N his way back to the "Great Atlantic Hotel,"

ON

it came on to rain (it generally does rain in Liverpool), and Wilfred, to escape a drenching, took his stand within the pretentious granite portal of the office of the "Flaming Star Line" Shipping Company. Presently, two ships' Captains came

out.

"When do you sail, Captain Barlow?" said one. "In five minutes," was the answer. 'I ought to have been on board now, but I caught my steward in the act of helping himself to some loose money I had left on my cabin table, and I came ashore to see whether they knew of another at the office. But they don't, which is awkward, considering the

lot of passengers I have on board. What rascals men are now-a-days!"

Wilfred turned to the speaker: "Will you try me, Sir?" said he.

The Captain started, and looked at him fixedly. "Have you ever been afloat before ?" he asked. "Never," said Wilfred; "but I'll try to do my duty, and make myself useful."

The Captain looked at him fixedly, and Wilfred returned his gaze.

"I like your looks," said Captain Barlow, "and I think I'll engage you."

"More fool you!" interposed his friend. "What's your name, boy?"

“ Smith," answered Wilfred.

"I'd ha' gone bail his name was Smith," said the Captain's friend.

"When can you come on board?" said Captain Barlow, without paying any attention to the interruption.

"In ten minutes, Sir," answered Wilfred; "my things are in the next street."

"Well, then, I'll wait here ten minutes, and if you don't turn up then, I'll sail without you."

Wilfred was off like a shot, reached "the Great Atlantic," discharged his small reckoning, and within

the stipulated time was again at the Shipping Office, before the door of which-for it had now ceased raining-Captain Barlow was marching up and down like a bear in a cage.

"This looks well," said Captain Barlow, approvingly, as Wilfred presented himself with his small bag. "You must prove I'm not such a confounded fool as my friend Twagham thinks."

So Wilfred followed the Captain on board the good steamer "Flaming Comet,” and in an hour's time the noble ship was out in the wide Mersey, and before evening was ploughing her stately way down channel on her way to the New World.

It was a harsh, and in some respects a bitter discipline that to which the delicately-nurtured young man was subjected on his voyage out, but it probably served to strengthen and mature his already noble character, while the constant hard work incident to his position prevented his mind from repining and dwelling too much upon his sorrows. The first spare moment he had after he went on board, he opened the little package which was his sister's parting gift. It contained a little Prayer Book, with a metal cross upon either side of the binding. As he opened the clasp, two papers fell out-the first was a £5 note, and his eyes filled with tears as he

read upon the second, written in that beautiful handwriting he knew so well, Charles Kingsley's beautiful "Farewell."

"Farewell, sweet lad, and let who will be clever,

Do noble things, not dream them all day long,
And so make Life, Death, and the Great Forever
One grand sweet song."

Sweet was it, after a long day of sickness and harassing toil, when Wilfred lay down in his close berth and heard the waves of the Atlantic swishing by close to his head, to think that he still enjoyed the trustful love of a darling sister and of a friend. He thought, too, of the quaint frontispiece of his copy of the Icon Basilike, now far away amongst his books at dear old Holmcastle, and of the weighted palms springing to fresh and verdurous glory, and of the appropriate motto,

"Crescit sub pondere virtus;"

and he prayed that such might be the case with him. Four days and a-half out, an adventure occurred. The vast ocean had been calm all day, and there was no sail in sight, when, in consequence of something being amiss with the machinery, the steamer suddenly stopped. Most of the passengers, astonished, if not alarmed, by the unwonted quiet, had come up

on deck, and witnessed the Atlantic heaving around them in what seemed to be huge platforms of greenish water, which rose and fell without the slightest disturbance of the glassy surface by even a breath of wind. Then, almost suddenly, after an hour's interval, the East wind began to blow, the mighty screw turned, and the ship re-commenced its course with what seemed to be renewed life and activity. At that moment a cry was heard above the pulsations of the engines and the whirl of the screw-"A child overboard!" Wilfred chanced to be amidships, and looked over the side. Then, throwing off his coat, he ran astern, waited a few moments, and then cast himself into the ocean. His form disappeared for a few seconds, and then he reappeared, clutching the child in his right hand, while he supported himself in the water by swimming with his left. The order to stop ship had been given at once, and a boat was manned and let down, but by that time the child and its deliverer had drifted far astern. When at last the boat reached them, Wilfred was nearly exhausted, and could only clutch the gunwale with his one empty hand, when he was drawn up into the boat with the child alive and unhurt.

The little boy, thus saved, was the son of a couple