d, rough-jacketed,
sou'-westered, burly congregation adjourned to the hold, where,
appropriately seated on fish-trunks, they opened their hymn-books and
began to sing.

They had a harmonium--provided, of course, by the Mission--and it
chanced that the mission skipper had music enough in him to play a
simple accompaniment on it, but the strong-lunged congregation drowned
it out in the first five minutes.

Then the invalid clergyman stood up and prayed, and read a chapter of
God's Word, after which he preached--ay, preached in a way that drew
tears from some, and hearty exclamations of thankfulness from others.
It was not the power of rhetoric or of eloquence though he possessed
both, so much as that mighty power, which consists in being thoroughly
and intensely earnest in what one says, and in using a natural,
conversational tone.

There were more signings of the temperance pledge after the service, and
one or two whose minds had been wavering before, now came forward and
offered to purchase Bethel-flags. Others wanted to purchase Testaments,
prayer-books, and gospel compasses--the latter being the invention of an
ingenious Christian. It consisted of a mariner's compass drawn on
card-board, with appropriate texts of God's Word printed on the various
"points." The same ingenious gentleman has more recently constructed a
spiritual chart so to speak, on which are presented to the eye the
various shoals, and quicksands, and rocks of sin, and danger, and
temptation, that beset the Christian pilgrim, as well as the streams,
rivers, and channels, that conduct him from the regions of Darkness into
the realms of Light.

All this took up so much time that it was getting dark when our
fishermen began to go over the side, and proceed to their several
vessels.

Soon after that the aspect of nature entirely changed. The sultry calm
gave place to a fast increasing breeze, which raised white crests on the
darkening waves.

"A dirty night we're going to have of it," remarked David Bright to
Singing Peter, as he got into his tossing boat with some difficulty.

"It's all in the Master's hands," replied Peter, looking up with a glad
expression on his weatherworn face. With these words he left the
mission smack and returned to his own vessel.

The fishermen of the North Sea had cause to remember that night, for one
of the worst gales of the season burst upon them. Fishing was
impossible. It was all that they could do to wea