it cannot be! Help mine unbelief. Remove my doubts. A child of so many prayers—a merciful Father would not let him be cast away. He will come back to me truthful, honest, pure-my son, my very own son !"

But even so it would be strange. A child went forth, and went for ever. Childhood had given place to early manhood, and this alone seemed to place a mental barrier between the mother and her son, and made her heart to heave, her limbs to tremble.

In the darkness they could only tell by the increasing sound that the van was approaching. The lamps George Ford carried in front did not help in the least to show its whereabouts, and almost before they thought it near enough, it came to a stop, a heavy black mass in front of the gate.

In an instant of time a big, broad figure had leaped from the cart, bounded over the gate, and rushing up the garden-path, waiting neither for words nor welcome, seized Mrs. Wentworth in his arms, and kissed her with passionate tenderness.

The astonished widow struggled in his arms, never thinking it could be Frank so big as that; he immediately released his hold, and bending his face close to hers, while the light from the inner room gleamed fitfully upon it,—

"I am your son, ma'am-Frank Wentworth," he said.

"O my God, I thank Thee!" exclamed the widow; and while Jessie was waiting for her embrace, the mother, unmindful of all else, caught her boy by the

hand (no one must touch him yet), drew him on into the warm kitchen-to the light-closer, closer still; and as he removed his cap with the gold band and badge from his sun-burnt brow, and she beheld in the bright glow of lamp and fire, the youthful head with its clustering curls, the manly, bright, honest, ingenuous face, with those brimming blue eyes;-those merry dimples round mouth and chin,--she clasped him to her bosom with a fond, murmuring cry, kissing him again and again on brow, cheek, and lips, and from the fulness of her heart she blessed him :"Bless you, God in heaven bless you, my son-my own dear, dear son!"

CHAPTER XIII.

PEACE AND PROSPERITY.

AS it not natural that the full heart should overflow, and that a few tears, precious as the dew upon the drooping flower, should well up to the mother's eyes? They did so, yet joy illumined her gentle fea

tures; but she turned

away, and busied her

self with the placing of the sea-chest, talking to George Ford, stirring the fire, and shifting the kettle on the hob-any thing, so that her boy should not see the tears which glistened through her smiles, and so be made uneasy.

"Little ones last!" cried Frank, as having greeted Margaret very affectionately, but with a shade of respect in his greeting, he caught Jessie round the waist, and kissed her pretty, blushing face again and

again, looking at her between times with very evident admiration.

George was to go and put up his horse and cart, and then return to tea. More than one were anxious to have him there : he had brought home the ROVER, and they had struck up a decided friendship on the way; he was soon to be one of the family; and he was always so agreeable, sensible, and good-tempered, that his company was very desirable.

While George was absent, Frank considerably reduced his proportions, by divesting himself of his wraps-monkey-jacket, comforter, and mittens.

It is a strange thing, but no less true, that sailor lads who can bear any amount of heat or cold when at sea, and scarcely heed wind and rain, no sooner step ashore than they are affected by every change of atmosphere. They cannot keep a jacket on in hot weather-roll up their shirt sleeves, continually indulge in a cold bath, and lounge lazily through the heat of the day; while they begin to coddle with the least cold—extra flannels, warm soups, oil-skins if wet; a rush to the fire at every opportunity; and, to conclude, a conveyance for every occasion, whether wet or dry, hot or cold.

Frank was like the rest of them, and he was now in a position to be petted and indulged to his heart's

content.

"I have kept my word, Jessie," he said, when they were all seated, and regaling themselves on the good things which covered the table. "Yes, I've brought lots of 'curios,' and when our mother has had her

choice, then you girls may divide the rest between you. I can pretty well guess what our mother will like, and we'll unpack the chest after tea, and get them out; that is,” he added, “if there's time enough before we 'turn in; for it seems I never did taste such bacon and such toast, and, my! such a cup of tea— nectar, positive nectar ; quite another sort of article to what cap'n gives us ; but we think that's good stuff, 'cause we only get it in stormy weather, when there's extra work. But this”—and he took several sips— "well, I really can't say when I shall leave off working at these good things. This is about the best 'fresh mess' I ever tasted. Positively, mother, you and the girls are first-rate cooks."

"Well," said Jessie, with a touch of her old childlike gaiety, "you're getting on very fairly: no one can say you don't do justice to the cookery. You'll have to unbuckle that grand belt of yours, if you go on much longer. Mother has already poured you out three large cups of tea, and two's enough for a man at any time, so one should suffice for a boy!"

"Boy indeed, Jessie! I like that. I consider a fellow's a grown man when he can do a grown man's work, and that's what I can; and if you go for size, I'm bigger than most men already, for I've outgrown my bunk, and when I want to stretch my legs I'm obliged to hang them over the side. I should like to know what's being grown up, and a man, if that isn't. Besides, look here-I'm a good half-inch taller than the cap'n."