautiful observation of the late
William Hazlit, that " that there is room
enough in human life to crowd almost every
art and science in it. If we pass ' no day
without a line' — visit no place without the
company of a book — we may with ease fill
libraries, or empty them of their contents.
The more we do ; the more we can do ; the
more busy we are, the more leisure we have."

HABITS.

There are habits, not only of drinking,
swearing, and lying, and of some other things
which are commonly acknowledged to be habits,
but of every modification of action, speech
and thought. Man is a bundle of habits.
There are habits of industry, attention, vigi-
lence, advertency ; of a prompt obedience to
the judgment, or of yielding to the first im-
pulse of passion ; of extending our views to
the future, or of resting upon the present ; of
apprehending, methodizing, reasoning ; of van-
ity, self-conceit, melancholy, partiality ; of fret-

120 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

fulness, suspicion, captiousness, censorious-
ness; of pride, ambition, covetousness; of
overreaching, intriguing, projecting: in a
word, there is not a quahty or a function,
either of body or of mind, which does not
feel the influence of this great law of anima-
ted nature. — Foley.

TRUE WISDOM.

True wisdom loots upward, and places her treasure
Where the withering light of decay is ne'er known ;
Then finds it at last by the river of pleasure,
That ceaselessly flows from Immanuel's throne.

STEADINESS OF PURPOSE

In whatever you engage, pursue it with a
steadiness of purpose, as though you were de-
termined to succeed. A vacillating mind
never accomplished any thing worth naming.
There is nothing like a fixed, steady aim; it
dignifies your nature and in'sures your suc-
cess. ' Who have done the most for mankind ?
Who have secured the rarest honours ? Who
have raised themselves from poverty to rich-
es? Those who were steady to their purpose.
The man who is one thing to-day, and another
to-morrow — who drives an idea pell-mell
this week, while it drives him next — is always
in trouble, and does just nothing from one
year s end to another. Look, and admire the
man of steady purpose. He moves noiseless-

I

THE CABIN BOY'S LOCKER. 121

ly along, and yet, what wonders he accom-
pLshes. He rises, gradually, we grant, but
surely. The heavens are not too high for him,
neither are the stars beyond his reach. How
worthy of imitation I

"THE CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER."

The sura and substance of the preparation
needed for a coming eternity is, that you be-
lieve what the Bible tells you, and do what
the Bible bids you. — Chalmers^ on Romans.

THE TWO SCHOOL MATES.

John and George were school fellows in the

little village of B . They had each a

fondness for the water and were ajways fore-
most by the river's brink, sailing their little
boats, bathing, scaling flat bits of stone on
the surface of the stream, and fishing. Many
a time were the neighbors alarmed by the re^
port that one or the other of the boys had
fallen into the river and as often did their
parents look out at night with fearful anxiety
for their return home.

They grew up and went to sea, not together,
though at the same time, and from the same
port. They met on a distant shore. Many
were their talks about home. The names of
their school mates were mentioned over and

11

122 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

over again, especially those of Mary and So-
phia., the young belles of their rustic commu-
nity, to whom they were attached by the ear-
liest and tenderest ties.

These voyages were prosperous and the two
young men soon returned. In the course of
the year they were both promoted. By their
temperate and orderly conduct they com-
mended themselves to their employers and
their superior officers. At length each wag
entrusted with the command of a large ship
sailing from ISTew Orleans for Liverpool.
They married the objects of their early love,
and were as happy as worldly good could ren-
der them : soon, however, there was to be a
change. They left New Orleans for Liverpool :
one had a more rapid passage than the
other, so that his ship, the M , was dis-
charged and put to sea from Liverpool be-
fore the P arrived. Two days passed,

and the third night hung over the waters,

when the M , driven by a fresh breeze,

danced onward through the white waves, leav-
ing the sea boiling and foaming behind her.
A lantern hung on the foremast, but it gave
light scarcely sufficient to show any object
twenty 3^ards ahead. The mate, however,
whose eye was quick and keen, saw some-
thing like a shadow or a cloud rising and fall-
ing a few yards before the bows. " A ship,"
was the cry, ^^ helm a Zee" — tne quick com-
mand *' hard up" repeated. But in a moment
the M struck the dimly-seen and deeply*

THE CABIN" boy's LOCKEE. 128

laden vessel, which we<it down, cargo and
passengers ! Not a groan was heard, not a float-
ing object seen ; not a token of the little world

known. 'She was the P , George was the

captain. When the M returned to New

Orleans, John heard with amazement that the

P had not reached Liverpool although

she was reported about two hundred miles
from the -English coast. " Ah !" said John,
*^it is too evident George was lost on that fatal
night. Can it be that my friend went down
beneath my gallant ship ! Would we had
never known each other ; or that we had sail-
ed to different ports. Nay, that I had never
stood on a deck, or listened to the voice of
old ocean."

The widow and children of George were
soon sought by the sympathizing and heart-
broken John. He was their friend and patron
even 'to their utmost need. That night is a
gloom in the memory of John. He never
speaks of it but with tears. Little did these
friends think, when, like some who will read
this account, they trod the lawn together and
played by the river's brink, that in after years,
so far from their homes, and in such circum-
stances, the one would go out of the world,
and the other be left to mourn. How little do
we know what is before us. How kind should
little children be to one another in their school
days, that they may not have occasion for re-
morse when one or the other shall be no
more on the earth. And how earnest should

124 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

tbej be to prepare for everything that should
take place by giving their hearts to the Lord

E. E. A.

New York, Nov. 3d, 1846.

THE HONEST BOY, OR THE SHILLINO AND
GUINEA.

Some time ago the Duke of Buccleugh, in
one of his walks, purchased a cow from a
person in the neighborhood of Dalkeith, and
left orders to send it to his palace the following
morning ; according to agreement the cow was
sent, and the Duke happened to be in disha-
bille, and, walking in the avenue, espied a little
fellow ineffectually attempting to drive the
animal forward to its destination. The boy,
not knowing the duke, bawded out to him —

" Hi mun ! come here an' gie's a hand wi'
this beast."

The duke saw the mistake, and determined
on having a joke with the little fellow. Pre-
tending, therefore, not to understand him, the
duke walked on slowly, the boy still craving
his assistance; at last he cries, in a tone of
apparent distress, " come here, mun, an' help
us, an' as sure as anything I'll give you half I
get !"

This last solicitation had the desired effect.
The Duke went and lent a helping hand.

" And now," said the Duke, as they trudged
along, '' how much do you thiuk ye'll get
this job?"

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER- 125

" Ob, I dintia ken," said the boy, " but I'm
sure o' something, for the folk up by at the
house are good to a' bodies."

As they approached the house, the Dake
darted from the boy, and entered by a differ-
ent way. He called a servant and put a
sovereign into his hand, saying, "Give that
to the boy that has brought the cow." The
Duke returned to the avenue, and was soon
rejoined by the boy.

** Well, how much did you get?" said the
Duke.

" A shilling," said the boy, " an' there's the
half o' it t' ye."

" But you surely got more than a shilling,"
said the Duke.

" No," said the boy, with the utmost earnest-
ness, " as sure's death that's a' I got ; an' d' ye
not think it's a plenty ?"

" I do not," said the Duke ; " there must be
some mistake ; and as I am acquainted with
the Duke, if you return, I think I'll get you
more."

The boy consented — back they went — the
Duke rang the bell, and ordered all the ser-
vants to be assembled.

" Now," said the Duke, to the boy, " point
me out the person that gave you the shilling."

" It was that chap there, with the apron,"
pointing to the butler. »

The delinquent confessed, fell on his knees,
and attempted an apology ; but the Duke
interrupted him, indignantly ordered him to

11*

126 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

give the boy tlie sovereign, and quit hia
service instantly.

"You have lost," said the Duke, '*youi
money, your situation, and your character,
by your covetousness ; learn, henceforth, that
honesty is the best policy."

The boy by this time recognized his assist-
ant in the person of the Duke, and the Duke
was so delighted with the sterling worth and
honesty of the boy, that he ordered him to be
sent to school, and kept there, and provided
for at his own expense.

ONLY ONE STEP AT A TIME.

The following excellent advice and encour-
agement is from the " Well-Spring." After
reading it, we hope no one will suffer them-
selves to become discouraged at what they
find to do.

" Horace is a round-faced, white-headed
little boy, three years of age. One morning,
as we came from our chamber, we overheard
his mother say, ' Here, Horace, my dear,
carry this book into your father's study, and
lay it on the table.'

"The little fellow took the book, went to
the foot of the stairs, and there he stopped.
We wish our little readers could have seen
him, as he stood gazing up that long flight,
from the bottom to the top. Sach a look of
discouragement surely never before came over

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 127

the countenance of the little boy. He seemed
to say, by his appearance, ' How can I go up
these long steps.'

"The watchful eye of his mother immedi-
ately saw his trouble, and with a sweet, en-
coui-agi hg voice, she said, 'Oh, my son, it is
only one st:p at a iime.^

"And so the little boy found it. When
jie looked at the long, steep journey, and
thought of it all together^ it seemed a task too
great for his tiny feet; but when he thought
of it, 'only one step at a time,' it seemed an
easy matter.

*' And how many a * hill of difficulty' would
disappear, if we would think of it as ' only
one step at a time.' The long lesson, the hard
sum in arithmetic, the errand a mile off, the
big pile of wood to be carried into the house,
the bed of strawberries to be weeded, all
appear easy to accomplish, when we remember
it is only one word, one figure, one step, one
stick, one weed at a time.

" Whenever, then, little reader, you feel
discouraged at some task your mother has
assigned 3'ou, think of this mother's remark
to her boy: ^ only one step at a tlme^ You
must surely be a faint-hearted little fellow, if
one step frightens and discourages }■ ou. Well,
if you can take one step, you can take the
next, for tliat is only one step, and then another,
and so on, to the top. Try it, and don't be
chicken-hearted."

128 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER,

THE ART OF LEARNING.

**The chief art of learning," says Locke,
" is to attempt but little at a time. The
widest excursions of the mind are made by
short flights, frequently repeated ; the most
lofty fabrics of science are formed by the con-
tinued accumulations of single propositions."

ROBERT LEE;

OR, THE YOUNG TRANSGRESSOR AND THE OLD FELON.

One sianer destroyeth much good.

Ben Smith lived near Mr. Lee, and the
boys met every day. He was older than
Kobert, and being a little youth, he could
make himself very pleasant. In this way he
had a strong influence over Robert ; for he
never told him his faults, as George did, but
flattered and caressed him.

But Ben was a dangerous companion : he
had not been instructed in the Bible, nor
made to obey his parents ; and, though young
in years, he was old in wickedness.

