£( brar jp of t:he £:heological Seminar jp 
 
 PRINCETON • NEW JERSEY 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 Presbyterian Church in the U.3.A. 
 DeDartraent of History 
 
 Pr^-sh. B d «f Pub. Coll. 
 
 / 3^ S/S' 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 
 
 https://archive.org/details/outatseaorfromboOOemma 
 
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OUT AT SEA; 
 
 FROM BOSTON TO CEYLON. 
 
 Bt EMMA. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA : 
 
 PRESBYTERIAN PUBLICATION COMMITTEE, 
 1334 CHESTNUT STREET, 
 
 A. D. r. RANDOLPH, 770 BROADWAY, H. Y. 
 
Entered according to Act of Cougress, in the year 1866, by 
 WM. L. UILDEBURN, Treasurer, 
 fcrt b'^jLSt for the 
 
 PRESBYTERIAN PUBLTCAITON COMMITTEE, 
 lu the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District 
 of Pennsylvania. 
 
 STEREOTYPED BY WESTCOTT k THOMSON. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 I. 
 
 PAQS 
 
 The Glen 7 
 
 II. 
 
 Sea Sights 22 
 
 III. 
 
 Rain, Gales and Fogs 59 
 
 IV. 
 
 Stars in Sky and Sea 106 
 
 V. 
 
 Sabbath at Sea 132 
 
 3 
 
4 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 VI. 
 
 PAGS 
 
 Ashore Again 152 
 
 VII. 
 
 Madras to Ce;ytuii 178 
 
EDITOR’S PREFACE. 
 
 Ocean Life, with its sights and sounds, its lights 
 and shades, its wonders and its teachings, our readers 
 will find portrayed in “ Out at Sea” by a graceful and 
 truthful pen. The long voyage from America to 
 South India and thence to the Island of Ceylon, 
 made, not in imagination hut in fact, furnishes full 
 material for introducing to us the Ocean in all of its 
 many moods of storm and calm, whilst the incidents 
 of the voyage supply teachings that will not be lost 
 upon the thoughtful voyager upon the Sea of Life. 
 
 J. W. P. 
 
 1 * 
 
 5 
 
I 
 
 t 
 
 ’i 
 
 t 
 
 V' 
 
 ‘1 
 
 
 j 
 
Out at Sea. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE GEEK. 
 
 One warm afternoon in June, Mrs. 
 Kaymond stood at the front door of 
 her quiet country home, looking out 
 upon the pleasant scene. The heavy 
 shower, which fell two days before, 
 aided by two days of brilliant sunshine 
 that followed, had made every green 
 thing lift up its head and look fresh 
 and vigorous, and had also brought 
 out a multitude of flowers. 
 
 A group of merry children were 
 jumping about under the cherry-tree, 
 pleased to find that the warm sun had 
 
 7 
 
8 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 ripened a few cherries; and now they 
 came, each with a handful, to ask their 
 mother if she thought them fit to eat. 
 
 “See, mother,” said Emma, a bright, 
 intelligent girl of fourteen years, “how 
 well the garden looks, and the fields. 
 Everything is growing finely. The 
 king-lilies in the center of that oval bed 
 look as proud as queens, and the white 
 columbines, and gilly-flowers, and dear 
 little Scotch roses and pansies stand 
 round her like maids of honor, gayly 
 dressed, but lowly.” 
 
 “And look, mother,” said Alice, a 
 child of twelve years, with a less at- 
 tractive but more thoughtful face, “ at 
 that field of grass, so fresh and green, 
 and gay with buttercups and daisies. 
 I think God has made things very 
 beautiful for us.” 
 
 Clarence and Frank, little boys of 
 
THE GLEN. 
 
 9 
 
 eight and six, had been quite engrossed 
 with their cherries; but, having fin- 
 ished them, they joined their mother 
 and sisters on the piazza, and stretched 
 their little necks to see what pleasant 
 objects they might descry to entitle 
 their voices to a hearing. 
 
 “ Mother dear,” said Clarence, moved 
 by the feeling which often moves older 
 people as well as children, that some- 
 thing a little out of sight or out of 
 reach must be much finer that that 
 which is at hand, “I think it must be 
 j)leasant down at the further side of 
 that daisy field. I often try to see 
 down to the bottom of it, but I can’t. 
 I climbed the piazza-post the other 
 day after the shower, and tried and 
 tried to see the other fence, for I 
 kno-w there must be another some- 
 where.” 
 
10 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 “How do you know, Clarence,” said 
 Frank, who, though younger, some- 
 times thought he had more sagacity 
 than his brother, “how do you know 
 but that field runs ’way on, ever so 
 far, and then goes into a wood? Don’t 
 you see the tops of those trees? Then 
 is there not a wood there?” 
 
 Clarence was the boy to go and look 
 at everything he wished to know, and, 
 if it was a small thing, to turn it over, 
 feel it, measure it, and make himself 
 sure of all the facts in the case. Frank 
 made a calculation in his mind of what 
 and how a thing was likely to be, and 
 sometimes reached a right conclusion 
 quicker than Clarence, but was not so 
 certain always to be right. 
 
 “Pooh! Frank; you are young yet, 
 my boy. Don’t you know that every- 
 body fences his ground all around? 
 
THE GLEN. 
 
 11 
 
 If there’s a wood then there may be a 
 fence in the wood, or the other side 
 of the wood, or somewhere. There is 
 Uncle Henry’s lot. I tried, the other 
 day, to find the end of it, and I had 
 to go over the brook and through the 
 apple-orchard, and then I found it. 
 There is an end to everything, as far 
 as I know, isn’t there, mother?” 
 
 “Everything but little children’s 
 chat, I suppose,” said his mamma, 
 caressing him. 
 
 The mother waited for the boys to 
 finish their talk about the fence; for, 
 though she never allowed them to 
 make a noise about nothing and inter- 
 rupt older people’s conversation, yet, 
 when only herself and their sisters 
 were present, and she saw that they 
 really had some thoughts which, to 
 their young minds, seemed of conse- 
 
12 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 quence, she loved to hear them reason 
 kindly together and exercise the facul- 
 ties God had given them. 
 
 “I daresay it is very pleasant out 
 there, Clarence,” said Mrs. Raymond, 
 when they paused, “though not more 
 so, perhaps, than the view from this 
 spot. Here we can see to a great 
 distance. The daisy-field in front of 
 us, across the road, descends over a 
 steep slope into the ravine where the 
 trees grow, whose tops you can just 
 see beyond the field. Beyond them 
 you see another long line of hillside, 
 with fine old trees along its summit; 
 and over all appear the far-otf moun- 
 tains, with their sides covered with 
 woods, fields and villages. This is a 
 fine jrrospect. At the further end of 
 the daisy-field you would find you 
 could see but a little way. Still I pre- 
 
THE GLEH. 
 
 13 
 
 sume there are many pleasant nooks 
 and shady walks in that ravine, and I 
 hope we may sometime go and explore 
 it witli you. But, Clarence dear, let 
 us make the most of what is within 
 our reach, enjoy that, and not think 
 that sometliing- else would be better.” 
 
 “Don’t you think it would be a fine 
 afternoon for a walk, mamma?” said 
 Emma. 
 
 “And to take our sewing and sit in 
 the glen?” added Alice, inquiringly. 
 
 “I think we may not have a better 
 chance,” replied her mother. “It is 
 really a lovely day, and the ground 
 must be quite dry by this time.” 
 
 “Mother, you have often promised 
 to tell us about your voyage to India. 
 Will you not do so this afternoon?” 
 asked Emma. 
 
 “I should like nothing better. Get 
 2 
 
14 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 your bonnets and shawls and your 
 sewing.” 
 
 “Thank you, dear mother,” said 
 Alice. 
 
 “May we go too, mother?” asked 
 Clarence. “I should like to hear.” 
 
 “And 1 too,” added Frank. “We 
 will be still as mice.” 
 
 “Still as squirrels, — that will do. 
 Frisk about if }'ou will, but don’t make 
 a noise.” 
 
 In a few minutes all Avere prepared 
 to set otf. Clarence noticed that Frank 
 had thought of something with Avhich 
 to amuse himself. In his hand was a 
 paper windmill, whose movements he 
 Avas never Aveary of Avatching. 
 
 “Clarence dear, Avhy don’t you take 
 your thread and pins. Avith AA'hich I 
 taught you to weave tattin?” asked 
 Alice. 
 
THE GLEN. 
 
 15 
 
 “Oh, I will! I will! I can listen a 
 great deal better when I’ve something 
 in my hands to do. And I need not 
 work if I’ve not a mind to, so it’s only 
 f)lay, then.” 
 
 He ran and quickly brought his 
 simple tools. 
 
 They took the highway for a fourth 
 of a mile, and then turned into a cross- 
 road, which led among the hills and 
 woods. Clarence' sometimes took his 
 mother’s hand, and sometimes ran and 
 walked beside his sisters, and some- 
 times borrowed the windmill from 
 Frank, who would then take his turn 
 at his mother’s or sister’s side. 
 
 “Mother,” said Alice, “you have 
 told us a little about India; but what 
 I have heard only makes me wish to 
 hear more, and you always say that 
 
16 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 sometime we shall have a long talk 
 about it.” 
 
 “1 hope, my clear, that this summer 
 we shall have many opportunities to 
 sit and sew and talk together. I have 
 long wished to tell you many things, 
 and used, when you were quite small, 
 to look forward to the time when you 
 Avould both be old enough to listen 
 with interest. But since then I have 
 been so much occupied that I began 
 to think that scenes and eAmnts, which 
 passed so long ago, would slip from 
 my memory before I could reimpress 
 them by reviewing them. I feel that 
 it ought not to be quite lost to my 
 children that I once crossed the mighty 
 ocean to almost the remotest parts of 
 the globe, and spent ten years of my 
 life among a people of a strange relig- 
 
4 
 
 THE GLEN. 17 
 
 ion, and of practices and a character 
 widely different from our own. 
 
 “I am sure,” said Alice, “we are 
 alwa}^s delighted to hear you, dear 
 mother.” 
 
 “I don’t know anything more pleas- 
 ant, mother,” added Emma, “than to 
 sit by you with our sewing, and listen 
 to you,” 
 
 “We Avill try, my children, to come 
 out at least once a week to this little 
 valley, or to some other out-door re- 
 treat; and there will, I think, be two 
 or three other days in the Aveek Avhen 
 Ave can sit in the arbor or on the 
 piazza, or, if the Aveather forbids this, 
 Avithin doors, and spend some time in 
 that way.” 
 
 “I hope Ave may,” said Alice. 
 
 “That will be a ery pleasant,” added 
 Emma. 
 
 2 * 
 
18 
 
 OUT AT SEA 
 
 They were walking down hill as 
 they talked, and had now reached a 
 place where a hill, which hounded the 
 meadow on their left, drew near to 
 the road. From that point the hill 
 swept round in a semicircle, the road 
 running round at its base. The top 
 of the hill was smooth and round, and 
 its steep sides were covered thinly 
 with trees and thrifty brushwood, in 
 their young summer foliage. The brook, 
 Avhich for some distance threaded its 
 way between the road and the hillside, 
 playing with the pebbles that tumbled 
 from either, at length suddenly darted 
 under a small bridge to the other side 
 of the road, and, leaping down the 
 bank, began to gambol through the 
 pretty valley on, their right. This 
 spot looked as though it were made 
 
THE GLEN. 
 
 19 
 
 on purpose for a play-ground for chil- 
 dren. Another hill enclosed the fur- 
 ther side of it and met the circular one. 
 
 The ground was nearly level at the 
 bottom of the little semicircular val- 
 ley, yet descending slightly toward 
 where the road disappeared, and was 
 varied by many slight elevations and 
 depressions, some rough and rocky, 
 others smooth and grassy. The 
 straight hill was covered from top to 
 bottom with a rich forest, in which old 
 red, black and white oak, hickory and 
 black walnut, maple and chestnut- 
 trees, vied with each other in urging 
 their way skyward, and birch and dog- 
 wood contented themselves with look- 
 ing up toward the heads of their migh- 
 tier associates. Enough large trees 
 were scattered over the ground below 
 to furnish shady retreats, still leaving 
 
20 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 sufficient access for the sun to keep 
 the earth dry and make the scene 
 cheerful in sunny weather. 
 
 When they reached this spot our 
 little party stopped awhile to watch 
 the movements of the brook. Look- 
 ing from the road over a bank of a 
 few feet that enclosed the curved side 
 of the glen, they saw it run along for 
 awhile at the foot of tlie bank, as 
 though it thought it might escape in 
 the same direction in which it entered. 
 ►Soon, foiled in this, it made a bold rush 
 across quite to the foot of the opposite 
 hill. Here, iinding itself effectually 
 hemmed in, it turned and wandered 
 leisurely here and there, as if in love 
 Avith the place, and half determined 
 never to run out of it, yet ever tend- 
 ing by many a circuit, many a grace- 
 ful bend, toward the lowest part of the 
 
THE GLEN. 
 
 21 
 
 glen, where the old straight hill held 
 hack to give it passage. 
 
 After amusing themselves awhile 
 with the Avhimsical flow of the stream, 
 Mrs. Raymond and the children hasted 
 down where the bank sloped gently, 
 and took their seat on an elevation 
 which was shaded by three large 
 maple-trees, that shot up their long 
 trunks from one root, and where a few 
 saplings screened them from the view 
 of any one who might be passing on 
 the road. The brook was not very 
 near them, but they saw one of its 
 pretty bends some distance on, and 
 heard the plash of a little cascade over 
 which it tumbled. 
 
II. 
 
 Mes. Raymond, Emma and Alice 
 took out tkeir work, and giving Clar- 
 ence and Frank leave to run about or 
 sit down near them, where and as they 
 pleased, only not to leave the glen, 
 Mrs. Raymond said, “I am at a loss, 
 my daughters, where to begin my 
 story.” 
 
 “I want first to know, mother,” said 
 Emma, “what could ever put it into 
 your head to leave this beautiful coun- 
 try and go so far away.” 
 
 “My child, that question carries me 
 far back, but I think I can answer 
 
 you in a few words. When I was 
 22 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 23 
 
 quite a child, only fourteen years of 
 age, I had been for some time afraid 
 lest I should die before securing an 
 interest in the Saviour of sinners. 
 This fear made everything in the 
 world lose its value, and made me feel 
 that nothing was of any account but 
 the salvation of the soul. 
 
 “While in this state of mind I heard 
 a sermon from the Rev. George Whit- 
 ing on the subject of missions. He 
 showed the wretched condition of the 
 heathen without a knowledge of Jesus, 
 and the privilege and duty of carrying 
 to them the ‘glad tidings.’ I forgot 
 myself for the time, and thought that 
 to communicate the news of a Saviour 
 to the heathen was better worth living 
 for than anything else. 
 
 “After the service Mr. Whiting 
 spoke with me about my own state, 
 
24 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 and told me that Christ was willino: 
 at that moment to receive me and 
 become my Saviour. Doubtless I had 
 heard this before, but now it seemed 
 to me true, and I Avas happy. The 
 fear that for Aveeks had harassed me 
 Avas gone. God’s earth appeared to 
 me delightful. Everything seemed to 
 tell of his love for us. From that 
 time, Avhenever the subject of the 
 heathen Avas brought to my mind, I 
 felt the impression made by that ser- 
 mon reneAved, and thought the pleas- 
 antest thing in the Avorld would be to 
 assist in making knoAvn Christ and 
 sahmtion to the heathen.” 
 
 “But, mother,” said Emma, “there 
 are plenty of people in this country 
 Avho do not seem to think at all about 
 the Saviour, if they have heard of him, 
 and many too, I have heard it said, 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 25 
 
 who never have heard of tne way to 
 heaven. I should think you could 
 have done just as much good by tell- 
 ing them.” 
 
 “ There are in this country, my dear, 
 comparatively few butknow something 
 about the way of salvation, and might 
 know more if they would. The case 
 of the heathen, who cannot possibly 
 know of what Christ has done for us 
 unless Christians go to tell them, ap- 
 peals more strongly to our hearts. 
 Besides, the command, ‘Go ye into 
 all the world,’ seems to require of some 
 Christians that they should leave their 
 homes and go to remote regions; and 
 those who can and have an opportunity 
 should be willing to go.” 
 
 “But, mother,” asked Alice, “don’t 
 you think that any one who really 
 care to have people go to heaven will 
 
 3 
 
26 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 try to do all tJie good they can to 
 everybody they meet?” 
 
 “Those who have the spirit of Christ, 
 my daughter, will try to do all in their 
 power for the good of others, but, most 
 of all, will they try to help others to 
 heaven.” 
 
 “ Mother, how long does it take to go 
 to India?” asked Frank, who had kept 
 his seat very quietly, Avhile Clarence 
 , sometimes remained Avithin hearing, 
 and sometimes drove Frank’s wind- 
 mill as he ran along the bank of the 
 stream. 
 
 “ The vo}mgeis about fifteen thousand 
 miles, and is made by a sailing ship in 
 four months. INIadras, Avhich w is our 
 first landing-plfice, is in southevn In- 
 dia. It is the capital of the jNladras 
 Presidency, which includes the south- 
 ern portion of Hindoostan, having the 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 2T 
 
 bay of Bengal on the east and the 
 Arabian sea on the west.” 
 
 “How could you stay so long on 
 the water?” asked Emma. “I should 
 think you would have been tired out.” 
 “I will tell you, my dear. In the 
 first place I felt that I was in the 
 way of my duty, that I was where my 
 Saviour would have me. That gave 
 me a feeling of satisfaction. 
 
 “Next I considered that the voyage 
 was probably the only opportunity I 
 should ever have for learning a variety 
 of important lessons. I might learn 
 how to make mj'self as comfortable 
 as possible when confined in narrow 
 limits, how to annoy others as little 
 as possible when shut up in close 
 contact with them, how to accomp- 
 lish as much as possible in unfavor- 
 able circumstances on ship-board, to 
 
28 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 meet a storm Avitli trust in God, to 
 bear a calm with patience. There was 
 an opportunity to observe the structure 
 of a ship and its parts, to watch the 
 processes of conducting it in fair svind, 
 head wind, squall, gale and calm, to 
 watch the motions of the heavenly 
 bodies. In tliese and other ways I 
 proposed to myself to endeavor to turn 
 the voyage to account. 
 
 “I supposed we should be four or 
 five months in reaching India, and 
 that to go through one hundred and 
 twenty days, each day Avishing that 
 this were the hundred and twentieth, 
 or acting as though we could hasten 
 the ship by the chafing of our OAvn 
 mind, Avouhl be senseless. I knew Ave 
 must have some storms, some calms, 
 some fair Avinds, some head Avinds, 
 some heat, some cold, and that if, Avhen 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 29 
 
 the wind was ahead, I AN ished it were 
 fair, and when it was fair I said, ‘What 
 a pity we cannot go faster,’ and, when 
 it rose to a gale, said, ‘This is terrific, 
 I wish it were over,’ and Avhen it grew 
 calm, ‘Ah, me! we don’t make any 
 progress,’ and Avhen it was cold, ‘Oh, 
 for warmer weather!’ and when it was 
 Avarm, ‘Oh, for a breath of cool air!’ I 
 should only make myself and others 
 miserable. ‘I Avill try,’ thought I, ‘to 
 meet all the incidents of the Amyage in 
 such a temper that I shall be better 
 prepared for the duties Avhich Avill 
 devolve on me, and the ills Avhich may 
 befall me, Avhen it is passed.” 
 
 “Yet so long a voyage must have 
 been very tedious. Could you see 
 nothing but sky and Avater?” asked 
 Emma. 
 
 “Though Ave could see, much of the 
 
 3 » 
 
30 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 time, nothing but S(.*a and sky, yet the 
 longer our attention was confined to 
 those objects, the more capable they 
 seemed of giving us pleasure. We 
 found continually some charm with 
 which we had not before been i m pressed , 
 some feature of beauty we had never 
 before noticed. All the changing hues 
 of the sky, all the diversified forms and 
 combinations of cloud, all the shifting 
 attitudes and varying colors of ocean 
 awakened untiring interest.” 
 
 “That would do very well for a few 
 days or weeks,” said Emma, “but 
 when it came to months!” 
 
