William Richardson, of the _Nova Scotian_ and the _Sardinian_, who died not long ago, was an easy-going, kindly-disposed man, and a general favourite. Neil Maclean, of the third _Canadian_, was a man of fine presence and good address. Captain Joseph Ritchie who retired from the command of the _Parisian_ in 1895, though not to be called an old man, had spent forty-four years at sea. He was captain of the _Peruvian_ in 1882, when the twenty-five-foot channel through Lake St. Peter was inaugurated; and again in 1888, in the _Sardinian_, he was the first to test the increased depth to twenty-seven and a half feet. Ritchie’s whole career was a most successful one. On retiring from the service he was presented with a very handsomely engrossed address and a valuable service of silver plate by his Montreal friends. [Illustration: CAPTAIN JOSEPH E. DUTTON.] Joseph E. Dutton, best known as the captain of the _Sardinian_, was a remarkable man, and frequent voyages with him led me to know him better than some of the others. “Holy Joe,” as he was familiarly called, was an excellent sailor, but had to contend with a good many difficulties. At one time his ship lost her rudder in mid-ocean; at another time she lost her screw. Once she caught fire in Loch Foyle from an explosion of coal gas, and had to be scuttled. Dutton was a clever, well-read man, and a born preacher. When he had on board some eighteen clergymen going to the meeting of the Presbyterian Council at Belfast, he came into the saloon on a Saturday evening, and coolly announced that if they had no objections he would conduct the Sunday service himself. And preach he did. He had the whole Bible at his finger-ends. I recall at least one voyage when he personally conducted three religious services daily—one at 10 o’clock a. m., for the steerage passengers; one at 4 p. m., in the chart-room, and one at 7 p. m., in the forecastle, for his sailors. As to creed, he had drifted away from his early moorings, and admittedly had difficulty in finding secure anchorage. He had, so to speak, boxed the ecclesiastical compass. He had been a Methodist, a Baptist, a Plymouth Brother, but with none of them did he long remain in fellowship. Finally, he pinned his faith to the tenets of “conditional immortality,” arguing with great ingenuity and earnestness that eternal life is the exclusive portion of the righteous, and annihilation that of the wicked. One of Captain Dutton’s last public appearances in Montreal was on a Sabbath evening, in the Olivet Baptist church, when he baptized seven of his sailors by immersion in the presence of a crowded assemblage. He was a square-built, powerful Christian. The way he collared these men and submerged them was a caution. He gave each of them in turn such a drenching as they will remember for a long time, and all with the greatest reverence; nor did he let them go until he received from each a solemn assurance that he