He did not like to have Robert avoid him ;
for, as h^ always had spending money, it was
convenient for Ben to have his friendship.
When he found that he could not get him
away from Sabbath-school, he persuaded him
to go with him, after school hours, while

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 129

George was studying at home. Thus Robert
became intimate with some other boys, no
better than Ben ; and by degrees he was led
on to join in their idle and foolish wnys.

About a year after the fis.hing party, as the
boys were sitting together, George said to
Robert, " What are you going to do with
those segars in your hat?"

*'Give some to Smith, and smoke some,"
was his reply.

" A boy like you smoke !"

** Why not, George ? Ben Smith does."

"Yes, and Ben Smith drinks brandy; but
that is not to say you should. Father says I
must not play with him, for he swears, and
breaks the Sabbath ; and father is afraid he
will turn out a bad man. If your papa knew
how he behaves, he would not like you to be
with him."

In all large cities there are to be found
boys who have either lost their parents, or
have broken away from their home, or, what
is as bad, who have wicked parents. Tliese
keep together, and encourage each other in
vice, and tempt others to the same course.
They are never seen at' Sunday-school, or at
church, or at steady work during the week,
but lounging about the wharves of the citj^,
around theatres, and the circus. As they
grow older, they become gamblers, or pick-
pockets, and generally find their way to the
prison ; while many of them lie down in a
drunkard's grave. It was to associates like

130 THE CABIN" boy's LOCKEE.

these that Eobert was introduced by Beo
Smith. They were older than he was, and
treated him with much attention ; for they
knew he was the only son of a rich man.
Kobert thought all their kindness was sincere,
and was always greatly pleased with his new
friends. All the time he could spare from
school and study, he passed with them ; but
he took care that George should not know
where he went.

When Robert Lee was twelve years old, he
was the brightest, happiest-looking boy among
his playmates. At the annual examination
of tiic scholars, he divided the honors of the
class with George Wright; and, on bis birth-
day, his parents invited all the school to a
dinner, given in honor of their only son.

In the drawing-room, suspended above the
sofa, hung a full-length portrait of Robert,
which had been taken by a distinguished
painter. It was a very good likeness, and
made a beautiful picture.

When the bo3^s had admired it, and enjoyed
the good things, which were provided in abun-
dance, they amused themselves with different
sports in the large garden which surrounded
Mr. Lee's dwelling.

" How happy !" thought some of them ;
*' how happy Robert must be !" So he would
have been, if he had listened to the voice
which speaks from heaven to every child ;
*' Remember thy Creator in the days of thy
youth." But

' ' THE cabust boy's locker. 131

" Many voices seem to say,
Hither; children, here's the way;
Haste along, and nothing fear,
Every pleasant thing is here."

To the voices of these gay but false friends,
Robert was inclined to listen. The conse-
quenrces were seen in years following, when
this same Robert Lee, following the bad ex-
ample which he ought to have avoided, became
a drunkard and a criminal, and was shut up
in prison for his offences.

THE POOR BOY IN LONDOK

Upon one of my visits to the various ragged
schools in the metropolis, I became much
interested in a lad ten or eleven years of
age, with a frank, open countenance, though
somewhat dirty, and dressed in a suit of rags.
He was reading busily in his Testament, and
would stop occasionally, and ask such serious
questions of his teacher, that I could not but
SH^ile. His " practical observations" on certain
points of scripture, if clothed in elegant lan-
guage, would do honor to men of education.
There was a free-heartedness in him, that
gleamed out through all his rags and dirt,
and I sat down by him, to ask questions.

" Where do you live ?" I asked, " and
how ?"

" I live anywhere I can," he replied, " and
almost how I can I"

132 THE CABIN- boy's LOCKER.

" But," said I, " what is your trade, or busi-
ness? What do you generally do for a living?"

" I am a water-cress boy," he replied, " and
get "up every morning at two o'clock^ and go
on foot three or four miles, and sometimes six
or eight, into the edge of the city, to buy
the water-cresses. I get a basket of them
there for a shilling, and by crying them the
whole day, generally clear another, which
pays my board and lodging."

" But can you live upon a shilling a day ?"
I asked.

" Yes, pretty well ; but many times I don't
make a shilling, and then I buy a crust of
bread, and go and sleep under one of the
arches of London Bridge, or in some cart or
box, down on the wharves." Just then the
superintendent came along, and as I took his
arm, he said :

" This lad you have been talking with
comes here every night, to learn to read ; and
although he cannot get to sleep before ten
o'clock, and is obliged to be up by two in the
morning, yet he is always punctual. Not
long since, his mother was imprisoned for
arrearages in her rent. The sum needed to
release her was ten shillings. Well, this boy
almost starved himself, and slept out of doors,
to save the money out of his scanty earnings
to release her from prison."

I went back again, and talked with the
boy ; and in my eyes he was a truer hero than
Wellington or Napoleon ! — iV. W. Bartlett.

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 183

"WHAT MUST I DO TO BE SAVED V

. You must believe on Christ, as the only
and all-sufficient Saviour. Do you ask what
it is to believe on him ? It is to have such
confidence in him as to receive*Q\\ that he has
said as true, and to treat it as true — to act upon
it as true. In other words, you must seek
salvation as the gospel directs, by repenting,
by believing, by obeying. By repenting — by
breaking off, at once, from all sin, whether
outward or secret, in the heart or in the life,
because it is offensive to God, and ruinous
to yourself; for this is repentance. By believ-
ing— by giving yourself and all that you have
to Christ, trusting to him, and to him only,
for all that you need for time and eternity ;
for this is faith. By obet/ing — by engaging
sincerely, .and uniformly, in whatever you
know to be duty, for the sake of glorifying
God, and doing good ; for this is obedience.
This you must be ivilling to do — this you
must begin at once — this you must continue
forever, taking God's word as your rule of
action, in dependence on God's Spirit for
strength, and in reliance on God's grace for
acceptance and final salvation. Do this, and
though your sins are as scarlet, they shall be
white as snow ; though they are red like crim-
son, they shall be as wool. Come thus unto
Christ, and he will in no wise cast you out.

12

134 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

Guilty and polluted though you may be, his
blood shall cleanse you from all sin.

" Repentance is to leave
The sin I did before,
And show that I do truly grieve,
By doiog so no more.

" Faith is to trust in Christ,
Relying on his grace ;
Restiug ou him as all our hope,
Our strength and righteousness.

DR. CHALMERS TO THE IMPENITENT.

You may delay the work of repentance,
and think the. future far off — hut it will come;
vour last call from heaven far off — your
last unavailing effort to repent far off —
hut it loill come; the death struggle, the
shroud, the funeral far off — hut it will come:
the da}^ of judgment, the day of reckoning
far off — hut it ivill come ; the sentence, * 'Depart
from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire !" far
o\'^ —hut it will come ; eternal banishment from
the presence of the Lord, weeping, wailing,
and gnashing of teeth far off — hut it will conie.

WHAT IS IT TO BELIEVE ON CHRIST.

It is to believe that he is the only Saviour;
that " there is no salvation in any other ; no
other name under heaven, given among men,
whereby we must be saved."

THE CABIN" BOY'S LOCKEE. 136

It is, to feel your need of him ; that j^ou are
guilty, and need forgiveness ; sinful, and need
to be made holy ; under condemnation, and
need to be pardoned ; lost, and need to be
saved.

It is to believe that he is able and willing to
save yon^ and save you now. He is able ; " Al-
mighty"— " able to save to the uttermost them
that come unto God by him," Ileb. 7: 25;
ivilling ; " not willing that any should perish,
but that all should come to repentance," 2
Peter, 3:9; ready to save you now; "for
now is the accepted time, and now the day of
salvation." 2 Cor. 6 : 2.

It is, to cast yourself at once, and without
reserve, on his mercy ^ trusting in him alone for
salvation^ renouncing self-righteousness and
self-dependence, all idea of meriting salvation
by anything you can do, and relying on what
Christ has done ; to give yourself up to him,
just as you are, to be accepted, forgiven, puri-
fied, directed, and saved ; to take him for
your prophet to teach, your priest to atone,
your king to rule over you and in you, and
your example, to be imitated in all your feel-
ings, purposes, and conduct. Do this, and
you will be a believer in Christ, and he shall
be your refuge, your portion, your "Saviour,''
all your salvation, and all your desire.

Prostrate I'll lie before his throne,

And there my guilt confess ;
I'll tell him I'm a wretch undono,

Without his sovereign grace.

136 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

I can but perish if I go,

I am resolvtd to try ;
For if I stay away 1 know

I mutt forever die.

•♦ HOW DID YOL GET YOUR WEALTH ?"

A number of years ago, several young
Scotchmen came in company to the United
States, and landed at New York. On the fol-
lowing day, which was the Sabbath, it was
proposed to go out and see the cit)' and its en-
virons. All assented except one. He had
been charged by his father, on leaving home,
not to break the Sabbath. He would not dis-
obey him. In a few years, he was possessor
of a large estate, and his companions were in
the drunkard's grave. He was visited by Mr.

C , who asked him, "How did vou accu-

mulate your wealth?" He answered, ^^ By
strictly observing the Sabbath^ sir.^^

DAYS OF MY YOUTH.

Days of my youth, ye have glided away ;
Hairs of ray youth, ye are frosted aud gray ;
Eyes of my yuuth. your keen sight is no more ;
Cheeks of my youth, ye are furrowed all o'er ;
Strength of uiy youth, all your vigor is gone;
Thoughts of my youth, your gay visious are llown.

Days of my youth, I wish not your recall ;
Hairs of my youth. I'm c- >nteut ye should fall ;
Eyes of my youth, ye*niuch evil have seen ;
Cheeks of my youth, batiied in tears have ye been ;

THE CABrS" boy's LOCKER. 137

Thoughts of my youth, ye have led me astray ;
Strength of my youth, why lameut your c icay.

Days of my age, ye shall shortly be past ;
Hairs of my age, yet awhile can you last ;
Joys of my age, in true wisdom delight ;
Eyes of my age, be religion your light;
Thoughts of my age, dread ye not the cold sod
Hopes of my age, be ye tixed on your God.

THE EXCEPTION.

A gentleman boasted that he drank t«'0,
three or four bottles of wine every day for
fifty years, and that he was as hale and hearty
as ever. "Pray," remarked a bystander,
" where are your boon companions." " Ah,"
he quickly replied, "that's another affair. If
the truth may be told, I have buried three
generations of them I"

PREPARE TO MEET THY GOD.

In the midst of life we are in death, is the
declaration of the word of God, and its truth
is fally confirmed b}' the events which daily
occur around us. Yet this truth (though con-
fessed by all) is but little felt, and exerts but
little influence upon the hearts and conduct
of most men. They live unmindful of their
latter end, and act as if this world were their
eternal home. Still affecting: circumstances
do sometimes transpire which are calculated

12*

138 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

to impress this solemn truth upon the hearts
of those who hear them. Such an event has
lately taken place among us, and it may be
useful to notice it.