 “The same dearth of objects, which 
 gave new interest to the few that re- 
 mained to us, made us all give more 
 attention to and derive more pleasure 
 from such other objects and incidents 
 as were occasionally brought to our 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 31 
 
 notice. A rare bird flying about the 
 ship was sufficient to attract all the 
 sage men and women of our company 
 from whatever business engaged them 
 at the time, to watch its movements 
 and habits. 
 
 “A fish in our wake would keep us 
 for hours, perhaps, absorbed, first with 
 its form, color and motions, then its 
 mode of seizing and eating what was 
 thrown from the ship to feed it, then 
 the arrangements for its capture, then 
 the hoisting of it on deck, then its 
 structure and adaptations. The report 
 of a ship in sight would draw us all, 
 in a moment, to the deck, and enter- 
 tain us with watching its approach, its 
 condition, ascertaining its kind, its 
 course, calculating the probabilities of 
 speaking it, etc.” 
 
 “What can that mean, mother — 
 
32 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 ‘speaking a ship?’ Can a ship hear?” 
 asked Frank. 
 
 “No, dear; but the men on board 
 of it can; and ‘to speak a ship’ is only 
 a sailor’s way of saying that the officers 
 of one ship speak to the officers of 
 another ship. This is a great event 
 at sea. Though in New York harbor, 
 or anywhere else near the land, little 
 would be thought of a man on one 
 vessel hallooing to a man on another, 
 yet, in mid-ocean, where the seamen 
 and passengers have been for weeks 
 or months without conimunicatine: 
 with friends or hearing a word from 
 any part of the world outside the 
 2)lanks that enclose them, it is an oc- 
 currence that does not fail to interest 
 every one on board, from the com- 
 mander to the humblest sailor-boy. 
 
 “The first thought is, ‘may-be we 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 33 
 
 shall hear from home,’ and from the 
 time she first shoAvs a speck on the far- 
 off horizon, till she comes within hail- 
 ing distance, her progress is watched, 
 sometimes for days together, with great 
 interest. Of the ships that come in 
 sight, many sail awhile just on the 
 horizon, and after a few hours disap- 
 pear. Many traverse the field of vis- 
 ion for hours, perhaps days, without 
 ever coming near enough for you to 
 know what flag they carry.” 
 
 Clarence, Avho was near enough to 
 hear the word flag, here broke in with 
 his first inquiry, — “What do they 
 carry a flag for, mother?” 
 
 “To show what country they came 
 from, my darling.” 
 
 “I thought,” said Clarence, “nobody 
 could see them, when they were out at 
 sea, only the fishes and the stars.” 
 
34 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 “You forget the birds, Clarence,” 
 said Alice. “There are a good many 
 birds out at sea.” 
 
 “Much of the time no one can see 
 them but God. But sometimes as 
 many as a dozen shijos, or even more, 
 are in sight at once. Whenever one 
 comes so near that there is a prospect 
 of speaking, it makes a great bustle 
 on board. Perhaps the captain will 
 say, ‘That is an American vessel, 
 homeward bound.’ He can tell so 
 much by her flag and her build, and 
 the course she takes. Then all on 
 board Avho have letters partly written 
 go to their portfolios and scribble a 
 few closing lines, send loving mes- 
 sages, seal their letters, and hasten on 
 deck to see them despatched in case 
 of an opportunity. 
 
 “The ship, which at first appeared 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 85 
 
 a little speck against the distant sky, 
 gradually comes nearer, and looks 
 larger and larger, till it is almost side 
 by side with your own, and looks as 
 though one dash of a wave might 
 knock the top of its towering mast 
 against the top of yours, and shiver 
 both to pieces. But the mighty things 
 are held by the skill of their com- 
 manders, applying the forces which 
 God has put at their control, as two 
 powerful horses are reined in and held 
 quiet while the horsemen converse with 
 each other. IS^ow every one on board 
 almost holds his breath. Silence 
 reigns, till the captain, putting his 
 speaking-trumpet to his mouth, ex- 
 changes with the captain of the other 
 ship a few words of salutation, inquiry 
 and reply. If the ship is going toward 
 our home and the sea quiet enough to 
 
36 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 allow it, we despatch a small boat with 
 letters, and give them into the care of 
 some person on the other ship, and we 
 all resume our occupations, feeling as 
 though we had been talking with our 
 friends.” 
 
 “Mother,” said Alice, “you speak 
 of ‘occupations.’ I thought people at 
 sea did nothing but lounge about and 
 try to make themselves comfortable.” 
 
 “ In short voyages we cannot usually 
 do much more than that, as, for the 
 first few days at sea, one is commonly 
 sea-sick, and, for a longer time, the 
 motion of the ship necessarily takes 
 the attention. But, after that, most 
 persons are able to read and write, 
 some, to execute sewing and other me- 
 chanical tasks. 
 
 “ Devoting regular hours each day 
 to such pursuits gives a home-like 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 37 
 
 feeling, and lessens the tedium of sea- 
 life.” 
 
 Clarence hnd been down to the cas- 
 cade to try what effect the current of 
 air produced by the rush of water 
 would have ou the windmill, but, just 
 now bethinking himself of what Alice 
 had said about birds, he ran up to the 
 group and said, “Mother, are there 
 birds out at sea? Alice says there 
 are. Did you see any''?” 
 
 “Yes, my son, I saw several kinds 
 of birds at sea. I will tell you of one 
 kind of bird, which we saw repeatedly, 
 the albatross. It is an immense bird, 
 measuring about eleven feet from tip 
 to tip of the outstretched wings. We 
 saw many of these. Sometimes one 
 would appear in the morning and give 
 us a good opportunity to watch it. 
 Though so large, it would sometimes^ 
 
 4 
 
38 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 fly high enough to be hid by the 
 clouds. It would keep along with the 
 ship for hours, and not merely keep 
 up with it, but sweep great circles 
 round and round overhead, perhaps 
 of miles in circumference, when the 
 ship was sailing at the rate of ten 
 miles an hour, and all with such an 
 air of quietude that you wonder how 
 the force is exerted that propels him. 
 
 “ I can think of nothing in movement 
 more admirable than the powerful, yet 
 graceful flight of this bird. You would 
 think it prided itself in showing us 
 this quality. It would fly swiftly far 
 ahead of us, till we began to think we 
 should lose sight of it entirely in the 
 distance, when it would return and 
 retrace its course, gliding gently far 
 away in our I’ear. Soon again it would 
 turn, and, urging its strong wings, 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 39 
 
 sweep round to leeward of us, and, 
 again crossing our path and cleaving 
 the blast, bear away to windward. I 
 see it noAv — though twenty years have 
 passed — that rapid, quiet flight, those 
 great smooth curves traced on the dark 
 blue sky. One day the mate threw out 
 a hook baited Avith pork and caught one 
 of these noble creatures and brought it 
 on board. It steod about as high as 
 you do, Clarence, or perhaps its beak 
 would reach just high enough to kiss 
 you. It was mostly white, with dark 
 lead-colored feathers at the end of the 
 wings and across the back. The head, 
 however, was brown.” 
 
 “What was done with it, mother?” 
 asked Frank. “They would not kill 
 it, would they?” 
 
 “It was left to the ladles on board 
 to decide what should be done with 
 
40 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 tlie bird. Difbn-ent plans were' sug- 
 gested and discussed, and it was at 
 length decided to carve the name of 
 the ship and the date of the capture 
 upon the beak of the bird and let it 
 dy away, which was done. If ever 
 it was caught again somebody would 
 know who it was that caught it tirst. 
 If not, tliere was no harm done to the 
 splendid bird.” 
 
 “Mother,” said Clarence, looking 
 full of some idea, “do you know what 
 I think would be delightful?” 
 
 “Well, Clarence,” said his mother. 
 
 “If I could just be tied on to ’the 
 back of one of those albatrosses and 
 take a ride. Why, mother, it would 
 be just as safe as possible, if I only 
 were tied on. You know they are 
 very strong and perfectly at home up 
 in the air, and there is no danger of 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 il 
 
 their tumbling, and there is nothing 
 up there for them to hit against. It 
 would be as much safer than horse- 
 back as can be. Wouldn’t I course it 
 up there?” 
 
 And he looked into the sky, and 
 swung his head around as though he 
 were describing with it the circle in 
 Avhich he fancied the albatross and he 
 were careering. 
 
 Emma was shiuldering, Alice was 
 laughing, and Frank was trying to> 
 put in a word, but Clarence talked so 
 earnestly he could get no chance to 
 speak, until Clarence’s head began to 
 swim with the whirl it was taking. 
 
 “How would you get back?” said 
 Frank at last, looking arch. 
 
 “Why, I thought,” said Clarence; 
 “I was thinking — I did not think but 
 that the albatross stayed with the ship 
 
42 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 all the time. Didn’t you say so, 
 mother?” 
 
 “No, my squirrel,” said Mrs. Ray- 
 mond. “You listen sharply when you 
 are listening, but you are either mus- 
 ing or running most of the time.” 
 
 “I will sit down and listen now, 
 mother. I’ll give up my albatross 
 race till I learn how far its home is 
 from mine. I like this talk about 
 birds. Please tell us something more.” 
 
 “I will tell you why I felt a special 
 wish to see an albatross before we 
 met with one. Fourteen years before, 
 Avhen I was a little girl, younger than 
 Frank is now, I received a present of 
 a fan made of albatross’ feathers. It 
 Avas made for me on board ship by a 
 very dear sister, a missionary to Cey- 
 lon, whom I never expected to see 
 again, and sent to me from the other 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 43 
 
 side of the globe, and of ccurse it was 
 very precious.” 
 
 “I wish I could see it, mother,” 
 said Alice. 
 
 “It h as long ago disappeared. It 
 is about forty years since that little 
 fan was made, and it was frail. I 
 cannot tell where it is now. For years 
 it kept its place on our parlor table 
 with two other small fans made by the 
 same loved hand, one of which, a very 
 little one, black and white, was made, 
 I think, from the wing of a cape pigeon. 
 I never parted with mine till I was 
 preparing for m^^own voyage to India. 
 
 “A cajie pigeon ! a cape pigeon ! 
 that’s a kind I never heard of,” said 
 Clarence. “I must tell Uncle James 
 of that. He gets every kind of pigeon 
 he ever hears of anywhere. Where 
 
44 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 “From the cape, I guess,” said 
 Alice. 
 
 “That’s too far olf,” cried Clarence. 
 
 “The cape is not a great Avay off. 
 Aunt INIaria went there last summer 
 to bathe,” replied Frank. 
 
 “That isn’t the cape — that’s Cape 
 ]\Iay. The cape! the cape! why, it’s 
 what sailors go round when they go 
 round the world,” said Clarence. 
 
 To this Frank replied: “It does not 
 make much difference where it is. If 
 Uncle James hears of a new kind of 
 pigeon, if it’s ever so far off, he’s bound 
 to have it.” 
 
 “The term ‘the cape,’” said Mrs. 
 Raymond, “has been used to designate 
 the Cape of Good Hope, though it can 
 be used of any cape, in whose neigh- 
 borhood the speaker happens to be. 
 The name. Cape Pigeon, was given in 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 45 
 
 those old times when it was a rare 
 thing to sail beyond the Cape of Good 
 Hope, not because the bird was found 
 only in that vicinity, but because the 
 notable mariner who accomplished that 
 voyage always met Avitli them as he 
 traversed the ocean, when south of 
 that Cape. They are a species of 
 petrel.” 
 
 “And what are they called petrels 
 for, mother?” asked Alice. 
 
 “They are called petrels after the 
 apostle Peter.” 
 
 “Why, mother,” said Emma, “you 
 surprise me.” 
 
 “I think that’s rather funny,” added 
 Clarence. 
 
 “The petrel has a singular way of 
 walking on the water, which very nat- 
 urally brings to mind the thought of 
 Peter walkino- on the water, and. see- 
 
46 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 ing this, some one gave it the name 
 peterel, which is now written petrel.” 
 
 “1 suppose,” said Frank, “it flaps 
 its wings, as the ostrich does, when it 
 runs, to make it lighter and help it 
 along. Did you see any of them, 
 mother?” 
 
 “I do not know whether I saw the 
 cape pigeon or not, but I saw many 
 of another kind of Petrel, called the 
 storm-petrel. These are, by sailors, 
 more often called Mother Carey’s 
 chickens.” 
 
 “Did Mother Carey’s chickens walk 
 on the water, too?” asked Frank. 
 
 “Yes, I suppose all the petrels walk 
 on the water, judging by the name, 
 and there are a great many varieties 
 of them, and multitudes of them.” 
 
 “But,” said Clarence, “did you see 
 them walk on the water, mother? I 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 47 
 
 should want to see a bird walking on 
 the water myself, or have my mother 
 see it, or somebody, before I should 
 feel sure about it.” 
 
 “ Oh, yes, my dear, I saAv them often. 
 That is, I saw them skim along, their 
 feet just touching the surface of the 
 water and having the appearance of 
 walking. I cannot say that they really 
 trod the waves, though it looked so. 
 Their feet threw up the spray as they 
 flitted over the blue water, as our feet 
 throw up the dust when we walk 
 swiftly through an unpaved road.” 
 
 “I think it was "flying, only it flew 
 so low as to touch the water. Don’t 
 you think so, mother?” asked Clarence. 
 
 “Suppose, now, they did fly just so 
 low as to touch the water with their 
 feet; would not that look like walk- 
 ing?” said Alice. 
 
48 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 “Did they flap their Avings?” asked 
 Frank. 
 
 “I did not see them flap their Avings 
 AA'hen they moAmd OAmr the surface of 
 the AAoder. Sometimes their Avings 
 AA'ere extended and sometimes they 
 AA’ere closed.” 
 
 “Closed? Were they? Then they 
 must haAm AAxalked,” said Frank. 
 
 “iVot so certain, Frank,” remarked 
 Emma. “They may haAm got an im- 
 pulse first, as you do by running on 
 the ice before you begin to slide, and 
 then haAm closed their wino’s and moA^ed 
 on” 
 
 “They are called petrels because 
 they haA^e the appearance of AA^alking 
 on the Avater. My impression is that 
 they do AA^alk, or, rather, run on the 
 Avater, but I cannot say certainly that 
 I eA'er saAv them do so.” 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 49 
 
 “Well,” said Clarence, “if they walk 
 on the water, it is somehow with the 
 help of their Avings, I do not doubt, 
 eAmn if they do fold them doAAm after 
 they get started.” 
 
 “Please, mother,” said Alice, “tell 
 us Avhy they are called Mother Carey’s 
 chickens. It seems to me there’s a 
 great deal to be learned from names, 
 sometimes, if we can only get at the 
 meaning of them.” 
 
 “That is true, my daughter; but in 
 this case I fear Ave cannot get at the 
 meaning.. It is the sailor’s name for 
 them, and those on our ship, of Avhom 
 I inquired, could not give me the rea- 
 son for it. I presume there is an old 
 legend, someAAdiere, Avhich explains it, 
 but I have not met AAuth it yet.” 
 “Mother,” said Prank, “you use, 
 once in aAvhile, a Avord that I do not 
 
 5 
 
60 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 understand. Will you please tell me 
 what a legend is?” 
 
 “Legend, dear, is a story of a long 
 time ago, which accounts for something 
 we meet with now. That is one mean- 
 ing of it.” 
 
 “One thing more, mother, about 
 the petrel,” said Alice. “Why are 
 Mother Carey’s chickens called the 
 storm-petrel?” 
 
 “Because they are seen most in 
 stormy weather. Almost anywhere 
 at sea, if a storm is approaching, or, 
 if it is already raging, you may expect 
 to find numbers of these birds flying 
 in the wake of the ship, or glancing 
 over the crests of the waves, on either 
 hand, reminding you, in their move- 
 ments, of the swallow, though larger. 
 Probably, when the sea is rough, the 
 mollusks and other small marine ani- 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 51 
 
 mals, on which they feed, are brought 
 to the surface, which makes them most 
 active then, and it may be that the 
 keel of the ship, ploughing through 
 the waves, also throws them up to the 
 surface, which leads them to follow in 
 the ship’s wake.” 
 
 “Is there anything more to tell 
 about them, mother?” asked Frank. 
 
 “I used to see them, sometimes, 
 sitting on the water, and floating like 
 a swan or duck. They appeared as 
 much at home riding upon the waves 
 in mid-ocean as the swans do in the 
 ponds of the Central Park. It some- 
 times gave me a sort of home-feeling 
 myself, j ust to see how contented these 
 pretty petrels looked.” 
 
 “I think,” said Clarence, “we know 
 all about the petrels now. Did you 
 see any other birds, mother?” 
 
52 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 “I saw something which you might 
 have mistaken for a bird.”. 
 
 “What can that have been?” asked 
 Frank. 
 
 “A flying-fish.” 
 
 “A fish flying,” said Emma, “may 
 well look like a bird, for the body of a 
 lish is shaped much like that of a bird 
 flattened, and the tails are shaped 
 much alike, and the scales overlap each 
 other much like the tips of birds’ 
 feathers, and the backs of both are 
 very often dark-colored, and the breasts 
 light, and the fins have a resemblance 
 to small wings, only they are difter- 
 ently situated, so that if they were 
 used for wings, the fish would have to 
 fly on his side.” 
 
 “But the legs, Emma,” said Frank; 
 “fishes have nothing to answer to the 
 bird’s legs.” 
 
./ V 
 
 Out ut ,'i'ea. 
 
 I'l.ving-Fi.sl]. 
 
 P. 62 . 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 53 
 
 “No, but wlien birds fly, they draw 
 up their legs often, so that you do not 
 see much of them,” she replied. 
 
 “Yes,” said Clarence, “and I haA'O 
 seen swallows look just as though they 
 were flying on their sides. So that I 
 tliink with a little alteration, birds 
 and Ashes could be made to look a 
 good deal alike.” 
 
 “ Doesn’t it say in Genesis, mother,” 
 asked Emma, “that God commanded 
 the waters to bring forth fowl abund- 
 antly, and that the waters did bring 
 forth fowl abundantly?” 
 
 “Yes, my dear, I have sometimes 
 thought of that when I have seen 
 them careering all day over the ocean ; 
 some on the surface of the water, 
 and some in the open Armament r>f 
 heaven.” 
 
 “But mother,” said Clarence, “I 
 
54 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 thought you had done with the birds, 
 and were going to tell us about the 
 tish that fly.” 
 
 “Tliese are very interesting to voy- 
 agers. Thev have a breast flu that is 
 iinconiinonly large and flexible, and 
 whicdi they can extend sidewise. This 
 tlwyy use with a very ra])id motion 
 like that of the humming-bird’s wing. 
 If you stand at the prow of a ship 
 when passing where they abound, you 
 will see a dozen of them at a time 
 dart out from the water, glance along 
 above the waves for a minute or less, 
 aud then disappear. 
 
 “The approach of the ship through 
 the water startles them, and they fly 
 then, probably in fright. 
 
 “Sometimes they fly out of the water 
 to escape the larger fish that feed upon 
 them. The poor things often escape 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 55 
 
 from their enemies in the water, only 
 to be seized by equal enemies in the 
 air; for there are birds too, that prey 
 upon them, and seize the opportunity 
 when they are flying-, to snatcdi them. 
 Sometimes they fly apparently for the 
 mere pleasure of it. Sometimes they 
 fly over a ship and descend to the wa- 
 ter on the other side, and sometimes 
 in attempting- this gymnastic feat, they 
 are caught in the rigging, or by strik- 
 ing- against a rope or sail are precipi- 
 tated upon deck.” 
 
 “They should not be experimenting 
 with apparatus they are not accus- 
 tomed to,” said Clarence. 
 
 “ Poor things,” said Frank, “ couldn’t 
 you pick them up and drop them into 
 the ocean again ?” 
 
 “ They would not live. They are not 
 used to hard knocks, and can’t endure 
 
56 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 them, I imagine. They are consid- 
 ered a delicacy for food, and the cook 
 calls them fair game when they are 
 floored in that way.” 
 
 “ Mother,” said Frank, “you have 
 told us of birds that walk the sea, 
 and of Ashes that fly. What more 
 Ash stories can you tell us?” 
 
 “I think the next must be about a 
 Ash that isn’t a Ash. Tso one would 
 doubt, on seeing a porpoise in the wa- 
 ter, that it was a Ash. Its form and 
 its movement in the water are like 
 those of a Ash, but because it is warm- 
 blooded, and requires common air to 
 breathe, and for other reasons, it is not 
 reckoned a Ash by naturalists. It 
 must come to the surface of the water 
 to breathe the air, just as a man must, 
 and if kept under the water it will be 
 drowned, as it has lungs, not gills. So 
 
SEA SIGHTS. 
 
