a simple modesty which
our learned friend found charming. Apparently not one of those poor
fellows felt a single prompting of conceit, and if their very innermost
feeling had been translated it would come out like this: "Brothers,
through mercy we've all slipped away from an ugly fate; we're on safe
ground; let's hang together and help each other nearer to God, lest we
should get adrift and make shipwreck."

Lewis was particularly pleased with their kindly mode of talking about
backsliders.

"Come, old lads," said one fair-haired Scandinavian, "let's all say a
word for poor old Joe Banks. He's a backslider just now, through that
dreadful drink. Let's all pray as he may see his sin against his
Saviour, and come right back to Him. He's too good to lose, and we won't
let go on him."

Then the excitement gathered, and the meeting really developed into what
might be fairly termed a Service of Praise. The men almost roared their
choruses, then they prayed passionately, then they sang again, and the
rush of harmless excitement went on hour by hour, until the strongest
enthusiasts had to obey the signal given by the darkness.

On deck there were merry partings, and the Newfoundland puppy business
was resumed with exceeding vigour. Tom Lennard was exalting his
popularity, and he knew the history of the father, the mother, the wife,
the children (down to the last baby), of every man with whom he talked.
The wind was still, the moon made silver of the air; the fleet hung like
painted ships on painted ocean,--and the men delayed their partings like
affectionate brothers whom broad seas must soon divide. The distant
adoration paid to the ladies would have amused some indifferent
shoregoers. You know the story of the miners who filled a Scotch
emigrant's hand with gold dust and "nuts" on condition that he let his
wife look out from the waggon? I can believe the tale. Great
fourteen-stone men lifted their extraordinary hats and trembled like
children when our good ladies talked to them; the sweetness of the
educated voice, the quiet naturalness of the thorough lady, are all
understood by those seadogs in a way which it does one good to
remember. The fellows are gentlemen; that is about the fact. Their
struggles after inward purity are reflected in their outward manners,
and to see one of them help a lady to a seat on deck is to learn
something new about fine breeding. Marion Dearsley was watched with a
reverence which, never beca