On the morning of' Thursday, tLe 28th
of January, two boatmen went off to a ship
with passengers, and were returnin«g to the
shore when a sudden and violent gust of wind
overtook and upset the boat in which they
were, and in a moment both were struggling
in the waves. The younger, who could not
swim, soon found a watery grave ; and the
other was picked up by a boat just as his
strength failed and death appeared inevitable.
Thus was one taken and the other left.

Fellow sailors and boatmen ! There is a
voice in this event which calls loudly, and sol-
smnl}^, and emphatically to you, " Prepare to
meet thy God." " Be ye also ready, for in
such an hour as ye think not the Sou of Man
Cometh." You are too apt to say when such
circumstances occur, alas ! poor fellow he is
gone ! Yes, he is gone ! but do you consider
where ? He is gone down to the hidden cav-
erns of the deep. The clay caroass in which
he dwelt is there. But He, his soul, has en-
tered an eternal world, into which you and I
must soon be introduced. But do you ask
what is his state there? You are too ready to
suppose that he has gone aloft, that he is now
happy ; and if asked the reason for this sup-
position, you would perhaps reply because he
was no worse than yourselves. But all who

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 139

die are not happy. Heaven is not tne only
place to which departed spirits go. There is
another place — that is liell.

He who holds your lives in his hand has
declared, " if you die in j^our sins, yoa cannot
enter into the kingdom of heaven." He also
assures us, that *' he that being often reproved
hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be de-
stroyed, and that without remedy." These
passages from the Word of God call for your
most serious consideration. You are exposed
to peculiar dangers, and you are frequently
warned by the death of your companions, that
you 3^ourselves must die. Oh ! be not hard-
ened ; treat not with indiflference or lightness
the warnings which are sent in mercy by God.
Another of your number has been suddenly
taken away. Who will be called next ? Per-
haps you, who are now reading this, are the
person ; but are you ready ? The young man
who has been taken away had felt some seri-
ous impressions, and desired to serve God ;
but the fear of being ridiculed by others pre-
vented him from becoming decided ; and it
pleased the Almighty suddenly to call him to
his account. In what light do you suppose
the ridicule of his fellow-creatures (if he had
time to think on these subjects) appeared to
him in his dying moments ? How must he
have despised the fear of this ridicule ! How
trifling must the opinions of his fellow-crea-
tures then have appeared to him 1 How fool-
ish, how sinful his own conduct, in having

140 THE CABIN BOYS LOCKER.

been deterred, by the fear of this ridicule,
from boldly serviug his Maker? How import-
ant, then, is it to be decided at once for Grod,
when no one knows how soon he may be
called to give his account.

But, while God has been pleased to take
away one of your number, you have reason to
thank Him for having spared the life of his
companion, who was saved when his eyes
were almost closed in death, and who is now
again among you, a monument of God'3
mercy. Whenever you see him, remember
this solemn event ; and it is earnestly hoped
that he whose life has thus been preserved,
will be decided for the cause of God, and will
take every opportunity of impressing upon
the hearts of his fellow-boatmen the necessity
of being prepared for death.

Cape Town, Sailors' Home, December, 1339.

LINES ON THE DEATH OF REV. J. DIELL, SEA-
MEN'S CHAPLAIN AT HONOLULU, WHO WAS
BURIED IN THE PACIFIC OCEAN, LATITUDB
40 DEGREES SOUTH, JAN. 20, 1841.

His grave is in the mighty deep •

A lovely corpse is he ;
Ten thousand sailors with him sleep,

Beneath the dark blue sea.

He loved the sailor's precious soul ;

And ofl on heathen shore,
With holy zeal, on darkened minds

Did heavenly wisdom pour.

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 141

A sailor's heart is brave and free ;

They saw and loved their guide,
Who bade them flee deceitful snares,

And safe in Jesus hide.

Weep, sailors, weep ! he goes before,

Hia barque by tempests driven ;
Rejoice ! his perils now are o'er —

He's safely moored in heaven.

Ye sailors, as ye speed your way

From rolling wave to wave,
Will you not drop a willing tear

Upon his watery grave ?

Where shall we raise his tablet-stone I

His grave is in the sea.
Upon our hearts, the sailors say,

His epitaph shall be. N".

THE SAILOR-BOY.

Grace exemplified in the conversion of
Edward Beech hill, the only son of a farmer,
who lived in the neighborhood of Dunse, and
who was esteemed by those who knew him, as
a person of strong sense and sound principle,
and as being possessed of a warm heart, and
an open hand. From his cradle, young Beech-
hill was a wayward boy. There was no day
that marked the bent of his mind more than
the Sabbath. To young Beechhill it was a
season of restless uneasiness ; for, from early
morn till night, he was obliged to be engaged
in exercises in which his heart had no share.

Whei: young Beechhill was about fourteen

142 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

years of age, he meditated an escape from hia
father's house ; bat he kept the secret to him-
self, till, having accompanied his mother to
Leith, for sea-bathing, he one morning disap-
])eared, leaving the following note on the
j)arlor-table :

My dear Mother, — When you receive this
I shall be at sea. I have long had a desire to
visit strange places, and to become acquainted
with new tilings ; and I thought if I proposed
going abroad, my father would not consent to
my wishes. Do no put yourself about on my
account. Though I begin my voyage as a
common sailor, I am led to expect promotion
very soon. At all events, I have taken the
step, and it cannot now be retraced.

Your affectionate son, E. B.

If were useless to attempt to describe the
feelings of the mother on this trying occasion.
She was absolutely stupefied with grief, the
excess of which threw her into a lingering
disorder, which terminated her existence. As
for the bereaved and disconsolate father, his
sorrow, which was at first violent, sunk down
at length into a settled melancholy, which ate
out the soul of life's best enjoyments, and
rendered duty, and even life itself, burden-
some.

Farmer Beechhill, having at length learned
the name of the vessel in which his son sailed,
wrote to Edward, but received no answer.

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 143

In the meantime, years rolled on, but brought
no tidings of the runaway, till one evening, in
the depth of winter, as the icicles hung from
the windows, and the drift fell so thick that
one could scarcely see a yard before him, a
loud knocking came to the door. Not one of
the servants heard it ; for though the storm
raged without, they felt not its fury ; and so
all were as busy as the bee, and cheerful as
the lark. The knocking continued, and at
length reached the ear of farmer Beechhill,
who sat alone in his little parlor, with his
Bible open before him, and his dog reposing
at his feet. " This is not a night for a human
creature to be exposed," muttered the farmer,
as he hastily snatched up the candle, and di-
rected his steps towards the door. It proved
to be a shipwrecked sailor, hungry and half
naked, and shivering with cold. He told his
tale in an artless and touching manner, and
begged a morsel of food and lodging for the
night. *' Have the poor fellow in," said the
former to some of the servants now in attend-
ance, " and take him to the fire, and let him
be warmed and fed. Perhaps,"" he added; and
the tears fell as he spake, " he too has a father."
As Jack sat and smoked his pipe b}^ the
blazing fire, round which the servants were
ranged, each engaged with some piece of em-
ployment, he soon forgot both his past suffer-
ings and his present weariness, and joined the
loudest in the song, and the merriest in the
laugh. He recounted to his wondering audi-

144 THE CABIN" boy's LOCKER.

ence the perils he had undergone, the feats he
had achieved, and the losses he had sustained.
He talked, too, of the different countries he
had visited, the various customs he had seen,
and the jolly tars with whom he had met and
parted. "But among them all," he added,
" none of them ever left such a blank in the
heart of Jack Trivers, at parting, as Ned
Beechhill did. Poor Ned! he was as brave a
heart as ever set foot on a ship's deck, or
whistled on the top of a mast to the howl of
the tempest. But he's moored, now. Peace
be with his shattered hulk 1" " Ned Beech-
hill, did you say, young man?" asked a silver-
haired domestic, in the form of an old shep-
herd, who till this moment had listened with
deep interest to the stories of the sailor, with-
out seeming to enjoy either the merriment or
the music. " Had you a comrade of the name
of Beechhill?" "That I had," replied Jack.
" He was a native of Scotland, like myself;
and out of pure love for our country, we soon
became cronies. He died on a reef of rocks,
on which our gallant vessel foundered, and on
which those of our ship's company were cast
who escaped the fury of the waves. I have
in my possession papers of his, which, with
his dying breath, he charged me to deliver to
his father; though, poor soul, in the hurry
and distress of the moment, he forgot to say,
and I to ask, whereabouts his father lived."
" You will not refuse to show the papers to
the master ?" asked old Robin, his breast heav-

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 145

ing with conflicting emotions. " Perhaps he
may be able to direct you to the lad's father.
At knst, I guess as much." The sailor made
no objections, and rose to accompany Eobin.
"But wait a little/^ added the old man. "I
must break the matter to the old gentleman.
Hear ye, sir! the lad ye speak of is his own,
his onJy child, or I am sorely mistaken. He
has long mourned over his lost Edward, and
I doubt not that the certainty of his death will
kill him outright." So saying, he threw aside
his employment, and entering the parlor, told
his tale in as delicate a way as possible, and
then waited in the doorway for an answer.
*'Eh?" said the farmer, looking up wistfully,
"did you speak of Edward? did you say he
was dead ?" " I know not what Edward it
may be," replied old Robin. " I only thought,
sir, that as the two names answered, there
could be no harm in looking at the papers
addressed to his father." "Bring the lad in,
Robin; bring him in," repeated the farmer;
and, as he spoke, his frame shook convul-
sively, and a thick film passed before his eyes,
which for a moment interrupted his vision.

" For all sakes," cried Robin, " do not be
in so much trouble. Perhaps it may not be
true. Who knows but the rogue has made
the story for the sake of getting charity? At
any rate, if you make yourself both blind and
stupid, you will neither see to read the papers
nor be able to comprehend them." Thus for-
tified by the Shepherd's sage reasoning, far-

13

146 THE CABIN^ boy's LOCKER.

mer Beecbhill endeavored to retain both his
Bight and his understanding; but no sooner
did he discover on one of two letters that were
handed to him his own penmanship and signa-
ture, than both again fled, and he fainted
awa3^ It was long before his physician allow-
ed him to peruse the papers of his mourned
and- now forever lost son. He however was
able to give directions about Jack, who was
sent away well provided with both clothes
and money.

