at the masts grew out of
the deck, that the yards were branches, and the blocks curious leaves;
not that amid the fearful uproar, and what seemed to him the wildest
confusion, he could think of anything clearly.

Bill Rayner had certainly not been born with a silver spoon in his
mouth. His father he had never known. His mother lived in a garret and
died in a garret, although not before, happily for him, he was able to
do something for himself, and, still more happily, not before she had
impressed right principles on his mind. As the poor woman lay on her
deathbed, taking her boy's hands and looking earnestly into his eyes,
she said, "Be honest, Bill, in the sight of God. Never forget that He
sees you, and do your best to please Him. No fear about the rest. I am
not much of a scholar, but I know that's right. If others try to
persuade you to do what's wrong, don't listen to them. Promise me,
Bill, that you will do as I tell you."

"I promise, mother, that I will," answered Bill; and, small lad as he
was, meant what he said.

Poor as she was, being a woman of some education, his mother had taught
him to read and write and cipher--not that he was a great adept at any
of those arts, but he possessed the groundwork, which was an important
matter; and he did his best to keep up his knowledge by reading
sign-boards, looking into book-sellers' windows, and studying any stray
leaves he could obtain.

Bill's mother was buried in a rough shell by the parish, and Bill went
out into the world to seek his fortune. He took to curious ways,--
hunting in dust-heaps for anything worth having; running errands when he
could get any one to send him; holding horses for gentlemen, but that
was not often; doing duty as a link-boy at houses when grand parties
were going forward or during foggy weather; for Bill, though he often
went supperless to his nest, either under a market-cart, or in a cask by
the river side, or in some other out-of-the-way place, generally managed
to have a little capital with which to buy a link; but the said capital
did not grow much, for bad times coming swallowed it all up.

Bill, as are many other London boys, was exposed to temptations of all
sorts; often when almost starving, without a roof to sleep under, or a
friend to whom he could appeal for help, his shoes worn out, his
clothing too scanty to keep him warm; but, ever recollecting his
mother's last words, he resisted them all. One day, having wa