“Farewell, sweet _lad_, and let who will be clever, Do noble things, not dream them all day long, And so make Life, Death, and the Great Forever One grand sweet song.” Sweet was it, after a long day of sickness and harassing toil, when Wilfred lay down in his close berth and heard the waves of the Atlantic swishing by close to his head, to think that he still enjoyed the trustful love of a darling sister and of a friend. He thought, too, of the quaint frontispiece of his copy of the _Icon Basilike_, now far away amongst his books at dear old Holmcastle, and of the weighted palms springing to fresh and verdurous glory, and of the appropriate motto, “Crescit sub pondere virtus;” and he prayed that such might be the case with him. Four days and a-half out, an adventure occurred. The vast ocean had been calm all day, and there was no sail in sight, when, in consequence of something being amiss with the machinery, the steamer suddenly stopped. Most of the passengers, astonished, if not alarmed, by the unwonted quiet, had come up on deck, and witnessed the Atlantic heaving around them in what seemed to be huge platforms of greenish water, which rose and fell without the slightest disturbance of the glassy surface by even a breath of wind. Then, almost suddenly, after an hour’s interval, the East wind began to blow, the mighty screw turned, and the ship re-commenced its course with what seemed to be renewed life and activity. At that moment a cry was heard above the pulsations of the engines and the whirl of the screw--“A child overboard!” Wilfred chanced to be amidships, and looked over the side. Then, throwing off his coat, he ran astern, waited a few moments, and then cast himself into the ocean. His form disappeared for a few seconds, and then he reappeared, clutching the child in his right hand, while he supported himself in the water by swimming with his left. The order to stop ship had been given at once, and a boat was manned and let down, but by that time the child and its deliverer had drifted far astern. When at last the boat reached them, Wilfred was nearly exhausted, and could only clutch the gunwale with his one empty hand, when he was drawn up into the boat with the child alive and unhurt.