IN NELSON'S DAYS. HEN Joe reached the yards, of the swelling deep. The sun, well up by that time, was chasing the mists away on all sides, and his warm rays fell cheeringly upon the shivering frame of the boy; and while the salt breeze whispered of distance and separation from all he loved, its healthy influence caused him to feel that after all he might reach home again some day. On his left hand lay the boundless sea, with, here and there--some near, some far off-the passing ships-large and small-all sailing then, for steamers had not begun to plough the ocean and make it-what it is to-day-almost as populous and nearly as safe as a highway upon the land. On his right lay the long, low coastline, only a faint shadow now in the blue distance. Passing near, and homeward bound, was a stately three-decked ship-a line-of-battle ship. Oh, how beautiful she looked the boy thought, as she rode slowly and majestically upon the long rolling swell of the broad Atlantic, showing her coppered sides, dripping with spray, as she gently rolled on the long swell-her towering heights of snowy canvas swelling out in the morning breeze, her long pendant or streamer trailing from the mainmast-head, so long that it whipped the sea in its flutterings;* her broad white ensign; above all, the strains of music which at that moment rose upon the air from her decks. They were playing a popular tune, half warlike, half homely, and standing upon the yard, while the tears rolled down his cheeks like rain, and the sorrow at his heart almost choked him, the boy clasped the mast with one arm, and raising his cap with his free hand waved it over his head and sent a faint cheer over the sparkling water towards the ship. * It was said of one ship that her pennant swept the sheep off the Isle of Wight in passing! 'I'd give the world to see my mother now,' he sobbed; but I shan't for a time, if ever I do again. I'm here by my own foolishness, and they'll lead me a dog's life I dare say;-rope'sending and what not, and dirty work, poor food, and a narrow shelf for a bed; and yesterdayonly yesterday-I was young Joe Walters, the Captain of the Osprey's son; with Now then, you skulking young beggar' came roaring up the mast, ain't you a-going to slush that topmast?' Joe had forgotten all about the grease tin: but seizing hold of it now, commenced to plentifully smear the mast with its contents, in order to ease the sail which rode against it. He had finished his work, had turned to descend to the deck, with a jerk trying to release the lanyard of the pot from the shroud to which he had tied it; but, miscalculating the weight of the grease, as he did so the cord slipped through his hand and fell down, down, plump upon the head of the mate standing below, where, turning upside down, it poured its half-liquid contents down his face and neck, blinding him for the moment and filling his open mouth with a most unsavoury compound. 'I am in for it now,' said Joe, going carefully down and watching as he descended the mate's behaviour; I'm in for it now, and no mistake. I wonder where I have seen that man's face before!' A shout of ringing laughter from the crew greeted the descent of the grease-pot, and with an angry exclamation he sprang into the rigging and ran up in pursuit of the offender, who, pausing on his way, laid hold of a rope with his hands, and twining his legs around it swung off and slid down like a flash upon the deck, leaving his pursuer half-way up, where a second shout of derisive laughter ascended to his ears, and turned his scowling face white with passion. 'So so, you young rascal!' exclaimed a voice in Joe's ears, as a heavy hand grasped his shoulder: a nice uproar you are raising aboard my ship' Joe looked up. Was it possible? The face that met his glance was a familiar one; he knew it well. Captain Richards,' he cried, what are you taking me away from home for?' 6 What do you think my father will say to you when he knows you've stolen me away?' Say! who cares what he says?' roared the mate, who had once more reached the deck, and was being rubbed down with oakum by a grinning sailor. Joe turned to him now; and to his terror recognised fully the face an old enemy. 'I'm very sorry,' said Joe, the tears filling his eyes, for he felt very lonely, surrounded by this crowd of swarthy, unfriendly men. 'I wouldn't have taken the boat that time if I'd thought you would have been cross.' 'Sorry!' contemptuously answered the mate; and turning to the Captain said, 'This young varmint, with another, took our boat one day and kept it three mortal hours. We had rowed ashore for two baskets of bread. "Shall I mind your boat?" says these two. "No," says I, "she'll mind herself." But when we got back with the bread there was no boat, and we got never a bit of dinner till four o'clock in the afternoon, and Yes, I'm very sorry,' interrupted Joe; and speaking to the Captain, whose brown averted. face was one great smile, 'The tide carried us out too far, and coming back we lost an oar 'You can't leave a boat five minutes for the young scamps!' broke in the angry mate. 