where he joined the fife and drum band, and soon played very fairly on the former instrument. I have told you he was very fond of reading; and now he used to devour with great eagerness those horrible stories of highwaymen, pirates, &c., which have lately done so much harm to our young boys. I tried to counteract these by lend: ing him interesting books of my own as well as those he had from the school library, but his appetite could not be appeased, and he still pored over these wretched tales of crime and bloodshed, sometimes reading aloud to a small circle of companions, who were not such good readers as himself. You may as well swallow poison and hope not to suffer from it in your bodies, as read these abominable tales (which are exceedingly dear for the quantity of reading supplied) and not expect they will have a most injurious effect on your conduct and lives. David thus became quite unsettled for a quiet life on land, and having made up his mind to go to sea, his father thought it would be the best thing for him, as he would then be under strict discipline and away from his companions, who were likely to get him into trouble. Up to this time he had continued to attend the Sunday school regularly, but I could not feel he was living as he bade fair to do when he first came to my class. He was about fourteen years old when he was entered on the books of the Marine Society, Bishopsgate Street, on the 22nd October, 1866. Thence he went on board the Warspite, at Woolwich, the society's ship for training boys for the Royal Navy, which he joined on the 19th February, 1867, as a second-class boy on board the Fisgard at Woolwich. While he was in the training ship his grandmother, when dying, sent a message that she hoped to meet him in heaven. This appears to have made a serious impression on his mind, and to have led him to think of what he had learned of the love of Jesus, and to make up his mind to give himself up to His service. From Woolwich he was transferred to the boys' training ship Boscawen at Portland, on the 3rd March, where he remained till the 4th March, 1868. Though he liked his new life very much, he soon found out he was exposed to many difficulties and temptations, but the discipline he had to submit to did him good. In one of his letters to me he says his worst duty was to check and subdue his temper, and to keep back answers when spoken to, but by God's help he persevered. He very often thought of Sunday school, especially when attending divine service on board; and the lessons he had learnt helped him, I have no doubt, in the proper discharge of his duty, which he performed so well that he was made a first-class boy on 28th February, 1868. In the mean time he visited his parents at Christmas, 1867, and came to his old school on the following Sunday morning in his sailor's clothes, much to the admiration of the other boys. He had grown considerably since he left us, and now looked as healthy and hearty a lad as you could meet with. During his holiday we spent a very pleasant evening together with another of my boys, who used to be his companion. David gave us a very interesting account of his new life, which he seemed to enjoy exceedingly. Before parting I gave him one of our Sunday school hymn-books to remind him of the school when he was away from us. Shortly after his return to his ship he wrote me the following letter, which I give in his own words : "Boscawen, Portland Water. "Dear Sir, "I write these few lines to you, hoping to find you quite well, as it leaves [me] with a bad leg. I am quite well in other respects. I have met with two very good shipmates; one is a mesmate, thank God for it. I often think of Sunday school when I look at your hymnbook that you gave me; thank God, I hope I am in the right way. As soon as I got back I was put captain of a top, and I begin to get on better; and how often do I wish that I could come to school again like I used to! I now see where I was wrong in shunning the good way while I was at home. I find it very hard to do my duty right, but when I look at my Testement it cheers me up; and another thing that cheer me up in the right way is to know that I have got God for my pilot. I hope you will not forget to pray for me. I go every night under the bowspit [bowsprit] to pray, and my mesmate sometime to [too]. So now I must conclude with my best respects to you, and God bless you; and I hope some day, God willing, we shall meet again. "From your affectionate Poor lad! He little thought, or I either, that in eight months' time he would be in that world where there is no more sea." He was transferred to the Duke of Wellington, at Portsmouth, on 5th March last year, and remained there till 27th April, when he went on board the Simoom, being ordered out to the East Indies. There he joined the Octavia, at Aden, on the 11th July. Shortly afterwards he and several other boys who went out with him were struck down by the excessive heat of the weather; but according to the chaplain's letter to his mother, "the fever seems to have affected him more than the rest. He lay for days in a scarcely conscious