and I shall esteem it a favour if he will come and let me know how you
were, and how you got on at the last."

Saying this, the kind, generous old man wrung my hand and burned on
shore. When I looked at the vast crowd of mighty ships as well as
smaller craft of all sorts with which we were surrounded, it seemed
impossible that the _Orion_ could ever be got clear of them; yet by a
proper application of hawsers, and by due pulling and hauling, she was,
in a wonderfully short time, warped clear of all impediments, and then a
steam-tug taking her in tow, away she went, aided by the ebb, down the
stream, and past many of the scenes with which I was so familiar.

Solon and I looked our last on the old _Dreadnought_, the hospital ship
for seamen of all nations, which lies just above Greenwich. I had more
than once visited her with my father, who was a warm supporter of the
institution. What a noble employment for a green old age, like that, I
believe, of many a gallant sailor who, having fought the battles of his
country in his youth, now employs himself by going about among his
humble fellow-creatures, and doing all the good he can to their bodies
and their souls! I have heard of several such men, admirals and others
of high rank, who have thus happily occupied their declining years, just
as the old ship is employed in receiving all who come to be cured of
sickness and disease. Then I gazed at Greenwich Hospital--a building I
could never look at without the greatest interest. I knew so many of
the old inmates, and so many pleasant hours had been passed there. What
a blessing it has proved to thousands of England's brave tars, who would
otherwise in their decrepitude have been cast helpless on the cold
world! Above the hospital is another magnificent institution connected
with it, I believe, where the sons of naval officers, as well as seamen,
receive a first-rate nautical education. I thought as I looked over the
ship's side that I recognised some of my old acquaintances, and then
there were some white handkerchiefs waved by some ladies in black. I
felt certain that my mother and sisters had come to take a last glance
at me. I waved and waved in return, and Solon stretched out his neck
and barked in a low, significant way; for Henry Raymond was with them, I
guessed, and the dog recognised him. The incident, however, very nearly
unmanned me. Blackwall was next passed, and Woolwich, where several
men-of-war were fi