When I was at Nantucket last summer, trying the virtue of sea-bathing and sea-breezes, for a wearisome chronic disease, I used to resort to every imaginable form of innocent recreation, as a relief to the pain and ennui occasioned by my bodily indisposition. One day, as I was sitting on one of the rocks which project into the sea, observing the multitude of fishing craft that were plying about the island, my attention was arrested by the very remarkable appearance of the commander of a large whale ship. His figure was not strikingly tall or robust; but there were an energy and determination in his look, that seemed to turn his every sinew into iron; while, upon a closer observation, one might read in his upright and noble countenance, a soul of high moral bearing, and a mind unruffled by the passing vexations of life. Such a person always awakens interest, however transiently we may pass him; and although we may not stop, at the time, to define our sentiments, we are struck with something like veneration and awe, when we behold in the midst of hardship, toil, and danger, the tranquillity which marks a mind superior to the accidents of life. But this was not all. One acquainted with human nature, might see under this stern exterior, the generous nature, which would scorn to trample on the weak, or pass by the suffering. I was irresistibly drawn to make some acquaintance with this mariner, but found some difficulty in framing any excuse to accost one of appearance and accent so foreign. Accident soon accomplished the introduction, for which I had taxed my ingenuity in vain. In attempting to descend from my eminence, my decrepid limbs refused their office, and I fell headlong on a shoal of rocks, among which I was scrambling with much pain, when I felt myself raised gently, but powerfully, by a muscular arm. I turned in my distress to see by what kind hand I was assisted, when the eye of the hardy seaman met my inquiring glance. Pity and benevolence shone on his countenance, and I felt even in that moment of corporeal suffering, that the kindred tie of man—yes, of friendship, united us. His first words struck me as being of foreign accent, but his language was that of sympathy, which is read by all nations, and now flowed warm from the heart. After placing me comfortably on the sand, he hastened to his boat lying near, to bring some restoratives in which sailors have much faith. I was soon relieved by his attentions, and desiring to make some return for his kindness, inquired to whom I was indebted for assistance, and in what manner I could show my gratitude. To this the stranger replied, that the action itself brought sufficient reward, since he had been able to relieve a fellow creature. Our acquaintance began from this time, and I gradually drew from him a history of his past life, which had been one of trial and adventure. His narrative was given in our own