Farmer Beechhill (as I before • said) had
written to his son, but received no answer.
One of the papers handed to him by the sail-
or was his own letter, and the other Edward's
reply, written but a short time before the ship-
wreck, but which, from various causes, never
had been forwarded. It was follows :

" My Dear Father : — I know not in what*
terms to address myself to you, whom I have
so much injured and distressed; but neither
my conscience nor my feelings will allow me
to remain longer silent. I received your let-
ter, containing the mournful tidings of my
dear mother's death. She never, you say, re-
covered the shock of my disappearance. Ah,
what a fool I have been ! I have been the
murderer of her who bore me, and the de-
stroyer of my own prospects. I have been most
unfortunate at sea, have twice suffered ship-
wreck, and both times been stripped of every-
thing, not excepting ray body clothes and

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 147

hammock. It was, it is true, not wealth, but
liberty that lured me irom home; but I have
got as little of liberty as of wealth. I have got
much hard duty to perform ; far at sea, and ex-
exposed to every change of weather. But
for pride and shame, I would have been with
you long ago. These, however, have latterly
beefli made to give way to more powerful feel-
ings ; and, while I write this, I am on rny way
to my father's house.

" Nc^, doubt, my dear father, you wish to
know what sort of feelings those w^ - which
could influence the determined temper ot ycnr
unhappy son to quit forever a sailor's life,
and to endure the scoff of the world in his
own neighborhood. You shall be gratified.

''I have spoken of shipwrecks, but these
v.ame and went Vv'ithout bringir.g me to my
senses. No sooner was the danger over and
a glass of grog in my power, than I was the
same unreflecting, mad fool as' before. It
pleased Almighty God, however, to speak at
length to my soul in language too plain to be
misunderstood, and too awful to be forgotten.
We were making within the warm latitude's,
-when a mortal sickmsss broke out in the ship,
during which the lifeless body of many a
brave fellow was committed to the deep. I
was daily called to assist in this mournful
office, which at length became so painful to
my feelings, and so depressing to my spirits,
as nearly to incapacitate me for active duty.
It was at this period that I first began to think

148 THE CABIN" boy's LOCKER.

seriously on the state of my soul. Where were
the departed spirits of my comrades? Alas!
their lives but too plainly told that they were
unfit for the regions of purity, and I had but
one other conclusion to make regarding them.
The thought was dreadful. I shuddered at an
eternity of torment, though, as yet, I felt no
inclination to forsake my sins, nor any desire
after holiness, without which the Bible says
no one can see the Lord.

" I was sitting one day on deck watching
the movements of the vessel, and ruminating
on the forlorn condition to which I had brought
myself, when a young gen-tleman, a passenger
on board, (perceiving, I suppose, my dejected
look,) accosted me in a friendly manner, and
took a seat by my side. He proved to be a
missionary, sent out by a society in Scotland
for the propagation of the gospel among the
heathens. We got into conversation, which
was at first of a general character ; but on my
using the word * bad luck,' he looked at me
with an air of pity mixed with severity, and
said, ' My dear fellow, there is not such a
thing in Grod's universe as bad luck. Every-
thing is conducted under the superintendence
of the Almighty, whose care extends to that
very surf on the brim of the ocean.' ' The
more then,' said I, ' is the wonder that there
is so much suffering in the world.' ' That
there is so little rather,' he replied. ' Man is a
sinner, and as such deserves GTod's wrath and
curse. Should we, then, wonder that he afc

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 149

times allows us to feel the power of his anger?
Should we not rather wonder that ever he
permits us to experience his mercy and
favor?' 'God knows, sir,' said I, 'that fee*
ble flesh cannot stand constant suffering.*
* Yes,' answered the missionary firmly, * God
knows it, and blessed be his name ! He has
provided against it. He has sent his own son
to suffer in our stead ; and any mental or bod-
ily affliction wi^ which he is pleased to visit
us here, is neither to atone for our offences nor
to punish our guilt, but to correct our faults
and to* fit us for heaven.' 'I know at least/
said I, ' that my faults have occasioned my
troubles; for if I had not foolishly run off
from the best home ever a boy had to leave,
I might have escaped much fatigue of body
and more of pain to my feelings than I can
express. And if sincere repentance for the
step I have taken be any evidence that my
troubles have corrected my faults, I have
every reason to hope well of myself; for rather
than live another month as I have lived, and
do the duty I have done, I shall submit to the
meanest employment and the hardest fare on
land.' ' It would appear, my dear fellow,' said
my companion, ' that your troubles have in-
deed shown you the evil consequences of sin
in this world ; but before you can become the
object of saving repentance, they must show
you more — they must teach you not only that
your faalts have made your earthly condition
Dad, but also that they have hazarded the

13*

150 THE CABIN" boy's LOCKER.

happiness of your precious soul for eternity ;
not onlj- th-at you have offended and grieved
your earthly parent, but also that you have
dishonered your Father, in heaven, and vexed
his spirit. If you feel in this way, the result
will be the same with regard to your spiritual
state as it is now with your earthly condition.
As you have resolved, come what will, to leave
off a sailor's life, and to return to your friends ;
so, in God's strength, .you will determine to
quit forever your sins, which have separated
you from your Maker, and return to your
duty and to God.'

" The limits of a letter, my dear father, will
not suffer me to tell you more of what passed
between us, but I may add, that I became
every day more and more attached to my
spiritual instructor, though it was some time
before I could say that the load was taken
from my heart and the vail from my mind.
I hope, however, that I have now obtained
that peace which passeth understanding, and
become in some measure acquainted with the
joy of which the world knows nothing, but
which constitutes in some measure the felicity
of heaven. Such are my present views and
feelings, which I pray God to deepen in my
mind. Pray for your rebellious son, who
would, in deep contrition for the past, sub-
ascribe himself,

" His ft- ther's in the bonds of the Gospel.

"E. B."

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 15>

" Let me praise the Lord for his goodness and
for his wonderful works to the children of
men I" exclaimed farmer Beechhill, on the first
reading of ^is letter. "Poor Edward!" he
added, " he has indeed been on his way
to his Father's house, and he has now I
trust reached it, for God never leaves his own
work imperfect. O Robin, Robin 1" he con-
tinued, " what a miracle is the salvation of a
sinner ! and how useless are the best means,
till once the spirit of God begins to work in
the heart ! I think I have erred there, Robin,
i have trusted too much to human power
and too little to infinite mercy; and I hav<
been shown my error. Certainly the medicmt
has tasted bitter, but I hope the effect will be
good. I shall try to be more humble for the
future, more dependent on divine grace, and
more afraid of offending Him whose eyes are
as a flame of fire to discern the slightest blem-
ish in his creatures."

** THEY THAT SEEK ME EARLY SHALL FIND ME."

Come, while the blossoms of thy years are brightest.

Thou youthful wanderer in a flow'ry maze ; *•
(/(•me, while thy restless heart is bounding lightest,

And joy's pure sunbeams tremble in tliy ways ;
Come, while sweet thoughts, like summer buds unfolding

Waken rich feelings in thy careless breast —
While yet thy hand the ephemeral wreath is holding,

Come, and secure inestimable rest 1

Come, while the morning of thy life ia glowing,
Ere the dim phantoms thou art chasing die ;

152 THE CABIN BOr'S LOCKER.

Ere the gay spell which earth is round *:hee thrc^nng
Fades, like the ciimson from a Bunset sky.

Life is but shadows, save a promise given,
Which lights up sorrow with a fadeless ray ;

Oh, touch the sceptre ! with a hope in heaven.
Come, turn thy spirit from the world away 1

" SO NEAR HOME ONLY TO DIE."

There is no influence more powerful than
home influence. It may be said that the
above is a stale truism, so often uttered and
Avritten about, that it is not capable of being
treated of in any -other than a worn-out garb.
I admit that the subject is an old one, but I
deny that it is driven for its expression to
hypocritical cant. It never can be, so long as
thousands leave their homes every year to try
their fortune at sea ; for the life of each sailor
is an instance of the success or the fidlure of
these influences, and the narration of the ex-
perience of each sailor would be but a differ-
ent manner of presenting the same subject.
Neither can the subject ever lose its interest,
as long as our shores witness each year so
many parting scenes, and so long as God
hears, as he does even now, the prayer of
mothers in behalf of wandering sons.

Among the young at sea, home influences
have great power. Home has not with them,
as with the old sailors, become a matter of
ancient history. The recollections of home
are still fresh in their minds, and affectionate

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 163

words of parting still ring in their ears
Their night watches are spent in thinking
and conversing of home, and such thoughts
and conversations strengthen them more than
anything else, to resist temptation ; and not
only are they thus negatively beneficial in not
allowing them to go astray, but they operate
powerfully on the mind, to provoke to good
works, and to repentance.

I remember having once seen an instance
of the powerful working of these thoughts of
home, the results of which warrant any asser-
tion that I have made.

We were on the homeward bound passage
from China, after an absense of about sixteen
months. We had crossed the line for the last
time, and with the wind abeam, we were
heading for New York, and walking up the
Gulf Stream in fine style. The weather was
very pleasant, and all hands were at work
painting the ship, and getting her into good
port trim. The wind was so fresh that no
painting could be done over the side, so all
hands were at work on deck, and even they
were sometimes annoyed by a slight sea, or
rather spray, whic-h would now and then come
over the rail. Some were forward painting
the windlass, some painting water casks amid-
ships, some touching the fancy work about
the cabin doors, some painting the long boat,
and some were scraping and varnishing booms
and spars. On the top of the long-boat, brush
in hand, was stationed a jovial, frolicsome

154 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

youngster of 17, known on board by the acquir*
ed name of Jack Higgins. He was giving the
top of the boat a coat of yellow, but he waa
more intent on watching the mate, who was
on the weather side, mixing some nice paint,
and who would now and then get a slight
ducking from the spray, than he was about
his work. The spray grew more and more
troublesome, and Higgins more and more full
of fun, till at length, seeing a wave coming a
little longer than the rest, and supposing that
the mate would now get a real thorough duck-
ing, he stood up to see the sport. I was on
the lee side, scraping a spar, and as Jack stood
up, he winked at me, and pointing to the
mate, was filled with delight, as he anticipated
for him the wetting. As he expected, the sea
did come over, and the mate got wet, but Jack
did not long enjoy the sport. As the sea
struck, the ship rolled to leeward. Jack lost
his balance, and stepping into the paint,
slipped and fell from the top of the boat, strik-
ing on his back with such force across the
spar which I was scraping, that he swooned
at m}?- feet. I picked him up, and carried him
aft to the gratings, in front of the cabin doors,
where I laid him down, and ran to the scuttle-
but for some fresh water. After a short time
of painful suspense, he partially revived, and
the mate took hold of him with me, to carry
him down into the steerage. As we were
bearing him down, he groaned in great pain
at every step, and in a voice which told of

THE CABIN boy's LOCKEK. 155

anguish of spirit, as well as of body, he mur-
mured, " It's hard to get so near home, and
then die — so near home, and not see it. Oh I
it w hard." The agony of the thought was
too much for him, and he swooned again in
our arms. We had laid him ia his berth, and
by applying the usual means, we again restored
him to consciousness.

