And as the "Storm Warriors" entered the harbour waving the strong right arms that had worked so well, and shouted, "All saved!" "All saved!" and the flags of triumph were seen flying out in the gale. Cheer after cheer broke from the crowd as they welcomed home from the dread battle-field those who had fought and conquered, and now bore with them as trophies of their victory, nineteen men; fellow-sailors, whose lives had been saved from a terrible and certain death. And many cheered again as they thought of the number who would have had life-long cause to mourn, if these poor fellows had perished. Parents, wives, children--what a group they would seem if they could be pictured watching the saved ones return; what words, and looks, and tears of thanks where feelings are too deep for words, for the Storm Warriors, and for the life-boat cause, and for the generous English people who placed such boats at the disposal of such brave hearts and strong hands--of men ready to dare all and to do all that men can do to rescue the perishing from death. Think only of the group that may possibly welcome back the little pale, exhausted cabin-boy, their hearts as warm as his, their love as deep as his--as his, which made that little canvas bag full of simple presents so dear to him that he held to it through all the many hours of the storm; that made it his first thought when the wild seas rushed over the vessel, and the crew had to take to the rigging; love that made him, when grown men thought only of their own lives, rush to his chest and seize his treasure, and all through the wild gale cling to it; cling to it still, though the winds in their bitter cold froze him through and through, and the seas beat over him hour after hour. Think of the faces that may have seemed to peer at him out of the darkness of the storm. A loving-hearted father ready to thank him for the tobacco-box; a mother for that wonderful brooch; a little dark-eyed brother for the knife with four blades, and a little sister for the little very blue-eyed doll with such rosy cheeks. No, he could not let the bag go, and so it nearly cost him his life, and by the delay his clinging to it caused, nearly cost all the brave men their lives also; but the good God would not let so much simple love work so much disaster, and the loving ones shall see him again, and perhaps he will stand, and perhaps each of his fellow-sailors will stand, in the centre of some tearful group, who again and again will weep, and thank God, as they are told of the wreck, and the hours of peril, and the waiting for death, and the hopeless despair, and the strange wonderful boat that came in through the storm; and how they were saved, when they never thought to see home again. And often shall the brave boatmen be blessed and thanked by grateful hearts, and the life-boat cause not forgotten. I repeat the picture that we may learn to think much of the sailor's arrival home, as well of his being