It may be guessed how willingly the old sea-captain gave the pledge, when it is known that he looked forward with absolute dread to the time when Bessie might be taken from him to another home. He would give her any thing, help her to anything but a husband. What right had any body else to her? Why, the ship would go on the rocks without her "And when John Liddle is skipper and owns a ship," he added, "I'll give my consent free and willing." In which last words Capt. Prue was not quite ingenuous. But the compact was made and adhered to. Second-mate Liddle was informed of it, and was compelled to abide by it. He trusted to chance, as many other men, not lovers, have done before him; and he derived consolation from the thought, that when Capt. Prue and Bessie pledged their word, it would need something very extraordinary and unlooked-for to induce them to break it. He rose from second mate to first mate, from first mate to skipper; and when he returned from his voyages, he found Bessie faithful and true, and received a hearty welcome from her father. And during these long and many years of probation, he learned to love his true-hearted little woman more deeply than he had done at first; she taught him to understand what love really was; she taught him the true beauty of it, the holiness of it--that it was something more than a sentiment, something higher than a passion; she taught him to understand that it was a sacrament. It seems fated for this story, that its narration should necessitate, for the most part, the depicting of the higher virtues, and what is most noble and self-sacrificing in our natures. But it should be none the less acceptable because of that.