one occasion the crew were reminded of the loss of the P-, the K—, the N-, and several other vessels, which affected them to tears; and this evening their hardened shipmate was led to cry for mercy, acknowledging himself a great sinner, and a ringleader in all mischief.

Thus, says the captain, "God hath helped me hitherto, and to Him be all the praise."

In a few weeks the anchor was weighed for old England. All hands in perfect health, and thankful for the mercies they had enjoyed so long. They were reminded however, that though they were going off the coast, they were still in the hands of Divine Providence, and that they must continue in well doing, and in due time they should reap if they faint not. That now they were on board the E- and free from temptation; but every mile they distanced drew them nearer to that danger; it therefore behoved them to be watchful, and prepare to meet the taunts of their old companions, who would try to laugh them out of their religion. Thus happily they pursued their voyage till they arrived at the tropic, when meeting with the N. E. trades, the captain, officers, and several men were laid by with sickness; they all, however, recovered except the second mate, Mr. J. W. a young man, in the bloom of youth, highly respectable, and who had gained the esteem of his captain and every person on board. The fever made rapid strides upon him, and

eventually terminated in his death.

The following most interesting particulars were recorded from his own lips by the captain and his shipmates during his illness.

On good friday and easter sunday, the captain having read some sermons on the sufferings and death of Christ, Mr. W. seeing the effect they had upon the men, and feeling the same himself, afterwards remarked, "Is it possible that P. E. (the man alluded to in the narrative) could ever pretend to be so affected." If so he is the greatest hypocrite in existence. But if he really is touched in his heart to cause him to shed tears, oh what a happy arrival will ours be at Bristol. Here will be news for the Seamen's chapel! How I should like to be there in time for the anniversary. How glad father and sister and Mr. B. will be when they hear of our arrival, and how God has been pleased to answer your prayers!" Whenever any thing seemed to disappoint the hopes and expectations of the captain, he (Mr. W.) would always remark, "It is all for the best: what God does is well done." To A. J. he often expressed his satisfaction, when in health after divine service, and added, how happy my father and sister would be if they knew how we have spent the last hour or two."

On hearing the loss of the P. and N. he felt it much, and seemed depressed in mind. He expressed great concern for some with whom he had sailed, fearing they were plunged into eternity unprepared, and said, —“How thankful ought I to be that it was so ordered that I did not sail in the N. I feel sure I should have continued in my sins, and have been inevitably ruined. What a mercy, what a mercy, I am not there!" During his illness he would often request the scriptures and other religious books to be read, which he seemed to enjoy very much. A. J. expressed his hope that he would yet see Bristol, as he appeared a little

stronger. To which he replied—" I shall never see T. street again; nor have I any desire, were it not for my father and sister, as I know it will be severely felt by them!"

He suffered severely from pain in his side, and expressed his opinion that this would carry him off. His captain kindly appointed the seamen alternately to watch by him at night. On one occasion, when J. E. was attending him, he enquired after P. E. and H. S. desiring him to tell them to read their bibles; and recommended him (J. E.) to do the same. He seemed to spend much time in prayer, and said, "Oh how I long to go to my Father in heaven." C. J, R. being appointed to attend him, asked how he felt, to which he replied, "I am no better, but free from anxiety and pain." To the remark that they would soon be home where he would be able to get medical assistance, he said "I shall soon be home ;-Oh yes, I shall soon be home." Then lifting up his eyes, he clasped his hands together and spent some time in silent prayer. While attending him A. H. observed that he prayed much, on leaving he charged him to read his bible. In the presence of A. E. S. an apprentice, Mr. W. said to A. J. "I wish I was in heaven.” A. J. replied, "If prepared to go, I wish you were, Sir, with all my heart this night." He said "I think I am prepared-Yes, I do indeed,-I am ready,—I am ready heavenly Father, to come to thee." On the friday before he died, A. J. remarks, he said—“ O heavenly Father have mercy upon me ;-have mercy upon me, O God.-I put my trust in thee. Hear my prayer, O heavenly Father, and take me to thyself, for the sake of Him who died on calvary!" He seemed to be suffering much from pain during this petition, and it was a great effort for him to speak. The unwearied kindness of captain D. constrained Mr. W. to confide in him whatever communications he wished to make to his beloved relatives. Present my love to them," he said, "and tell them I died in the Lord."

