he hearth; and the old
man, taking down a large clasped Bible, seated himself beside the iron
lamp which now lighted the apartment. There was deep silence among us as
he turned over the leaves. Never shall I forget his appearance. He was
tall and thin, and though his frame was still vigorous, considerably
bent. His features were high and massy--the complexion still retained
much of the freshness of youth, and the eye all its intelligence; but
the locks were waxing thin and grey round his high, thoughtful forehead,
and the upper part of the head, which was elevated to an unusual height,
was bald. There was an expression of the deepest seriousness on the
countenance, which the strong umbery shadows of the apartment served to
heighten; and when, laying his hand on the page, he half turned his face
to the circle, and said, "_Let us worship God_," I was impressed by a
feeling of awe and reverence to which I had, alas! been a stranger for
years. I was affected too, almost to tears, as I joined in the psalm;
for a thousand half-forgotten associations came rushing upon me; and my
heart seemed to swell and expand as, kneeling beside him when he prayed,
I listened to his solemn and fervent petition, that God might make
manifest his great power and goodness in the salvation of man. Nor was
the poor solitary wanderer of the deep forgotten.

On rising from our devotions, the old man grasped me by the hand. "I
am happy," he said, "that we should have met, Mr. Lindsay. I feel an
interest in you, and must take the friend and the old man's privilege
of giving you an advice. The sailor, of all men, stands most in need
of religion. His life is one of continued vicissitude--of unexpected
success, or unlooked-for misfortune; he is ever passing from danger to
safety, and from safety to danger; his dependence is on the ever-varying
winds, his abode on the unstable waters. And the mind takes a peculiar
tone from what is peculiar in the circumstances. With nothing stable in
the real world around it on which it may rest, it forms a resting-place
for itself in some wild code of belief. It peoples the elements with
strange occult powers of good and evil, and does them homage--addressing
its prayers to the genius of the winds, and the spirits of the waters.
And thus it begets a religion for itself;--for what else is the
professional superstition of the sailor? Substitute, my friend, for
this--(shall I call it unavoidable superstition?)--this natural