'If I could have caught him that day I'd have give him a dip as sure as my name's Digory Jacobs.' 'Ah, well, we'll make a powder-monkey of him,' said Captain Richards, turning away. Better give him some dinner now.' 'Come on, Josey,' whispered a pleasant voice, as a worsted arm was thrown over his shoulder. 'Come and have some baked mutton and spuds,* and you'll be able to fling the grease-pot better arterwards.' Joe looked at the speaker, and could have almost hugged him. It was Sam Crawley, an old grey-headed seaman who had sailed in the Osprey for years, and who had carried little Joe on his shoulder dozens of times. (To be continued.) * Potatoes. THE OLD WELL. MARY, Mary, my cap has blown down the well!' cried Harry Anderson; will you come out and see if you can get it for me?' Mary came out at her brother's request, wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron as though she had been crying. She had been crying, and Mother was inside, crying, now, and another sister, while Father sat moodily by the fire, his head bent forward and his face covered with his upraised hands, for the elder son and brother, once the pride and prop of home, had been taken to prison that morning on a charge of stealing from his master, Colonel Rivers. 'If we let down the bucket, Mary,' said Harry, 'maybe it will just catch the cap, and we can draw it up.' Down went the bucket, and they swung it about by the chain, and then Mary commenced to wind up, Harry watching meanwhile for the Breathless and frightened they took the parcel to their father. 'Put it back where you found it,' was the strange command Harry received, and his father came out and himself lowered the boy into the well again, and the parcel of stolen forks and spoons was restored to its hiding-place. That night, Harry's father watched by the little window opposite the old well hour after hour; and the next night; but no one came. On the third night, two men crept silently out of the darkness, and presently the watcher heard the creek of the old windlass, and saw one dusky form disappear within the well. Then Harry's father stole softly out, and a moment afterwards the man who stood by the well's mouth was lying on the ground, a towel tied over his mouth, and his hands bound securely behind him with a clothes-line. Haul up!' came a hoarse whisper, and He took him to the Colonel that very hour, and the Colonel, who was also a magistrate, committed both the men to the lock-up; and on the next morning, after hearing the evidence of Harry, his sister, and father, and knowing the thieves to be idle, poaching fellows at the best, committed them for trial, and Harry's brother was released. What joy there was in the once more happy home! And yet, but for the breeze of wind that blew Harry's cap into the old well, his brother's innocence might never have been established. GEORGE H. B A PECK OF TROUBLES. (Continued from page 275.) UT do you like Bonomâlee? Are you fond of him?' asked Bryda, still more puzzled. Kâminee only looked at her, but did not speak. The question seemed to her such an odd one. 'I shall have a fine dress for my wedding,' she said. 'And Bonomâlee's friends have given me bangles and necklaces. But I shall not wear those till I'm married.' She was standing beside Bryda now; such a pretty, gentle little creature, with delicate hands and feet, lovely eyes, and rich black hair, gathered up very prettily on the top of her head, a crimson flower fastened in it. On her bare arms were one or two silver bangles; her muslin dress was cool and spotlessly clean. But she was scarcely Eo old as Bryda. She stooped down and picked up the broken bits of the mud rajah. If only I had some pieces of stuff I could make her a rag doll,' thought Bryda to herself; and she began to explain to Kâminee what she wanted to do. The child did not seem to understand. Bryda did not know any word for a doll, so she said she wanted to make a baby. On which Kâminee went off to the corner, where the family baby had just woke up, took it in her arms, and brought it in triumph to Bryda, to explain that there was one ready-made. Such a funny little thing it was, too. Its skin was not very brown, for the sun had not yet had time to darken it. It was of a brownish yellow tint, and it shone, for its mother kept it well rubbed with mustard oil to guard it from mosquito bites. Wazir came in at this moment, and was much amused at Bryda's efforts to explain that she meant an imitation baby, or rather materials to make one. With his help Kâminee was made to understand, and presently she produced various scraps of muslin and a needle. Her mother never sewed; probably she did not know how; and the family clothing needed no shaping, and no hems or frills. But some one who could do the beautiful embroidery that is sold in the bazaars had once left a needle and some silk in the house, and this treasure Kâminee proudly brought out. |