emed of importance; now, but _one_ thing
is worthy of a thought."

"True," answered the captain, "'the one thing needful.' It is strange
that we will scarce permit ourselves to think or speak of _that_ till we
come to die. But you have thought on Jesus long ere now, have you not?"

"Yes," answered West faintly, "I have; but I take no comfort from that
thought. When I think of my past life it is only with regret. My hope is
in the Lord. What I have been, or might have been, is nothing. One thing
I know--I _am_ a sinner; and this I also know--'Christ Jesus came into
the world to save sinners!'"

These were the last words the dying man spoke. Shortly after, he fell
asleep.

Next day the body of Joseph West was put in a plain deal coffin, and
conveyed to Store Island, where it was placed on the ground. They had no
instruments that could penetrate the hard rock, so were obliged to
construct a tomb of stones, after the manner of the Esquimaux, under
which the coffin was laid and left in solitude.

New-Year's day came, and preparations were made to celebrate the day
with the usual festivities. But the recent death had affected the crew
too deeply to allow them to indulge in the unrestrained hilarity of that
season. Prayers were read in the morning, and both Captain Guy and
Captain Ellice addressed the men feelingly in allusion to their late
shipmate's death and their own present position. A good dinner was also
prepared, and several luxuries served out, among which were the
materials for the construction of a large plum-pudding. But no grog was
allowed, and they needed it not. As the afternoon advanced, stories were
told, and even songs were sung; but these were of a quiet kind, and the
men seemed, from an innate feeling of propriety, to suit them to the
occasion. Old friends were recalled, and old familiar scenes described.
The hearths of home were spoken of with a depth of feeling that showed
how intense was the longing to be seated round them again, and future
prospects were canvassed with keen interest and with hopeful voices.
New-Year's day came and went, and when it was gone the men of the
_Dolphin_ did not say, "what a jolly day it was." They _said_ little or
nothing, but long after they _thought_ of it as a bright spot in their
dreary winter in the Bay of Mercy--as a day in which they had enjoyed
earnest, glad, and sober communings of heart.

CHAPTER XXI.

_First gleam of light--Trip to welcome the sun--Bea