the first station where, one evening, I could not hold service, I began a conversation with a young man, an officer of Customs, on board. After some intelligent remarks from him, I found him to be a Roman Catholic, and a very intellectual young Irishman. He made his remarks in reference to our Society, stating, that though he differed from us in his religious views, yet he considered our meetings very useful; and if a meeting could be held, should feel pleasure in attending during his hour of relief, instead of going to bed, when starting up suddenly he said, "There is a French ship joining, I will invite them on board. They understand English, and there are

two officers on board." I heard him politely invite them; but the answers were a negative to his invitations. He returned and regretted a meeting could not be held. I sat with him and the mate talking upon religious subjects until eight o'clock, when I presented my tracts, from which they made their selections, assuring me they should be attentively read. When we parted the officer said he should be very happy in meeting me again whenever Providence might permit. I believe the work is going on well, and much more good doing than we at present can see. May the Lord prosper it abundantly.

PROVINCIAL AGENCY.

SHOREHAM.

We have been all alive with the Bethel cause in this port during the last fortnight, principally through three noble fellows, captains of ships, who have never been in this place before. All of them are men of sterling piety, love, and zeal. So anxious are they for the salvation of their fellow seamen that they want me to preach on board one ship or the other every night. My bodily strength will not permit this, but afloat and ashore I have held seven services in six days.

Captain N, of a large Russian trader, about 340 tons, I am happy to say is chartered here for four voyages. He is a warm-hearted liberal Baptist, the first of that denomination I have met with on shipboard in this port.

Captain B

of a Guernsey ship, is a man that must do good wherever he goes; it seems to be his meat and drink to glorify God. The same may be said of the other, a Captain H-, of St. I.

On Friday night I was so worn out that I sent for a gentleman from Worthing to address them on board the Zion, and he was perfectly astonished to witness such piety, and to hear such fervent petitions from sailors.

The J, Captain B, is likely to be with us a fortnight longer, during which time I hope much good will be done among our sailors.

We had so many sailors at chapel last Lord's-day evening that, what with our usual congregation and them, about twenty could not sit down.

EMERY CAIger.

(Continued from Chambers' Edinburgh Journal.)

"It's thirty-six years now," said the captain, "since I first went to sea; and the more I look back on it, the more I wonder why I went at all, or what port I shipped for at last. The truth is, we're every one of us steering in this life by a sort of compass which tells us what we need only by our wishes shifting from it; as for the chart, that's in the Master's hands, and He gives us the course, a point at a time. There's one book I'm very fond of myself, amongst the few I have below there -it's 'The Pilgrim's Progress;' but I've thought, often as I've read it over, some one that knows the sea should write another like it, only more proper to sailors, and call it "The Mariner's Progress.' Here I am, at last, fifty-two, and old for my years: the forty voyages or so of various kinds I've made seem like one long one, in which I've touched land, no doubt, but a strange one, and begin to weary for the same I left. I do think at times, now, I feel the air more homelike, although they haven't yet hailed land from the mast-head; and I've sought latterly to get the anchor out, and see all clear, as well as painting the vessel, before coming into harbour. How it is I don't certainly know, that one should be coming back when he has seemingly been sailing all the while straight on, farther and farther away; and so painful as it is to think that the old happiness of home is gone for ever from the earth, unless it be that the world's round, and one may come into port without ever once wearing about.

"When I was a boy, I can't say I had any particular fancy for the sea. Many take up the notion out of books, and keep a hold of it in spite of all that can be said or done, thinking of the adventures they have read about, or longing to see foreign countries, and something out of the common way, For my part I didn't read much, nor did I ever set any object before my mind more than another. The thing was in me; a sort of restlessness that kept me from settling to one occupation led me into mischief. I couldn't help it, it appeared to me; for even

D

after I had vowed to keep clear of scrapes in future, when my spirits rose again I found myself in the middle of another before I knew it. Far from troubling my head about the sea and ships for the romance of them, I ordinarily cared not a straw for the particular scheme of amusement in hand, for it seemed only to rise like a natural vent to the wild pleasure of standing and feeling life. I never lived long enough on land to experience the admiration for scenery I have read of; but I do believe now, that many a time, as we were breaking into some orchard at night for the fruit, even while I scrambled over the pales after my companions, there shot into my heart a secret feeling of the beauty of the trees and grass covered with dew, or the harvest corn-fields out beyond; since I sometimes start at such recollections, and seem at that very period to have had delight in the things, and they waiting all this while to be reflected on, as it were the echo of one's voice after he had given up expecting it. I fancy boys and common folks have the same pleasure in natural things as writers and poets, only they take a roundabout way to come at it, and see them more beautiful when they are doing something else.

