Notwithstanding the captain had taken great care that Fritz should have all the advantages of the village school, and was aware that he had the reputation of an uncommonly diligent and intelligent pupil, he was surprised at so well-written a letter. He showed it round the village, with no ordinary feeling of pleasure and pride; and he brought it to bear upon the great cause in which he was engaged. "Dish leetle fellow," he would say, "ish dat very prand vat I shnatch from de purning."

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The change of Van Scrompfen's manner to little Fritz, after returning to the counting-room, may be easily explained. Captain Hazell had earnestly requested his old friend and patron to take Fritz under his protection; and the wary Dutchman, resolving to act on prudent ground, was willing first to know more of him at head-quarters. In twenty minutes from the time when he left his warehouse, Van Scrompfen was on the quarter-deck of the 'Triton." "Captain," said the old gentleman, "you haves a capin-poy vat ish named Fritz Hazell." 66 Ay, ay, sir," said the captain, "for the outward passage only, and I am happy to say it." "Vy really," said the old Dutchman, "vat ish de matter mit de lad ?" 66 Why, as to that," replied the captain," I can only say he's a disagreeable little whelp, and I've taken a distaste to him, that's all,-he's a whining, praying, puritanical, cold-water dog; and if I'd suffered it, he'd have done nothing but read all the way from Boston light, till we got to Amsterdam." "A smart lad to work, too, captain Allen," said Mr. Packard, the first mate, in a respectful manner. Why, that's true," said the captain, "but we can't help our tastes; I dislike the chap's ways, and there's an end on't." .. You say de poy love to read-vat does he read?" inquired Van Scrompfen. "It's some cold-water book, I suppose," answered captain Allen, laughing; "he's at it from morning to night; but there is Mr. Packard, who thinks better of the boy than I do, perhaps you may as well talk with him." Mr. Packard, who had been below for a moment, was now coming aft from the forecastle with a volume in his hand, and advancing to Van Scrompfen. "This is the boy's book," said he. The old Dutchman put on his spectacles, and opening the title page,-" Vy," he exclaimed, "it ish de pest pook in de voorld." Mr. Packard requested to know the object of the old gentleman's inquiries, and was frankly told that the boy came highly recommended from an old friend in New England, and he desired to ascertain how far the recommendation would be confirmed by the captain of the ship. "Well then, sir," said Mr. Packard, "if that is your object, the lad shall have justice from me, he is one of the best lads I ever knew: captain Allen, who is a first-rate seaman of the old sort, would like the boy better, if he could get him to curse and swear a little, and take his grog; the boy is not as strong as some boys, he was very sea-sick for the first ten days, and the captain thought he pretended to be sicker than he was, and made him scrape the deck, and thrashed him about rather roughly; he bore it as well as he could; he cried, but did not utter a word of complaint. I took the liberty to tell captain Allen that I thought the boy did his best, and he then

told him to turn in. The next day, when he was on deck, the captain seemed to feel that he had not made allowances enough for his youth and inexperience; and calling him aft, asked him how he felt, and offered him the remainder of his grog in the tumbler. The boy thanked him for his kindness, but said he had rather not take it. This the captain mistook for obstinacy; and calling him a sulky puppy, he threw the liquor in his face, and ordered him forward. He has never liked the boy since. I asked the lad afterwards, why he refused the captain's grog, and he told me he had signed the pledge of the temperance society. This made me feel more kindly to him, for I am a cold-water man myself. I know nothing against the boy, unless it is a sin in him to drink no spirit, say his prayers, and do his duty." "Very goot," said the Holland merchant; and, giving Mr. Packard a hearty shake of the hand, he made his way back to the countingroom, with such sentiments toward Fritz Hazell as were exhibited in that change of manner to which we have already referred.

Days, weeks,-months,—and years had passed, and were passing away, and Fritz Hazell had not yet compassed the object of his wishes-it was still unattained. He seldom laid down in his hammock without saying to himself, "When shall I realize the expectation of my best earthly friend, and be justified in presenting myself before him again? When shall I be even the second or third mate of a ship of four hundred tons ?"

Many letters were despatched to his friend and patron, and, not unfrequently, he received replies from Still-Valley, assuring him of the old gentleman's continued interest, and of the great pleasure he enjoyed, in obtaining the most favourable accounts of him from Van Scrompfen, Brothers, and company. The old captain concluded almost every letter with "an old man's voord, vat has sailed almost to de land's end in dish life, dat de great pook ish de pest power-anchor in dish here voorld, and in de toder."

