and £8, if he can be smuggled in as an A.B., is taken as his price.

Not only do many sink into utter misery and destitution, but there are also some who come to a terrible end. Many sailors will remember that beautiful evening in May, at Martinez near San Francisco, that two fishingboats were seen at dusk barely a mile from seventeen British ships lying at anchor in the bay. They did not think that in one of those boats were off the

and off the two deserting apprentices, whilst following them in hot pursuit in his boat was a murderous Greek. Only one thought possessed this man, to kill the two Englishmen, and by his side lay his Winchester rifle loaded and ready for use. Nothing further was seen, and what ensued when the dreadful deed was committed will never be known. Suffice it to say that the Greek told other Greeks that he had shot the poor young fellows, lashed their bodies to their boat and sunk it. The body of one was afterwards recovered with the skull smashed and other

wise injured. The murderer was never

arrested.

Some will recollect the fate of three apprentices placed on whalers bound for the

Arctic, but they never returned. They died on board. Many also recollect a fine young fellow who deserted the ship and after picking up odd jobs in San Francisco for a year or so went up to some mines about 100 miles from the city, and a few weeks after getting there was brutally shot and murdered. His last words just before he died were, 'Tell the boys to give Sullivan (the man who shot him) a fair trial.' One of the last things the writer did in San Francisco was to visit an apprentice who deserted the

; he had heard by chance that the lad was dying in a country hospital in the great San Joaquin Valley. For eighteen months after he left. the ship he had wandered up and down, picking up an odd job here and there, and enduring the greatest privations. Finally, he went to dig clams in the muddy creeks, truly a last resort, and caught a cold which brought on the worst form of tuberculosis. He had managed to get into this hospital, and there, amongst strangers and thousands of miles from his home, he passed beyond the veil. He told the writer how bitterly he regretted leaving his ship, and related to him the reasons why he had left; and when men are lying face to face with certain death it is not

supposed that they are telling lies, unless they are criminals of the most hardened type.

Many another case could be given of the great misery that comes too often to the apprentices who desert, and their very real regret that they ever took the step. Of the apprentices who deserted during the five years the writer spent among seamen in San Francisco, he only knows of one who prospered. Several of the others died miserable deaths, others sank into saloons, tobacco stores, and other places, whilst a number got places as conductors on the street cars, and spent the time which should have been occupied in learning their profession in collecting 5-cent car fares. The writer well remembers walking along Kearny Street one morning and seeing two bootblacks making signs of recognition. They were two deserting apprentices who had been reduced to blacking boots to try and gain a livelihood. It could hardly be said that their prospects in life had improved.

Look at it how we will, desertion is a very serious thing to great numbers of sailors, and to a very large number of apprentices it is little less than a fatal blow to their prospects in life. Nothing but a vigorous campaign

amongst them in a place like San Francisco is of any avail, continually warning them of the consequences, pointing out clearly and strongly what in all probability awaits them, and explaining the lying nature of the reports they hear of jobs, etc., told them by self-seeking and iniquitous men up town. The parents and friends of apprentices and all young sailors, whether apprentices or not, should spare no efforts in endeavouring to get introductions for them in strange seaports.

To know friends in the port of arrival, or have some house in which he is welcome, is the saving of many a young man from the commencement of a loose and unsuccessful career. Moreover, friends who are truly friends will on no account hear of an apprentice deserting his ship They will use every influence against it.

Thanks to the kindness of a number of ladies in San Francisco, and in Oakland across the bay in recent years, many a young fellow has now got friends in these places, in whose houses he is welcome, and where he finds good company and genuine hospitality, instead of merely having the streets in which to spend the evening, as was the case with too many formerly.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE SEAMEN'S INSTITUTE.

It had long been felt that some definite work of not only a religious but also a social nature was greatly needed amongst the long-voyage sailors who landed in San Francisco after being months at sea, and were there exposed, as has been explained, to very great temptation. For some years past the episcopal clergy in San Francisco had asked the sailors to church, but having large and busy parishes on their hands, were quite unable to devote much time to this work, and they were amongst the first to say how little they could really do. What was wanted was a work which should not only relate to coming to church on Sundays, but also make provision for comfort and rational amusement during the six week evenings.

Reasonable persons understand that people