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mother almost fainted when she heard it,
and was carried helpless down into the
cabin. For days and nights we thought
of the little soft-haired boy down in the
bottom of the sea. We could not forget
him. The deck on pleasant days seemed
lonely without his prattle and mischievous
play. The cabin seemed like a deserted
house. The mother came no more to her
place at the table, at meals; and when
we landed at New York she looked more
sorrowful than ever. I have never heard
of her since.

There are a great many things in a
sea-life which would interest you; but
you are mistaken if you think you would
like a sea-life. Boys very often ache to
go to sea; but they find, after trying it,
that it is a dog’s life. I have asked seve-
ral of the sailors on this ship if they like
going to sea, but they all answer “ No.”
“But why do you go to sea, then?” I
ask. “We went first because we thought
we should like it,’ they answer; “and
then pride led us to make two or three
voyages, and by that time we had become
so used to a sailor’s life that we were un-
happy on shore.”

There is no class of men I pity more
than I do the sailors. The other night a
heavy squall of wind suddenly overtook
us, with all sail spread. It was a dark
and chilly night, and rained very hard,
and yet the poor sailors had to go aloft,
and work like dogs for a long time; and
then one of our sails was carried off by
the gale. In the winter, they sometimes
nearly freeze to death. Very often they
freeze their fingers and toes. And what
do you suppose they live on? On the
coarsest of food. They eat without knives
or forks, or plates, and live on coarse beef
and pilot bread, and other plain things.

 

THE YOUTH’S CABINET.

But coarse food is but a small part of the
hard fare of a sailor’s life. They are gen-
rally very generous-hearted, though often
wicked and slaves to bad habits. We
ought to pity them, and pray for them,
for they suffer a great deal for us.

I have now been at sea for many days,

and we are getting near the English shore.
In two or three days more we expect to
land in Liverpool; and then, in a few
hours, my cousin R. (who is my com-
panion) and myself, will be in London.
My next letter to you will be dated there,

I expect.

Anecdote of Clovis.

Lovis, when he became king of
France, in the latter part of the
fifth century, took it into his head

to lead a powerful army against

the Visigoths, whose chief city in France,
at that time, was Bordeaux, and who
were then in possession of almost all
the country between the Rhone, the
Loire, and the Pyrenees. Having reach-
ed the banks of the river Vienne, in his
march, it is related of him that he was
much puzzled to know how to get across
the stream with his army. While he
and his generals were trying to contrive
some plan for crossing—so the story
goes—a hind leaped out of a neighbor-
ing thicket, and, after following the
stream for a little distance, went across,
and in this manner Clovis discovered &
good fording place for his army. This
is a pretty good story, but I am obliged
to confess that I am not sure of its
truth.