 57 
 
 the whales are not properly fish, but 
 mammals, or WGrm-bloodcd animals 
 living in the sea. 
 
 “The porpoise and grampus Avere 
 formerly called dolidiins; the fish now 
 known as the dolphin is (juite different, 
 and is a proper fish, with gills, and 
 cold blood, and livine,' under the water. 
 
 “I used often to hear that a dolphin 
 assumed all the colors of the rainbow, 
 when dying. I found, however, that 
 it changed color beautifully, when 
 alive, and well, and happy in the wa- 
 ter, varying from green to blue, and 
 from blue to golden. When dying it 
 may show these colors more vividl}^, 
 but I did not see it at any time exhibit 
 so many changes as some haim stated. 
 It is between four and five feet in 
 length.” 
 
 “I had no idea,” remarked Emma, 
 
58 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 “that the ocean contained so many ob- 
 jects of interest.” 
 
 “It does indeed, and many more. 
 But, my children, we must linger no 
 longer. The sun has set, and your 
 father will be waiting for his tea.” 
 
 “I think,” said Alice, “if we tell 
 papa that we have been half way to 
 India, he will excuse us if ^ve are a 
 little late.” 
 
III. 
 
 It AIK, GALES, A\T> FOGS. 
 
 The next afternoon found our little 
 party again assembled under the triple 
 maple, prepared to pursue their chat 
 about the voyage to India. Clarence 
 had become so much interested in the 
 conversation that he now seated him- 
 self at once, and set to work at his 
 tatten, Aveaving as busily as any girl. 
 
 “Sister,” said Frank, addressing 
 Emma, “I wish I could do something. 
 I do not think it’s enough to have my 
 ears Avork. My hands get restless.” 
 
 “Brother,” said Emma, “do you see 
 the long smooth grass that groAvs about 
 
 69 
 
60 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 those stones just where the brook 
 winds almost into a circle? Brino- me 
 
 o 
 
 a good handful of the longest of it, 
 and if you will l)reak off the blades 
 from the stalk, and lay them here on 
 this handkerchief, I will teach you 
 how to braid it; and when jmu have 
 braided enough, you can make a little 
 basket with it.” 
 
 “That’s it,” said Frank. “Clarence, 
 come help me, won’t you? Mother, 
 please not to begin till we come.” 
 
 “Don’t stop to strip it off till you 
 get back ; pull it the quickest way, and 
 come,” said Emma. 
 
 “ We will wait,” said Mrs. Raymond. 
 
 The ladies held a consultation over 
 an article of dress that Mrs. Raymond 
 was assisting Emma to make, and by 
 the time they had arranged all to their 
 mind, the boys had gathered their 
 
RAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 
 
 61 
 
 doLible-liancls full of tall grass, and 
 laid it on the ground near their sis- 
 ters, and coninienced stripping the 
 long, pliable leaves from the stalks, 
 and placing them in a row along the 
 handkerchief which Emma had spread 
 to receive tliem. Frank watched for 
 his mother and sister to finish their 
 talk about their sewing, and then 
 said. 
 
 “Mother, you said the other day 
 that the ship sailed at the rate of ‘ ten 
 knots’ an hour. AVill you tell me what 
 that means?” 
 
 “Ten miles an hour.” 
 
 “Then why not say ten miles?” he 
 asked. 
 
 “ The expression is taken from the 
 instrument used in measuring the dis- 
 tance.” 
 
 6 
 
62 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 “I wonder,” said Frank, “what 
 kind of an instrument it is.” 
 
 “It is a knotted cord, one end of 
 which is wound upon a large hand- 
 reel, and the other end attached to 
 Avhat is called a log. The log is a 
 small bit of wood so shaped, and -so 
 balanced by a piece of lead, that it 
 floats, and remains in the place where 
 it is thrown in the water. As the 
 ship passes on, the cord unwinds from 
 the reel. The knots arc made at such 
 distances along the cord, as to show, by 
 the number of knots run off in a cer- 
 tain time, how many miles are gone 
 over in an hour.” 
 
 “ I do not quite understand about 
 it,” said Fraidv. 
 
 “ Mamma,” said Emma, “ if we 
 took a spool of cotton for a reel, and 
 put a knitting-needle through it for 
 
RAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 
 
 63 
 
 tlie axle, I think we could show him 
 something about it. Clarence, will 
 you bring me something for a log.” 
 
 “ Here,” said Clarence, “ is a stone 
 to tie the end of the thread to, and 
 that will do for a log. It is sharp, 
 and I can drive it into the ground, so 
 it won’t float away, and I will be the 
 ship with the reel aboard of me.” 
 
 “ Take hold,” said Emma, “ of the 
 axle of the spool, i. e. the knitting- 
 needle, and do not let the thread rub 
 against you. Walk straight forward, 
 till I speak to you. Mamma, please 
 let me hold your watch a minute. 
 Clarence, come now, bring the spool 
 just as it is, don’t let it unwind any.” 
 Clarence walked just a minute. 
 “Now if I measure the cotton that 
 reaches from where he stands to the log, 
 that is, the stone Avhich keeps the end 
 
64 
 
 OUT AT SEA, 
 
 of the thread in the place where Clar- 
 ence started from, can I not tell by 
 that how far he has walked in a min- 
 ute?” 
 
 “ Yes,” said Frank, 
 
 “Alice,” said Emma, “the width 
 of your apron is about a yard. Please 
 hold it up fur me to measure the 
 thread by it. Just about thirty yards, 
 Clarence must have walked about 
 thirty yards in a minute,” 
 
 “ I see now,” said Frank, “ how they 
 do it. But do they have a cord ten 
 miles long, and are they an hour about 
 it?” 
 
 “ Oh, no, they do it in a half-min- 
 ute,” 
 
 “ Oh ! mother,” exclaimed Alice, 
 
 “ A minute you know is the six- 
 tieth part of an hour, so a half-min- 
 ute is the 120th of an hour. So they 
 
RAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 
 
 65 
 
 make a knot at every 120th of a mile 
 on the cord, and if ten 120ths run off 
 in a half-minute, they know t\at ten 
 miles run off in an hour.” 
 
 “ I thank you, mother,” said Frank. 
 “ I think,” said Clarence, “ you 
 might thank your sister Emma, too, 
 and the old ship that took such a sail 
 to make an illustration for you.” 
 
 “ Thank you, sistei', tliank you, ship.” 
 Emma now took seven blades of 
 grass, and began weaving them into a 
 neat flat braid, adding a new blade as 
 often as one was all braided in. She 
 asked Frank to watch her movements 
 fill he should know enough how it was 
 done to begin trying to do it himself. 
 
 “ Mother,” said Alice, “may I drink 
 some water out of this brook? It 
 seems very clear and nice.” 
 
 “ Yes, my daughter. It comes from 
 
66 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 a clear spring among the hills yonder, 
 and runs over the clean pebbles, and 
 through the fresh grass. You will 
 tind it very good. If you could see 
 some of the water I drank at sea, you 
 would not hesitate to drink this.” 
 
 “1 don’t see,” said Frank, “where 
 you could get water at sea, unless you 
 dipped it from the ocean.” 
 
 “ Ocean water is very salt, and a 
 little bitter ; it nauseates people,” re- 
 marked Alice. 
 
 “ Let me make you a cup, Alice. 
 Stop a minute, and I’ll bring a button- 
 wood leaf. You can double it, and 
 drink nicely out of it,” said Clarence 
 running toward the hill. 
 
 Frank begi>-ed his mother to tell 
 what they did for water at sea. And 
 as soon as Clarence was in his seat 
 again, Mrs. Raymond began. 
 
RAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 67 
 
 We took water in casks for our 
 use on the voyage, but when we came 
 into the torrid zone, it soon became 
 offensive, and grew thick and slimy, 
 so that one would suffer a good deal 
 from thirst, before being willing to 
 drink it. After our water began to 
 be distasteful, we watched eagerly for 
 a-shower, hoping we might catch some 
 pure rai,n water. Day after day passed, 
 and at length the clouds foreboded 
 rain. It came in torrents. I was 
 called to a window, Avhich looked out 
 from the mate’s room upon the deck, 
 to see the process of collecting the wa- 
 fer. The scuppers, which are holes to 
 let the Avater off from the deck, were 
 closed, and the Avater began to collect 
 on the deck. At every roll of the 
 ship, it Avashed across the deck, and 
 when the ship lay over on one side, 
 
68 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 there would be half a foot in depth on 
 the lower side. Sailors were running 
 about in it, and soon began to wash 
 their red flannel shirts and other arti- 
 cles. Is this, thought I, to be water 
 for us to drink? Kext the old hogs- 
 heads were emptied and scrubbed out. 
 Then the sailors began to give a very 
 thorough scrubbing to their feet and 
 legs. Alas, alas, thought I, the rain 
 is all going to waste, and I see no ar- 
 raim-ements for catching water. Are 
 we doomed to drink still longer that 
 sickening fluid we have forced into our 
 mouths lately ?” 
 
 “The scuppers now were opened, to 
 let out the water which was on the 
 deck, then they were closed again, and 
 after a little while, re-opened, and 
 closed again. By this time the masts 
 and sails, the yards and rigging of the 
 
Frcsli Water at Sea. 
 
 Out at Sea. 
 
 1>. 08. 
 

 
 itv - >■ 
 
 
 >v 
 
 J 
 
 : 
 
 ■ * 
 
 f 
 
 
 i 
 
 t 
 
 f 
 
RAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 
 
 69 
 
 ship had been Avell rinsed and re- 
 rinsed, as well as the tarpaulins of 
 officers, and the clothes of the men ; 
 and the roofs of I’ound house, and hen- 
 nery and caboose, nnd the surface of 
 the deck, all were cleansed and fitted 
 to serve as water-sheds for the collec- 
 tion of our beverage. I began to ap- 
 preciate the necessity of this rinsing 
 and re-rinsing of everything, when 
 for the third time, the scuppers Avere 
 closed, and the Avater, after dropping 
 doAvn, not from the clouds only, but 
 from everything on or aboA^e the ship, 
 and after SAvashing to and fro over 
 the deck a feAv times, began to be 
 scooped up in clean buckets, and emp- 
 tied into our Avater-casks. By-and- 
 by an officer of the ship brought a 
 tumbler of water for me to drink. I 
 seized it Avith unfeigned delight, but 
 
70 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 no sooner had I tasted, than I was 
 obliged to withdraw it in disappoint- 
 ment from my unsatistied lips. It 
 had, as we might have expected, a 
 strono- odor of tar. AVe soon however 
 
 o 
 
 learned to prefer this very decidedly 
 to the fetid water which we had lately 
 been compelled to drink. Ships in 
 these days are furnished with filters, 
 Avhich restore water in a measure to a 
 ■wholesome condition. Moreover it 
 has been found that water can be kept 
 pure at sea by simply bottling and 
 sealing, so as to exclude the air, and 
 that it will go thus half round the 
 world, and be as free from taint at the 
 end as at the beginning of the 
 voyage.” 
 
 “I wish, dear mother,” said Alice, 
 “ you would give us some idea of a 
 storm at sea.” 
 
RAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 
 
 71 
 
 “ I think, dear, it would be one of 
 the most difficult things to give you 
 an idea of. A storm at sea, is but a 
 storm after all, and rarely, if ever, 
 more violent than storms which we 
 witness on land. It is your own po- 
 sition and liabilities in the storm, and 
 the impression made on the mind by 
 these, that give importance to the cir- 
 cumstances and sublimity to the 
 scenes of a storm at sea. 
 
 “I was impressed by this in the first 
 storm at sea which I witnessed. I 
 Avas looking in A^ain for anything neAV 
 and Avonderful. The rain fell thick 
 
 ^ V- 
 
 and fast upon the Avater, thfe clouds 
 Avere dark and Ioav, but tliis I had seen 
 at home. I knew tliat avc Avere driven 
 Avith great velocity before a fierce Avind, 
 but this did not affect the senses, as 
 we passed no objects by Avhich to 
 
72 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 measure our speed, and the very force 
 with which the sliip cleft the sea, 
 seemed to husli the plash and swash 
 of the wa’^TS, and produce an unusual 
 stillness. Our ship tipped very much, 
 hut this only made us see the water 
 at a different angle. Suddenly our 
 captain directed my attention to a 
 ship at some distance, which was much 
 in the situation of ours. The wind 
 had her on her heam-ends. The sea 
 raged round her like a furv. The 
 clouds poured torrents, and looked as 
 if thev were falling in masses to crush 
 her. It seemed as though she were a 
 l’>owerless thing, and heaven and sea 
 had roused their utmost forces, bent 
 on her instant destruction. 
 
 “ The storm had another aspect now. 
 I wondered that our ship could sus- 
 tain itself a moment. Every sense 
 
RAIN, GALEb, AND FOGS. 73 
 
 was awake, what was seen, and heard 
 and felt had new meaning. The si- 
 lence spoke of force, the darkness 
 spoke of danger, each creak was a 
 warning, each hollow in the sea was 
 an opening gulf, each lifted wave gath- 
 ered itself up, as it seemed, to over- 
 whelm us. Our gallant ship with all 
 its ropes and spars seemed no better 
 than an egg-shell wound round with 
 spiders’ webs. I obtained then an 
 idea of a storm at sea, but I despair 
 of being able to impart it to any- 
 one.” 
 
 “ I hope,” said Alice, “you Avill not 
 give up in despair. I am sure w^e 
 have some new ideas of the subject 
 from what you have said, and I for 
 one wish A'ery much to hear more.” 
 
 “ I could tell you of some quite 
 
 amusing things about storms at sea.” 
 
 1 
 
74 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 “ That is strange,” said Emma, “but 
 do tell us.” 
 
 “We had a queer contrivance for 
 keeping our dishes on the table in 
 rough weather. Long narrow bags 
 filled Avith shot, were placed upon the 
 table, both lengtliAvise and crosswise, 
 looking like a coarse net-Avork of ropes, 
 each mesh of a size to hold a plate. 
 These rope-like bags AA^re fastened at 
 both ends, but played to and fro upon 
 the table, alloAAung the plates to slip 
 Avith them either AA^ay, as the motion 
 of the Amssel compelled, yet holding 
 them on the table. Sometimes the 
 AA'eather changed unexpectedly, Avhile 
 Ave Avere at a meal, or the AAund shifted 
 suddenly to a ditferent quarter, and 
 the rough- weather fixtures being ab- 
 sent, every plate, cup and saucer. was 
 suddenly overturned, and with their 
 
RAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 
 
 75 
 
 contents deposited, in our laps, or upon 
 the floor.” 
 
 “ If I were hungry,” said Alice, “ I 
 should be more vexed than amused, I 
 think.” 
 
 “ That would be a pretty good joke 
 for once or twice,” said Frank, “ but a 
 hungry boy would not like to lose his 
 dinner many times.” 
 
 “ What oth^r funny things hap- 
 pened, mother?” asked Clarence. 
 
 “Well, I suppose little boys would 
 think it quite agreeable while sitting 
 with books and papers under the light 
 of the hatchway, on a clear bright day, 
 when the wind was aft, and the vessel 
 rolling heavily, to ship a sea, and all 
 on a sudden have a few tubfuls of wa- 
 ter poured down upon them.” 
 
 “ First-rate,” cried Clarence, clap- 
 ping his hands with glee. “ Ship a 
 
76 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 sea, ship a sea! That’s the kind of 
 shipping for me.” 
 
 “ But how would you like to have 
 the hatchway closed down upon you 
 in rough weather, and he obliged to 
 sit Avithout a breath of out-door air, 
 Avithout, for a feAv days, a ray of light, 
 except one feeble lamp for ten persons, 
 and that suspended immovably- to the 
 ceiling for safety.” 
 
 “ Not so AA'ell,” said Clarence, qui- 
 etly. 
 
 “ Were you shut up in that Avay at 
 sea?” 
 
 “ Occasionally.” 
 
 “ What else, mamma? ” asked Frank. 
 
 “ Hoav AA'ould you like a scene of this 
 i Ind ? Suppose yourself and friends 
 Avore seated, five or six on one side of 
 the cabin, and five or six on the other 
 side, each in a chair that Avas lashed 
 
KAIN, GALES, ANP FOGS. 
 
 77 
 
 to the partition, or secured in its place 
 by braces. In an instant, without 
 warning, as you converse quietly to- 
 gether, the ship gives what the sailors 
 call a sudden ‘lurch,’ and the chairs 
 on one side of the cabin empty them- 
 selves, and the occupants are deposited, 
 willing or unwilling, in the arms of 
 their friends on the other side, fore- 
 heads and noses getting bumps and 
 bruises.” 
 
 “ That might be either agreeable or 
 disagreeable, I think,” said Clarence. 
 “ If they were friends I loved very 
 much, it would not be so much harm, 
 unless they found my head harder than 
 theirs.” 
 
 “ Give us another scene, mother, 
 please,” said Frank. 
 
 “ I will mention one that occurred 
 on my return voyage. We had had a 
 
 7 * 
 
78 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 gale for two weeks, when suddenly it 
 died away, and the sea retained the 
 full’ fury to which the storm had 
 roused it. This is a somewhat danger- 
 ous state of things, as the ship is less 
 controllable in a heavy sea without 
 wind to steady it. 
 
 “ We were locked in sleep. Sud- 
 denly our room, which, when we shut 
 our eyes upon it, was in midnight 
 darkness, was bathed in the broadest 
 moonlight, and our couch and Ave 
 Avere bathed in a broad deep Avave. 
 
 “ My first impression, on waking, 
 Avas that the ship had sjAlit open above 
 our heads, and let moon and sea in to- 
 gether upon us. AVe found however 
 that our two stern AvindoAvs, Avhich 
 from their size and fine look-out, had 
 given us so much pleasure, but Avhich 
 on account of the storm had been 
 
BAIN, GALES, AND FOGS, 79 
 
 closed with strong boards nailed across, 
 and strong bars nailed again across 
 the boards, had been dashed through, 
 glass, timber, bars, nails and all, with 
 one stroke of a wave, and the, said 
 wave, after soaking our clothes and 
 bedding, and cooling and washing us, 
 was careering at will through the cab- 
 ins, and finding a vent for itself down 
 the lower cabin stair-way.” 
 
 “ And did the water keep pouring 
 in all the time?” asked Frank. 
 
 “ Oh ! no, that was a very large 
 wave, and the succeeding ones did not 
 mount so high. The carpenter soon 
 came in with his tools, and stronger 
 nails and boards, and secured the win- 
 dows. And Avhat do }'oii think the 
 carpenter said to us, as he came in. 
 ‘This,’ said he, ‘is sent, because I was 
 required to come and do some ork in 
 
80 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 this cahin last Sunday.’ This was be- 
 fore day on Sunday morning, and we 
 remembered that on the Sunday pre- 
 vious, some heavy tlmwers full of 
 clothes had broken from their fasten- 
 ings, and were tumbling back and 
 forth across the floor, which having- 
 no means of securing, we had men- 
 tioned it to the captain, who re- 
 quired the carpenter to come in and 
 secure them for us. Whether he 
 really thought this order was a breach 
 of the day, and that the catastrophe 
 of the eighth day after, w-as sent in 
 judgment, or whether it was a covered 
 thrust at what he thought our super- 
 stition, I do not know.” 
 
 “ But what about waves runnino- 
 
 o 
 
 ‘ mountains high ?’ Is that true, mam- 
 ma?” asked Alice. 
 
 “ Waves have some resemblance to 
 
RAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 81 
 
 mountains in form, dear, and when 
 you see them rise before you, and rise 
 higher and higher, wave beyond wave, 
 and have no means of measuring their 
 height, or of judging how much higher 
 they will rise; and when one imagines 
 that if they should fall over the ship, 
 or should upset it, probable, if not 
 certain ruin would ensue, is it strange 
 if the height seems mountainous ; if 
 he supposes thirty feet of height to be 
 a thousand ? Thirty feet is estimated 
 to be the height of the highest waves. 
 But thirty feet of inclined plane reach- 
 ing from the spot where you stand to 
 the horizon, and being the highest ob- 
 ject in view except the heavens, will 
 appear a much greater height than it 
 really is.” 
 
