Through all my naval career I was a sufferer to sea-sickness, which began on this brig. No sooner had we passed the Plymouth Breakwater Lighthouse, when the brig would begin rolling, and I would repair to the lee-scupper. In connection with this part of my story I must not omit to say a kind word for the captain. When many of us poor boys lay strewn along the deck like stricken sheep, he, in passing from the forecastle to poop, would not disturb us. This in itself may not appear much, but in reality it was a great kindness, and one over which I love to ponder. It was the act of a gentleman, to say the least of it, and I cannot but believe that sympathy prompted it, and in this sense it was Christlike. "Inasmuch," said the great Storm Walker who quieted storm-tossed Galilee "as ye do it unto one of the least of these My little ones, ye do it unto Me." Very near the line of punishment did I approach when on this brig. Working one day on the foretopsail yard, my knife, which by some means had become detached from my lanyard, fell on the forecastle. Fortunately it struck no one, and I was reprimanded only. The course of training being completed, I was sent back to the 'Impregnable' on draft for sea. Within a few days an order was received stating that a large company of boys were required for the North American and West Indian Station, and I was numbered amongst them. CHAPTER III LEAVING FOR SEA A few days prior to our departure, Miss Weston kindly invited the draft ashore to her Sailors' Rest to tea, and presented each of us with a Bible, and gave us all a tender farewell. Never will time erase from my mind the memory of the parting with my loved ones; it pains me now even as I dwell upon it. It was Sunday afternoon, and two days prior to my sailing for Bermuda, when the heartrending parting took place. Love can never say its last 'good-bye,' and especially is this true of a mother's love. What thoughts were passing through her mind that Sunday afternoon? God knows fully. But surely they were tinged with this reflection: Would she ever see me again? A shadow deep and dark had recently fallen across the home. During my 'Foudroyant' days a messenger came on board with the sad news that my dear sister had been almost burnt to death. I will not dwell on the sadness of the awful tragedy, save to remark that she died through the cause of the terrible burns three days after the accident. The effect this had upon my mother is almost beyond expression. Her nerves were shattered and she became a physical wreck, and to this day she has never recovered from the shock. Judge then, her sorrow on the Sunday afternoon, when I was bidding 'farewell,' and within a short time of that overwhelming experience. I was now going thousands of miles away for three years, severed from paternal counsel and maternal affection, and on this occasion she was drinking the dregs of her cup of grief. Again, amidst