[Illustration:  Attacked by a Whale.]

But the whale was not satisfied.  He wanted to fight it out with the ship.  He was soon seen coming toward the vessel again.  He came on so fast that the water foamed round him.  He struck the ship a second blow, which almost crushed it.  The mate now quickly put what provisions he could into a boat, and got ready to leave the ship.

The other boats returned.  The men were so horrified that for some time they could not speak to one another.  The ship fell over on her side.  The men cut away her masts.  Then they cut holes into the ship’s side, and got out what bread and water they could carry.  They were a thousand miles from land, in the direction that the winds blew.

After twenty-eight days of sailing in these open boats, the men got to Ducie’s Island.  Here they could not find food enough for so large a party, so the boats put off to sea again.  Three men remained behind on the island.  These were afterward found by a passing ship, which took them home.  Some of the men in the boats perished, but the rest of them were picked up by a ship and taken home.

A WHALING SONG.

PART OF A FAVORITE SONG SUNG BY WHALEMEN IN OLD TIMES.

  When spring returns with western gales,
    And gentle breezes sweep
  The ruffling seas, we spread our sails
    To plow the watery deep.

  Cape Cod, our dearest native land,
    We leave astern, and lose
  Its sinking cliffs and less’ning sands,
    While Zephyr gently blows.

  Now toward the early dawning east
    We speed our course away,
  With eager minds and joyful hearts,
    To meet the rising day.

  Then, as we turn our wondering eyes,
    We view one constant show,—­
  Above, around, the circling skies,
    The rolling seas below.

  When eastward, clear of Newfoundland,
    We stem the frozen pole,
  We see the icy islands stand,
    The northern billows roll.

  Now see the northern regions where
    Eternal winter reigns;
  One day and night fills up the year,
    And endless cold maintains.

  We view the monsters of the deep,
    Great whales in numerous swarms,
  And creatures there, that play and leap,
    Of strange, unusual forms.

  When in our station we are placed,
    And whales around us play,
  We launch our boats into the main,
    And swiftly chase our prey.

A STRANGE ESCAPE.

In 1658 there was a little French colony at Onondaga in New York.  Some of the men in this colony were traders, and some were missionaries.  They were living among the Onondaga Indians.

[Illustration:  A French Missionary.]