 “But, mother,” asked Clarence, 
 “were jmu not afraid of the waves. 
 
82 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 any how ? They were high enough to 
 yow, were they not?” 
 
 They were high enough, dear, but 
 it is not their way.” 
 
 “What do you mean, mother?” 
 asked Clarence. 
 
 I mean that wa^ es do not usually 
 fall in such a manner as to bury a ship, 
 y ou have the impression that waves 
 rush through the ocean as the surf 
 lushes U2>on the shore, but in mid- 
 ocean it is not so. The wave near 
 a ship falls in its own place, with- 
 out approaching the ship, and the 
 water, where the ship floats, is in its 
 tuin, elevated into a wave, raising the 
 shij) on its bosom. The highest wave 
 will not bury a ship, because it sinks 
 where it rises, and will not reach the 
 ship. This is the case usually. Yet 
 there are certain conditions of the sea, 
 
RAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 
 
 83 
 
 and of the winds, which result in 
 dangerous waves, and certain condi- 
 tions of a ship, which expose it to be 
 engulfed by these waves. The chief 
 danger, however, when in mid- ocean, 
 is from sudden squalls striking a ship, 
 while all her sails are set, before there 
 is time to get her in trim to bear the 
 blast. AVith this exception, good 
 strong vessels with skilful command- 
 ers, are pretty safe in mid-ocean. Ship- 
 wrecks occur chiefly when the ships 
 are near land, and result from being 
 driven by the wind upon rocks or 
 sands.” 
 
 “ Mother, were you ever ship- 
 wrecked?” asked Alice. 
 
 “ No, dear.” 
 
 “ Did you ever come near it?” asked 
 Frank. 
 
 “ It is not easy to tell, dear. Per- 
 
84 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 sons often think themselves in immi- 
 nent clanger, when they are not ; and 
 on the other hand, persons unused to 
 the sea, may he in danger without ap- 
 preciating their situation. I may say 
 there were times when we thought 
 ourselves in danger.” ^ 
 
 “ When was it, where was it? Tell 
 us about it, mother,” said one and 
 another, eagerly. 
 
 “ We had a succession of gales, for 
 three weeks, while we were going 
 lound the Cape of Good Hope. . Our 
 captain told us we might double the 
 Caj)e twenty times without encounter- 
 ing such weather. Several times we 
 lay to, several times Avere obliged to 
 take in all sail, except a close-reefed * 
 main-topsail. At one time there Ac^as 
 a squall of hail that split the main 
 and fore-topsails, and carried away the 
 
RAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 
 
 85 
 
 bolt of the main-topmast back-stay ; 
 at another time the mainyard gave 
 way, and the main-topsail, that had 
 been renewed, again split, and some 
 of the bulwarks were stove in by a 
 wave. At another time, when the sea 
 was uncommonly rough, and the ship 
 rolling dreadfully, chairs and other ar- 
 ticles broke from their fastenings, and 
 slid or tumbled headlong back and 
 forth across the cabin. Between decks 
 where ship-stores were kept, barrels 
 and boxes were broken, and flour, in- 
 dian-meal, corn, rice, oil, and broken 
 bottles were mingled without recipe 
 or arrangement. 
 
 “ These incidents were counted tri- 
 fles, so long as our good ship rode the 
 sea, and limb and life of all on board were 
 safe. Sometimes, however, as I said^ 
 we considered our situation critical. 
 
 8 
 
86 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 I remember one day of great inter- 
 est. The wind blew with a fury Ave 
 had not before witnessed. All the 
 sails were taken in, except the main- 
 topsail, stormsail, and close-reefed 
 fore-topsail, and these so arranged as 
 to make the ship ‘ lay to,’ e. keep 
 its position Avithout moving foi’Avard 
 in any direction. The gale roared 
 through the masts and rigging, as 
 through a forest of pines, the ship’s 
 timbers creaked and groaned. E\mry 
 neAV gust came Avith greater force than 
 those Avhich had preceded it. 
 
 “ The captain and officers looked 
 anxious. The super-cargo, aa'Iio had 
 before shoAA'ed great indifference to 
 danger, looked distressed, and eAU- 
 dently A\^as giving place to reflections, 
 to AAdiich he AA^as not accustomed to 
 yield. Thoughts of the poAver of the 
 
RAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 
 
 87 
 
 Creator who ‘ walketh upon the wings 
 of the wind;’ thoughts of accounta- 
 bility to Him, of the possibility of be- 
 ing suddenly ushered into his presence, 
 could scarcely fail to arise in every 
 mind. The missionary circle assem- 
 bled in and about the little state-room 
 of one of their number, for worship. 
 A passage of Scripture was read, one 
 of the missionaries led in prayer, and 
 then we sang the Psalm, 
 
 ‘ How are thy servants blest, O Lord ! 
 
 How sure is their defence ! 
 
 Eternal wisdom is their guide, 
 
 Their help. Omnipotence. 
 
 ‘When by the dreadful tempest borne, 
 
 High on the broken wave. 
 
 They know thou art not slow to hear, 
 
 Hor impotent to save 
 
 ‘ The storm is laid, the winds retire. 
 
 Obedient to thy will ; 
 
 The sea, that roars at thy command, 
 
 At thy command is still.’ 
 
88 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 While we were singing with all our 
 hearts that grand and precious Psalm, 
 the steward entered, bringing the re- 
 spects of the super-cargo, and desir- 
 ing us to desist from so great an im- 
 l^ropriety as singing at such a time. 
 
 “ After another prayer, some of our 
 number went on deck. One returned 
 immediately, bringing word that the 
 tempest had ceased ! I went upon 
 deck, and a beautiful and glorious 
 sight met my eyes. The sun shone 
 y ith its utmost splendor. The clouds, 
 now changed to a brilliant white, and 
 bioken and scattered, were hastening 
 to quit the scene. The rich blue waves, 
 as they broke one against another, 
 thiew their white foam in glittering 
 columns toward the sky. The wind 
 had moderated, and changed its direc- 
 tion, but was still brisk, and bore us 
 
KAISr, GALES, AND FOGS. 
 
 89 
 
 dasliingly over the tossing billows. In 
 contrast with the gloomy and terrific 
 scenes of an hour before, all this was 
 most exhilarating and delightful. The 
 captain remarked, ‘This is peculiar 
 weather.’ The first officer exclaimed, 
 ‘Thank fortune it’s over.’ I could not 
 refrain from replying, ‘ 0 that men 
 would praise the Lord for his good- 
 ness, and for his wonderful works.’ ” 
 
 IS'o one spoke for a minute or so. 
 Then Emma said, “Winds and waves 
 though terrible at times, are often 
 grand and beautiful, but fogs at sea 
 bring nothing to my mind but gloom 
 and terror.” 
 
 “ I cannot see what great harm a 
 fog can do to a ship,” said Frank. 
 “ It cannot wet it very much, and it 
 can’t hinder its running, nor break it, 
 nor sink it.” 
 
90 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 “A fog can do a ship no harm di- 
 rectly ; but it can do it a great deal of 
 harm indirectly.” 
 
 “ How, mother?” asked Frank. 
 
 “ First, by preventing certain things 
 from doing it any good ; and second, 
 by letting certain things do it harm.” 
 “ What things can it prevent from 
 doing it good?” 
 
 “ The sun, moon and stars.” 
 
 “Oh, yes, it is not so warm ^vith- 
 out the sun, and it is pleasant to look 
 at the moon and stars, but all that is 
 of little consequence.” 
 
 “The sun, moon and stars do a ship 
 far more essential services than those 
 you mention.” 
 
 “How, mother?” inquired Frank. 
 
 “ They guide it on its course.” 
 
 “ I thought,” said Cla rence, “a ship’s 
 course was directed by the compass.” 
 
KAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 91 
 
 “ A compass is of use, but is quite 
 insufficient. It shows which way is 
 north, and you can tell by it whether 
 you are going East or West, or North 
 or South, but it cannot tell how many 
 degrees North or South, East or West 
 you are, so that a compass cannot in- 
 form you where you are, or which way 
 you must go to reach any desired 
 place, or to avoid any dangerous 
 place.” 
 
 “ And can the sun or moon or stars 
 tell us anything about where we are, 
 or ought to be?” asked Frank, quite 
 puzzled. 
 
 “ They cannot tell us exactly,” said 
 Emma, “but we can tell by studying 
 them. Seamen and people that travel 
 in deserts and lonely places have to 
 consult the stars a great deal, and 
 never feel quite safe, unless they see 
 
92 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 them often. Don’t you know how in 
 the account of Paul’s shipwreck, it 
 says, ‘When neither sun nor stars in 
 many days appeared, and no small 
 tempest lay on us, all hope that we 
 should be saved was then taken away ?’ ” 
 
 “ Consult the stars !” said Frank in 
 a low tone, and as though of Emma’s 
 whole speech only those three words 
 had made an impression on his 
 mind. 
 
 “ I have heard about consulting the 
 stars,” said Clarence, sharing the mys- 
 terious thoughts that gathered in 
 Frank’s mind, and more ready to ex- 
 press them, “ but I Avas always told 
 that it was done only by persons Avho 
 Avished to impose on the Aveak and ig- 
 norant. Will you please tell me, 
 mamma, Avhether this hasn’t some- 
 thing to do with astrology?” 
 
EAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 93 
 
 This was said with a deliberation 
 quite unusual for Clarence, and a 
 gravity which almost tempted his sis- 
 ter to smile, but mamma answered 
 quietly, 
 
 “ !N^o farther than this, Clarence, 
 that because our place on the earth 
 can be learned by ascertaining the 
 places of the sun and planets, design- 
 ing men take advantage of the fact, and 
 make ignorant persons believe that 
 many other things can be learned in 
 the same way.” 
 
 Frank expressed his relief in a long 
 breath, and Clarence said, 
 
 “ I would like very much to know 
 how Ave can learn anything from the 
 stars.” 
 
 “ It requires a good deal of study 
 to be able to make the calculations 
 necessary,” said Mrs. Raymond. 
 
94 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 “I would study till I was gray,’ 
 said Frank, “ to find it out.” 
 
 iVIaninia, said Emma, ‘‘ will you 
 let me try to give them an idea about 
 it?” 
 
 “ Certainly, dear.” 
 
 “ Alice,” said Emma, “ please walk 
 otf toward the wood, and stand mid- 
 way between that tall walnut-tree, and 
 that little stunted maj^le, but two or 
 three rods this way from them. 
 
 “ Clarence and Frank, let me give 
 you positions a good deal further otF 
 from the wood, and at some distance 
 from each other. 
 
 “ A^ow, Clarence, look at Alice, and 
 tell me where she seems to be stand- 
 ing.” 
 
 “ She is not standing where you told 
 her at all, sister, but close by the 
 black walnut.” 
 
KAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 
 
 95 
 
 “Oh! no, Clarence,” said Frank. 
 “ What makes you say so ? Can’t you 
 tell a maple-tree? It’s the maple- 
 tree she is standing near.” 
 
 “Which do you say, Clarence,” 
 said Emma, “ she is standing near the 
 maple, is she?” 
 
 “ No, sister, it is the black walnut, 
 I say. That’s what I said at first,” 
 said Clarence. 
 
 “ I can’t tell,” said Frank, “what 
 you are thinking about. She is as 
 near O2oposite to the ma2)le as can be, 
 and ever so far from the black wal- 
 ■ nut.”' 
 
 “ Now, boys,” said Emma, “ change 
 j)laces, just as though you were jolay- 
 ing ‘ Puss in the corner.’ Run, now, 
 both of you at once, and do not let 
 anybody snatch your corner from 
 you.” 
 
96 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 The boys ran and changed lolaces, 
 and Clarence said, “Avhat shall wexlo 
 next, sister?” 
 
 “Look round, now,” said Emma, 
 “^and tell me where Alice is standing. 
 Ton, Flank, first. Is she standing 
 by the mnplo-tree, now?” 
 
 “ Poll !” said Frank, “ she’s moved 
 non-. There, sister, you set us run- 
 aing just so ive need not see her 
 cliange iier piace. Kmv, slie is by the 
 
 black walnut, of course, but she wasn’t 
 before.” , 
 
 “I can’t help laughing,” said Clar- 
 ence.^ “ L is some trick, that’s plain. ’ 
 It s just as clear to mo that she is by 
 the maple this time, as it was before 
 that she was by the black walnut. 
 This IS some game I haven’t been Jet 
 into yet.” 
 
 JN^ow, Frank,” said Emma, “ walk 
 
RAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 
 
 97 
 
 over quietly to where Clarence stands. 
 Tell us now where Alice stands.” 
 Frank, after going over, says, 
 
 “ By the maple.” 
 
 “ Of course she does,” said Clarence. 
 “ Now, both of you,” said Emma, 
 “walk back together to where Frank 
 stood.” 
 
 They did so, and both together said, 
 “ She is by the black Avalnut.” 
 
 “ I don’t understand it,” said Clar- 
 ence. 
 
 “Now, both walk again back to 
 where Clarence stood, and look at 
 Alice as you go.” 
 
 “ It seems,” said Clarence, “ as 
 though she changes her place, too.” 
 
 “ As fast as we go to one side,” said 
 Frank, “ she goes to the other, or at 
 least it looks very much so.” 
 
 “ Alice has not changed her place 
 
 9 
 
98 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 at all,” said Emma, “ neither has she 
 been in front of either the maple or 
 black walnut, but when we move from 
 one place to another, the things about 
 iis look as though they were not where 
 they really are.” 
 
 “ Oh ! yes,” said Clarence. “ I have 
 seen that often, but I never thought 
 much about it. When you ride in a 
 car, you see it very ]3lainly.” 
 
 “ I have thought a great deal about 
 It, but could not tell why it was,” said 
 Frank. 
 
 “What is all this about, sister? I 
 thought you were going to teach us 
 about consulting the stars,” said Clar- 
 ence. 
 
 “ I wished to show you,” replied 
 Emma,, “that when we are in one 
 place, on the ocean, the apparent posi- 
 tion of distant objects, as the heavenly 
 
EAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 99 
 
 bodies, is diiferent from the position 
 they seem to occupy when we are in 
 another place. And studying these 
 differences in the apparent j)ositions 
 of the sun, moon and stars when 
 viewed from the point we occupy on 
 this our globe, is one thing that helps 
 seamen to know what place they are 
 in.” 
 
 “Now,” said Frank, “I under- 
 stand a little about it.” 
 
 “ Yes,” answered his mother, “ it is 
 a little indeed. I hope some day you 
 will know much more about it.” 
 
 “ I hope so, too,” said Frank. 
 
 “We see now,” said Clarence, 
 “ what good the sun, moon and stars 
 do, which the fog may prevent their 
 doing. W e would like to know Avhat 
 those things are which the fog allows 
 to harm shij)s.” 
 
100 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 “ Siioals and submarine rocks, ice- 
 bergs and other ships. If a ship-mas- 
 ter does not know where he is going, 
 
 he may run upon islands, shoals or 
 hidden rocks.” 
 
 “But suppose,” asked Clarence, 
 “you do know just where you are, 
 how do you know just where the 
 shoals and rocks and islands are ?” 
 
 “ These are all laid down upon maps 
 or charts by persons who have pre- 
 viously passed near them, and taken 
 their latitude and longitude. These 
 charts the mariner constantly studies, 
 
 and guides his course accordino- to 
 them.” 
 
 “But icebergs and ships, what will 
 they do to you ?” asked Frank. 
 
 “ Why hit you, and smash you into 
 ten thousand pieces,” answered Clar- 
 ence. “ Excuse me, mother.” 
 
KAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 101 
 
 “ But,” said Frank, “ is not the 
 ocean wide enough for all the ships 
 in the world, and all the icebergs, 
 too?” 
 
 “ But suppose,” said Clarence, “ you 
 don’t see where they are, and so you 
 run straight into them.” 
 
 “ Yes, yes,” said Frank. “ I should 
 think a fog was rather dangerous. It 
 tears up your track, and then it blind- 
 folds you. The quicker you let otf 
 steam, the better.” 
 
 “ That might do for a locomotive,” 
 suggested Emma. “ But the steam, 
 when you are in a sailing ship, is not 
 at your command, the wind is your 
 steam then. You can’t control the 
 wind.” 
 
 “ Take in sail, then,” said Clarence. 
 
 ‘•The wind,” replied Emma, “will 
 drive you still. Don’t you remember 
 
102 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 when Paul was in the ship in the 
 tempest, it is said they strake sail, 
 and so were driven?” 
 
 “ It is a' bad case,” said Clarence. 
 “ Were you ever in such a case as 
 that, mother?” 
 
 “ JSTot in the voyage to India. In 
 our homeward voyage, between Eng- 
 land and America, we had a gale and 
 a fog at the same time, which is rather 
 unusual. But so it was with us. We 
 were in a region, too, where icebergs 
 abound. Indeed the captain had 
 spoken a ship which told us -of ice- 
 bergs ahead, and Avhen the fog dis- 
 persed, we saw icebergs about us.” 
 
 “ Terrible !” exclaimed Clarence and 
 Emma. 
 
 “ I suppose we Avere never in more 
 perilous circumstances.” 
 
KAm, GALES, AND FOGS. 103 
 
 “ Mother, do tell me how you felt,” 
 said Alice. 
 
 “ I can easily tell you ; at least my 
 recollection of the impressions of the 
 time is very distinct. The fog was 
 dense, and the gale severe. The cap- 
 tain, who had traversed the sea many 
 years with great success, and who was 
 naturally genial and pleasant, grew tac- 
 iturn, and, except when something of 
 consequence required his attention, 
 noticed his passengers very slightly. 
 
 “ The passengers were all intensely 
 serious, and profoundly quiet. The 
 gayer ones, who in common storms as- 
 sumed an air of unusual levity, were 
 pale and restless. My mind, though 
 in a good degree assured of an inte- 
 rest in Christ, and of eternal safety 
 through him, yet was extremely ac- 
 tive in bringing up most vividly my 
 
104 
 
 OUT AT SEA, 
 
 possible condition in case of self-de- 
 ception, if I should, in a few minutes, 
 be humed into eternity. I could not, 
 as usual m such circumstances, obtain 
 entu^e relief and assured peace, by ap- 
 plying in prayer to the Saviour of sin- 
 ners. Suddenly it occurred to me, 
 why think so much about yourself, who 
 possibly may be saved, when here are 
 many m the ship with you, who have 
 not the slightest hope of salvation, to 
 whom the plunge into eternity must 
 realize all that your imagination de- 
 picts. 
 
 I sought immediately, and found 
 an opportunity to speak with one, 
 who, I knew, professed no interest in 
 Christ, and begged her to apply to 
 Him at once. Occupied in conversing 
 thus with any one who I thought 
 might listen in such an hour, no 
 
RAIN, GALES, AND FOGS. 
 
 105 
 
 thought for my own safety, nor doubt 
 concerning it, came again to my mind. 
 I could approach the Saviour with 
 confidence and hope in regard to my 
 shipmates and in regard to the happy 
 result of the voyage. I look back on 
 the lessons of those earnest, honest 
 hours, and count them a life-trea- 
 sure.” 
 
 The afternoon was now far ad- 
 vanced, and the little' party walked 
 quietly and thoughtfully towards 
 home. 
 
IV. 
 
 STAllS IJV SKY AJXD SJEA. 
 
 The api^ointed hour of the follow- 
 ing clay found them all seated in their 
 l^leasant parlor. They had prej^ared 
 to go to their favorite resort, but the 
 prospect of a thunder shower, com- 
 pelled them to stay at home. 
 
 Ihe talk is the chief thing after 
 all, said Clarence, “ and we need not 
 give that up, need we, mother?” 
 “Certainly not. Bring your work, 
 and take your chairs.” 
 
 “Clarence,” said Emma, “you will 
 have to moisten 'your grass, if you 
 
 wish to weave more baskets. Run to 
 106 
 
STARS IN SKY AND SEA. 
 
 107 
 
 the kitchen, and bring a basin of 
 water large enough to lay them out 
 straight in it.” 
 
 “ If we were only by the brook, 
 now,” Clarence answered, “ I should 
 not have to bring a basin of water.” 
 
 “Yes,” said Alice, “ and the brook 
 Avoiild carry them all olF down stream, 
 and you would have far enough to run 
 for them.” 
 
 “ Every advantage,” said Frank, 
 “has its disadvantage, sister.” 
 
 “ And every disadvantage has its 
 advantage, perhaps,” said Emma. 
 