Day after day he lay in his berth, and suf-
fered pain most excruciating, which was not a
little augmented by the motion of the ship.
His back was not broken, but it was so severe-
ly injured that for some time we hardly dared
to hope for his recovery. Day after day, and
night after night, did we stand by his side,
ready to minister to his wants. Every atten-
tion was shown him, and every luxury which
the ship afforded was at his call. At length
he began slowly to recover, and by the time
that we saw land, he was just able to crawl on
deck, to behold those shores which at one
time he had supposed were forever shut out
from him.

During his sickness, his thoughts and con-
versation were almost wholly about home.
His Bible, a present from his mother, which
had been opened but once before during the
voyage, now became his constant companion ;
and as he turned over its leaves, and read the
passages marked by a mother's hand, his heart
was melted, and his soul subdued. His moth-
er's teachings and instructions came back with
great power to his mind, and he now alone

156 THE CABIN boy's LOCKEB.

and unassisted sought the way of life, towards
which his mother had so often beckon^.d him,
and which he was now enabled to find by the
light which long ago she had thrown upon
his path. He left home wild, thoughtless, and
wayward, but he returned with a penitent and
contrite heart, and his parents rejoiced in that
their son " was dead, and is alive again ; ho
was lost, and is found." G. P. B.

A MOTHER'S BLESSING ON HER SAILOR SON

Son of my love, farewell ! farewell I

On the wide, watery plain
I yield thee to a life of toil,

And Him who ruks the main.

And by those pure and speechless joys,

When cradled on my breast,
I met thy waking infant smile.

Or lulled thy woes to rest ;

By that deep thrill, when first thy lips
Its lisping utterance tried,
' Or when the evening prayer it breathed
Thy little head beside ;

By that strong hope that never dies

Within a mother's heart,
I bless thee, wandecer of the deep,

While tears of anguish start.

What though no gems, or hoarded gold,

To swell the stores I bring,
A parent's blessing maketh strong,

Like guardian angel's wing.

Yes, thou shalt feel when o'er the ware
. ThY bark by storms is driven,

' THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 167

A parent's blessing maketh glad,
Next 10 the hope of Heaveu.

Seek tliou that hope, to gird thy soul

Amid the tossing b: ine ;
Thy mother's prayer shall meet thee there.

And iutercede with thine.

Oh ! seek a Saviour's pardoning gi*ace,

That so, on land or sea.
In weal or woe, in life or death,

It may be well with thee. L. H. {1

THE POWER OF PRAYER.

Not very long ago, there lived a poor but
pious woman. Her name I cannot tell you,
but she was a widow. She had one son. He
was a wicked boy, often causing his mother's
heart to ache. At last he went off to sea.
He cared not for his poor mother, but was
anxious to be out of her sight — to be far
removed from the sound of her earnest and
affectionate advice and entreaties. Deeply
and bitterly did she mourn over her wild and
wayward child ; but she did not abandon her
self to sorrow. She remembered she had a
Father in heaven, and to him she unburdened
the grief of her heart.

From the time of her son's departure, she
resolved to set apart one hour every week to
make him an object of special prayer. She
besought God to watch over him. and keep
him from falling into sin, and to convert his
Boul. No other engagement was permitted to

14

158 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

set aside this duty ; and regularly, at the ajv
pointed hour, she withdrew from the toils and
cares of the world, to plead with God for her
absent boy. Days, weeks, months, years,
rolled on, in rapid succession, and no tidings
of the young sailor were received — no letter,
no kind message reached the heart-strickened
mother. She was inclined to think that he
must be dead, yet could not bring herself to
discontinue her weekly practice of praying to
God on his behalf One evening she went
into her room, intending as usual to pray for
his conversion ; but not a word could she
utter — she could only sigh and weep. Were
those sighs and tears in vain ? We shall see.
A long time after this, one warm, bright
summer's evening,, when the beams of the
setting sun cast on everj^thing a golden tinge,
and all nature was peaceful and lovely, the
poor widow was seen sitting in her cottage
porch. Her countenance had a sweet but
melancholy expression, and often did the
unbidden tear tremble in her eye. She
thought of her son, her long lost boy. As
she sat there, a tall and weather-beaten sailor
approached the little wicket-gate, and looking
very wistfully at her, said, " Is Mrs. M. at
home?" " Yes sir," she replied, not knowing
to whom she spoke, *' I am Mrs. M. Pray,
what is your business ?" ' O mother !" he
exclaimed, " don't yon know me ? I am your
son." What a joyous meeting they had, and
how much they had to say of many things

THE CABIN BOYS LOCKER. '

that had transpired during this long period of
separation !

For some time after the young sailor left
his native land, he had lived a sinful life, and
endeavored to forget all the good things he
had heard. One Sabbath day, as he was wan-
dering through the streets of Calcutta, his
attention was arrested by the sound of voices
singing a tune that was familiar to his ear.
It was one to which he had sung hymns,
when sitting at his mother's side. He went
into a building (which was a chapel) whence
the sound proceeded, and when the singing
was over, he thought he would stay a little,
to hear what the minister had to say. His
attention was riveted, and his heart was
touched, by what he heard from the good
missionary. He lifted up his heart in prayer
to God, exclaiming, " God be merciful to me
a sinner !" That prayer was heard. He had
bid adieu to his sinful pursuits and his worldly
companions, and had returned to fill the heart
of his mother with joy, and to receive hei
blessing.

My children, have you a mother who prays
for you ? Bless God for this ; but remember,
your mother's prayers will not save you. Like
the sailor at Calcutta, you must cry for God's
mercy for yourselves.

Learn from this story, too, what a good
thing it is to send missionaries to foreign
countries. Not only will they be useful
among the heathen — sailors, and soldiers, and

160 • THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

merchants from tliis country may go and
receive instruction froui their lips. Tiiey may
save many an English or American sailor-boy
They may be blessed by God to fulfil many
an anxious mother's prayer. — London Miss,
Mepository.

THE SAILOR AND HIS PRAYING MOTHER.

"What thoughts crowd around the heart at
the mention of those words. Years may pass
away ; mountains, rivei\s, and oceans may
intervene between us and the spot where first
we heard a mother's prayers, yet they cannot
be lost to memory. Sickness, sorrow, and
neglect may be suffered, and even the heart
may seemingly become callous to all good
impressions, yet at the sound of a mother's —
a praying mother's — name, a chord is touched,
which thrills through the soul, and rarely
fails to awaken better feelings. Does danger
threaten ? We hope, and perhaps fondly
anticipate, that a mother's prayers, which have
been otiered in our behalf, may be answered.

Never did I see this more forcibly illus-
trated than in a case of a weather-beaten
Bailor, who resided in one of our coMSt towns.
I had the narrative from the lips of the mother.
In making ,his homeward passage, as he
" doubled the stormy Cape," a dreadful storm
arose. The mother heard of his arrival "out-
side the Cape," and' was awaiting with tha

THE CABIN boy's LOCKEB. 161

anxiety a mother alone can know, to see her
son. But now the storm had arisen, and a3
'she expected, when the ship was in the most
dangerous place. Fearing that each blast, as
it swept the raging deep, might howl the
requiem of her son, with faith strong in God,
she commenced praying for his safety. At
this moment, news came that the vessel was
lost I The father, an unconverted man, had
till this time preserved a sullen silence, but
now he wept aloud. The mother observed,
" It is in the hands of Him that does all things
well;" and again, in a subdued and softened
spirit, bowed, and commended her son, and
her partner, in an audible voice, broken only
by the burstings of a full heart, to God.

Darkness had now spread her mantle
abroad, and they retired, but not to rest, and
anxiously waited for the morning, hoping at
least that some relic of their lost one might be
found. The morning came. The winds were
'hushed, and the ocean lay comparatively
calm, as though its fury had subsided, since
its victim was no more. At this moment, the
little gate in front of their dwelling turned on
its hinges. The door opened, and their son,
their lost son, stood before them I The vessel
had been driven into one of the many harbors
on the coast, and he was safe. The fathei
rushed to meet him. His mother, already
hanging on his neck, earnestly exclaimed,
" My child, how came you here ?" " Mother,"
said he, while the tears coursed down hia

14»

162 THE CABIN BOY*S LOCKER.

sun-burnt cheeks, "I knew you'd pray me
home !"

What a spectacle ! A wild, reckless youth
acknowledged the efficacy of prayer. It seems
that he was aware of his perilous situation,
and that he labored with this thought : " My
mother prays ; Christian prayers are answered,
and I may be saved."

This reflection, when almost exhausted with
fatigue, and ready to give up in despair, gave
him fresh courage, and with renewed effort he
labored, till the harbor was gained.

Christian mother, go thou and do likewise.
Pray over that son who is likely to be wrecked
on the stream of life, and his prospects blasted
forever. He may be saved.

A MOTHER'S INFLUENCE.

The interesting incident which we subjoin,
is from the Rev. Sydney Dyer's Address on a"
Mother's Influence. It will be read with
interest. — Sailors' Magazine.

" While engao^ed in distributing tracts
among the shipping in the harbor of N"ew
York, I visited a ship recently from Greenock,
Scotland, in the forecastle of which I met a
very aged Scotch sailor, who manifested a dis-
position to repel every advance, declining my
tracts, and replying angrily to my questions.
Feeling that one so near his end stood much
in need of having his attention turned to tho

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 163

subject of religion, I felt unwilling to leave
him, without having tried every avenue to
his feelings. Knowing how proverbial Scotch
mothers are for their attention to the early
iustruction of their children, I asked him if
he had not once a mother, who taught him to
say his prayers, and read the Bible? The
question seemed for a few moments perfectly
to stun him. He stopped short, remained
perfectly motionless, except the deep heaving
of his bosom, and the convulsive quiver of
bis lips ; and then throwing up his hands,
exclaimed, amid a shower of tears, ' My moth-
er ! my sainted mother !' As soon as he could
sufficiently compose himself, he made me sit
down by his locker, and then with a trembling
voice, and deep emotion, related to me how in
his infancy his mother used daily to teach him
the Creed, the Catechism, and the Lord's
Prayer, and then would kneel down and pray
with him, often wetting his little cheeks with
her tears. But her death, when he was quite
young, left him alone in the world, and since
that time he had followed the sea, and a life
of sin. He had raised a family, but God had
taken them, and he was now alone in the
world. 'But,' said he, * the bitterest hour I
ever saw was the one in which my mother
died ; and though I have lived four score
years in sin, I still have fiaith to believe that
my mother's prayers will be heard and an-
swered in my behalf.' Whether this was
ever the case, I know not, as I saw him no

164 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

more ; but the iucident most forcibly illu»
trates the enduring nature of a mother's influ-
ence, and its certain rewards."

THE DEAD OF THE SEA.

Extract from a sermon preached in the
Roosevelt street Mariners' Church, New York,
April 19th, 1846, by the Rev. James W. Alex-
ander, D.D.

*' Rev. XX. 13. And the sea gave xtp the dead
which were in it.

