a dreadful thing it is to be under the displeasure
of the Almighty.

When I got up from my knees, I heard a loud laugh from "Blunt Harry,"
who called out to Clarendon,--"Why don't you rock that baby to sleep,
now he has said his prayers, and then say your own and turn in?"

Clarendon would have made some angry reply, but he has found out that
there is no use in getting in a passion, for the men consider him on a
perfect level with themselves, and will say what they choose to him.

"Let the boy alone," interposed Moody Dick. "I only wish I could say my
prayers this night with the same childlike confidence."

"No, don't mind them, my fine fellow," said Old Jack, the same man who
had spoken so warmly of the Seamen's Friend Society, and he gave me a
rough tap on the shoulder, which even my coarse shirt did not prevent
from stinging. "They all envy you, for I used to talk just as they do,
and when at the worst I would have changed places with any body who had
a fair chance of landing in heaven."

While this conversation was going on, Clarendon bit his lips with
displeasure, and the next day he told me that I might as well say my
prayers after I got into my berth. I was surprised that my proud
brother, who scorns the idea of being influenced by the opinion of any
one, should want to have me ashamed of worshipping God before those whom
he pretends to despise. Though I love him dearly, I did not follow his
advice, and when the second night I did the same thing, no one laughed
at me.

The next day, David Cobb shook hands heartily with me, and said I ought
to have been a Yankee boy; for though he had not been brought up to say
his prayers himself, if he had, there was not that man living who should
laugh him out of it. I shall try and persuade David to do right himself,
as well as to approve it in others, for I remember mother's
saying,--"Even a boy has his share of influence, and it is a talent for
which he must account."

I will tell you more about Old Jack and Moody Dick when I next feel
like writing. I do not know when I shall have a chance to send a letter,
but I shall try and have one ready all the while. Give my love to all
the children, and don't forget to remember me to the servants,
especially old Aunt Molly.

Your absent but loving cousin,

PIDGIE.

LETTER IV.

TALK ABOUT GREAT MEN.

FROM PIDGIE TO BENNIE.

Banks of Newfoundland, July 15th, 1846.

I begin to feel, dear Bennie, very much as if