“Why Miss it ain’t at all an extraordinary way in which he met his death.  It was in this way.  He was very fond of me, poor boy, but he liked his way better than my way too often.  And may be I humoured him a little too much.  He was my Benjamin, you must know Miss, for his mother died soon after he was born.  Sure enough I made an idol of the lad, and we read somewhere in the Bible, Miss, that ’the idols he will utterly abolish.’  But I don’t like looking at the sorrow that way neither.  I would rather think that ‘whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth.’  Well, Miss, like father like son.  My boy loved the sea, as was natural he should, but he was too venturesome; I used often to say, ’Bob, the oldest sailor living can’t rule the waves and winds, and if you are such a mad cap as to go out sailing in such equally weather on this coast, as sure as you are alive you will repent it.’  He and some young chaps hereabouts, got such a wonderful notion of sailing, and though I have sailed many and many a mile, in large vessels and small, I always hold to it that it is ticklish work for the young and giddy.  Why sometimes you are on the sea, Miss, ah, as calm as it is now—­all in peace and safety—­a squall comes, and before you know what you are about you are capsized.  I had told him this, and he knew it, Miss, but he got a good many idle acquaintances, as I told you, and they tempted him often to do bold reckless things such as boys call brave.”

“It was one morning at the end of September, Bob says to me, ’Father, we are going to keep my birthday; I am sixteen to-day,’ and so he was, bless him, sixteen the very day he died.  ’We are going to keep my birthday,’ says he, ’Newton, and Somers, and Franklin, and I, we are all going to Witton,’ that is the next town, Miss, as you may know, ’we are going to have a sail there, and dine at grandmother’s, and home again at night, eh Father.’  ‘Bob,’ says I, ’I can’t give my consent; that ticklish sailing boat of young Woods’ requires wiser heads and steadier hands than your’s to manage.  You know my opinion of sailing, and you won’t grieve me, I hope, by going.’  I might have told him, but I did not, that I did not like the lads he was going with, but I knew that would only make him angry, and do no good just as his heart was set upon a frolic with them, so I said nought of that, but I tried to win him, (that’s my way with the young ones,) though I failed this time; go he would, and he would have gone, let me have been as angry as you please.  But I have this comfort, that no sharp words passed my lips that day, and no bitter ones his.  I saw he was set on the frolic, and I hoped no harm would come of it.  How I watched the sky that day, Miss, no mortal knows; how I started when I saw a sea gull skim across the waves! how I listened for the least sound of a squall!  Snap was just as fidgetty seemingly, and we kept stealing down to the beach, long before it was likely they should be back.  As I stood watching there in the evening, where I knew they would land, I saw young Newton’s mother; she pulled me by my sleeve, anxious like, and said, ’What do you think of the weather Joe?’ ‘Why, Missis,’ said I, ’there is an ugly look about the sky, but I don’t wish to frighten you; please God they’ll soon be home, for Bob promised to be home early.’”