The voyage finally wore away, and they were in the port of London and safely moored, on Saturday; after sailing up the river Thames from its mouth at the Nore, about forty-five miles. At that period London was a great city, though since that period, its population has more than doubled; its fine houses and long, winding streets have extended, and its blocks and squares, have gone far out into what was then open country. Boarding-houses for sailors were then a horrible “den of thieves,” and the abodes of intoxication and other infamous vices. And, even in this age of philanthropy and reform, there are numerous places in London and all other large seaports where decoys are employed to entice the newly arrived mariner to places where he can be filched of his money, his senses and his life. But Christian philanthropy has hoisted the Bethel flag, as the signal where sailors can worship God in comfort and peace, and boarding-houses have been established as places of virtue, good order, temperance and comfort for this useful class of humanity. John Clark had no inclination for accommodations in houses of infamy, and Tom Halyard seemed very much inclined to follow his example. Sabbath morning came; the sun shone dimly through the smoke and haze of a London atmosphere, and the sailors generally were making preparations to desecrate the Lord’s day by their customary visits to rum shops and infamous houses. Mr. Clark had risen early and performed the service required of him as a sailor, put off his tarpaulin dress, and appeared on deck with a smiling countenance, in a neat and cleanly suit, having, as the sailors said, the “cut and jib of a land-lubber.” One of his shipmates cried out,--“halloo, Jack,--whither ahoy now?” “I’m going to find a place to worship God, with his people.” Clark lingered on deck for a few moments on the Sabbath morning, when Thomas Halyard appeared in his Sunday suit, rigged out in real sailor trim. “Where away now, Tom?” enquired one of the sailors, while he cocked his eye at another, with the true sailor leer, and rolled his quid from one cheek to the other. “Only going a short voyage on land with Jack Clark”--was the response, in a serious tone. “I’ll be harpooned if Tom Halyard is not a-going to turn parson,” said one. “Not yet,” replied another. “Tom was on the sick list not long since, and thought he was bound for kingdom come;--and Jack Clark physicked the old boy out of him, and he’s now going to chapel to pay off old scores.” “And I’ll tell you what, shipmates,” said another, “we’ve all been bad enough to be keel-hauled, and John Clark and Thomas Halyard are as good sailors as I ever wish to mess with. ’Spose we follow them and hear what the parson says to-day?” “Agreed,” said several voices, and away they went up the street, headed by Clark and Halyard, who walked lovingly arm in arm.