 Clarence brought the water. 
 
 “ Be very careful in opening the 
 handkerchief, that you do not break 
 the- grass, now that it is dry,” said 
 Emma. 
 
 The arrangements for braiding be- 
 ing completed, and each member of 
 
108 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 the little circle having his and her work 
 in ojieration, Mrs. Raymond said, 
 
 “ All that I have told you, so far, 
 about the sea, has been of scenes of 
 the day. I must tell you something 
 about the night.” 
 
 I should think night at sea would 
 be very dreary,” said Emma. 
 
 “ One has naturally a sense of in- 
 security and loneliness, Avhen night 
 comes, even on shore. I should sup- 
 pose there would be much more of 
 this feeling at sea. ^Vhen I imagine 
 night on the ocean, it seems to me 
 that I should really shudder to look 
 at the unbroken arch of heaven in its 
 vast hollowness, or the wide, empty 
 circle of the sea. Indeed, mother, I 
 dread to have you tell about it, even.” 
 “I am sorry, my dear, you have 
 such gloomy impressions. I think I 
 
STARS IX SKY AND SEA. 
 
 109 
 
 could soon dispel them, if I could 
 show you such nigjht scenes as I have 
 witnessed in some parts of the ocean.” 
 “ If you can tell me of anything 
 about it that is bright or cheerful, I 
 shall be glad.” 
 
 “ I think I have known you find 
 some pleasure in studying the geogra- 
 phy of the heavens ?” 
 
 “Indeed, yes, mother, I do cer- 
 tainly. I love to look at the stars 
 from my window, and learn the names 
 of the constellations. I love to watch 
 each evening, and see how far this 
 planet or that has progressed in its 
 path among the fixed stars, and to 
 find how far we have moved in the 
 Zodiac, by seeing how far to the West 
 the stars seem to have traveled since 
 the night before at the same hour.” 
 
 “ I have not studied the stars,” said 
 10 
 
110 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 Alice, “ but I like to see them. I could 
 sit for half an hour, and just feast my 
 eyes upon them, if I did not know any- 
 thing about them, or think anything 
 about them, only to look at them. It 
 seems to rest my eyes. If I have a head- 
 ache, it soothes it. It rests mv mind. 
 If anything has been troubling me, it 
 makes me torget it. Only last night, 
 when you and Emma were awav, 
 mother, there was no moon, and it 
 was late. I did not wish to light up 
 my room for fear of mosquitoes, so I 
 could do nothing to entertain m^^self. 
 I was lonely and rather gloomy, so I 
 went and sat down by my window to 
 wait till you came home. As I threw 
 open my shutters, the bright stars 
 shone as kindly and cheering as ever. 
 
 I had not thought of them for a good 
 while, and it seemed like a kind of 
 
STARS IN SKY AND SL’A. 
 
 Ill 
 
 surprise that they Avere there. I could 
 not help thinking-, mother, that they 
 AA'ere like the promises in the Bible. 
 We forget all about them, sometimes, 
 and don’t seem to care Avh ether there 
 are any. But by-and-bye, Avhen per- 
 haps we are in some trouble, Ave open 
 the Bible, and there they are, just as 
 true, and just as comforting as ever.” 
 
 “ I hojie, sister,” said Frank, “ you 
 don’t let your Bible lie unopened till 
 trouble comes.” 
 
 “No, Frank,” replied his mother,. 
 “ but as Ave Avalk in the starlight 
 sometimes, Avithout much noticing the 
 stars, so Ave sometimes read the Bible 
 AAuthout seeing very much of the value 
 of the promises.” 
 
 “ I don’t think Ave are getting ahead 
 in our voyage,” said Clarence, after a 
 pause. 
 
112 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 “ I was going to say that the ocean 
 is about the best place to study the 
 stars. Beside that a ship is a very 
 good observatory, life at sea puts you 
 in a state of mind to be interested in 
 them. The Avant of necessary and 
 pressing daily occupation, and the 
 want of extended society and public 
 incident, in short, the AA^ant of Avork, 
 and the Avant of ncAvs induces a con- 
 templative state of mind, Avhich in- 
 clines you more to vieAv the stars and 
 think about them. 
 
 “ Men at sea often become very 
 familiar Avith the stars, even AAuthout 
 books or teachers, so that they have 
 them mapped out in the mind’s eye, and 
 distinguish them readily, even though 
 they may not have learned their 
 names. Just as one brought up in a 
 certain portion of a city, or tract of 
 
STARS IN SKY AND SKA. 
 
 113 
 
 country, and traveling over the same 
 streets and roads day after day, has 
 the whole in his memory, and would 
 not lose his way, or mistake one house 
 for another, though the streets might 
 have no sign-boards, or he might 
 never have heard the name of a single 
 resident.” 
 
 “ The stars seem to me like nothing- 
 hut confusion,” said Clarence. “ I 
 could never tell, one night, whether 1 
 had ever looked at the same stars be- 
 fore, or whether they were all new 
 ones. I could not tell whether they 
 kept the same places in the sky, or 
 whether they ivere jumbled together 
 every day, and just tossed up there, 
 and sprinkled over the sky again 
 every night.” 
 
 “ If you looked at them a good deal, 
 and became familiar with them, you 
 10 * 
 
114 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 would experience something of the 
 same difference of feelino- on seeinsf 
 them, that you do in falling in with a 
 group of friends, instead of being 
 thrown in company with a roomful of 
 strangers.” 
 
 “ Indeed, mother,” said Clarence, 
 “ I can hardly think of that, for the 
 one is about the awkwardest feeling in 
 the world, and the other the pleasant- 
 est feeling imaginable.” 
 
 “ I said ‘ something ’ of the same 
 feeling, my dear Clarence. You 
 know something about some of the 
 stars, I am sure; those large ones 
 that I told you once were m the back 
 of the Great Bear.” 
 
 “Oh! yes,” exclaimed Clarence, “I 
 am always ghul to get a sight of those. 
 I know them because they are larcer 
 than most of the stars, and because 
 
STARS IN SKY AND SEA. 
 
 115 
 
 they form a shape something like a 
 dipper, and when I am walking in a 
 dark night, I always look round for 
 them, because they are the only ones 
 I do know, and I fancy it is not quite 
 so lonely when I see them.” 
 
 “ But the form of a dipper is not 
 easier to remember than other forms, 
 nor any pleasanter to see. All the 
 stars are arranged in some forms, and 
 you could after a while remember 
 them just as w^ell as that; and if it 
 makes you feel glad, and less lonely 
 when you get a sight of one group 
 that you know, do you not think it 
 would make you feel gladder, and less 
 lonely still, if you saw on every side 
 of you groups that you knew ?” 
 
 “ But how shall I get to know them 
 asked Clarence. 
 
 ‘ You may take a globe and lamp, 
 
116 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 and having secured the service of some 
 friend to adjust the globe to your lati- 
 tude, and to turn toward you the part 
 of it, which corresponds to the quar- 
 tei of the heavens, towards which your 
 window looks, you may look first to- 
 Avards the sky, and fix }mur eye upon 
 some distinct group of larger stars, 
 and then turn to your globe, and find 
 it there, and ascertain to Avhat constel- 
 lation it belongs, and Avhat other stars 
 are in the same constellation, and see 
 if any of them have names, and if so, 
 leain them, dhen notice the marks 
 on the globe shoAving Avhich star is 
 number one, number tAvo, number 
 thiee, etc., of that constellation, or, 
 Avhich is the same thing, Avhich is Al- 
 pha, Beta, Gamma, etc., look them out 
 in the sky again and again, till you 
 can turn to them in their order and 
 
STARS IN SKY AND SEA. 
 
 117 
 
 number them. They are numbered 
 according to their size. 
 
 “ Try only one constellation in an 
 evening, and review it the next fair 
 evening. This is one method. If 
 you were without a globe, maps of the 
 heavens would answer the same pur- 
 pose. But as in very warm weather 
 you do not care to keep a light burn- 
 ing much of the evening, and as you 
 cannot always have a friend at hand 
 to assist you, I would recommend a 
 different method.” 
 
 “ Seat yourself in your sister Alice’s 
 window, which will give you a view 
 of your friend the dipper, and study 
 that a little. Notice everything about 
 it that you can see or think of. How 
 many stars has it, how do tliey stand 
 related to each other, how many form 
 what looks like the handle? Is it a 
 
118 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 straight handle, or has it a bend in it, 
 does the end bend downward toward 
 the lower part of the dipper, or up- 
 ward toward the upper part of it, how 
 many form the bottom of the dipper, 
 how many make the side outward, or 
 away from the handle, how many the 
 side toward the handle, and thus ob- 
 serve everything you can about the 
 dipper itself. Then look for stars 
 about the dipper. Do you see some 
 small ones near the end of the handle? 
 
 hat geometrical form can 5’'ou fancy 
 they have, or Avhat letter, or Avhat 
 other object do they resemble, a chair, 
 or a table, or a ho use- roof? Is there 
 any little star Avithin the cup of the 
 dipper, or near the opening at the top? 
 Are there any stars that lie in a di- 
 rection nearly parallel Avith the direc- 
 tion of the dipper, at a little distance 
 
STARS IN SKY AND SEA. 
 
 119 
 
 from it on either or both sides, and 
 hoAV many? Are there any that lie 
 off a little way from the outer side of 
 the cup of the dipper, forming the 
 shape, say of a boat or a basket? Sit 
 and look it over thus inquisitively, 
 and talk it over to yourself mentally, 
 or in a whisper, or aloud. See all you 
 can see about it, and ask all you can 
 ask about it. 
 
 “ The next night take your seat 
 again, and try if you can recal all the 
 particulars you noticed the night be- 
 fore. Afterward, get your sister Alice 
 or Emma, (Frank will be asleep too 
 soon) to go out with you, or if they 
 are too busy, see if you can persuade 
 your mother to go with you, and sit 
 under your tuition for a while, as you 
 point out to her all the particulars you 
 have noticed in these bright, twink- 
 
/ 
 
 120 OUT AT SEA, 
 
 ling stars and constellations, and see 
 if she confirms your observations. I 
 think you would find this joleasant. 
 
 “ Some time there will come another 
 eveniim' when we will feel like sittino; 
 down quietly, and looking at the stars. 
 Then let your eye stray out in some 
 direction further away from the dip- 
 per. See what large star lies in one 
 direction from it, or another, and what 
 smaller stars appear about that, and 
 study their bearings and relations. 
 You would find before long that the 
 portion of the heavens you had gone 
 over in this way, was all jotted down 
 in your mind, so that you could shut 
 vour eves, and look at it* even in the 
 day-time. You might give a name of 
 your own choosing, if you wished, to 
 each of the largest stars, and call them 
 by it till you could get an opportunity 
 
STARS IN SKY AND SEA. 
 
 121 
 
 to learn the names given to them by 
 astronomers.” 
 
 “ Did you try any such method, 
 when you were at sea, mother?” asked 
 Frank. 
 
 “No, my dear. But without it the 
 sky>at night was a delightful object. 
 What I had chiefly in mind though, 
 in speaking of night scenes at sea, was 
 some appearances of the water.” 
 
 “ I don’t understand, mother,” said 
 Frank, “ how you can see much of the 
 water at night, unless it be when the 
 moon shines. Then, indeed, I should 
 think it might look very pretty.” 
 
 “ That is not what I lyas thinking 
 of, though there are lovely moon-light 
 scenes at sea. One I remember es- 
 pecially. It was in a calm. When 
 there is no wind, there is usually, 
 what is called a swell. That is, the 
 11 
 
122 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 sea rises and falls very slowly in 
 long low undulations. I will not ven- 
 ture to state how long, but am sure 
 they have sometimes looked to me as 
 though it were half a mile, from the 
 foot of the swell to the top of it. At 
 the time of which I speak, we were 
 sailing directly East. The full moon 
 had risen an hour before, and of course 
 lay just above our prow. The surface 
 of the sea was as unrippled as a look- 
 ing-glass. Avere heading across 
 
 those long deep swells, and every time 
 we came to the bottom of one of them, 
 and AA^ere beginning to ascend it, a 
 broad belt of the Avave between us and 
 the horizon seemed covered AAuth moon- 
 beams, not in faint reflection, but every 
 part as AAdiite and as radiant as the 
 moon itself. It seemed like a path- 
 Avay of light, by Avhich Ave Avere as- 
 
STARS IN SKY AND SEA. 
 
 123 
 
 cending to a heavenly portal. We 
 stood at the side of -the ship, leaning 
 over the bulwarks, and looking toward 
 the prow, and every time the ship 
 dipped, the lovely vision was re- 
 newed.” 
 
 “That must have been beautiful, 
 really,” said Emma. 
 
 “ Yes, we watched it while the moon 
 mounted higher and higher in the 
 heavens, till at length the effect was 
 no longer produced.” 
 
 “ But, mother, I understood you 
 that the most wonderful sight you 
 saw, was in the dark,” said Clarence. 
 
 “ That is a little more than I said, 
 dear. I implied that it was not seen 
 by moonlight. The first time that I 
 noticed the appearance, no one had 
 spoken to me of it, and I did not like 
 to speak of it, lest those around me 
 
124 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 should think that my fancy illumined 
 and colored beyond nature, but it 
 seemed to me that the crest of every 
 wave was luminous with a faintly- 
 colored light, greenish or bluish, I 
 could hardly say which, it was so faint 
 and so transient. I amused myself 
 with the illusion for a while, and sup- 
 posed the atmosphere or my fancy 
 Avould probably never present me with 
 it again. I had heard something of 
 the phosphorescence of the ocean, but 
 not having formed a distinct idea as 
 to how it would present itself, I did 
 not connect this appearance with it. 
 
 “A few evenings after, your father 
 took me on deck, and proposed to walk 
 forward to the prow of the ship. This 
 was unusual, because that part of the 
 ship was not assigned to the passen- 
 gers. So I presumed there was some- 
 
STARS IN SKY AND SEA. 
 
 125 
 
 thing to be seen. The night was dark, 
 there was but a moderate breeze. As 
 we walked forward, 1 noticed that the 
 bowsprit and ropes attached to it, were 
 lighted up with a pale light, and on 
 looking over the prow, saw the sea 
 full of diamonds and pearls as it were, 
 mingling the sparkling brilliance of 
 the one with the moon-like gleam of the 
 other, and looking as though the fa- 
 bled caves of ocean had been emptied 
 of all their gems. 
 
 “The supply was inexhaustible as 
 magic, and the longer we looked, as 
 the night dee25ened, the richer was the 
 disiilay. We walked along the side 
 of the ship, and looked over the bul- 
 warks ; the Avater there jiresentcd the 
 same aiipearance : we jiassed to the 
 stern, and it was the same there. For 
 
 several nights we enjoyed fine exhibi- 
 11 * 
 
126 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 tions, and one day some one bethought 
 himself of dipping up a pail of sea- 
 water, and taking it into a darkened 
 apartment. On disturbing the water 
 with a stick, light was emitted from 
 numerous little points, which floated 
 in it, and on examining, it appeared 
 that there were small particles of a 
 transparent, jelly-like substance, each 
 of which had in its centre a small 
 dark speck. 
 
 “One dark night we were nearly be- 
 calmed, and as our movement dis- 
 turbed the water but little, the exhi- 
 bition was inferior to what we had 
 
 seen before. We were about with- 
 
 0 
 
 drawing to the cabin, when along the 
 Western horizon there appeared a 
 multitude of lights, as though we were 
 approaching a city just at the hour of 
 a grand illumination. As we doubted 
 
STARS IN SKY AND SEA. 
 
 127 
 
 whether to amuse ourselves with trac- 
 ing the resemblance between what we 
 saw, and the spires and windows and 
 illuminated peaks and light-houses of 
 some jubilant harbor; or whether to 
 yield to the impression that we had 
 suddenly made some unknown port, 
 and must get ready to disembark, it 
 seemed that ships of tire were making 
 out from the harbor to overhaul us. 
 
 “ Soon these multiplied into a fleet 
 of fire-ships, rapidly bearing down 
 upon us ; and, as the western gale 
 rushed on us, and swept by, the whole 
 ocean was covered with them. We 
 now understood it all. The wind, 
 which broke suddenly on the sea in 
 the West, had powerfully agitated 
 the waters in that quarter, rousing the 
 phosphorescent animalcules to show 
 their most vivid light. As wave 
 
128 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 dashed against wave, the water was 
 broken into spray, and thrown up- 
 wards, assuming those forms which, 
 in the distance, we compared to lighted 
 towers and pinnacles, and, as they 
 came nearer, to masts and sails. 
 
 “ It was a splendid pageant. The 
 first effect was soon over, but through 
 the night, there seemed to be bonfires 
 all over the sea.” 
 
 “ Shall I see it, if I go to sea, mo- 
 ther?” asked Clarence. 
 
 “ I cannot promise }mu that my dear, 
 for I do not know that anybody before 
 or since, ever saw just the same ap- 
 pearance that I did. But if you 
 should go round the world, I suppose 
 you could not fail to see a good deal 
 of similar display.” 
 
 “ You have told us, mother, of birds 
 and fishes, and waves and icebergs, 
 
STARS IN SKY AND SEA. 
 
 129 
 
 and illuminations, and fogs and storms, 
 but you have told us nothing of 
 calms,” said Alice. 
 
 “ How can I tell you about a calm ? 
 Is there anything to it to tell ? It is 
 a most negative condition. One can 
 better tell what there is not in it, than 
 what there is, perhaps. First, there is 
 no wind, second, there is no wave, 
 third, there is no cloud, fourth, there 
 is no motion, fifth, there is no sound, 
 sixth, there is no jirogress, seventh, 
 there is no incident, eighth, there is 
 no satisfaction. The ship lies listless 
 on the middle of a sea of glass, the 
 smooth round horizon seems removed 
 to an immeasurable distance, the sails 
 hang idle, no ropes are pulled, no or- 
 ders are shouted, no tramp of men 
 hurrying to obey is heard, there is no 
 rush of waters, no jar of timbers. 
 
130 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 You hush your voice, it disturbs such 
 an immense stillness. You incline 
 not to move, it seems incongruous. 
 You are sure your very thoughts are 
 heard. You are weary, weary. You 
 wish to fly, you are bound to that one 
 spot. Day and night pass, and day 
 and night again, but yet your ship 
 moves not. Such is a calm at sea.” 
 
 When the conversation had pro- 
 ceeded thus far, Mrs. Ra^unond re- 
 minded her young auditors that it 
 was Saturday afternoon, and that they 
 had some duties at home which re- 
 quired their attention. 
 
 “ Mother,” said Emma, “ shall we 
 have to omit our conversation, to-mor- 
 row ?” 
 
 “Would it not be right,” asked 
 Frank, “ to talk about a missionary 
 voyage on Sunday ?” 
 
STARS IN SKY AND SEA. 
 
 131 
 
 “ That will depend, jierliaps, on 
 how Ave talk about it. There are some 
 things on board ship that aa"o may 
 talk about on Sunday, I am sure,” 
 said Clarence, “ there are Sundays on 
 board ship, that’s one thing, and there 
 are Bibles and Hymn-books, and 
 meetings.” 
 
 “And there are Avorks of God in 
 sea and sky, and his care of us,” said 
 Alice. 
 
 “We shall meet as usual in the 
 nursery to-morrow after Sunday- 
 school, and Ave Avill see then Avhat it is 
 best to talk about.” 
 
V. 
 
 SABBATIX AT SEA. 
 
 On Sunday afternoon, when the 
 public services of the day were over, 
 Alice and Clarence came to Mrs. Ray- 
 mond, with a request that, as the day 
 was Avarm and fine, they might take 
 some chairs out upon the piazza, and 
 prejAaie to hold the projAosed conver- 
 sation there. To this Mrs. Raymond 
 cheerfully assented. 
 
 When they were seated, Mrs. Ray- 
 mond said, “ It seems very suitable on 
 this day, to review the voyage we 
 have talked so much about, for the 
 t^urpose of finding what religious les- . 
 
 132 
 
SABBATH AT SEA. 
 
 133 
 
 sons it may yield. I would like to have 
 each of you tell me what you think 
 of in sea life, which is suited to turn 
 the mind toward God.” 
 
 A minute or two was allowed for 
 reflection, and as no one seemed in 
 haste to break the silence, Mrs. Ray- 
 mond said, 
 
 “ You may speak first, Emma.” 
 