Not only his elders, but his superiors, had upon several occasions cheerfully received instruction in the science of navigation from Fritz Hazell. Nothing but his youth presented any obstacle to his advance

ment.

On the 9th of April, 18-, as the Antwerp, an Indiaman of twelve hundred tons, was within four days sail of Canton, with something more than a top-sail breeze, the shout of "A man overboard!" stirred the drowsiest spirit into vigorous action. As soon as possible, but with the greatest difficulty, the ship was hove to. Before a boat could be gotten out, she had run nearly two miles from the poor fellow. Every exertion was made for his preservation, but in vain. He who a moment before was in life, was now in death. The old ship gave her foresail once more to the wind, the boatswain's song was at an end,—and a natural solemnity prevailed. All hands having been piped upon deck, the missing man was discovered to be Erick Pederson, third mate of the ship. The next morning, the captain sent for Fritz Hazell to come aft. "What is your age?" asked captain de Witt. "Seventeen last July, sir," was the reply. "Rather young,

to be sure,” said the captain; “you are third mate of the Antwerp, Mr. Hazell; please to go to your duty, sir." Fritz coloured to the very top of his forehead, made his bow, and obeyed. It may suffice to say, that in his department nothing was done but in due time, and proper order. He gave entire satisfaction to old captain de Witt, who was notoriously difficult to please, and his continuance in office on the return-voyage was sufficient evidence that his appointment had as much to do with his merits as with the necessity of the case.

The faithful discharge of his duty demanded no ordinary sacrifice of personal comfort. Fritz Hazell was naturally of an anxious temperament, painfully scrupulous in the execution of his trust; and, though free from all bodily disease, he had not that measure of strength and that power of enduring fatigue which are indispensable to every child of the ocean. His return-voyage in the Antwerp from Canton to Amsterdam, and that which he shortly after made from Amsterdam to New York, were the last which he ever performed.

During his passage to Canton in the Antwerp, an incident occurred, of sufficient interest to be incorporated with this brief history of Fritz Hazell's career. There was on board the Antwerp a sailor, whose name was James or Thomas Rodney, I have forgotten which. He shipped as a first-rate seaman, and he certainly deserved the name. He was even a good navigator, and had been first mate of two or three ships; but he had been driven back upon the forecastle by that power which has overthrown its millions-the power of strong drink. Free-drinking and free-thinking are frequently fellow-travellers upon the railroad to ruin. Rodney was an intemperate man, and a miserable infidel. Solitude has been said to lose a portion of its interest unless we have one pleasant companion, at least, with whom we can discourse upon its charms. The same thing may be affirmed of infidelity. The pious and devout believer is happy in his own silent convictions: the infidel and the atheist are not happy in theirs; they derive no pleasure from their thoughts, but only from giving them utterance. Rodney was a man of good natural powers: he was not an idiot, and therefore he was not an atheist; but his mind was untaught and untutored. He was an infidel; and in conformity with the principle we have indicated, he was constantly exhibiting his frail and fantastical conceptions, or uttering ludicrous and irreverent quotations from Scripture. He very soon conceived a dislike for Fritz Hazell; for, though he was the youngest of the ship's company, Rodney found it impossible to excite a smile upon Hazell's features, while the majority of the sailors were roaring with laughter at his jeers upon the subject of the christian religion. Rodney, nevertheless, had a high respect for nautical knowledge; and Fritz rose in his esteem by setting him right, in a good-natured way, when he had fallen into an error while making some observations respecting the azumith compass. From that moment, Rodney was less disposed to trouble him with his infidel doctrines; and while throwing out his taunts in the hearing of others, he was less inclined to continue them whenever that boy" (as he used to call Hazell for the first month of the voyage) became one

of the group upon the forecastle. Fritz Hazell was notoriously a religious young man. After the regular services of the ship on the sabbath-day, he was in the habit of resorting to the "pest pook in de voorld," as Van Scrompfen called it. He was a good reader, and generally collected a little auditory of eight or ten of the ship's company. "Give us another chapter, Hazell," was not an uncommon exclamation from some honest tar, when the book was about to be closed for the night.