" IV. Consider the NEGLECT ivith xoliich ilie
dead that are in the sea have been allowed to go
down into its depths.

" Neglect^ of individuals or classes, is to be
measured with some reference to their import-
ance and value. Were the seamen who are
daily perishing in the waters an idle, nnproiit-
able, burdensome generation," we might per-
haps let them drop away with less blame.
But they sustain the trade of the world.
Whatsoever is meant by that word, commerce^
mvolves the toils and dangers of thousands of
mariners. To neglect them, is to cast from us
the very instrument by which the gains of
merchandise are acquired. The useful prod-
ucts, and the almost necessary luxuries which
are exchanged between continents and islands,
are borne on their arms. The sails that fan
all climates are guided by their sinews. There
is not a delicacy or an ornament of commerce

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 165

— there is not a wonder of art — there is not a
transmarine medicine — there is not a trans-
portation of Christian mercy — not a visit of
holy friendship and affection, which is not in
some sort entrusted to the hardy seamen,
whom we neglect. And when he dies^ far
from sight of land, he dies in the hard service
of a civilization and' refinement which use
him, and abandon him. The soldia^s of the
earth are many, but we can do without them.
The day, we trust, is hastening on, which shall
render obsolete their trade of blood. But the
sailor we cannot do v/ithoait. The more peace,
the more commerce. The progress of every
science and art tends to bring a greater throng
into the highway of nations. And the Gospel
itself, as it begins to expand itself more largely
over the earth, will claim for itself a Christian-
ized seamanship, to dispense the Word and
the ministry of God among all nations. Mari-
ners are then indispensable ; yet these are
they whom we have neglected. The sin lies
at the door of Christendom. The son who
leaves the maternal threshold to traverse the
earth, is one who should be furnished with
means of life. But the church has seen her
children going abroad over all waters, and
yet has done but little — even that little but
lately — for the spiritual good of the seaman.
How long was it before Christian watchmen
even missed the sailor from church assemblies?
How long before means were used to furnish
his sea-chest with the Bible ? How long

166 THE CABIN" boy's LOCKER.

before a Bethel flag was hoisted, or a Bethel
chapel built ? While we bless God for what
has been done, and for the encoaragement we
have to proceed, we cannot bat bewail the
absolute destitution of the vast body of mari-
ners. Immense'' portions of the Christian
world take no cognizange of them as immortal
beings. Congregations send up prayers, for
years, without remembering those whose busi-
ness is in the great waters.' And the conse-
quence is, that although no field of effort has
yielded more fruit in proportion to labor
bestowed, yet so vast is the amount to be
compassed, that the great mass is not reached.
Neglected mortals continue to plunge unpre-
pared into eternity.

" It would be a consolation to the pallid,
shivering seaman, as he spends his few last
moments on the parting timbers, before the
final plunge, to remember some word of prom-
ise— some hour of communion — some message
from- Christ's ministers — some precious sacra-
ment. Alas ! what multitudes have none such
to remember ! They have gone for years to
and from Christian ports, but they have found
DO Christian privilege there, for none has taken
them by the hand, or led them to the house
of prayer.

" V. Consider our MEETING IN JUDGMENT
with the dead who are in the sea.

" That hour is coming, and we should draw
from it motives for our daily conduct. There
are things which may or may 7iot befall us in

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 167

the future ; but we must all stand before the
judgment-seat of Christ. What a day of
revelation will that be of all our neglects and
transgressions I and how little in the retrospect
will many of these things seem, which now
occup}'^ all our thoughts and passiorts ! There
is one coming, who will say to some, ' Inas-
much as ye did it not unto one of the least of
these my brethren, ye did it not to me.' The
hour hastens. Behold, he cometh, and every
eye shall see him ! Hear the beloved disci-
ple : ' And I saw a great white throne, and
him that sat on it' (the shadowy vagueness of
the representation only makes the approaching
cloudy tribunal more fearfully sublime) — * and
Him that sat on it! (no na'nie is needed, for
there is one object now for every eye, and one
sound reverberates in every ear, and through
every cavern of the earth and sea), ' from whose
face the earth and the heaven fled away ; and
there was found no place for them.' This
judgment-bar is awful, is real, is approaching,
is for us. You and I shall be attracted by
irresistible fascination to that burning centre,
and form part of that countless assemblage.
Sinner ! sinner I prepare to meet thy God !
* And I saw the dead, small and great, stand
before God' — before God ! before Him, from
whose presence heaven and earth just now
fled. The dead in all their races are there, of
all tribes and nations, of every age, a ghastly
multitude, whom no man can number. All
graves and sepulchres release their. prisoners,

168 THE CABIN" BOY'S LOOKER.

of all time and ranks, from Abel downwards^
to stand before God. ' And the books were
opened ; and another book was opened, which
is the book of life ; and the dead were judged
out of those things which were written in the
books, according to their works ; and the sea
gave up the dead which were in itj

" Now is the time of revelation from the
mighty waters. Here are the deposits of soli-
tary disasters, of thousands of shipwrecks, of
vast fleets, and this through centuries of years.
The faithful sea shall give them up, at the
voice of the archangel, and the trump of Grod.
The voice that awoke Lazarus and the youth
of Nain, and which unseals all sepulchres,
shall find obedience in the seas. No matter
what the variety of life or death, there shall
be one rising again, to look upon the face of
God. How gladly would some call on rocks
and mountains to cover them, or seek a deeper
plunge into the concealment of the ocean !

" Is it possible for me to urge on you a
more solemn motive than the anticipated awe
of that day, and that appearance, when before
the august throne the sea shall give up its
dead 1 How will it aggravate the solemnities
of that bar, to behold multitudes who have
perished for lack of knowledge, and after hav-
ing been born in Christian lands, have died
and gone to judgment, without hope in God 1
And how will it sweeten the joy of Christ's
people, to welcome from among the treasures
of the deep, those who by our means have

THE CABIN" boy's LOCKER. 169

beheld the Bethel — welcome, and by our
means have fled for refuge t(> the hope set
before them in the gosp^*^ *

" Other motives respect temporal things,
but here is one which draws all its cogent influ-
ence from the coming eternity ; and these are
the motives which bear the test of reason and
the Bible. The true touchstone of every feel-
ing, word, and act — of every labor, expendi-
ture, enterprise, and even pleasure — is the
question, ' How wilt it bear the light of that
great white throne ?' How will it stand in that
presence which heaven and earth cannot en-
dure ? How will it confront the eyes which
are like a flame of fire ? How will it abide
the judgment? There are ten thousand great
things which shall vanish in that ordeal, as
stubble before the conflagration — name, riches,
honors, learning, professions. And there are
little things which shall abide the day of his
coming ; such as a cup of cold water — a visit
of mercy — a look of helpful affection — a weep-
ing with them that weep. Think you, in that
second advent, Christ will disregard the hum-
blest contribution to the salvation of poor mar-
iners? Think you, when the sea shall give
up the dead which are in it, and among them
some whose souls have been saved by your
instrumentahty, that He who sitteth upon the
throne will look on with indifference ! Nay,
my brethren, his loving eye will be a recom-
pense for a lifetime of labor.

*' And you, my respected friends, who live

15

170 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

■upon the ocean — for it is your cause I plead—
you also shall be with us. It may be that
your bodies shall be among the relics of the
great waters. Though you may expire among
the stormy waves, yet if Chri-st is yours, and
if in that day you should meet with any who
have aided you on yowT heavenward progress,
methinks the joy will be reciprocal, and the
union of praises great, to Him who hath loved
us, . and made us kings and priests. And
though your earthly career may have been
stormy, and though you may have come
through great tribulation, all sorrow will be
forgotten, when you have washed your robes,
and made them clean in the blood of the
Lamb.

*' Fix then in 3^our minds the certainty of
this revealed, this momentous event — that the
sea shall give up its dead — that it shall give
them up in vast numbers — that it shall give
up those whose death' has been such as to need
all the consolations of religion ; yet many who
from neglect have not enjoyed them. Look
forward to this grand reality, and suffer it to
sink into your hearts as a motive.

" Let this great commercial city know, that
inasmuch as her wealth is from the abundance
of the seas, she shall have a judgment to meet,
when the sea shall give up its dead. In our
pride we may grow like ancient Tyre — the
parallel is striking: '0 thou that art situate
at the entry of the sea, which art a merchant
of the people for many isles, thus saith the

THE CABIN boy's LOCKEB. 171

Lord God, 0 Tjrus, thou hast said I am of
perfect beauty.' Let ther men of our Western
Tyres know, that the day is coming when it
will be less matter of congratulation to know
that her ' wares went forth out of the sea' — her
' merchants' being ' princes' — than that some
of her gains by the sea had been bestowed on
the cause of Christ among seamen. The wave^
shall restore to adventurous merchandize none
of its wares, or the gains of successful traffic
— none of ' the fine lin-en with embroidered
work, from Egypt,' nor the ' blue and purple,
from the isles of Elisha,' nor the * emeralds,
purple, coral, and agate,' nor any of all the
items in that rich prophetic inventory ; but
they shall restore the dead, and with them,
accompanied with gracious and glorious remu-
neration, all the good thoughts, words, and
deeds bestowed oil those dead. The ransomed
sailor shall rise to bless you. His widow and
his children shall bless you. Your most hid-
den prayer, your most despised mite, your
left-handed alms, shall be poured back as
from God's horn of plenty, into your bosom,
as with a full measure, shaken together, and
running over. For with what measure ye
mete, it shall be measured to you again. And
thy Father, and the Father of the desolate
mariner, who seeth in secret, himself shall
reward thee openly.

" For the same solemnities in which the sea
shall give up the dead which are in it, will
witness the gracious proclamation, ' Come, ye

172 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom
prepared for you fropi the foundation of the
world !' "

DAY OF JUDGMENT

Srnners, take the friendly warning —
Soon that awfurl day shall break,

And the trumpet, with its dawning,
All the slumb'riua: millions wake.

See assembled every nation !

Lofty cities, temples, tow'rs,
Wrapt in dreadful conflagration,

Eai'ih and sea the flame devours.

Ye, who to the world dissemble,
While you practice dt^eds of night,

Sinners-, now behold and tremble ;
All your crimes are brought to light

Lost in ease, or carnal pleasure.
Sporting on the burning brink.

Now, you say. you have no leisure —
You can hud no time to think.

Ye — who now conviction stifling.

Waste your time — the loss deplore ;

Hear the angel — cease your trifling — •

" Time," he cries, " shall be no more.**

Pause, and hear the voice of reason-
Catch the moments as they fly —

You who lose the present season,
You mvjtt all find time to die.

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 173

THE SAILOR FINDING PEACE.

A TRUE NAKEATIVE.

