Observing a female this morning sustaining the latter relation, I remarked it was strange a woman should so degrade herself. Mr. C. replied, it was 'no degradation to her; she never occupied any higher position, or knew any higher destiny.' Very likely; yet it is truly pitiful, to see so many of my sex putting themselves on a par with the swine, living by what they gather from the gutters.

"I have not yet had a dash of homesickness, though I have once or twice thought of home. There is so much here to occupy my mind, and make me happy, besides the faithful attentions of my mentor, and the sweet prattle of my sunshiny little companion, that I apprehend it will be some time before I shall have to report myself homesick."

*

*

*

CHAPTER XI.

THE SAILOR'S HOME.

'Long have they voyaged o'er the distant seas;
And what a heart-delight they feel at last-

So many toils, so many dangers past-
To view the port desired, he only knows,
Who on the stormy deep for many a day
Hath tossed, aweary of his ocean way,

And watched, all anxious, every wind that blows."

Southey.

THE Author was at this time laboring in New York, as Seamen's Missionary, on behalf of the American Seamen's Friends Society. On our arrival, therefore, we took lodgings temporarily, at The Sailor's Home, in Cherry Street. Here Mrs. Cross found herself in a situation entirely new, and not a little interesting. The singular character of the sailor elicited her curiosity, and his isolated condition and various sufferings excited her sympathy. She set herself to observe whatever she could of his peculiarities, and do every thing in her power for his improvement. After we left The Home, she often spoke of the period of our sojourn there as the most instructive passage in her life. The time was short, but she improved it well; and in the knowledge which she acquired of human nature under new phases, and the pleasure which she took in relieving the necessities and mitigating

the sorrows which surrounded her, she realized an ample reward of her labors and solicitudes.

There was a superannuated old tar, at once sensible and pious, but possessed of a most garrulous propensity, to whom she would sit and listen for hours, while he related his adventures and disasters, described the storm, the shipwreck, the whale chase, the encounter with pirates, and the thousand hardships and hairbreadth escapes of his varied and eventful life.

Every morning, after breakfast, she would go with me to the long reading room, where we generally found some scores of sailors, to each of whom she would give a religious tract, accompanied often with kind words of counsel and encouragement. During these benevolent interviews, she drew from many a poor fellow the history of his life, the sad story of his sins and sufferings. On one occasion, she approached a young man, sitting in thoughtful silence, with a look of inexpressible sorrow, and very tenderly inquired the cause of his unhappiness, to which he answered:

66

'O Lady! I have enough to make me unhappy. Six years ago I had a good home in this city. My father and mother were the best of Christians, and they prayed very often for poor William. I had an only sister, and I loved her as I loved myself. But I was a wild boy, and wanted to see the world. Without my father's consent, I went to sea. No one knew where I had

gone. I never wrote home, for I was ashamed. This is the first time I have returned to this port. As soon as I landed, I went to seek the home I had left. The house was there, but it was occupied by others. They told me my father died four years ago; and my mother, dear soul, soon followed him. My sister married, and removed to the west. I know not where she is; and if I did, have not money to make the journey. They had all given me up for lost-never expected to see me again. I am afraid my misconduct broke my poor mother's heart. Three weeks I have been in port, and this is the first time a lady has spoken to mee-God bless you for it! and the first time any one has spoken to me like a Christian. I am only a poor sailor, and who cares for the sailor?"

Then, turning to me, he added, while the large tears chased each other down his bronzed cheeks: "Captain, I want a ship. I am tired of port. I have not a friend in the world. Captain, can

you get me a ship?"

The poor fellow had fallen into the hands of the "Good Samaritan." Mrs. Cross recommended his case to Captain Richardson, who never neglected the opportunity of relieving an unfortunate

seaman.

There was another case in which she took a special interest. Some time before she came to the city, a sailor was found intoxicated in the street, and brought to The Home. As soon as he became ober, he was persuaded to sign the Temperance

Pledge, and was thenceforth a steady man. His incipient reformation was followed by a profession of religion, and a life of consistent piety. He gave us a full history of his misfortunes and his fall. He had graduated at Amherst College, and gone out into the world with, perhaps, as fair prospects as any of his class. But an unfortunate affair soon thwarted his plans and blasted his hopes. Disappointed and discouraged, he become very melancholy, relinquished his business, wandered from his home, shipped for a whaling cruise, thinking to relieve his burdened heart by abandoning the scene of his sufferings. Growing constantly more miserable, and influenced by surrounding example, he sought to drown his sorrows in the baleful cup. Years wore on, and he con

tinued to follow the sea, and became a confirmed drunkard, such as he was when found by a friendly shipmate, and conducted to this delightful asylum.

These are presented as examples of the interesting cases which, at The Home, daily came under Adaline's observation, enlisting all the benevolent feelings of her heart, and exciting her to various efforts for the benefit of the neglected mariner. For one who was just embarking she composed the following:

"STORM-SONG.

O God! the storm is loud,
No light beams on our way,
Save when o'er yonder cloud

The iurid lightnings play!