On sunday, 15th May, Mr. W. though much worse, was carried on deck, where divine worship was held. An address was given from 2nd Book of Kings xx. 1. during which, and the prayer, he was much affected. The captain asked how his mind was engaged. He replied, "I wish and pray to God to take me to the realms of bliss. Oh! the songs of angels-Oh! what beautiful verses-Oh for an introduction into their society!" He felt a full assurance of the pardon of his sins. On being asked if he were restored what he would do, he replied, “ Sir, I would forsake the follies of this life, and serve my Saviour, who died for me."

At 7 P. M. the captain thought him dying, and called all hands around his bed to listen to his last farewell. The captain then addressed him, and said,—“ Your shipmates are now all around you; is there anything you would wish to say to them?" He replied, "Oh, mind your bibles." "Do you wish any portion to be read?"-"O ycs, I much wish it."— "What would you wish read?"-" Any part, as long as it is the Bible; it is all good."-" Do you feel any comfort from what has been done to serve God on the voyage ?"—" Oh yes, yes, prayers night and morning." "Would you advise me to continue worshipping God on the sabbath?”’

"O yes, mind that."-" Do you believe you are about to die and leave us?"-" Yes, I am sure of it."-" And have you no wish to stay with your captain and shipmates longer?"-" No, no; what! and leave such a beautiful place as I just saw? No." He then described such objects as alone can be permitted to one standing on the borders of eternity. At 7 A. M. on Monday, the captain again asked him a question, to which he made no answer; but, lifting up his feeble hands, he uttered his last words. "Oh heavenly Father, receive my soul!" He then breathed three times more, and his spirit fled to God who gave it.

Reader, this narrative is affectionately commended to your perusal as an encouragement, and especially to seafaring persons, to let the glory of God be your constant aim in every circumstance of life; to set an example to all who may come under your influence or control, and to seek that rich and abiding consolation from the word of God that will sustain you in a dying hour.

EVILS OF INTEMPERANCE.

“This sin—the sin of intemperance fetters the immortal mind as well as the body. It not only blisters the skin, but scorches the vitals. While it scourges the flesh, it tortures the conscience. While it cripples the wretch in every limb, and boils away his blood, and ossifies its channels, and throws every nerve into a dying tremor, it also goes down into the unsounded depths of human depravity, and not only excites all the passions to fierce insurrection against God and man, but kindles a deadly civil war in the very heart of their own empire.

Who can enumerate the diseases which intemperance generates in the brain, liver, stomach, lungs, bones, muscles, nerves, fluids, and whatever else is susceptible of disease or pain in the human system? How rudely does it shut up, one after another, all the doors of sensation; or, in the caprice of its wrath, throw them all wide open to every hateful intruder! How, with a refinement of cruelty almost peculiar to itself, does it fly in the face of its victims, and hold their quivering eye-balls in its fangs till they abhor the light, and swim in blood!

Mark that carbuncled, slavering, doubtful remnant of a man, retching and picking tansy before sunrise-loathing his breakfast-getting his ear bored to the door of a dram-shop an hour after-disguised before tenquarrelling by dinner time, and snoring drunk before supper. See him next morning at his retching and his tansy again; and, as the day advances, becoming noisy, cross, drivelling, and intoxicated. Think of his thus dragging out months and years of torture, till the earth refuses any longer to bear such a wretch upon its surface, and then tell me if any Barbadian slave was ever so miserable.

But who is that comes hobbling up with bandaged legs, inflamed eyes, and a distorted countenance? Every step is like the piercing of a sword, or the driving of a nail among nerves and tendons. And what is the cause? The humours, he tells us, trouble him; and though he has

applied to all the doctors far and near, he can get no relief. Ah, these wicked and inveterate humours! Every body knows where they came from. But for the bottle, he might have been a sound aud healthy

man.

Look next at that wretched hovel, open on all sides to the rude and drenching intrusion of the elements. The panting skeleton, lying, as you see, upon a little straw in the corner, a prey to consumption, was once the owner of yonder comfortable mansion, and of that farm so rich in verdure and in sheaves. He might have owned them still, and have kept his health too, but for the love of strong drink. It is intemperance which has consumed his substance, rioted upon his flesh and marrow, and shortened his breath, and fixed that deep sepulchral cough in his wasting vitals. Was ever a bond-slave more wretched in his dungeon? But your sympathies come too late.