The subject of the following narrative was
brought up to the sea, and from a boy had
been familiar with the toils and dangers of
the deep. He early entered the whaling busi-
ness, in which he continued to be employed,
and his enterprise and intelUgence rapidly
promoted hira, and soon he became the master
of a whaleman.

For some years, Captain L. commanded a
ship out of Boston, and it was while sailing
out of that port, that the incidents occurred
which are related in this paper.

Two of his voyages had been attended with
circumstances of much trial and perplexity.
During the long absence from home, his crews
became disaffected and troublesome, and the
ship, at various times, suffered much from
severe weather.

These trying circumstances, in connection
with some others, equally adverse, had brought
the weather-beaten sailor to reflect on the van-
ity of earthly hopes and prospects, and the
necessity of possessing something better for
present satisfaction, and as a foundation for
the future. In this state of mind, Captain L.
was* led to reflect on the importance of relig-
ion, and to ask himself if it was not the bless-
ing of this religion which he wanted. The

1

174 THE CABIN BOY\S LOCKER.

principles of Christianity had been taught him
in his infancy and youth — that Christianity
which the JBible revealed as the blessing of
God to sinful man. His mind recurred to the
recollections of God's truth, as received iu
early life, and dwelt upon it. These impress-
ions followed him during the remainder of
the voyage, and he returned home with a deep
conviction of the importance of Christianity
to personal happiness, and with serious desires
to understand it better, and make it his own.

While at home, in his native country parish,
among his friends, he attended the village
church, and the means of grace, with more
interest than he had ever before -felt. He
now listened with lively concern to the man
of God, as he pointed out the way of life and
salvation. As he listened from Sabbath to
Sabbath, to an exposition of the principles
and duties of the Gospel, he felt an increasing
conviction of the importance of personal relig-
ion. Instead of devoting his leisure time on
shore to foolish pleasure and dissipation, as
had formerly been the case, he was now seri-
ous, set apart and observed hours for private
devotion, and read books of a sober and relig-
ious cast. But while all this passed within,
he carefully concealed from his most intimate
friends the state of his mind. He was con-
victed, but unhumbled, and too proud to suffer
any one to suspect him of religious anxiety.

In this state of mental perturbation, without
having experienced the slightest relief to his

THE CABIN BOY'S LOCKER. 175

anxiety, and in great darkness, the time came
for him again to leave home. He left the
port of Boston in the summer of 1842, for
another long and uncertain voyage ; yet all
the perils, toils, and responsibilities of the voy-
age before him were of far less concern than
the trouble within him. Danger he could
face — hardship he could endure; but '^ a
wounded spirit who can bear." He was an
experienced mariner : he knew his course in
every sea, was at home in every latitude, and
could adapt himself to " all weathers ;" but
his mind was in a deep and gloomy fog, no
way opened up before him, and his vain strug-
gles seemed but to increase the painful intri-
cacy of his condition.

With little worth relating. Captain L.
made his outward passage, doubled Cape
Horn, and pursued his avocation in the Pa-
cific, between the Western coast of America
and the Sandwich Islands. Months rolled
away, but the feelings of the awakened sailor
experienced no favorable change. He read
his Bible with urTabated interest, and main-
tained habitually privatedevotion in his state-
room. He thought much — he turned the sub-
ject of religion again and again in his mind.
He revolved the statements, and compa«red the
views of Christian authors, but all, as it then
seemed to him, to no purpose. In despair of
help from others, he resolved to strike out a
course for himself. Accordingly, laying aside
his religious books, and leaving the views of

176 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

others, he set about digesting a peculiar plan
for a peculiar case. He would arrange the
principles of a religious system adapted to
himself. This was the subject of his medita-
tions— at length he conceived his plan. He
had elaborated a religious chart, by which he
was resolved to shape his spiritual course. To
his excited imagination, it promised to afford
divine acceptance, and conduct the bewildered
navigator to the port of peace. He felt he
had discovered the way of life, and soon would
reach the long-sought rest.

Captain L. had not yet learned that scriptu-
ral truth, " the heart is deceitful above all
things, and desperately wicked." But this he
was soon to learn. Unhappy man ! His con-
fidence was in himself, and in his own efforts.
He had settled his plan, but alas ! it did not
work. The relief he sought and expected did
not come. All again was afloat, and peace
seemed each succeeding day to remove farther
from him. His mind grew 'darker, and his
feelings became deeply despt)ndent. The trou-
bled waters around him had as much rest as
he. He felt, indeed, that the ceaseless toss-
ings of the ocean was an image of his own
restless and unhappy state.

In this state of mental distress, adversity
from without assailed him. The ship was
visited by a succession of severe gales. The
business of the voyage was for a length of
time interrupted by stormy weather, and in-
cessant care and attention were demanded to

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 177

preserve the ship. With every care and atten
tion, the danger was imminent: the bowsprit
had sprung, the foremast was in danger of
going by the board, and indeed the ship of
becoming a wreck.

During this period of universal anxiety on
board, the Captain experienced an increase of
his spiritual and mental troubles. His reli-
gious principles afforded him no comfort, and
his devotions, in which he still persevered,
gave him no relief In prayer to God, and in
reading the Scriptures, he sought to obtain
ease, but none did thev afford him. He be-
came at length desperate — his proud heart
rose against God in rebellion. He said, " who
is the Almighty, that I should thus be made
to suffer by him." His heart, ih spite of his
efforts to restrain the feeling, became daring
and impious. He defied the Almighty. He
looked out upon the ocean, boiling and heav-
ing before the terrible storm, and felt and
said, " I care not for his anger — let God do
his worst."

In this sad state of deepest inward trouble,
sometimes praying, and at others imprecating,
he remained for many days. At length his
better feelings obtained the victory, and then
a degree of calmness ensued ; but the sinner
was yet unhumbled, and as yet there was no
settled peace, and his rest v/as more like the
lullings of the fitful gale, than established re-
pose.

At this time the ship was on her course foi

178 THE CABIN BOr'S LOCKER.

the Sandwich Islands, to refit, and without
further accident, reached the Hawain group,
and entered !^arakakova bay, in October,
1844. It was truly a gracious providence,
which, at this important juncture, guided the
deeply-troubled sailor to the place of Christian
instruction and prayer. The American mis-
sionaries at this station, with kindness and
sympath}^, received Captain L. He was wel-
comed to their houses, and invited to be pres-
ent at their domestic religious services. They
conversed with him as men sincerely inter-
ested for his welfare. They looked upon him
as a brother, in a condition needing sympathy
an^ instruction, which they were able and
willing to impart. This kindness opened his
heart, and he freely made known to them all
the troubles and peculiarities of his spiritual
condition. They made him a subject of pray-
er, and gave him such directions as his case
seemed to require. The awakened sailor was
greatly edified and assisted by what he heard
and saw. After a season of pleasant and
profitable intercourse with these men of God,
and his ship being now refitted, he took leave
of his kind missionary friends, to cruise for a
time around the islands, until the propel
season for whaling, on the northwest coast of
America. The time had come to leave the
islands, but before doing so, and to complete
the coopering of his oil, Captain Ij. proposejd
to spend a few days under the lee of Hawaii,
out of the violence of the trade winds. While

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 179

thus engaged, what is very unusual in that
latitude, a stron^g wind sprung up in the oppo-
eite quarter, blovving quite a gale, exposing
the ship to great inconvenience, and even
danger. It was therefore found necessary to
change his ground, and run to the opposite
side of the island, for a sheltering lee. This
was accordingly done, and in a few daj^s the
ship was coasting the eastern shore of
Hawaii, and along Hilo, on Byron's Bay,
where for several years a mission station had
been maintained, under the ministry of Rev.
Titus Coan, and others. Into this bay the
ship was permitted to enter, without any pur-
pose, however, here to stop.

The prophet tells us, " it is not in man that
walketh to direct his steps — the way of man
is not in himself." This is a truth which the
events of this narrative have more than once
.illustrated. A merciful God had gracious
intentions towards the anxious sailor, and by
a hand unseen, and an all-controlling provi-
dence, was guiding him for good, and hasten-
ing the day of his deliverance. Though in-
structed and enlightened by his recent inter-
course with the missionaries at Karakakova,
his mind was still unsettled and unhappy.
But the time was at hand which should end
the long period of darkness and anxiety. In
an important sense, the voyage of his life was
approaching a crisis.

The ship, as we have seen, had entered
Byron's Bay, and under easy sail, was running

180 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

along its shore, and yet without any intention
on the part of her master to make a stop. A
pilot, however, came on l^ard, and now it
occurred to the Captain, tliat in this quiet
place, where his crew would be in little danger
from ardent spirits, he might finish his recruit-
ing, before a final departure from the islands.
The ship therefore was continued up the bay,
and came to anchor. It was now that Capt.
L. learned for the first time, that here was a
Christian mission. This intelligence, however,
gave him little interest. Indeed, for some
time, his mind had relapsed into gloom and
despondency. He felt little disposition to see
any one, and especially shunned the presence
of strangers. With such feelings, declining
to land himself, he dispatched his officers
on shore for refreshments and water. For
three days he remained on board, seeking no
communication with those on shore. This
reluctance to land was however finally over- .
come, by a kind and pressing note from Mr.
Coan, requesting a visit from the master of
the ship. Mr. Coan was the more anxious for
this visit, as he had just before learned through •
a brother, from the station where the ship first
touched, of Captain L., and his interesting state
of mind.

The faithful servant of God, whose kind-
ness, piety, and fidelity can never be forgotten,
received the troubled sailor with every mark
of solicitude and affection. He won his confi-
dence, induced him to disburden hia mind,

THE CABIN" boy's LOCKER. 18 i

and reveal all his anxieties and sorrows. He
took him to his humble dwellinsf, and for
more private and uninterrupted intercourse, led
him into the sanctuary of his study. Then
the man of God spread out before the down-
cast sailor the riches of God's grace in the
Gospel, and the love of Christ for dying sin-
ners, as displayed in the cross. Then with
impressive words he pointed out to him the
gracious invitations of the Gospel, besought
him to embrace them, and laid open before
him the simple and effectual method of justi-
fication by faith. In that humble, solemn
study, before the care-worn missionary, and
Tinder the deep and affectionate words which
fell from his lips, the sailor was subdued and
melted. His pride was broken — his unbelief
began to give way. They knelt, and united
in prayer. The missionary lifted up fervent
supplications for the trembling sinner before
him, who far from his home, his friends, and
his country, had been brought by the spirit
of God to feel himself a lost and undone sin-
ner, and whom God had sent to a little island
in the vast Pacific — to the shores of Hilo, to be
taught the way of salvation " more perfectly."
He prayed that he might be enlightened —
that his heart might be renewed by grace,
and that enriched by the gifts of the spirit,
he might at length return with more precious
freight than all the treasures of the ocean.
Thus the missionary plead before the throno
of grace for the awakened sailor, and then

16

182 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

encouraged him to open his own lips in con»
tinuation of the devotions. He felt compelled
to attempt it, and with broken accents, stam-
mering tongue, and laboring heart, he lifted
up his supplications to God ; and as he prayed,
a holy composure stole over his mind, his dark-
ness, like thick clouds, broke away, his anxious
soul became calm and settled, Christ stood be-
fore him, as the Saviour whom he needed,
willing to receive and pardon him, and whom
he felt he could embrace and serve. In a
word, a change had come over his feelings —
he had passed from death unto life. With
the missionary, he went to the meeting of
prayer, and joyful and blessed were the ser-
vices there to his soul. He loved the brethren,
and was not ashamed to speak of the glorious
and blessed Saviour.

