But he had got that which was better than any ordinary friendships.  Though he often came under the fire of jeers and taunts—­more trying to most men than the rifle bullets of the enemy—­he experienced a new joy which increased and deepened.

Later on he would spend four or five hours daily in Bible reading, meditation and prayer, so that whereas he had written a few months earlier:  “Oh! dear mother, I wish I felt more what I write!” he was now daily becoming more earnest, patient and watchful, and was gradually putting on the whole armour of God.

And so, during those three short years that intervened between his call to grace and his death at the early age of thirty, he did the work of a lifetime; and of him it can be truly said (as of many another alluded to in this book) that “he being dead yet speaketh”.

THE LASS THAT LOVED THE SAILORS.

THE STORY OF AGNES WESTON.

“I was obliged to go to church, but I was determined not to listen, and oftentimes when the preacher gave out the text I have stopped my ears and shut my eyes that I might neither see nor hear.”

Thus writes Agnes Weston of the days of her girlhood.  There was therefore a time in the life of this devoted woman when there seemed no prospect of her doing good to any one—­to say nothing of the great work she has accomplished in giving a helping hand to our sailors in every part of the world.

However, she got out of this Slough of Despond, and having become convinced of God’s love she told the good story to the sick in hospitals, to soldiers and sailors without number, and has done more for the good of Jack Tar afloat and ashore than perhaps any other man or woman.

Her public work commenced at the Bath United Hospital, where in 1868 she visited the patients.  These looked forward so eagerly to her helpful conversation that in course of time it was arranged she should give a short Gospel address in each of the men’s wards once a week.

One day a man who had met with a terrible accident was brought into the hospital whilst she was there.  His case was hopeless, and Miss Weston asked that she might be allowed to speak to him.  She whispered to him the text, “God so loved the world”; and, though he gave no sign of taking it in, yet presently, when she repeated it, big tears rolled down his face.  The word of comfort had reached him.

Another day she came across a poor fellow with both legs broken; and after a little earnest talk he said, “I’ve been a bad fellow, but I’ll trust Him”.

Others she found who had been already influenced by Miss Marsh; and so her task of teaching was made easier.

At the Sunday school she showed so great a genius for taming unruly boys that the curate handed over to her the very worst of the youths, that she might “lick them into shape”.

Ere long the boys’ class developed into a class for working men, which grew and grew till it reached an average attendance of a hundred.