 “ I confess, ma, I am thinking that 
 the sense of danger would influence 
 me most of anything. I should feel 
 all the time I was on board shijT, that 
 there was but a plank beween me and 
 eternity.” 
 
 “ There is far less than that be- 
 tween us and eternity at all times, my 
 child. A cob-web would more fitly 
 represent our hold on life, than an 
 oak plank.” 
 
 “ But we are not,” said Emma, “ al- 
 12 
 
134 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 ways conscious of it on land. It 
 seems to me that on the sea, I should 
 never forget it for an hour.” 
 
 “ It is well, dear, if a sense of inse- 
 curity keep vividly before our minds 
 our dependence on God. ‘In Him we 
 live and move and have our beine;.’ 
 Let us hear what occurs to Alice as 
 the circumstance in sea-life most fitted 
 to turn our thoughts towards our 
 Father in heaven.” 
 
 “ I was thinking, mother,” said 
 Alice, “that everything on land seems 
 made for man, but that at sea, the 
 birds and fishes, the water and clouds 
 seem all to no purpose except for God. 
 Why, the ocean is broader in surface 
 than the land, and miles in de}3th. 
 Yet it is thronged with fish, and 
 through every jiart of the wide air 
 above it, birds range. The beautiful 
 
SABBATH AT SEA. 
 
 135 
 
 clouds, the brilliant display of phos- 
 phorescence seem all to be lost, except 
 as they please the eye of God. These 
 all seem to say. We live unto Him.” 
 
 “ But a small portion of the Crea- 
 tor’s works are ever seen by human 
 eyes, but as Job said, ‘ God searcheth 
 out all perfection. His eye seeth 
 every precious thing,’ ” (Job xxxviii. 
 3, 10), replied Mrs. Baymond. 
 
 “ Clarence, it is your turn next.” 
 
 “ Mother,” said Clarence, “ the lone- 
 liness. You leave the world behind, 
 and sail away otf, where there is no- 
 body. For weeks you sail straight on 
 over the trackless water, where no 
 man is, and where it seems as though 
 nobody ever had been. Hay after day 
 you go farther and farther into soli- 
 tude. The empty water is around 
 you, and the vacant sky above. There 
 
136 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 are no streets thronged Avith people, 
 no neighbors’ houses, no games nor 
 business going on. I should think 
 you Avould feel as though you had 
 quit the ivorld and gone off alone 
 Avith God.” 
 
 In the secret 25lace of our OAvn 
 hearts, said his mother, “ AAm may at 
 any time be alone Avith God, yet it is 
 true that to many minds the isolation 
 of ship life brings a peculiar con- 
 sciousness of the j^resence of the Infi- 
 nite One. Indeed I tliink feAv circum- 
 stances are more fittea to impress this 
 than to stand in a quiet night, alone 
 on a shill’s deck, Avhen even most of 
 your shipmates are asleej) and you 
 see no signs of life about you, Avith 
 the Avide stretch of sea on every hand, 
 and the Amst starry arch OA^er head. 
 
 ^ ou seem, indeed, of all the universe 
 
SABBATH AT SEA. 
 
 1ST 
 
 alone Avith Grocl. To one who loves 
 God, it is a delightful impression, and 
 makes him long to be ‘ caught up,’ 
 and be forever with Him.” 
 
 “ Mother,” said Frank, “ I should 
 think a Sabbath at sea would be ra- 
 ther pleasant. Hot a stormy Sabbath, 
 with rain and rough waves, but a quiet 
 one, almost a calm ; when the sun shone, 
 and the sails were just filled with 
 Avind, and the air Avas mild, and the sea 
 smooth. Then, I should like to take 
 my Bible, and go up and sit on the 
 deck, and look out all the places in it 
 that tell about the sea. I remember 
 one that begins, ‘ They that go doAvn 
 to the sea in ships, that do business in 
 the great Avaters, these see the Avorks 
 of the Lord, and his AAmnders in the 
 deep.’” 
 
 “ Recite that Frank. You have 
 12 » 
 
138 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 learned the whole passage, haue you 
 not?” 
 
 “ A few verses,” said Frank, 
 iiank then repeated from the 
 twenty-third to the thirty-first verses 
 of the 107th Psalm. 
 
 They that go down to the sea in 
 ships, that do business in great waters ; 
 these see the works of the Lord, and 
 his wonders in the deep. For he 
 cornmandeth, and raiseth the stormy 
 wind, which lifteth up the waves 
 thereof. They mount up to the heaven, 
 they go down again to the depths: 
 their soul is melted because of trouble. 
 They reel to and fro, and stagger like 
 a drunken man, and are at their wit’s 
 end. Then they cry unto tlie Lord 
 in their trouble, and he bringeth them 
 out of their distresses. lie maketh 
 the storm a calm, so that the waves 
 
SABBATH AT SEA. 
 
 139 
 
 thereof are still. Then are they glad be- 
 cause they be quiet ; so he bringeth 
 them unto their desired haven. Oh that 
 men would praise the Lord for his 
 goodness, and for his wonderful Avorks 
 to the children of men.’ ” 
 
 “ Are you sure you could remember 
 any other passages in the Bible about 
 the sea, so that you Avould be able to 
 turn to them ?” 
 
 “ Oh ! yes, mother,” said Frank, 
 “ a number. In the story of Jonah 
 there is mention of a storm at sea. In 
 the Gospels of Matthew, Mark and 
 John, there are also accounts of storms 
 at sea.” 
 
 “ Don’t you remember,” asked Clar- 
 ence, “ that long account of a tempes- 
 tuous voyage, and a shipwreck in the 
 Acts of the Apostles?” 
 
 “ There are manv allusions to the 
 
140 
 
 OUT AT SKA. 
 
 sea in the Bible, some of which are 
 very interesting,” said Emma. 
 
 “ You may repeat some of them.” 
 
 “ The first allusion,” said Emma, 
 “ is in the second verse of chap. 1st 
 of Genesis, in the account of the cre- 
 ation. ‘ Darkness was upon the face 
 of the deep, and the Spirit of God 
 moved upon the face of the waters.' 
 And again in v. 8. ^God said, Let 
 the waters under the neaven be gath- 
 ered together unto one place, and let the 
 dry land appear, and it was so. And 
 God called the dry land earth, and the 
 gathering togetlier of the waters called 
 He seas, and God saw that it was 
 good.’ Again in v. 20. ‘ God said, 
 
 Let the waters bring forth abundantly 
 the moving creature tliat hath life.’ 
 There are allusions to tlie sea also, in 
 the song of IMoses and Miriam.’ ” 
 
SABBATH AT SEA. 
 
 141 
 
 “ Can you repeat them ?” 
 
 “ I will read them if you please, 
 mother.” (See Exod. xv. 1, 4, 5, 8, 
 9, 10, 11, 19, 20, 21.) 
 
 “ ‘ Then sang Moses and the children 
 of Israel this song unto the Loed, 
 and spake, saying, I will sing unto 
 the Loed, for he hath triumphed glo- 
 riously ; the horse and his rider hath 
 he thrown into the sea. Pharaoh’s 
 chariots and his host hath he cast into 
 the sea : his chosen captains also are 
 drowned in the Red sea. The depths 
 have covered them : they sank into 
 the bottom as a stone. And with the 
 blast of thy nostrils the waters were 
 gathered together, the floods stood up- 
 right as a heap, and the depths were 
 congealed in the heart of the sea. 
 The enemy said, I will pursue, I will 
 overtake, I will divide the spoil : my 
 
142 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 lust shall be satisfied upon them ; I 
 will draw my sword, my hand shall 
 destroy them. Thou didst blow with 
 thy wind, the sea covered them : they 
 sank as lead in the mighty waters. 
 
 ho is like unto thee, 0 Loed, 
 among the gods ? who is like thee, glo- 
 rious in holiness, tearful in ^^I'uises, 
 doing wonders? For the horse of 
 Pharaoh went in with his chariots and 
 with his horsemen into the sea, and 
 the Lord brought again the waters of 
 the sea upon them : but the children 
 of Israel went on dry land in the 
 midst of the sea. 
 
 “‘And Miriam the prophetess took 
 a timbrel in her hand; and all the 
 women went out after her, with tim- 
 brels, and with dances. And Miriam 
 answered them. Sing ^^e to the Lord, 
 for he hath triumphed gloriously ; the 
 
SABBATH AT SEA. 
 
 143 
 
 horse and his rider hath he thrown 
 into the sea.’ 
 
 “Job says, ‘ God treadeth upon the 
 waves of the sea.’ And again, ^ He 
 weigheth the waters by measure.’ 
 And Jeremiah says, ‘ He divideth the 
 sea, when the waves thereof roar,’ ” 
 remarked Alice. 
 
 “ Recite the passage, if you can, 
 Clarence, which begins, ‘Who shut 
 up the sea v.uth doors.’ ” 
 
 “ I cannot recite it, but I will read 
 it; it is in Job xxxviii. 8-11.” 
 
 “ ‘ Or who shut up the sea with 
 doors, when it brake forth, as if it had 
 issued out of the womb ? When I 
 made the cloud the garment thereof, 
 and thick darkness a swaddling band 
 for it, and brake up for it my decreed 
 place, and set bars and doors, and 
 said, Hitherto shalt thou come, bat no 
 
144 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 further ; and here shall thy proud waves 
 be stayed ?’ 
 
 “ And Alice, Psalm civ. 24-27. 
 
 “ ‘ 0 Lord, how manifold are thv 
 works ! in wisdom hast thou made 
 them all : the earth is full of thy 
 riches ; so is this great and wide sea, 
 wherein are things creeping innumer- 
 able, both small and great beasts. 
 There go the ships ; there is that le- 
 viathan, whom thou hast made to play 
 therein. These wait all upon thee, 
 that thou mayest give them their 
 meat in due season.’ 
 
 “ And Prank, Prov. viii, 27-30. 
 
 “ ‘ When he prepared the heavens, I 
 was there : when he set a compass 
 upon the face of the depth : when he 
 established the clouds above: when 
 he strengthened the fountains of the 
 deep : when he gave to the sea his de- 
 
SABBATH AT SEA. 
 
 145 
 
 cree, that the waters should not pass 
 his commandment; when he ap- 
 pointed the foundations of the earth : 
 then I was by him as one brought up 
 with him: and I was daily his de- 
 light, rejoicing always before him.’” 
 
 “ There is a passage in Job,” said 
 Emma, “ which I think must refer to 
 some of the phosphorescent exhibi- 
 tions of which you have spoken. They 
 are in the account of the Leviathan, 
 Jobxli. 18. ‘By his neesings a light 
 doth shine, and his eyelids are like 
 the eyelids of the morning. Out of 
 his mouth go burning lamps, and 
 sparks of tire leap out. His breath 
 kindleth coals, and a flame goeth out 
 of his mouth. He maketh a path to 
 shine after him. One would think 
 the deep to be hoary.’ I should think 
 it was the movements of Leviathan in 
 
 13 
 
146 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 the water, disturbing the animalcules, 
 that caused the dis])lay here sj)oken 
 of.’ ” 
 
 “When- Job asks,” said Alice, 
 ‘ Where shall wisdom be found, and 
 where is the j^lace of understanding?’ 
 “ the reply is, ‘ The depth saith, it is 
 not in me, and the sea saith, it is not 
 with me.’ ” 
 
 “ And in the 46th Psalm there is 
 another reference to the sea,” added 
 Frank. “David says, ‘God is .our 
 refuge and strength, a very present 
 help in trouble. Therefore will not 
 we fear, though the earth be re- 
 moved, and though the mountains 
 be carried into the midst of the 
 sea; though the waters thereof roar 
 and be troubled, though the moun- 
 tains shake with the swellings thereof. 
 Selah.’ ” 
 
SABBATH AX SEA. 
 
 147 
 
 “ In chiding the Jews for their re- 
 bellion and idolatry,” said Emma, 
 “ God says, (Jer. v. 22,) ‘ Fear ye not 
 me? saith the Lord. Will ye not trem- 
 ble at my presence, which have placed 
 the sand for a perpetual decree that it 
 cannot pass it : and though the waves 
 thereof toss themselves, yet cannot 
 they prevail ; though they roar, yet 
 can they not pass over it?’ ” 
 
 “ In the Revelation made by the 
 Lord Jesus Christ to the Apostle 
 John,” said Alice, “ he was shown 
 that at the Judgment, the sea would 
 give up the dead that are therein. 
 Again, it is represented that an angel 
 shall stand with one foot upon the 
 land, and one upon the sea, and swear 
 by Him that liveth for ever and ever, 
 that there should be time no longer. 
 
148 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 Again, a period is spoken of, when 
 there shall be no more sea.” 
 
 “ I should think,” said Clarence, 
 “ that aboard ship would be a good 
 place to live as a Christian.” 
 
 “ Why, my son ?” 
 
 “ Because there seems to be nothing 
 
 O 
 
 to tempt you ; the world is left be- 
 hind. Then there are so many things 
 to remind you of God.” 
 
 “We carry the world in our hearts 
 wherever we go, and shall never find 
 a spot on this round world, where 
 temptation cannot get access to us. 
 I think if you will consider, you will 
 find full as many helps on land, as on 
 sea, to a Christian life.” 
 
 “ But not so much leisure to attend 
 to it, mother,” said Clarence. 
 
 “ Both on land and sea people are 
 variously situated. Many of those 
 
SABBATH AT SEA. 
 
 149 
 
 who go to sea, are very busy on ship- 
 board, and those who have most lei- 
 sure, either on sea or land, are not al- 
 ways those who improve it best.” 
 “Are seamen,” asked Frank, “gen- 
 erally very religious, mother?” 
 
 “ A very different character has 
 often been ascribed to them. I think 
 however, that sailors have not been as 
 well thought of as they deserve. 
 Perhaps prejudice has been awakened 
 by the fact that when sailors are on 
 land, they are out of their element, as 
 we say, and live more irregularly than 
 they do in their ocean homes. Be- 
 sides, after an imprisonment on board 
 ship, they feel on being set at liberty 
 in a harbor, with their wages just 
 slipped into their hands, that then is 
 the time to spend their money and 
 enjoy themselves. It is however ad- 
 13 *■ 
 
160 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 mitted that courage, humaneness, 
 frankness and generosity are marked 
 traits in sailors universally. Cer- 
 tainly we have every reason to speak 
 favorably of them. Our kind cap- 
 tain Avas most considerate of our wel- 
 fare, intelligent and courteous ; our 
 officers Avere ciAul and kind, the sail- 
 ors, as far as we saAv, Avere peaceable 
 and orderly.” 
 
 “ I do not see hoAV you could hold 
 religious services on board ship, 
 mamma, everything is knocking 
 about so,” said Frank. 
 
 “ Things are fastened, dear, so that 
 in ordinary Aveather they do not 
 knock about. We were favored Avith 
 pleasant Sundays all the early part 
 of our voyage. The first Sabbath, all 
 of our company Avere too sea-sick to 
 hold a service. The second Sabbath, 
 
SABBATH AT SEA. 
 
 151 
 
 however, all things were favorable. 
 We had recovered from sea-sickness. 
 The Aveather Avas pleasant. The 
 captain cheerfully acceded to the 
 proposal for service, and himself in- 
 vited the sailors to attend. At first 
 they declined, but afterAvard, on per- 
 suasion ten of them came, and sat 
 down Avith us. A feAV chairs and 
 benches Avere placed for some of our 
 number, but others, as Avell as the 
 sailors sat on coiled ropes, casks and 
 such fixtures as Avere available. The 
 capstan serAmd as a table, and a plat- 
 form Avas dispensed Avith. We sought 
 the Lord in prayer, and sang his 
 praise. A sermon was preached by 
 one of the missionaries. These ser- 
 vices Avere continued on the succeed- 
 ing Sabbaths, AA'heneA^er the AA^eather 
 permitted. A Bible class Avas also 
 
152 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 held weekly with some of the sailors, 
 which they attended with interest. 
 In the latter part of the voyage, as I 
 have mentioned, we had three weeks 
 of successive gales, with some really 
 appalling storms. At these times we 
 seemed brought face to face with 
 death, and felt that we, and all on 
 board were on the very verge of eter- 
 nity. Besides, in one storm, a sailor 
 fell into the sea and narrowly escaped 
 with his life. It made us pray more 
 earnestly. Soon after this, as your 
 father was walking upon deck one 
 evening, a sailor accosted him, saying, 
 ‘ I wish you Avould talk to me about 
 the salvation of my soul. I feel very 
 much distressed. Your remarks last 
 evening about the Prodigal Son af- 
 fected me, and I feel that I am a prod- 
 igal.’ Your father said, “ Perhaps the 
 
ASHORE AGAIN. 
 
 15S 
 
 Lord sent us on board of this ship on 
 purpose that you might have an op- 
 portunity of hearing about Jesus 
 Christ, and securing the salvation of 
 your soul.’ ‘ Yes,’ he replied, ‘ and 
 perhaps he has sent me for this pur- 
 pose, for I expected to go in another 
 ship, and did not think of coming in 
 this until the very day we left Boston.’ 
 “After conversing for some time, 
 urging him to repent of his sins, and 
 serve God, your father returned to the 
 cabin, and proposed to some of the 
 missionaries to spend a few minutes 
 in prayer. Two others of the mis- 
 sionaries then accompanied him to 
 the forecastle, where they met and 
 conversed with four or five of the 
 sailors. They all seemed interested. 
 One said, ‘I never thought so much 
 on the subject of religion in my life as 
 
154 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 since I have been on board of this 
 ship ! He added that he had deter- 
 mined to break otf swearing, and try 
 to do as well as he could. Another 
 said his mind was in the thing, but he 
 could not brine,' his heart to it.’ 
 
 “ It was evident from this time that 
 the Holy S2:»irit was moving upon the 
 hearts of several on board. One sai-- 
 lor said, ‘ Wo cannot turn all at once. 
 I am determined not to drink any 
 more, and to leave otf swearing.’ 
 Another said, ‘ The jweaching and 
 talking are enough to melt a 'heart of 
 stone. I am not much used to cry- 
 ing, but when I hear pi’ay, I can- 
 
 not hel}:) it.’ Another said, ‘ There is 
 a great change in the forecastle. 
 Where there Avere a hundred oaths 
 last week, there has not been one this 
 
SABBATH AT SEA. 
 
 155 
 
 week.’ These are new times on ship- 
 board. 
 
 “The midnight watch saw sailors 
 bowed under the canopy of heaven, 
 asking forgiveness of sin for them- 
 selves and their companions. How 
 we longed that they all might enter 
 the ark of safety, and be borne to the 
 haven of - eternal bliss! Yet, if but one 
 soul reaches heaven through God’s 
 blessing on the prayers and elforts of 
 that season, it will repay a thousand 
 times all the anxiety that was felt, 
 and all the effort that was made.” 
 “Yes, indeed, mother,” said Frank, 
 “ a whole world cannot weigh a single 
 soul.” 
 
 “ What text, Clarence, conveys the 
 idea which Frank has just expressed?” 
 “ What shall it profit a man ‘ if he 
 
156 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 gain the whole world, and lose his own 
 soul ?’ ” 
 
 There was a moment or two of si- 
 lence, w'hen Mrs. Eaymond said, 
 
 “ It is time Emma to prepare tea.” 
 “Can we not delay a little, mother, 
 this once,” asked Frank. 
 
 “ Then the interval before going to 
 church, would be so short, that we 
 should have no time to sing hymns,” 
 said Emma. 
 
 “ Everything in its time,” said Mrs. 
 Raymond, as they rose, and went into 
 the house. 
 
VI. 
 
 ASIJOHE AG Aim 
 
 On the following clay, as soon as the 
 heat of noon-clay was moderated, Mrs. 
 Raymond and her auditors sought 
 their favorite retreat. 
 
 “ I suppose my children are weary 
 of being at sea, and avouIcI like to-day 
 to set foot on any shore, even though 
 it be a heathen shore,” said Mrs. Ray- 
 mond. 
 
 “ I still think, clear mother,” said 
 Emma, “ that if Ave Avere really at sea, 
 Ave should indeed long for the end of 
 the voyage. But I should never Aveary 
 of hearing you tell about it.” 
 
 14 
 
 157 
 
158 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 “ Where did you land, mother?” in- 
 quired Alice. 
 
 “In Madras, dear.” 
 
