“They are indeed beautiful,” replied his wife, “and man’s work shrinks into nothing when compared with them!  And how fully the sense of our weakness comes upon us while thus tossing about upon the broad sea.  What a consolation it is to remember, that He who neither slumbereth nor sleepeth, protects us ever.”

“Father,” cried Annie, after a short silence, “I do not understand at all how the captain finds out the way to America.  It is so many miles from any other land!  Tom knows all about it, but he says he can’t exactly explain.”

“Come, come, Tom,” said his father, “try; nothing can be done without a trial; tell us now what you know on the subject.”

“Well, father,” answered Tom, “the man at the wheel has a compass before him, and he looks at that, and so knows how to point the ship’s head.  As America is in the west, he keeps it pointed to the west.”

“Quite right, so far,” said his father, “but tell us what a compass is.”

“Oh! a compass is a round box, and the bottom is marked with four great points, called North, South, East, and West; then smaller points between them; and in the middle is a long needle, balanced, so that it turns round very easily, and as this needle always points to the North, we can easily find the South, and East, and West.”

“But, father,” cried Annie, “why does that needle always point to the North? my needle only points the way I make it when I sew.”

“Your needle, dear Annie, has never been touched by the wonderful stone!  You must know that some few hundred years ago, people discovered that a mineral called the loadstone, found in iron mines, had the quality of always pointing to the North, and they found, too, that any iron rubbed with it would possess the same quality.  The needle Tom tells us of has undergone this operation.  Before the invention of the compass, it was only by watching the stars that sailors could direct their course by night.  Their chief guide was one which always points towards the North pole, and is therefore called the Pole star.  But on a cloudy night, and in stormy weather, when they could not read their course in the sky, think what danger they were in!  Such a voyage as ours, they could never have ventured on.”

“Listen!” cried Mrs. Lee, “do you know, I fancy I hear the twittering of birds.”

“Yes, ma’am, and no mistake,” said the mate, who was pacing the deck, near them, wrapped up in a great dreadnaught coat, and occasionally stopping to look up at the sails, or at the compass, or over the ship’s side; “Mother Carey’s chickens are out in good numbers to-night.”

“Are they not a sign of rather rough weather, Mr. James?” asked Mr. Lee.

“Why, so some say, sir; but I have heard them night after night in as smooth a sea and light a wind as you would wish for.”

“What a funny name they have,” said Annie.  “I wonder it they are pretty.”

“Can we catch them?” asked Tom, eagerly.