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It has been remarked, by a keen observer of the human heart, that we are often more apt to indulge our hatred towards those whom we have injured, than towards those who have injured us. We very naturally dislike the continued exhibition before our eyes of one who eternally revives the recollection of our own injustice. We are irritated by his very presence, and even by the sound of his name: and our unconsecrated feelings are apt to break forth in the form of additional injury and insult. Rodney, who had taken a dislike to Hazell for the reason we have stated, had given vent to his displeasure from day to day, with an increasing severity of manner, for the first month of the passage: the very consciousness of the groundless character of his aversion towards this younger brother, in itself, supplied an abundant source of irritation. Upon one occasion, the boatswain remarked that he believed the devil had got into the foretopsail, for it had set illy ever since the ship sailed. Perhaps," said Rodney, putting a quid of tobacco into his mouth, and looking sarcastically at Hazellperhaps somebody can give us a lift with a spare prayer or two, to shake the old gentleman out." All eyes were turned upon the young sailor, who had been already the patient subject of several similar jeers through the day. At that moment, Rodney, who was splicing a rope, lost his jack-knife overboard, and uttered an exclamation which we do not think proper to repeat, observing, with an air of vexation, that he had always been an unlucky dog from his birth. "Mr. Rodney," said Fritz Hazell, with an expression in which manliness and perfect good nature were happily blended, "here is a knife; I have another in my chest ; and if you will accept this, it is at your service.' "Thank you," said Rodney, as he accepted the peace-offering of an innocent offender. Rodney finished the splice in silence, and when it was done he handed back the knife; but Fritz requested him to keep it, with such an air of sincerity and hearty good will, that he put it in his pocket. It was upon the same day, that Fritz gained yet further upon Rodney's confidence, by giving him that evidence of his knowledge upon a nautical point to which we have adverted.

The very evening Rodney approached the young sailor, as he was standing alone upon the forecastle, and after a short pause accosted him as follows: " Hazell, if I'm a little free, now and then, with my red rag, I hope you won't think I've a bad heart : Rodney was always an unlucky dog from his birth; but his bark is always worse than his bite. If I've hurt your feelings aboard the Antwerp, my young friend, I'm sorry for it." "Mr. Rodney," said Fritz, giving him his hand, "it's very kind in you to say this. I own I've been pained whenever

you have spoken lightly of a religion which I consider sacred, and which I should respect the less if it did not teach me to forget and forgive." "Ah, Hazell!" exclaimed Rodney, "I don't know that you will credit it, after all you've heard me say at different times—but I have often declared, and I say so now, I would give a cargo of doubloons, if I had them, to believe as you and some other folks believe, and to be as happy as you and they appear to be." "I am happy to hear you say this, Mr. Rodney," said Hazell; we are almost strangers, but I cannot help feeling a decided interest in your welfare. You surely believe there is a God?" "I do," Rodney replied. "And do you not believe in the doctrines of the revelation?" inquired Hazell. "I wish I could," said the other. "You believe," rejoined Hazell," that God is an object of worship and of prayer?" "Yes, I do," answered Rodney, with evident embarrassment; "but how hard it is to pray!" "Do try, Mr. Rodney," said Fritz, taking him eagerly by the hand; "excuse the earnestness of one so much younger than yourself. God is more than willing to hear you. When we get into our hammocks to-night, let us both pray that he will forgive our sins, and that he will help your unbelief." Rodney was evidently affected by the interest which Hazell obviously felt on his account. He hastily brushed the tear from his eye, when the boatswain's whistle called them to their respective duties, and put an end to their extraordinary interview.

(To be continued.)

THE COMPREHENSIVENESS OF SCRIPTURE

Where will you find among all the uninspired narrators, a man who has written any thing as St. Luke has written the Acts of the Apostles? Who has known how to recount in thirty pages the history of thirty of the most beautiful years of Christianity, from the ascension of the Son of Man to heaven, to the imprisonment of St. Paul in the capital of the Roman world. Incomparable history! See at once how short and how great it is! What do we not find in it? Discourses addressed to the Jews and to the Greeks-pronounced before the tribunals, before the Areopagus and before the Sanhedrim,—in the public places and before a proconsul-in the synagogues and before kings; admirable descriptions of the primitive church; miraculous and dramatic scenes in its bosom; interventions of angels to deliver, to warn, or to punish; controversies and divisions in the assemblies of christians; new institutions in the church; the history of a first council, and its synodic epistle; commentaries on the scriptures; recitals of heresies; solemn and terrible judgments of God; appearances of the Lord in the wayin the temple-in the prison; detailed conversions, and such as were often miraculous and singularly various-that of Eneas, that of the eunuch, that of Cornelius the centurion, that of the Roman jailor, that of the proconsul, that of Lydia, that of Apollos, that of many