 “ What was the lirst idea that struck 
 you, mamma, on .seeing the shores of ' 
 India?” inquired Emma. 
 
 “ I suppose }mu expect me to say, 
 that my first thought was of having 
 reached the heathen, and of pity for 
 their condition. Such thoughts had 
 their own time and place before and 
 after. But I remember distinctly that 
 the idea which impressed me most 
 strongly in first setting my eyes on the 
 shores of India, Avas that of intense 
 heat. We lay at anchor in the Roads 
 three miles from shore. It Avas an 
 hour or two after mid-day, in the lull, 
 before the sea-breeze of the afternoon 
 succeeded the hot land Avind of the 
 morning. The sun shot down its most 
 
ASHORE AGAIX. 
 
 159 
 
 scorching rays. The slightly undu- 
 lating sea reflected them with power. 
 Beyond, the glistening surf foamed 
 upon the sunny beach. The white 
 stuccoed buildings of the street, which 
 ran along the water’s edge, added to 
 the glare. Dazzling clouds lay be- 
 hind and above the city. It seemed 
 as though the ship and the whole 
 scene before us were just ready to 
 kindle and burn together.” 
 
 “ Did the people come out to greet 
 you, mother, and bring you presents?” 
 asked Emma. 
 
 “ I do not think such of the natives 
 as came in their catamarans and Ma- 
 sulah boats about the ship, had the 
 least idea of our object in coming to 
 their country. Though they brought 
 fruits and jewelry, and other Avares, 
 it was with no idea of presenting 
 
160 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 them, hut with the liope that we would 
 2)urchase them. I remember that 
 ■when we first looked over the shij)’s 
 sides, and saw the groiii) of native 
 boats that encircled us, the ladies of 
 our com 2 )any were so rejTelled by the 
 asjDect ot their occu|3ants, the almost 
 naked, dark-skinned boatmen in dress 
 and hue, much more like the wild mon- 
 key in his native woods, than like any 
 human beings we had seen before, that 
 they withdrew to the cabin, satisfied 
 that, as the time for doing them any 
 good, had not yet arrived, they might 
 as well jmst^^one making their ac- 
 quaintance.” 
 
 “ Indeed ! mother,” exclaimed Alice, 
 
 “ I thought you would begin at once, 
 to tell them your errand. If you did 
 not S 2 )eak to them then about the Sa- 
 viour, you might never have an oj)- 
 
ASHORE AGAIN. 
 
 161 
 
 portunity to meet the same individuals 
 again.” 
 
 “ How could we, my dear ? We did 
 not understand their language, and 
 they knew nothing of ours.” 
 
 “ But, mother,” said Alice, “ I have 
 heard of communicating with the 
 heathen by signs.” 
 
 “It is only very general ideas of 
 Deity and of accountability that can 
 be communicated in that way ; ideas 
 too that Ave hold already in common. 
 Anything ivholly new to the mind, 
 like the idea of an atoning Saviour. 
 I do not see that we could possibly 
 suggest.” 
 
 “ But why not,” asked Emma, “giim 
 them the more general ideas at least, 
 at first?” 
 
 “ Thoughts of Deity, and heaven and 
 
 hell, and sin and holiness, etc., it is 
 u * 
 
162 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 true, they have in some sense, in com- 
 mon with us ; yet tlieir views are very 
 erroneous and distorted, and if we 
 commenced calling their thoughts to- 
 ward the Divdne Being for instance, 
 they would be reminded only of their 
 own preconceived notions. They would 
 think we were exhortino^' them to wor- 
 ship Siva or Pulliar, and we could not 
 by signs explain the difference. They 
 have an idea too, that they are very 
 religious, and in a sense they are. 
 They refer much oftener in their talk 
 to their idols than we do to the Su- 
 preme Being, and make far more 
 proclamation of fear and reverence 
 for him. They too are far better mas- 
 ters of pantomime than we, and would 
 very soon turn teacher, and put us 
 down with their facility of communi- 
 cation, and their display of devotion. 
 
ASHORE AGAIN. 
 
 163 
 
 “ Those who came to the ship, came 
 probably depending on the bargains 
 they could drive with the new comers, 
 for their dinners, of which they were 
 perhaps in pressing want ; and, to 
 have detained them at such a time, 
 while we novices attempted to make 
 spiritual impressions, without the aid 
 even of words, would have been only 
 to prejudice them against the precious 
 truths we wished to have them receive 
 in love.” 
 
 “ So mother, you went and hid your- 
 selves like frightened people, when 
 you saw the natives coming. I won- 
 der what they thought of you,” said 
 Clarence. 
 
 “ We went to the cabin, but they 
 knew nothing about it. However, 
 some time afterward, when our hus- 
 bands told us that there were native 
 
164 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 merchants on deck, who were decently 
 clothed, and who wished the privilege 
 of showing us their wares, we went 
 up again to them. These were quite 
 a different set of people, yet neither 
 with these could we converse. They 
 opened their cases, and showed us 
 what they had to dispose of, and were 
 able to say, ‘ one rupee,’ or ‘ one and 
 half rupee,’ or ‘ two and quarter ru- 
 pee,’ or ‘ten rupee,’ but nothing more 
 than to name the price of their arti- 
 cles. When we shook our heads, they 
 could understand very well that we 
 did not wish to purchase.” 
 
 “ How long, mother,” asked Emma, 
 “did you lie there at anchor? I 
 should think you would have been 
 anxious to get on land as soon as pos- 
 sible.” 
 
 “ Probably we were, though I have 
 
ASHORE AGAIN, 
 
 165 
 
 no distinct recollection of any feeling 
 of impatience. But we are very apt 
 I think to forget our wrong feelings, 
 and remember only our right ones,” 
 
 “ But how did you get ashore?” in- 
 quired Frank. “ It says in my geog- 
 raphy that the surf along that coast is 
 very dangerous.” 
 
 “ It is so, my dear, at times, and 
 only the native boats, manned by na- 
 tives, can live in it,” 
 
 “ It is a new idea,” replied Clar- 
 ence, “ if Yankees can’t make a boat 
 that will do as well as a boat made by 
 those poor heathen Hindoos,” 
 
 “ Perhaps Yankees havn’t tried, 
 and even if they were to invent as 
 good a boat, they would need a long 
 training probably to enable them to 
 conduct it safely, 
 
 “ Some 3’ears »go, an English cap- 
 
166 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 tain, who would not admit that Hin- 
 doos could do what he could not, un- 
 dertook, against the remonstrances of 
 his men, to go ashore in his own boat, 
 and was drowned. If any Yankee 
 mariner is too conceited to accept the 
 services of natives, and tlieir Masulah 
 boat, he, doubtless, will share the same 
 fate.” 
 
 “ Masulah boat ! What is that, 
 mother,” said Clarence ? “ AVhat gives 
 it such advantage over other boats?” 
 
 “ The planks are se\ved together 
 with a cord made from the fibre of the 
 cocoa-nut husk. This makes it more 
 yielding, and less likely to break with 
 the force of the waves, than a boat 
 that is fastened together with nails.” 
 
 “ I heard,” said Frank, “they called 
 that kind of boat a Catamaran.” 
 
 “ You are thinking of another kind 
 
Dlioney. Catamaran. MasiihUi-boat. 
 
 Out at Sea. madras. ’ P. 166. 
 

ASHORE AGAIN. 
 
 167 
 
 of boat, wliicli is smaller and more 
 simple. The natives call it Cottnma- 
 rum, meaning tied tree or tied wood. 
 We change it to Catamaran. In mak- 
 ing that, they cut three portions of 
 the trunk of a palmyra tree, one a lit- 
 tle longer than the other, and, laying 
 the longest in the middle, so that it 
 will project at the end of the struc- 
 ture as a prow, they lash the three 
 together Avith ropes. At the stern the 
 three logs lie flat upon the ivater ; at 
 the proAv the ends of the outside logs 
 are made sometimes to lie upon the 
 middle log, Avhich makes the prow 
 narrower than the other end of the 
 boat, and causes it to cut the water 
 with less resistance. This is a Cata- 
 maran. This boat Avill endure per- 
 haps be^’ond any other boat ever con- 
 structed. It* may be half the time 
 
168 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 under water, but it will come to the 
 surface. It may be overturned, but 
 it will right itself. The boatman may 
 be washed otf, but he will get on 
 again. When we first saw these boats, 
 we did not see them at all ! but saw 
 only the men upon them, and we said, 
 
 ‘ If our senses do not deceive us, the 
 natives are walking on the water.’ ” 
 “Ah,” said Frank, “but you know 
 your senses did deceive you.” 
 
 “ Yes, Ave Avere satisfied of that. 
 But hoAv do you think they manage to 
 carry letters and important dispatches 
 from ship to shore, and also from 
 Ceylon to the continent in such a boat 
 without getting them Avet?” 
 
 “ I should think it a hopeless un- 
 dertaking,” said Alice. 
 
 “ Well, all of you think a minute, 
 and see if you can contrive Avhere 
 
ASHORE AGAIN. 
 
 169 
 
 they had better put the letters to 
 keep them safe and dry. The boat you 
 know is part of the time quite under 
 water, and the boatmen themselves 
 are liable, not only to be washed by 
 the waves, but to be washed off occa- 
 sionally.” 
 
 If there were a hold, the}" might 
 pack them in that,” said Frank. 
 
 “ If there were a mast, they might 
 tie them to the mast-head,” said Alice. 
 
 “ Strap the letter-bags to the man’s 
 shoulders. Then they will not get 
 Avet, unless he is actually washed intO' 
 the sea,” said Clarence. 
 
 “ The man’s head is higher than his 
 shoulders,” said Emma, “ and if he is 
 Avashed over, he Avill manage at least 
 to keep his head out of Avater. Tie 
 them upon his head.” 
 
 “ They plait a high, cone-shaped 
 
 15 
 
170 
 
 OUT- AT SEA. 
 
 cap of'the dried leaves of the palm, so 
 close as to be water-tight, and in this 
 they put the letters, and seldom fail to 
 convey them quite dry and safe.” 
 
 “ The pointed cap is the best shape 
 they could have devised,” said Emma. 
 
 “ One of our gentleman’s beavers 
 filled with letters,” said Frank, 
 “ would not keep its place in a gale 
 very well.” 
 
 “ No, and any kind of cap that ex- 
 tended at the sides would be easily 
 puffed off,” said Emma. 
 
 “ Yes, and if he got into the water, 
 it would make it more difficult for the 
 swimmer to keep his head steady.” 
 
 “I think the natives have a good 
 deal of sense after all,” said Clar- 
 ence. 
 
 “ Yes, in many things the}'' show 
 both inventive faculty and practical 
 
ASHORE AGAIN. 
 
 171 
 
 skill, but these are so cramped and 
 dwarfed through the influence of 
 caste rules, that no advance is made, 
 and the useful arts are in a very rude 
 state among them.” 
 
 “ I liked it out at sea very well, but 
 this lounging in the harbor is a little 
 dull. Can’t you hurry ashore, 
 mother, if you please?” said Clar- 
 ence. 
 
 “ It had been arranged that we 
 should leave the ship immediately 
 after sunset. We could but feel sad 
 at parting with the ship which for 
 nearly four months had been our 
 home, and Avhere we had met so 
 many new lessons and experiences. 
 We felt a real regard for the sailors, 
 though some of us had never spoken 
 with them. Yet we had seen their 
 faithful performance of those tasks 
 
172 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 which kept the ship in trim, and 
 made it a comfortable abode for us, 
 and which, in rough weather, were 
 hourly essential to our safety and life. 
 
 “ We had been in the same storms, 
 the same calms, the same favorina: 
 gales, while all the world besides 
 Avere shut out. Our anxieties and en- 
 joyments had been in a measure for 
 the while in common. We felt that 
 we Avere on the same voyage of life 
 Avith them, and Avere sailing onward 
 to the same eternity. Our captain, 
 too; Ave had felt through the voyage, 
 that under God Ave Avere in his hands, 
 and he and his officers had shoAved us 
 no little kindness.” 
 
 “ But how,” said Frank, “ did you 
 get out of the ship into the boats, 
 mother ?” 
 
 “I Avas seated in an arm-chair, and 
 
ASHORE AGAIN. 
 
 173 
 
 elevated by ropes over the ship’s side, 
 and thus let down to the Masulah 
 l)oat. As they lifted me from the 
 deck, I looked up for some pleasant 
 object that I could tlx my eyes upon 
 when I should have turned my back 
 upon the ship, and should be seated 
 among the native boatmen. 
 
 “ The lovely new moon was lying- 
 low among the bright still clouds in 
 the twilight sky, and seemed sent to 
 cheer us, as we rode over the darken- 
 ing sea. The boatmen stimulated 
 their exertions by a peculiar kind of 
 song, or rather by repeating in unison a 
 few animating sounds, half sung, half 
 spoken. As we approached the surf, 
 they became vociferous, the captain 
 shouting, and keeping time with his 
 foot, and the men calling Allah ! Allah ! 
 Allah ! as though they were in great 
 
174 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 fear. The design probably was, in 
 part, to make an impression upon our 
 nerves. 
 
 “ When a wave was coming toward 
 shore, they rowed backward, that they 
 might mount it before it broke. It 
 bore us forward with great force and 
 swiftness, and broke in advance of us. 
 After it broke, they put fortli all their 
 strength to make the utmost progress 
 before the next wave approached. 
 Xow the shouts were renewed, and 
 increased in violence. Suddenlv they 
 ceased rowing and laid down their 
 oars, as though they would abandon 
 us to our fate. It was a ruse to in- 
 duce their passengers to offer a pre- 
 sent. There was no hcl|) for us, we 
 were in their hands, and a reward was 
 offered, if they would take us safely 
 over the surf witliout wetting us. 
 
ASHORE AGAIN. 
 
 175 
 
 “ Their point gained, they resumed 
 their rowing, and shouted most heart- 
 ily. We could see through the dim- 
 ness a broad column of natives, which 
 lined the beach. Their clamor rose 
 above the uproar of the surf, and the 
 shouts of the boatmen. Such a jar- 
 gon of strange sounds can never, 
 doubtless, have, been heard before or 
 since. The situation was a little try- 
 ing to delicate nerves, and, when the 
 boat "struck the beach, we were Avill- 
 ing to avail ourselves of a ride on na- 
 tive shoulders, through the water, to 
 a spot of firm, dry ground. Dear 
 earth ! Did we not press her with 
 loving feet? Were we not almost 
 ready to kiss her? And yet at first she 
 seemed to try to shake us otf. Strange 
 mother earth ! She would not rock us, as 
 we were used for months previous to 
 
176 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 "be rocked, and so we tliouglit iier un- 
 natural, 
 
 “ But the clamor about us increased, 
 and worn with fatigue and excitement, 
 we sought a way of escape. A cab- 
 man approached, and said adroitly, 
 but in imperfect English, ‘Here is Mr. 
 Arbuthnot’s carriage, sent for 3mu.’ 
 “ Mr. Arbuthnot was a distinguished 
 English merchant, and such an atten- 
 tion could not be slighted. Doubtful 
 though we might be of the truth of 
 the statement, the case did not admit 
 of investigation. The demand of the 
 usual carriage-hire at the end of our 
 drive, made it sufficiently clear.” 
 
 “ Was not that a sharp trick?” said 
 Frank. 
 
 “ I wonder he didn’t drive ^mu into 
 some frightful place, and then demand 
 money to get ^mu out.” 
 
ASHORE AGAIN. 
 
 177 
 
 “ That would have been going too 
 far, as it would have made him liable 
 to punishment. The long established 
 authority of the East India Company 
 secures a good deal of respect for law 
 in Madras.” 
 
 “What kind of house was it, mother, 
 at which you stopped?” asked Alice. 
 
 “ It was a large, gloomy-looking 
 place, the first floor of which was not 
 habitable, but appeared to have been 
 occupied for storage, and s'ome kind 
 of work. A cow seemed to have been 
 stabled in one corner of it, and I re- 
 member, thinking of an ancient inn 
 in Bethlehem, and of an infant that 
 was cradled in a manger. 
 
 “ But our missionaries were in press- 
 ing need of rest, and a supper. We 
 will leave them to enjoy it, while we 
 return home to find ours.” 
 
vn. 
 
 MAD It AS TO CJEYLOy^. 
 
 “ Aee you at liberty to-day, mo- 
 tlier?” said Frank, after the talks had 
 been interrupted for a few days. 
 
 “ I hope we may spend an hour or 
 two together this afternoon. But I 
 think our old resort will hardly be a 
 safe place for ns to-day.” 
 
 “Oh, how can we give that up?” 
 said Alice. “ I don’t know another so 
 pretty spot anywhere as that. What 
 is the difficulty, mamma?” 
 
 “We have 'had so much rainy 
 weather lately, and the land is so low 
 in the Flollow, that the sun of yester- 
 day cannot have dried it sufficiently.” 
 
 178 
 
MADKAS TO CEYLON. 
 
 179 
 
 “ Shall we go upon the hill-top in 
 the rear of the house, mamma ? The 
 sun has access there all clay,” said 
 Emma. 
 
 “ Yes,” said Alice, “ and the south 
 wind was blowing over it all day yes- 
 terday. The wind does not reach tlie 
 Hollow much.” 
 
 “ The seventeen year locusts,” said 
 Clarence, “ are too thick there. It is 
 so warm there, they like it. The trees 
 are young, and let the sunshine 
 through.” 
 
 “ Mere tall briish, and I am afraid 
 will hardly afford us any shade,” said 
 Emma. 
 
 “ The locusts have almost died off 
 now. I have not heard one sing Pha- 
 raoh, to-day,” said Frank. 
 
 “ Mamma, is there any truth in 
 their saying Pharaoh?” asked Clarence. 
 
180 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 “ As much that as anything-, per- 
 haps,” said mamma, smiling. 
 
 “ I know where there is one tine 
 large tree on that hill,” said Clarence. 
 
 “ That will give us shade enouQ-h.” 
 
 “But Ave have no attachments 
 there,” said Alice. 
 
 “AVe soon shall have,” said Clar- 
 ence, “if we all sit there together a 
 few times.” 
 
 feo it was decided they should trv 
 the hill-top. 
 
 On reaching the large tree, it Avas 
 seen that tliere Avere no seats at hand, 
 and it took a little time to find boul- 
 ders and old bits of stump, and roll 
 them to the place. But Clarence av<)s 
 active and full of resource, and 
 Frank Avas very ready to lend a hand. 
 ShaAA’ls had been brought as usual to 
 serve as cushions. 
 
MADRAS TO CEYLON. 
 
 181 
 
 The spot, though possessing no 
 raarkecl beauties, Avas charming in its 
 seclusion and quietness. The village 
 lay before them in the valley. The 
 faint tinkle of a bell told where cows 
 were grazing in a distant pasture. A 
 squirrel peered down from the end of 
 a branch, and eyed the little group 
 keenly for an instant, but when Frank 
 Avhispered, “ Look,” and touched his 
 mother’s arm most cautiously, it 
 turned and Avhizzed away for its cov- 
 ert. The day was warm, but a mild 
 breeze fanned them now and then. 
 
 “ I am sure we need not think there 
 is but one j)leasant spot in the wmrld,” 
 said Alice. 
 
 should not have thought,” said 
 Emma, “ of climbing a hill, to look 
 for a retired, loAmly place to sit and 
 
 talk together. A hill is so conspicu- 
 16 
 
182 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 ous, it seems public when you look at 
 it from below.” 
 
 “ And yet hill-tops are the most un- 
 frequented, secluded spots in the 
 world. Think of the higdi mountains, 
 whose peaks have never been trodden 
 since the creation. What solitudes 
 unbroken for ages!” 
 
 “ MoUier, you mentioned that you 
 had a sister in India, who went there 
 when you were a child,” said Emma. 
 
 Oh, yes, and made a fan for }mu 
 of albatross’ feathers on board ship, 
 and sent it home to you,” said Frank! 
 
 “Did she never come home again?” 
 asked Alice. ° 
 
 “ JYo, my dear.” 
 
 Did she use to write letters to you, 
 when you were a little girl ?” asked 
 Clarence. 
 
 Yes, dear, she wrote often to us, 
 
MADRAS TO CETLON. 
 
