"You think it is very pleasant because you see no danger, my dear boys," he answered. "Much the same aspect does vice bear to the young, while they shrink with fear from the storms of adversity. Now, a wise seaman dreads a calm near a coast where there are currents, and a fog far more than the heavy gales of wind in the open ocean. Put that down in your log, it is worth remembering, as the lesson you have learned from a calm and a fog."

CHAPTER II.

Cousin Giles finds an old Shipmate-Tom Pulling's Account of the Wreck of the Victoria-Miraculous Escape of Part of the Crew-God's merciful Providence displayed-Cousin Giles converses with the Crew-First Sight of Denmark, Elsinore, and its Castle View of Copenhagen-Description of the Battle and its Cause-Sunday Service on board Ship-Voyage up the Baltic-The Gulf of FinlandCronstadt and its Batteries-Why the British did not take them-The Czar's mode of manning a Ship in a HurryThe Russian Fleet-Leave their Steamer and proceed towards St. Petersburg.

COUSIN GILES soon found his way forward, over the bales of cotton and piles of hay, followed by Fred and Harry, and entered into conversation with the crew. He had not been long there when an old weather-beaten seaman put his head up the fore hatchway. "Ah! Tom Pulling. I thought that I had caught sight of the face of an old shipmate," exclaimed Cousin Giles, putting out his hand. "How fares it with you?"

The old man's countenance brightened as he returned the grasp warmly.

"Is it you, indeed? I am glad to see you—that

I am;" he answered.

"I've a good berth now,

though I've had knocking about enough since I sailed with you last in the Juno. I was cast away in these very parts some time back, and never had a narrower chance of losing my life, so to speak.”

Cousin Giles asked old Tom how this had happened. The other seamen who were not on duty drew near to listen to the old man's oft-told tale, and our young friends stood by, eager to hear what he had got to say.

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'Why, you see, sir,” he replied, "after I was discharged from the old Melampus, I thought I'd try if a short-voyage steamer would suit me better than a man-of-war, seeing that I'd got a wife and family to look after; so I shipped on board the Victoria steamer, running from the port of Hull to St. Petersburg. It was our last voyage that year. About the 6th of November, I think, we left the Humber; but we hoped to get to Cronstadt and away again before the ice set in. The weather was as fair as could be wished for, and with smooth water; so we all made up our minds that we were going to have a quick run of it. Howsomever, the wind breezed up a little on the second day, and by nightfall it blew pretty freshish, with a heavyish sea on. We had much the same sort of weather on the third day, and

at night it came on so thick and dark that we could not see our hands held out before us. Still all seemed going on well. We supposed we were steering a course through the Skaggerack, with a good offing from the land, when, just about the middle of the first watch, as the passengers were in the cabin, maybe thinking of turning into their warm beds all snug, and talking of what they would do next day at Copenhagen, where we were to touch, without an instant's warning-bang! crash!-loud shrieks and cries of terror were heard-the ship quivered from stem to stern as if her last moment was come- -it was not far off either-the sea came roaring up abaft and made a clean sweep over her; she had struck heavily on a rock of some sort, that was certain; but where we were, or how it had happened, no one could tell. Every one was running here and there, crying for help, when there was no one to help them-some took to praying-some to blaspheming; terror seemed to have taken away their senses. I did think that all of us had seen the sun rise for the last time, for it was too dark by far to allow us to try and help ourselves; and from the way the sea kept striking the ship, I knew full well she could not long hold together.

"Well, Mr. Fairman, I'm not ashamed to say I

prayed as I never prayed before, and you'll believe me, sir, I felt a comfort and an assurance of my Maker's protection which also I had never felt before. As my ears caught the sound of the dreadful oaths of the blasphemers, I bethought of the Day of Judgment. When that awful time comes, and the world breaks up, like this ship, how will such men and many others, amid the clouds and thick darkness which will surround them, be able to pray? no, they'll blaspheme on, as they are doing now, to the end. The captain, to do him but justice, behaved nobly. He did his best to keep order and discipline on board. He told the people that if they would but remain by the ship they all might be saved. He could not say, like St. Paul, they would be saved. Few listened to him; some, however, stayed by his side and promised to support him. They had been on their knees asking support for themselves; whence only it can come you know, sir. Others, on the contrary, got hold of one of the boats, and began to lower her into the water. The captain prayed and begged of them to desist, but they would not hearken to him. There were some of the crew and some of the passengers, and when he tried to prevent them they threatened to heave him overboard. At last they got the boat into the water, and eight of