Captain L. was a new man. To him, " old
things had passed away, and all things had
become new." " I had now," said he, '* found
something at last, that was substantial and
good — something that gave me comfort for
the present, and a ground of hope for the
future. In my former life, happiness was
ever distant and future. The present was
generally a season of anxiety and trouble, if
not of pain. The want of something at hand,
compelled me to look forward. My comfort,"
said he, " was principally found in castle-build-
ing— in visions of unreal and unattainable
good. And when I had built my airy castles,
and comforted myself with pleasing anticipa

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 183

tions, stem experience would come and dis«
solve them all, and reduce me to disappoint-
ment and sorrow. Thus I lived, without any
present enjoyment, without hope for a future
state, at war with myself, without reconcilia-
tion to God, harassed with anxieties, and de-
void of all true rest. But now,'' he continued,
" a change within had taken place, and it ex-
tended to all things around me. I found en-
joyment in everything, and peace in every
place. All nature seemed to be in harmony
with my feelings : the stars that shone down
upon my nightly watch, sparkled with a new
and heavenly radiance, and the very waves
that swelled and murmured around the ship,
and broke against her sides, seemed to feel the
spirit and power of that God whose peace was
in my soul."

Such were the feelings of the now converted
sailor. He had " found the pearl of great
price." Christ was formed within his heart —
the hope of glory. In this new and Christian
frame of mind. Captain L. took final leave of
his beloved missionary friends, and followed
by their prayers for his spiritual improvement
and prosperity, he left the islands (precious to
him as his spiritual birth-place), and pursued
the objects of his voyage. Wherever he went,
he carried Christ in his heart, and endeavored
to show forth his spirit to the officers and
crew of his ship. In due season, the long and
eventful voyage was concluded, the ship re-
tained to port, and Captain L. rejoined his

184 THE CABIN boy's LOCELER.

family. Once at home, he sought an early
opportunity to connect himself with the people
of God, by a public profession of his faith in
Christ, and is now a follower " of those who
through faith and patience inherit the prom-

ises."

PRAYERS FOR SEAMEN".

There are thousands and thousands whose
liomes are on the ocean, who come on land, as
landsmen go out to sea, occasionally, and for
short seasons. Sailors dwell on the ocean^
and do business on the mighty deep, and are
with us only transiently, and almost as stran-
gers. For long years this class of men had
been almost forgotten and uncared for. Now,
to many thousand of hearts, everything touch-
ing the sailor possesses a lively interest. In
many of our ports, the Bethel flag trembles
gently to the free breezes of heaven, and the
Sailor's Home awaits the arrival from the ele-
ments of storms and perils. Still, the great
Christian community, as a whole, do not think
enough on the sons of the ocean — do not with
sufficient frequency and ardor bear them
before God in their daily devotions at the
mercy -seat.

Seated quietly around our hearths of safety,
with the friends we love, we are prone to
forget the storms at sea, the frequent tbamings
and dashings of the enraged elements, and the
perils of our brethren on the waters. Hearta

THE CABIN boy's LOCKER. 185

there are — for tbey have loved ones at sea^
who say, it is a bitter, cold, dark, angry,
gloomy night, and whose sighs and prayers
go up to Grod, for the mariners ; but there are
many who do not think of and pray for hira
as they ought. Reader, remember at the
mercy -seat your brethren scattered over the
vast plain of the ocean waters.

" When the black sky is scowling,
The furious storm is howling,

And lurid lightnings play ;
When the strained masts are bending,
Fierce winds and sails are rending,

Fray for the sailor i — pray.

HOME.

A STORY OF BEAL LIFE.

The effect of religious training, and strong
attachment for Aowe, was eminently displayed
in the brief career of a young man, whose
name, for several reasons, we shall conceal,
and present him to our readers as Charles
Oswold. He had been taught to love his
home, and had there, during his juvenile
years, been blessed with religious training.
Early in life he had torn himself from the
endearments of relations, to seek in the world
A name. Pleasure had invited him to her
fashionable haunts ; fashion had called him to
mingle with the flattering throng; and he,
like too many runaway youths, for a time

16*

186 THE CABIN BOY'S LOCKER.

yielded. But it was only for a time. His
early impressions were about him ; and after
quafling at fountains that slaked not his im-
mortal thirst, he turned his feet into those
ways which are pleasantness, and those that
are peaceful. But a short time after his
espousal to Christ, death marked him for its
victim, and disease began its work. Day after
day stole away, and every evening's quiet
lush found him more enfeebled, his step less
vigorous, and the hectic flush more percepti-
ble upon his pale cheek. He was passing
away, and he knew it ; but he was resigned.
Yes, strange as it may seem, that one in life's
rosy morn, with talents, reputation, kind rela-
tions, and much of worldly prospect, should
be willing to shake hands with all, and lie
down in the cold, gloomy grave, yet Charles
Oswold was willing. O religion I thou sweet
messenger from that holy world, where death's
arrows speed not their way to happy hearts,
what canst thou not do ? As young Oswold
declined, he became lost to the world's gaiety,
and seemed wrapped in holier meditations.
His frail tenement walked on earth, but the
mind, the soul, dwelt by thought in heaven.
But one thing shadowed his path — but one
earthly desire obtruded upon him, and for-
Booth, it was good — he wished to die at home
• — at the old place. He was many miles from
that spot, but among friends — tor the good
always have friends ; yet his desire was to die
among his kindred. *' You are all very kind,"

THE CABIN boy's LOCKEB. 187

he would often say, " but when the shadows
of death steal over me, I want to hear my
father's voice — my mother's tone. I want to
gay something to my brothers and sisters. 0 1
if I could be privileged to die at liome^ I
should be happy." It seemed as if God, to
grant him his only wish, permitted a tempo-
rary respite in his disease, and suffered him to
gather a degree of strength. His friends anti-
cipated his recovery ; but not so with Oswold.
" It is only that I may go home and die
happy," he would say. Accordingly, he em-
barked on board a boat, and after a voyage
of ten days, landed within a few miles of the
old place. He had been sinking from the time
of his departure, and was evidently near his
end. He was placed in a vehicle, and borne
to his old homestead. When driven up, every
heart was too full for utterance. They all
loved him, for he was always a kind boy.
His mother wept (and what mother would
not ?) as she kissed the sunken cheek of her
dying boy. Even the big tear coursed down
the furrowed cheek of his father, as he beheld
Charles borne by his brothers into his old
room, " This is so like it used to be," said
the poor invalid, as they laid him on his bed,
while his eye kindled with unusual lustre.
" There is the book-case, just as it was when
I clambered up its sides for books, before I
could reach them. There is the same old
bureau, mantelpiece, windows — all. O! it
looks so natural — nothing has changed. But

188 THE CABDT BOY'S LOCKER.

I have changed," he added, lifting his thm
hand between him and the light. " Yes, I
have changed, and will soon realize one that
will terminate the pains of this poor, suffering
body. Open the window, brother ; I want to
look at the sun going down. I once loved to
gaze upon it from this window. I thought
of a great many things, then — I was full of
vision. O ! how beautiful it looks I how rich I
such a glow ! Mother, don't you remember
when I was less than William there, you
would take me, about this hour, every even-
ing, into that cluster of trees over there in
the nursery, to pray, and would tell me who
made the sun, how good he was, and how if I
was good, when I died, I would sink away
into heaven calmly, like the sun sets ? I
never see it set but what I think of those holy
teachings. Mother, don't weep— don't make
yourself unhappy about me. I feel happy —
very happy. I shall be beyond that sun. O,
I shall soon shine like it !"

He continued to talk in this strain, until he
fell asleep. Several days passed, during which
many seasonable admonitions fell from his
lips, which were faithfully treasured up in the
liearts of his friends, not soon to be forgotten.
The hour of his departure came, and it was
an hour of sweetness — of triumph. His phy-
sician apprised him that the chilly waves were
gathering around him. No change was visi-
ble, save a smile that played along his heaven-
ly features. His relations were all in the

THE CABIN boy's LOCKEB. 189

room. " Mother," said he, " I have long
known I would die, and have been preparing
for the solemn ordeal. I wanted to die here
in this room, with all of you around me. You
will stay with me, and watch me die, won't
you?" "Yes, my son," sobbed his mother.
" Yes, I feel that I am dying ; yet 0 I how
sweet to die I — how peaceful I I have long
thought that I should die happy. Don't weep,
mother ; I shall be so soon much happier in
heaven. You have been kind parents to me ;
you have been the best of brothers and sisters ;
and I know you feel sad because I am dying.
But our separation will not be long ; and if
our heavenly Father will permit me, I will
come and be your guardian angel." His father
tried to dissuade him from farther exertion.
*' Father, I am nearly gone, and I want to talk
to all of you, while t stay. Don't cry, Ellen,"
said he, turning to his youngest sister. " O !
brother," replied the little girl, sobbing, *' they
will put you in the ground, like they did sis-
ter, and I shall never see you again." " Never
mind, Ellen ; that Jesus who loves little chil-
dren, laid in the grave, and we must be put
in it too ; but he will take us up, after awhile,
and carry us to heaven, where your sister is,
and where your brother Charles is going.
Come close to me, Ellen — I am nearly gone.
You are a little girl now. When you grow
up, be a good girl. Think about what your
brother said to you when he was dying. Say
your prayers ; do nothing that is wrong ; and

190 THE CABIN boy's LOCKER.

you will meet your brother Charles there.
We will never get sick, nor die, there. Gome,
kiss your brother, Ellen — farewell. Jane,*'
said he, turning to his elder sister, " it is hard
to part with you. We played and went to
school together, read our catechisms, and
prayed together. Don't place your affections
too much upon the world. It will prove your
enemy. When I am gone — when these limbs
are cold and decaying, under the ground, and
you gaze upon the sky, and see sweet stars
looking down upon you, recollect your broth-
er and sainted sister will be above them, prais-
ing God. Meet me there. Kaise me up — the
spirit is just quitting. 0, I am happy I
happy ! happy I Farewell, all — all. Into thy

hands I commend my "

The tongue was stilled ; the sound lingered
awhile, and the spirit of Charles Oswold re*
posed in heaven. — S, W, Christian Advocate

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