“Don’t talk to me of lodging!” Jack exclaimed.  “I have not a penny in the world, and must ship myself in the first vessel that goes.”

Jack’s companion, with seaman-like generosity, offered him half of all he owned in the world, and was certain, that, if he would go to the Sailor’s Home, he would find friends who would assist him in recovering his stolen treasure.  Jack allowed himself to be led by his companion, and soon reached the comfortable building which had been erected by one of those benevolent associations which are an honor to the Northern cities.

The poor wanderer felt a greater sense of comfort than he had experienced for years, as he entered a pleasant little chamber in this truly homelike abode.  When he had made the acquaintance of the kind-hearted landlady, he found her willing to let him remain, even after he had told her of his destitute condition; and she promised that every effort should be made to restore to him his hard earnings.

On going back to his snug quarters, after this conversation, there was something like thankfulness to the Giver of all good in Jack’s heart.  By his bedside he found a Bible, a volume which he had not seen since the one his mother gave him was lost, five years before, when he was wrecked upon the coast of Africa.  He thought of the sermon which he had heard that afternoon, and took up the book to look for the text,—­“The sea shall give up its dead.”  The first words upon which his eye fell were,—­“For this my son was lost and is found.”  The beautiful story of the Prodigal Son, as he had heard it in childhood, came full into his mind, and he remembered how often he had read it at his mother’s knee.  The tears rolled down his cheek, as, sitting down beside the little pine table, he read again that touching picture of God’s love for his wandering children; and when he came to the confession of the penitent son, it burst forth from his own heart.

From that hour Jack has been a changed man.  Some of the benevolent persons in the city of New York, who have the welfare of mariners so much at heart, procured him a new situation, favorable to his improvement in character; and the next ship in which he sailed was commanded by a pious captain, who was a good friend to every man on board.  When he returned from this cruise, he felt too old for another long voyage, and for the future was going to try and content himself with being out for two or three months on expeditions like that in which he is at present engaged.

Perhaps, dear Bennie, I have tired you by repeating this long story, which cannot be as interesting to you as it was to me from Jack’s own lips, in the morning after a night of such excitement, with the sailors standing around, listening attentively to every word of it.  Even brother Clarendon was touched by the earnest exhortations to them with which the narrative closed; and it seems as if being out of society had made him more serious than he ever was before.  He laughs at me now very often, and says I was cut out for a Methodist preacher; but on Sunday he did not read any of the novels he brought with him, and though that does not seem a proof of much goodness, yet in him it shows improvement.  If he should get his health, and become a pious man, what a comfort he would be to ’ma; for she thinks he is almost perfect now.