state, gradually failing. The surgeon did not give up hopes of his life till a day or two before he died. He breathed his last peacefully on Saturday afternoon, the 15th Aug." So his voyage of life was soon over; he suffered but slightly from the storms of life, escaping entirelythank God, whom he had for his "Pilot" - that shipwreck which threatened, and must have befallen him, had he continued to steer his course in the path of sin. He peacefully entered the haven of rest at the early age of sixteen, and quietly cast anchor by that shore "where the surges cease to roll." there, free from the sorrows and sins of this life, though it cannot be before, to use his own words to me, "I hope some day, God willing, we shall meet again.' And Let me quote part of the last letter I received from him when he was hearty and strong, and likely to all human appearances to live for 124 Closing Scenes: which shall ours resemble? many years, which will show you I am dered from the right road before now; but, thank God, I have, through His help, I have manage to keep in the right way, but I have had a great many difficulties." You see he felt the need of God's help in his daily life; he prayed for it, and got it, and so he overcame his many difficulties and temptations. And now, resting with that dear Saviour whom he loved to serve, he is realizing the truth of the promise, "To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with Me in My throne." H. F. C. CLOSING SCENES: WHICH "Do not tell me that I must die. The world is beautiful to me; I cannot give it up." Thus spoke one who was suddenly laid upon a bed of sickness, and, as her physician had just told her, of death. Looking into the weeping face of her mother, as she bent lovingly over her couch, she said, "Can't something more be done to save me, mother? I can't die now, when my hopes of future happiness seem the brightest." By her bedside stood one to whom her love was pledged, her young heart given. A few days, and she was to be his bride. She was even now decked for her bridal; but it was to be with death. In the same street, and in a neighbouring house, sat a dying girl. Distressed for breath, she could not lie on her bed; and, propped up in her chair, she looked placidly upon the familiar faces of friends. "Raise the curtaia, sister, and let me see the sun once more. It is almost down. When it rises again SHALL OURS RESEMBLE? The dawn of heaven breaks, The fair sweet morn awakes. But day-spring is at hand, In Immanuel's land." Seeing that her mother was weeping, she said, "Don't weep, mother; there will be but a curtain between B Breaking the Rules. A TALE OF SCHOOLBOY LIFE. CHAPTER VI. SWIMMING AND ROWING. But a still more stringent rule made it absolutely necessary that every one of Dr. Milner's boys who entered a boat should be able to swim with ease before doing so. The senior boys who could swim and row might hire a boat for themselves, but no one was allowed to go alone. R. MILNER'S house the strictest rules of the school rewas situated at the lated to this river and the boats. entrance of the village, The latter were large, well built, and near a bridge, from and safe; but the river, even at its which it took its name narrowest part, was very deep, and of Bridge House. This bridge crossed no boy under fourteen was allowed a river, which was separated from to hire a boat unless accompanied the grounds of Dr. Milner's house by one of the masters. by a path and a high wall. At this point the river was narrow, but a little farther on it joined a tributary stream, and widened considerably as it flowed on towards the sea. The narrow pathway, commencing at the bridge, continued on through field and meadow, winding with the stream for about a mile, till stopped by a handsome railway bridge, which crossed the river obliquely just above the spot at which the two streams united. In summer this path was much frequented, and it was also a much more pleasant walk to the railway station, although longer than by the high road, which passed in front of Dr. Milner's house. At a corner of the playground, near the river, stood a large swimming bath, which was used by the boys not so much for ablutionary purposes as for practising the art of swimming. Dr. Milner felt this to be absolutely necessary, for boats could be easily obtained by any of his boys from a man who kept a boathouse situated at a very short distance from the bridge. Some of Mr. Matthews, the junior master, had been chosen by Dr. Milner, partly from his skill as a swimmer, and from his complete knowledge of rowing and the management of a boat, and those boys who wished to learn swimming and boating were placed under his care, and until he considered they might do so with safety, not one was allowed to venture on the water. The first show of open rebellion attempted by Turner was against this restriction. In spite of the ridicule with which he had spoken of Dr. Milner's rules and management, he soon discovered that, with all his gentleness, the Doctor was a strict disciplinarian, and that wrong-doing never escaped punishment. Turner was not devoid |