when he gets ashore; and, if all comes out, it will go hard with the master.  The poor lad cries himself to sleep every night, and when he is asleep he has no rest, for in his dreams he talks of his mother and sister, and often sobs loud enough to wake the men whose hammocks swing near him.  I am very sorry to see all this, for he is a fine boy, as I said before, and we are all fond of him; but he’s not fit for this kind of work, leastwise not yet.  I am glad you have taken notice of him, madam; for, though you cannot do any good while we’re at sea, may be when you come ashore you won’t forget poor Frederic Hamilton.’

“When the boatswain left me, I walked up and down the deck pondering on these things, and contriving all sorts of schemes for the relief of my young friend, and wondering how I could manage to have some conversation with him on the subject; when a circumstance occurred, which at once enabled me not only to learn all I was anxious to know, but also in a great measure to improve his condition on board the ‘Neptune.’

“I knew that Frederic must have been trained up in the fear of the Lord, for his daily conduct testified that he not only knew what was right, but tried to perform it also; and notwithstanding the severe trials he had to undergo, while with us on the voyage to Jamaica, yet I never heard a harsh or disrespectful expression fall from his lips; but he would attribute all the captain’s unkind treatment of him to something wrong in himself, and he every day tried beyond his strength to obtain a look of approbation from his stern master.  But, alas! he knew not to whom he looked; although he was cuffed and kicked about whenever he tried to be brisk in the task allotted to him, he was always the same patient, melancholy little fellow, throughout the voyage.

“Sometimes during the night watch, I have caught the musical tones of his voice, as he walked the quarter-deck; when, the captain being in his berth fast asleep, the boy was comparatively happy; and as the ship sailed quietly along in the pale moonlight, his thoughts would wander back to the home of his beloved mother and sister, and, the buoyancy of youthful spirits gaining the ascendency over more melancholy musings, he would for a while forget his present sorrows, and almost involuntarily break out in singing some of the sweet hymns in which he had been accustomed to join when the little family assembled for devotional exercises.

“It was then I used to open my cabin window, and breathlessly listen to the clear voice of my gentle protege; and not unfrequently could even distinguish the words he sang; now loud—­now soft, as he approached or retreated.  One hymn in particular seemed to be a special favorite, and was so applicable to his situation, that I have remembered several of the verses.

  “’Jesus, I my cross have taken,
    All to leave and follow thee: 
  Destitute, despised, forsaken,
    Thou from hence my all shall be. 
  Perish every fond ambition,
    All I’ve sought, and hoped, and known;
  Yet how rich is my condition,—­
    God and heaven are still my own!