to a severe ruler, but we secure his enduring respect and a good name on shore. We hear more growling about 'grub,' for if the cook doesn't make 'bread scouse' to suit them, the men are not afraid to come aft to the cabin to complain about it. In ordinary work we have not quite so much drive and smartness, but all important duties are done as well if not better. I think of no other disadvantages, and all that can be said of what I have named is, that our discipline is not as rigid as that of ships where men are abused; but no one can deny that we have good discipline. As to your remark about Christian officers, I must say I think it a very cowardly speech. If shipboard is a place of trial it is just the place for a Christian, for who has such resources as he?" The mate took exception to one part of my admissions and paid me the compliment of saying, "I never sailed with a captain that received as much respect from sailors as you do. I notice whenever you come for'ard how the men straighten themselves up to their work, and the respectful manner in which they step out of your way." One moonlight evening, when the trade-wind was driving us briskly along, we were sitting in our easy chairs on deck enjoying the romance of the sea, and the passenger asked me, if sailors always behaved well when they were well treated. In answer I told him the story of AN EASY SHIP. When a lad of nineteen years, in company with a friend of my own age, I made a voyage from Boston to Cronstadt and back to New York as passenger in the ship "Volant." She was a full-built vessel of about six hundred tons register and carried a crew of fourteen before the mast. The captain was a Swede named Nelson, a good natured, worthy man. Mr. Smith, the first mate, was an Englishman, a man with a very kind heart and easy disposition. The second mate, Mr. Kemp, was an old sea dog, hailing from New Hampshire. He was a hard drinker when on shore and appeared to be wholly destitute of ambition. His sea character depended entirely on that of his superiors. If they were severe he could be as great a tyrant as any one, and if they were inclined to take their ease he could be as quiet and unconcerned as though he had nothing to do with the ship. Of the sailors, five were Irish, three were "Dutchmen," two English, two American and two from Nova Scotia. They were of rather a low grade, but were for the most part a well disposed set of men, though half of them were very deficient in seamanship. For the first week of the passage they seemed very peaceable, with the exception of one man who called himself "Brock," and was one of the vilest sort of "Liverpool Packet Rats." He was always grumbling and cursing, no sailor, and a miserable shirk. His talk, by degrees, affected the others, the poison gradually spread and the rest of the crew became surly and discontented,--ready to join in with whatever "growl" Brock might start. It was hard to see what they could