VII.

THE SAILOR ΒΟΥ.

ONALD soon became a great favorite among the sailors. They always answered his inquiries pleasantly, and some of them took special pains to explain to him many things about the ship. There was one in particular, a young Scotch sailor, whose name was Alexander McNab, but who was commonly called little Sandy,- — that showed much partiality to Donald.

One morning, near the close of the second week on ship-board, as Mrs. Fraser was sitting on deck, gazing at the smooth sea, for it was almost a calm, and the bright heavens over her, which were without a cloud, Donald came running up in great excitement, exclaiming,

"O mother, little Sandy had a dreadful fall last night, and his leg is out of joint."

Mrs. Fraser was much pained by this announcement, for Sandy was beloved by all. She went at once to the forecastle, and Donald went with her. Here they found the poor sailor in his hammock, perfectly helpless, though not suffering a great deal of pain.

Mrs. Fraser did various little things for him, such as only a kind-hearted, motherly woman can do, and for which he was very grateful. As she was turning to leave him, Donald asked her, in a whisper, whether he might not stop and read something to Sandy out of his little Bible, which was in his pocket. His mother willingly consented.

As soon as she was gone Donald took out his Bible, and asked his suffering friend if he might read from it. He did not look much delighted with the proposal, but could not find it in his heart to refuse the boy, and so he said he might.

Donald chose the 55th chapter of Isaiah. As he read it slowly and distinctly, the sailor's

attention was arrested, and he listened with great interest. When the chapter was finished Donald paused for a little. He was much surprised to see Sandy in tears. When these brought relief to his burdened heart, as they always do, he said, in a low but distinct voice, "That chapter I have neither read nor heard since I have been at sea, but it was the chapter read to me by my mother the night before I left home three years ago."

"Is your mother still living?" asked Donald.

"Yes, she was the last time I heard from her. But that last night, - how well I remember it. I have not seen my mother since. How lovingly she looked at me, estly she plead with me, that if I sea, I would go in the fear of God.

how earnmust go to How fer

vently she prayed for me and with me, that my heavenly Father might keep me from evil, that the Saviour might make me his own. But I have thought little of these things since. I have left my Bible unopened in the bottom of my chest. I have neglected prayer, and I

have profaned the Sabbath day." Here a flood of tears again relieved him, after which he said, in a half whisper, "Donald, will you pray with me?"

Donald was a mere boy, an intelligent boy it is true, — yet but a boy, and such a request had never been made to him before. He loved to pray in his own little room, yet he had never even prayed aloud. But he could not refuse. He was alone with the suffering sailor and God. So he knelt by the side of the hammock, and poured out his soul to his heavenly Father for his young friend. Sandy sobbed frequently during the prayer, and at its close uttered a fervent Amen.

As soon as he recovered himself a little, he said,

"Oh, how distinctly I remember that last night at home. I can see mother's streaming eyes, as she plead with me. I had been a thoughtless boy and had given her many anxious hours by my heedlessness. But she never failed to pray for me, nor to expostulate with me; nor did she seem ever to doubt for a mo

ment that the Lord would yet have mercy on my soul. The little children were that night left with my older sister, while my mother took me into her own room. She opened a drawer and took out of it a neat pocket Bible, with my name, in connection with hers, written in it. She read that chapter to me, which you have just read, and then prayed. And such a prayer! It seemed as if she would take no refusal from God, but must and would have my salvation. I remained almost unmoved, for I had steeled myself against any impression. I had anticipated some such scene, and had determined not to be affected by it.

"She saw I was resolved to go to sea, so she interposed no further objection to my doing so, but she tried to induce me to seek the Lord. She urged me to read God's word daily, and to pray. But my heart was full of the sea, and although I was really not a little melted by my mother's love, yet I strove to conceal this from her. I maintained an obstinate silence under all her importunity.

"The next morning I left very early; but