The waves tossed him where they listed; he was worn out and exhausted by the prolonged struggle; but for the thought of the loved ones at home, he would have sunk down, down to the depths, like a weary child laying its head on the pillows. Only for the sake of his wife and children he fought on, though with ever-increasing weakness, until the roar of the sea was meaningless in his ears, and his upturned eyes gazed at the sun, without sight. Death was then very close at hand. He never knew the exact manner of his rescue or the period of his unconsciousness. He came back to life in a wretched hut on a desolate coast. Several natives stood around him. They were ill clothed, miserably poor, and, to our way of thinking, absolutely without the necessities of life. However, they treated the white man to the best of their ability, lighting a fire for him, gathering shell-fish for him, even giving up to his wants their greatest dainty—an occasional bird. From this savage condition he was rescued by an American whaler; and afterwards, joining a Chilian ship at Valparaiso, he worked his way round to Rio. Thence he got to the West Indies, where, by a fortunate accident, he secured a mate’s berth in a homeward-bound vessel. Then Mrs. Hartland had to tell her story; and as she praised Jim’s unselfishness, the sailor kept patting him on the shoulder and murmuring, "Good boy! Good boy, Jimmy! You did well!" "As to this young schoolmaster," said he, "he’s a regular brick! Thank goodness we can pay him for Jim’s upkeep and all that, but we can never repay his generous thoughtfulness. Money’s no good for that part of the case." "No," remarked his wife; "and money will not repay Dr. Stewart either. We have had much to be thankful for, John." "’Pon my word!" exclaimed the sailor, bringing his great fist down on the table with a mighty bang, "I did not think, lass, there was so much kindness in the world. When shall I be able to see Susie?" "We must consult the doctor," said his wife. "The sudden shock may not be good for her." "Ah," said he with a sigh, "we must be careful; but my heart’s sore to see the little lass." True to his promise, Jim was early at the shop next morning, and for several days he toiled early and late until his employer’s busy time was over. It was one way of showing his gratitude, and he had no thought of reward. The news of his father’s return quickly spread through Beauleigh, and he received the congratulations of all kinds of people. Dick Boden, of course, found his way to Brook Street, where, it is perhaps hardly necessary to state, he was warmly welcomed. "I shan’t forget you in a hurry, my son!" exclaimed the jovial sailor, "nor what you did for Jim. I’ve heard the yarn. Just wait till I come back from my next voyage." "I hope," observed Dick, with the usual innocent expression on his face, "that it won’t take quite as long as the last." And the sailor laughed.