"The place we lived in was a little country town, where my father lived independent, although he farmed some acres of ground; and our house stood on the outskirts of the town, looking over a front flowerplot to the street, and beyond to the open country. My father was the least of all characters likely to guide me right: he was a stern man, and hated anything of wild spirits; he was upright and religious withal, but his religion was too formal, and he did not make it come down to children. The smallest prank was rated as a crime; and my mother, a mild, gentle woman, would not interfere to make his authority less, although herself she treated us far otherwise, and my worst grief has been that I minded her precepts too little. The consequence of my father's sternness was, that my younger brother and I feared him, and made all our plans of enjoyment secret as much as we could, which was a habit that led us farther astray than if we had been allowed to be open. I, however, was the worst, chiefly in wild tricks of mischief with my schoolfellows; for Ned was a year younger, and naturally less boisterous, and he often stayed to play with our little sister when I was heading the band to plunder an orchard or destroy some of the neighbours' cats, if nothing less innocent was preferable. An elder brother, by a previous marriage on my father's side, was grown up, and engaged in business: he was the most disagreeable of the family, being of a tyrannical disposition, without my father's uprightness; and I even hated him at that time, while fearing him as much; for if the least provoked, he did not let the difference of age prevent him from using me as ill as I believe my father had done him when he was the only boy. This state of things was not quite so bad when I was near fifteen, and had been at school a year or two, where I learnt some Latin and Greek, and used even to read pieces of Homer, and I had begun to sober down a little. But at that age I was articled to an attorney in

the place for three years, and soon began to tire most thoroughly of copying deeds and law-papers at a high desk all day, and to wish for some other course of life. There was another lad of my own age in the office, with whom I got intimate, and he being of as frolicsome a turn as myself, we contrived, every way we could, to make the burden light. We were fond of shooting, and he and Ned and I frequently of a Saturday afternoon went out together to enjoy the sport. As my father allowed us no money to ourselves, however, in connection with this amusement, we were put to great shifts for obtaining materials; and although our mother often supplied us with small sums, we, along with our companion, gradually got into considerable debt, which we had no means of paying. The shopkeeper having threatened to send in our share of the account to my father, we were in great terror; but it only hastened our carrying out the plan of running away from our apprenticeship, which my companion and I had several times started, with no purpose I know of but just to escape. The situation was growing irksome enough to us, though we had always put off our scheme, since it could be managed at any time, till this circumstance capped matters. We contrived to raise a few shillings between us, and appointed the day, fixing to leave early in the morning, and give ourselves a safe start. We had a good deal of work to persuade my brother Ned, poor little fellow, to join us; but at last he yielded, for he was terribly afraid of the discovery by my father, and maybe more of the disgrace in his mother's eyes, of whom he was very fond, as she made him a favourite. That night I thought my father was much kinder than ordinary; he was in a good-humour, and had promised to take us all a jaunt next day; and though this made it more disagreeable to think of his anger, I own it cost me a sore struggle to bid him goodnight when we went out of the parlour to bed. If he had spoken another word, or only looked at me, I would have told him all; but he was looking down at the newspaper, and somehow I didn't like the thought of seeing him look up and say, 'What is it?' I never saw him again.

"The light was just breaking over the woods as Ned and I stole out at the front door in the morning to meet our friend at the corner of a lane which led into the high road. I glanced up at the windows to see if anybody would notice us when we should get into the street; but not a soul was stirring, and the white blind of my father and mother's bedroom was down. My heart smote me at taking advantage of their sleep; but I plumed myself on never going back from what I had begun, and I cheered Ned in whispers as we hastened down the street. I cannot remember looking back again, yet the house is before me now, and often has been; althongh, when I came back there three years after, there was a new canal made right through where it stood, and across the little green garden. I think I see it, standing so still and gray in the dawn, with all its window-blinds down, and the flowers within the rails drooping with dew, and the edges of the fruit