 183 
 
 and most interesting letters they were. 
 But in those days it took usually six 
 months, and sometimes two years, for 
 letters from India to reach us. Very 
 rarely then an American vessel went 
 to India, and communication through 
 England was subject to much delay.” 
 “ It was a great day with us when 
 a letter came. There were usually 
 several sheets of close writing. The 
 whole family would assemble, and my 
 father or one of my brothers would 
 read, while my mother and sisters sat 
 with their sewing and listened. I well 
 remember the tears that, as I sat upon 
 my little foot-stool, I used to see drop 
 upon my mother’s work, as she list- 
 ened to the reading.” 
 
 “ What did she write about, mo- 
 ther?” asked Frank. 
 
 “ She wrote much about the people 
 
184 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 of India, and the boys and girls in the 
 schools. Sometimes about her own 
 comforts or trials. Often about her 
 little children, your cousins. Some- 
 times she tried to persuade the ‘three 
 little girls,’ as she called her three 
 youngest sisters, to seek the ‘pearl of 
 great price.’ Once I remember she 
 said she would be glad to see the 
 thiee little girls,’ but would rather 
 see them in India than America.” 
 
 “ And was not grandmamma will- 
 ing to have her go and live among the 
 heathen, and try to do them good?” 
 asked Frank. 
 
 “ Certainly, my dear, but she could 
 not help feeling sad, when she thought 
 how far she was from her, and from 
 all her kindred, and that she would 
 probably never see any of us again in 
 this world.” 
 
MADRAS TO CEYLON. 
 
 185 
 
 “ And wasn’t she glad when you set 
 out to go to India, to think she could 
 see one of her sisters again?” asked 
 Clarence. 
 
 “ JS^o doubt it gave my mother much 
 satisfaction, both on my sister’s ac- 
 count, and my own, that I was to go 
 to the same mission where she was.” 
 “Ah! mother,” said Clarence, “I 
 begin now to susjDect that you did not 
 go to India just to do good. I guess 
 you were a little captivated with the 
 idea of seeing my aunt, and the places 
 and the people that you had heard so 
 much about from her letters.” 
 
 “ And was she living in Madras, 
 mamma, and did the cabman drive 
 you to her house?” asked Frank, ea- 
 gerly. 
 
 “ She never lived in Madras, dear, 
 but in Ceylon.” 
 
 16 * 
 
186 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 “And you were going to Ceylon, 
 mother, to see her, were you not?” 
 asked Clarence. 
 
 “ It was to Ceylon we were going, 
 dear. That was the mission to which 
 we were assigned.” ‘ 
 
 O \ 
 
 “ How soon did you go, mother?” 
 asked Emma. 
 
 “ Did you get there safe, and find 
 my aunt and cousins well?” inquired 
 Alice. 
 
 “I cannot tell you about Ceylon 
 now, dear children. I must go back 
 to the ship, and tell you something 
 that happened there. Clarence hur- 
 ried me ashore, you know,” said JVIrs. 
 Raymond, with a smile, which how- 
 ever seemed assumed. 
 
 “To the ship again, mother?” ex- 
 claimed Emma, gloomily; “I thought 
 we were safely ashore.” 
 
MADRAS TO CEYLON. 
 
 187 
 
 “ Do let us hear about our cousins 
 first, mother,” said Clarence. 
 
 “We rode at anchor for a day or 
 two. Some of the gentlemen went 
 ashore on Saturday to make arrange- 
 ments for our landing. We were a 
 large com]Dany, eleven of us, to find a 
 temporary home where there were no 
 hotels. Rooms had to be rented, and a 
 little furniture got together sufficient 
 to enable us to keep house for a short 
 time. They were gone a long while, 
 and it began to be evident that we 
 must spend the Sabbath on ship- 
 board. 
 
 “ One of the ladies, Mrs. W. and I 
 were speaking of my pleasant antici- 
 pation of meeting relatives, when the 
 song of the native boatmen announced 
 the return of the gentlemen, who had 
 W,en ashore. ‘ Oh !’ said she, ‘ if I 
 
188 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 were going to my brother !’ ‘I think,’ 
 continued she, ‘it would be worth 
 more to me than your going to your 
 sister, because I have been always 
 vith him. ‘I don’t know how much 
 more that would be worth to you, but 
 I know this is enough for me,’ I ex- 
 claimed exultingly, as I hurried upon 
 deck to learn what word had come 
 from shore. 
 
 “ At the top of the companion-way, 
 I met our captain B., and as I asked 
 for the news, I saw that something af- 
 fected him deeply. Is he so very 
 sad, thought I, because he must p^t 
 with his passengers ? But no, I knew 
 that could not be all. I passed out on 
 deck, and asked again for the tidings. 
 One of the gentlemen sighed heavily as 
 he took my hand. Ah ! he has seen so 
 much of the condition of the poor hea- 
 
MADRAS TO CEYLON. 
 
 189 
 
 then, said I mentally, my light-heart- 
 edness is discordant with his feelings. 
 The other passed without speaking, and 
 both descended to the cabin. ‘Surely 
 there is trouble,’ I thought, and with- 
 out conjecturing what or whose it was, 
 I instinctively withdrew to my state- 
 room, to ask for whoever might need 
 it, grace to bear sorrow and profit by 
 it. Soon, as the missionaries con- 
 versed in the adjoining cabin, I heard 
 my name mentioned, and my first 
 thought was, ‘ Have I done anything 
 to grieve them?’ In a moment after, 
 your father entered the state-room 
 and informed me that my sister was 
 dead.” 
 
 “ Oh ! mother,” said Frank. 
 
 “ Is it possible?” said Clarence. 
 
 “ I was afraid it would be so,” said 
 Emma. 
 
190 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 “ How sad !” exclaimed Alice. 
 
 For a little while, no one felt like 
 breaking the silence that followed. 
 Hy-and-bye Clarence said, 
 
 “ Mother, were you not sorry that 
 you went ?” 
 
 “ Far from it, my love. I felt dis- 
 appointed indeed. My admiration of 
 my sister, and recollections of her lov- 
 ing care of my early childhood, made 
 me long to see her, and her dear fam- 
 
 “Besides I had thought much of 
 having her example and experience to 
 guide me in that strange land, and in 
 my new work. But I felt that God 
 knew best.” 
 
 “ Had it ever occurred to you that 
 such a thing could happen, mother?”, 
 asked Emma. 
 
 “ Yes, dear, whenever I thought of 
 
MADRAS TO CEYLON. 
 
 191 
 
 meeting my sister, I always checked 
 myself, or perhaps I should say, 
 was checked with the thought that 
 she might not he there when I reached 
 her home. These thoughts, though 
 they clouded some pleasant anticipa- 
 tions, doubtless made the shock less, 
 when it came.” 
 
 “ But if you could only have heard 
 of it, before leaving America,” said 
 Alice. “Then it would not have been 
 so hard to bear.” 
 
 “ I heard of it at the best time, my 
 child. Had the news come when I 
 was bidding adieu to all my friends, 
 the effect would perhaps have been too 
 depressing. It came just when there 
 was danger of my being too much 
 elated. Everything is indeed for the 
 best for us, if we put our trust in 
 God.” 
 
192 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 “Did grandmamma know about 
 it?” asked Emma. 
 
 ‘ She heard of it a week after we 
 sailed.” 
 
 “It had never occurred to me that 
 I should not find my sister’s family, 
 where I had always pictured them, in 
 Oodooville. Against the idea 1 al- 
 most rebelled. But her family too, 
 her husband and three little daughters 
 were gone, and could not be recalled. 
 They had touched at Madras on their 
 way to America, and left there only 
 three days before our arrival.” 
 
 “And mother, did you think that 
 too was ordered right?” asked Emma. 
 
 “ I did after a while, though at first 
 I could not believe it must be so. It 
 seemed as though it could be counter- 
 manded in some way ; as though it 
 could not be, but that there was some 
 
MADRAS TO CEYLON’, 
 
 193 
 
 mistake. In short my mind was not 
 prepared for it.” 
 
 “ It seems to me, mother, I shall 
 never dare to expect any pleasure, 
 everything is so uncertain,” said Clar- 
 ence. 
 
 “ Everything is uncertain, except 
 what rests on the Avord of God.” 
 “But, mother,” said Alice, “God 
 has not told us what is going to hap- 
 l)en to us in this life.” 
 
 “ Therefore, as Clarence says, every- 
 thing in this life is uncertain, and can- 
 not be dejoended on.” 
 
 “ But, mamma, can we never have 
 any hopes or expectations?” asked 
 Emma. “Why, I think it the best 
 part of life.” 
 
 “ We may, dear, have hopes and 
 expectations, and enjoy much in them, 
 but living too much in the future, of- 
 
 17 
 
194 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 ten makes people inattentive to the 
 duties, and insensible to the mercies 
 of the present, and a sense of our 
 liabdity to disappointment, helps to 
 counteract this evil.” 
 
 “ People would be always unhappy, 
 if they were always expecting disap- 
 pointment and sorrow,” said Emma. 
 
 “ To expect sorrow is one thing,” re- 
 plied her mother, “ to be conscious that 
 It may come, is another. The one 
 awakens fear, the other only moderates 
 expectation.” 
 
 “ But, mother, to enjoy the hope of 
 a thing, I have to banish all thought 
 that it may fail.” 
 
 That is, you have to blind your- 
 self to a known fact.” 
 
 “ True, mother, otherwise I cannot 
 expect fully and joyfully.” 
 
 “ But suppose you knew that you 
 
MADRAS TO CEYLON. 
 
 195 
 
 would have the thing desired, or some- 
 thing else equally desirable.” 
 
 “ That Avould be quite satisfactory,” 
 said Emma. 
 
 “ That every one may expect with 
 certainty of not being disappointed, 
 if he trusts ‘ not in uncertain’ good, 
 ‘but in the living God, who giveth us 
 richly all things to enjoy.’ ” 
 
 “ How, mother?” 
 
 “Are we not assured that having 
 not withheld his own Son, but deliv- 
 ered Him up for us all. He will with 
 Him also freely give us all things? 
 That ‘no good thing will He with- 
 hold,’ and that all things work to- 
 gether for good to those who love 
 Him.” 
 
 “ From these assurances we know, 
 if He withholds anything, that it was 
 not really for our good, and that the 
 
196 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 withholding shall work for good. The 
 withholding in that case is more de- 
 sirable for us than the granting. So 
 if we trust in Him who knows better 
 than we, and who loves us with a 
 ti uer love than we bear for ourselves, 
 we are sure of having the thing we 
 wish, or that which is more desirable. 
 I assure you this feeling makes ex- 
 pectation cheerful, and also makes 
 disappointment tolerable.” 
 
 “ Mother, did you continue your 
 voyage to Ceylon, immediately?” 
 asked Emma. 
 
 “After about three weeks.” 
 
 “ Will you go on now,” said Alice, 
 and tell us about your voyage from 
 Madras to Ceylon?” 
 
 ‘Ibere was not much of incident 
 in it, dear. Still, we will talk it over 
 a little.” 
 
MADRAS TO CEYLON, 
 
 197 
 
 “ And where are we now, mamma ?” 
 said Frank. 
 
 “ Sitting at the top of Woody- 
 slope,” said Clarence, thinking that 
 an agreeable and suitable name would 
 facilitate the friendship which he pro- 
 posed to cultivate with this new lo- 
 cality. 
 
 “ Mamma understands me,” said 
 Frank, gravel3^ 
 
 “ I think we must consider ourselves 
 now just seated in a native dhoney, 
 about leaving Madras for the island 
 of Ceylon.” 
 
 “ Our boat, I think, is rather 
 roughly furnished,” said Clarence, 
 looking down at the sj^lintery frag- 
 ment of a tree-trunk, on which he sat. 
 
 “ You must not expect modern im- 
 provements in a Madras dhoney,” re- 
 plied his mother. 
 
198 
 
 ODT AT SEA. 
 
 “ Your state-room is partitioned off, 
 and roofed in, Avitli dried cocoa-nut 
 leaves, and lias for its floor loose 
 boards laid across the freight boxes, 
 Avhich occupy the bottom of the boat! 
 ^ our mattrass will just cover the di- 
 mensions of your state-room floor at 
 night, and in the day, rolled up, will 
 serve instead of a chair.” 
 
 Is there no deck, then, in those 
 dhonies, mother ?” asked Clarence. 
 
 “ ]\ot in all of them.” 
 
 “Suppose 3mu ship a sea,” said 
 Frank. • 
 
 “ You must ‘ Hope for the best,’ and 
 if the worst comes, ‘Make the best of 
 it,’ ” said Alice. 
 
 “Well done, Alice,” said Frank. 
 And how long Avill it take us to 
 go to Ceylon, sailing in this Hindoo 
 dhoney?” asked Emma. 
 
MADRAS TO CEYLON’. 
 
 199 
 
 “ About three days, with favorable 
 weather.” 
 
 “Where shall we land?” inquired 
 Alice. 
 
 “ At a small island called Kaits, 
 which is at the entrance of a narrow 
 channel, that cuts off the northern 
 part of Ceylon from the main island.” 
 “ The dhoney we are in, which is 
 one of the largest native vessels, can- 
 not navigate the channel.” 
 
 “ We reached Kaits on Sunday 
 morning, and as the dhoney we were 
 in was too large to navigate the chan- 
 nel, we rode at anchor there till Mon- 
 day morning.” 
 
 “ I have heard,” said Emma, “ that 
 - it is very uncomfortable riding at an- 
 chor, more so than sailing.” 
 
 “ It is so. When you are sailing, 
 the force of the wind generally coun- 
 
200 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 teracts the force of the waves, and 
 keeps the sliip from rocking so much 
 as when you are at anchor.” 
 
 Then, why did you not go on shore 
 immediately, mamma? I ain sure 
 you could have spent the Sabbath bet- 
 ter on shore,” said Alice. 
 
 “ True, we might have spent it 
 more comfortably, and perhaps more 
 profitably on shore, but it would have 
 been as much to the disadvantage of 
 - others, as to our advantage. To reach 
 our destination we should have been 
 obliged first to call our dhoney-men to 
 take us in a small dhoney to tiie shore, 
 and then to call a large number of 
 palankeen bearers and coolies to con- 
 vey us on their shoulders, or by hand 
 bandies to our several stopiiino'-nlaces 
 All this could not have been done 
 without disturbing ami burdening 
 
MADRAS TO CEYLON. 
 
 201 
 
 many persons, to say nothing of the 
 excitement it would have stirred 
 among the natives in the different vil- 
 lages through which we had to pass, 
 to hear that new missionaries had 
 come, or of the derangement of the 
 duties of the holy day in all the mis- 
 sion families, to which we were des- 
 tined.” 
 
 “ I fear,” said Emma, “ I should not 
 have taken all this into account. I 
 should have said, ‘ Here are a number 
 of very uncomfortable people, and it 
 must be right for them to go as 
 quickly as possible to some place of 
 quiet rest.’ ” 
 
 “ Is it not a common proverb, mam- 
 ma,” asked Alice, ‘ Dodut}^, and leave 
 consequences with God ?’ ” 
 
 “It is my dear, and a very good 
 maxim too, lut it is often misused, 
 
202 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 like almost all proverbs. They are 
 applied with so little judgment as per- 
 haps to do as much harm as good. 
 You must consider that the first thing 
 is to find what duty is, and this can be 
 ascertained in many cases only by the 
 consequences that will follow. 
 
 “ It was near noon of Monday be- 
 fore our little boat was well under 
 way. A screen of cocoa-nut leaves 
 was stretched over the boat, too low 
 to allow of our standing up under it. 
 There was room to stow eleven of us 
 on the seats with our feet resting on 
 our trunks. We were poled along, as 
 the channel was too shallow to allow 
 of rowing. 
 
 “We had gone some miles, when a 
 little boat put out from shore, and two 
 of the missionaries from the island 
 soon paddled along side. They were 
 
MADRAS TO CEYLON. 
 
 203 
 
 the Rev. Messrs. Poor and Woodward, 
 both of whom have long since gone to 
 their blessed home above. Immedi- 
 ately after the first welcome, Mr. Poor 
 said, ‘ I wish to give you your first 
 lesson in Tamil, and then made each one 
 of us pronounce after him the Tamil 
 word “chinakum” which means ‘love.’ 
 Mr. M^oodward then said he wished 
 to prefix a word to that, and gave us 
 ‘ chakothara’ meaning brotherly. Thus 
 we were taught that missionaries 
 considered Brotherly Love the starting 
 point in our work among the Tamil 
 people. 
 
 “We landed at Jaffna, the seat of 
 the English Government for North 
 Ceylon, and after a most cordial wel- 
 come from the English missionaries, 
 the Rev'. Mr. and Mrs. George, and a 
 refreshing cup of tea, I was taken in 
 
204 
 
 OUT AT SEA, 
 
 a palankeen to Ooclooville. JN’ever 
 shall I forget the first twinkle of the 
 lamp, which told me Oodooville was 
 near. A few of the school girls had 
 been sent outside the gate by Mrs. 
 Spaulding to meet me. Aor shall I 
 ever forget the tender greeting that 
 dear missionary friend gave. It was 
 truly a loving, sympathizing sister’s 
 welcome. 
 
 “ The conversation had been a long 
 one. Yet as they rose to begin their 
 walk homeward, they could not help 
 lingering to admire the scene. The 
 ranges of hill, which rose, one beyond 
 another, between them and the briglit 
 western sky, were thrown into strong 
 relief by the side-long rays, Avhich 
 glanced athwart them from the declin- 
 ing sun. Every rock and tree and 
 knoll and dwelling of the low land, 
 
MADRAS TO CEYLON. 
 
 205 
 
 even every twig and leaf seemed to 
 stand out from its surroundings as the 
 eye turned towards it, as though con- 
 scious that the sun was shining to re- 
 veal it only. The homes of the neigh- 
 bors, with each its little lawn, its gar- 
 den, its piazza, its rustic seats, glow- 
 ing in sunlight, or half hid in shade, 
 gave hints of rural taste and industry 
 and thrift and social enjoyment.” 
 “Mother,” said Emma, “is there so 
 much beauty anywhere else as here?” 
 “Yes, dear, everywhere. I mean 
 in all parts of the earth ; where there 
 are human eyes to gaze on, and ad- 
 mire it, where there are multitudes of 
 human eyes that never notice it, and 
 where the face of nature turns only to 
 its Maker, and He only sees that it is 
 very good.” 
 
 “We gaze with delight on our 
 18 
 
206 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 lovely hills and valleys and winding 
 streams and falling waters. The 
 quiet lake mirrors the moon-beam, 
 and the river bears us on its flowins: 
 bosom. The wooded hill-side shows 
 its wealth of foliage, and the towering 
 mountain leads our eyes towards 
 heaven. The sun yields us warmth, 
 and reveals to us all beauty; and shady 
 grove, and fanning breeze and cooling 
 showers refresh us. Music of birds, 
 and hum of insects, and sounds of 
 winds and show’ers, all the sweet har- 
 monies of nature’s mingling orchestra, 
 charm our ears. 
 
 “ We think perhai')S, ‘ This is a 
 Christian land, this the beautiful home, 
 which the Maker has formed for us, 
 his living children.’ 
 
 “ But did not the same forests wave 
 in the sunshine, the same streamlets 
 
MADKAS TO CEYLON. 
 
 207 
 
 tumble from the hills, when the sav- 
 age roamed over them ? Did not the 
 same moon beam gently on him, and 
 the same waters float his bark ? Did 
 not the same birds waken sweet music 
 in his ear, and the same breeze fan 
 him ? 
 
 “ This world was not made for an- 
 gels, but for sinful man, and yet, how 
 full of charms ! Kindly skies bend 
 over heads darkened by ignorance, and 
 maddened by vice, and fruitful soils, 
 and rocks full of gold and silver and 
 precious gems uphold the feet that 
 wander from their Maker, and tram- 
 ple alike on his laws and his love. 
 
 “ If this beautiful Avorld is the home 
 of those who turn their back upon its 
 Creator, if its teeming riches are for 
 rebels, what must be the delight of 
 that reception, which awaits those who 
 
208 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 return humble, penitent, submissive 
 to his kind embrace ! What the charms 
 of that abode, which is prepared for 
 those that love Him.” 
 
 The little party had reached the foot 
 of the hill, and now moved quietly 
 along the retired road, which led to 
 their home. Their residence in this 
 pleasant village was early brought to 
 a close, and whether in their new home, 
 the conversations were resumed, and 
 carried forward the account of the life 
 in India is not yet ascertained. 
 
 THE END. 
 

 
 
 i