ocured a good situation, and he was now able to take
her and their child to a comfortable home. Past sorrows now seemed to
be almost forgotten.

[Illustration: {Katie and Bolton on the deck of the ship}]

Bolton, who, during a trying voyage, had shown much kindness to Mrs.
Vale as well as to Katie, was invited during his stay at New York to
make their house his home. He had much business to do as long as he
remained in the great city, so saw little of the Vales except in the
evenings, when he shared their cheerful supper, and then knelt down
with them at family prayers. The mate learned much of the peace and
happiness which piety brings while he dwelt under the emigrant's roof.

But ere long the day arrived when Bolton's vessel, the Albion, was to
start for England. She was to weigh anchor at one o'clock, and at
midday the mate bade good by to his emigrant friends.

"A pleasant journey to you, and a speedy return; we'll be glad to see
you back here," said Henry Vale, as he shook the mate by the hand.

Bolton's journey was to be much shorter, and his return much more
speedy than he wished, or his friends expected. He was hastening down
to the pier to join his vessel, when he saw hanging up in a shop
window a curious basket, made of some of the various nuts of the
country prettily strung together.

"That's just the thing to take my Mary's fancy," said the mate to
himself. "I've a present for every one at home but for her; it won't
take two minutes to buy that basket."

Great events often hang upon very small hooks. If Bolton had not
turned back to buy the basket, he would not have been passing a house
on which masons were working at the very moment when a ladder,
carelessly placed against it, happened to fall with a crash. The
ladder struck Bolton, and he fell on the pavement so much stunned by
the shock, that he had to be carried in a senseless state into the
shop of an apothecary.

Happily no bones were broken, but it was nearly an hour before the
mate recovered the use of his senses. He then opened his eyes, raised
his head, and stared wildly around him, as if wondering to find
himself in a strange place, and trying to think how he came to be
there. Bolton pressed his aching forehead, seeking to recall to his
memory what had happened, for he felt like one in a dream. Soon his
glance fell on the clock in the apothecary's shop, and at the same
instant the clock struck _one_! Bolton started to his feet, as if the