generous and, with a few exceptions, little of the real blackguard about them. Life on board brought out their worst side; nothing to do, a bar always at hand, plenty of spare cash, with three months' enforced holiday. Sunday came, the evening service drew nearly the whole ship's company, and after it, for some time, singing to the accompaniment of harmonium and cornet. Next morning an elderly saloon passenger, who had shown great interest in the services, a man of pronounced evangelical type, came to me and said, "I'm sure you won't mind an old man speaking to you about last night; you are young and earnest, but you make a great mistake; it grieved me to hear you speak to that crowd of men as if they were the children of God; you must know what they are; it saddened me to hear you. You mean well, but you are greatly mistaken." I had been speaking about the parable of the Prodigal Son, and I replied: "I think I understand your point of view, but surely the Prodigal Son, bad as he was, was his Father's son; I may be wrong, but I feel that if one is to win such men one must approach them as I tried to do; and did you notice how they listened, and how quiet they were?" "No, sir," he said, "it won't do"; and so we had to agree to differ.
The Suffolk bowled swiftly along, under close reefed topsails only, with a strong following wind, blowing incessantly in these latitudes; the ship literally climbing and descending huge waves, whilst others astern seemed ever pursuing and threatening to overwhelm her with towering crests, wind-swept, and feathered with foam; a magnificent waste of water never at rest; albatrosses, with a sweep of wings ten and twelve feet in width, circling easily round the
