ed. It was,
indeed, a very different sort of place from that in which he had long
been accustomed to live--much more like, in the handsomeness of its
fittings and its accommodation, to the luxurious cabin of the old
Rainbow, which I used to see in my youth. He himself, too, was greatly
changed in his appearance from the rough sailor he had long been. When
dressed in plain clothes, he looked like a gentleman certainly, but not
a polished one; but in a uniform which became him perfectly, he was a
very good-looking officer. He was conscious of the improvement.

"I begin to think that there are yet higher steps for me to climb,
Williams," he observed, after he had cordially welcomed me and ordered
refreshments to be brought in. "Who knows but that one day I may become
an admiral, or a governor of one of these islands? I am becoming
ambitious, I assure you. I thought it was not in me. I was till lately
perfectly contented with my lot. I proposed spending my youth knocking
about in these seas, and when I found old age creeping on me, settling
down in one of the many thousand beautiful isles of the bright Pacific
to spend the remainder of my days. Now that dream has passed away, and
I feel an anxiety to climb. I am growing more and more ambitious; for I
see that there are plenty of things in this world worth living for--
plenty of golden fruit to be plucked, if a man has but the daring to
scramble up the tree in spite of the thorns and knots in the way, and
reach out to the branches."

What did I reply to Newman? Did I offer him good advice? Alas, no! I
thought not to say to him, Do thy duty in that station of life to which
it has pleased God to call thee, regardless of this world's tinsel
prizes. Look steadily forward to another and a better world for thy
reward. This he did not. This world, and this alone, entirely occupied
his attention. He only thought of the gratification of the moment.
Blindly and obstinately he shut out from his contemplations all thoughts
of his eternal interests.

Newman's man-of-war schooner and the stout old whaler the _Drake_ left
Batavia Roads the same day. We were bound for the ground off
Navigator's and some of the neighbouring groups of islands. We were
fortunate enough to kill a couple of whales on our passage, and within
two years after leaving England had nearly filled up all our casks. I
began to consider whether I should remain in the ship, or, supposing
Captain Car