Go next to the almshouse, and tell me whether you recognise that dropsical figure, lingering from week to week, under the slow tortures of strangulation. How piercing are his shrieks, as if he was actually drowning! He was once your neighbour, thrifty, reputable, and happy --but he yielded to the blandishments of the great destroyer. He drank, first temperately, then freely, then to excess, and finally to habitual inebriation. The consequences are before you. The swelling flood in which he catches every precarious breath, no finite power can long assuage.

Leaving him to be cast a wreck by the angry waters upon the shore of eternity; enter that hut, toward which a solitary neighbour is advancing with hurried steps. There a husband and a father is supposed to be dying. The disease is delirium tremens. Every limb and muscle quivers as in the agonies of dissolution. Reason, having been so often and so rudely driven from her seat by habitual intoxication, now refuses to return. Possibly he may be reprieved, to stagger on a little further into his ignominious grave; but who that is bought and sold, and thrown into the sea, for the crime of being sable and sick, suffers half so much as this very slave ?

In passing the insane hospital, just look through the grated window, at the maniac in his straight jacket-gnashing his teeth, cursing his keepers, withering your very soul by the flashes of his eye, disquieting the night with cries of distress, or more appalling fits of laughter. Here you see what it is for the immortal mind to be laid in ruins by the worse than volcanic belchings of the distillery, and what happens every day from these tartarean eruptions.

"Who hath woe? Who hath sorrow? Who hath contentions? Who hath babbling? Who hath wounds without cause? Who hath redness of eyes? They that tarry long at the wine; they that go to seek mixed wine." Strong drink may exhilarate for a moment, but "at the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder.”

THE LANDLORD CARRYING JACK'S BAG.

See that beautiful ship entering the harbour. She comes up gallantly into the stream. What are the feelings of the young mariner as he thinks of his own "sweet home?" Beyond the mountains; under a humble roof, is a sainted mother; and hard by, one nearer to his heart than a sister. As he stands by the forecastle, with his duds in his hand, a stranger greets him with the voice of friendship. He welcomes him back to his native shores. He offers him any aid and comfort in his power. He takes him to his house, a nice little tavern, The Sailor's Snug Harbour." He mingles for him the poisonous cup; he alures him to drink, and drink, and squander his hard-earned wages, until he is drunk. Who was that smooth-tongued friend? One of a gang of press-men. And the poor sailor is pressed-he is manacled-he is bound hand and foot-he is stripped of all his earnings he cannot go beyond the mountains. A ten days' bondage to this cruel lord tells him that he is poor and degraded, and that he must again seek service on the waves of the ocean.

LIZARD POINT.

The Lizard Point situated in latitude 49° 57′ north longitude, 5o 15' west, is the most southern point of the shores of Great Britain, on the coast of Cornwall, towards the Great Western or North Atlantic Ocean, and is well known to all seamen. The land at the Lizard Point is of a fair height, and can be seen in a clear day from a ship's deck seven leagues. There are two large light-houses built near the edge of its cliffs, which are a good guide to the mariner in dark wintry nights. They can be seen by day in clear weather coming in from sea before the land appears in view, as two vessels near each other. In a s. s. w. direction from the Lizard, are the Stag rocks, very dangerous, and often fatal to many a ship and crew. The Lizard Point itself is rugged and rocky: off which, in consequence of the great velocity of the tides, there is with southerly and westerly gales a very heavy sea; the land in the neighbourhood of the Lizard is very good and productive, and the air salubrious. The inhabitants for miles round, are found to live to a good old age. The Lizard forms the s. E. boundary of the Mounts Bay, and from its promontory, can be seen in a N. w. by w. direction, the well-known point of land called the LAND'S END, or Tol, Peden, Penwith, off which lie the half tide rocks, the Rundlestone, and the Wolf Rock. Between the Lizard and the Land's End, is the deep and extensive Bay, called Mounts Bay, including the town and pier harbour of Penzance, together with the town and pier of Mousehole and Newlyn, situated on the west shores of the Bay. From the Lizard in a N. N. w. direction, can be seen the high hills of Godolphin, and which on a clear day can be discerned twelve leagues distance from sea: also in the same direction