A Sailor's Lass

stle of preparation in the fisherman's family, for boat and nets alike required overhauling, an

ad been covered over the boat during the winter; but the whistling suddenly ceased when the boat was uncovered, for, with all their care, the winter's storms had worked s

tough job, B

lad, carefully passing his finger down w

ings had passed away, and all things had become new; and none felt this more than Bob. It was a blessed change for him, and he had given up all thoughts of running a

er without the whisky than with it, we might ha' got a ne

mention his brother's name for years, but he had thought a good deal of him lately, wi

, I'd give all the days of my life to bring Jack back. The thought of him is making yer mother an old woman afor

I heard you say it was n

uences of sin. Hard as they may be, and truly and bitterly as we may repent, the past can't be undone; and as we sow we must reap. Poor Jack! Poor Jack! If I

uff, sullen ways and fierce outbursts of temper; but he would not say any more just now, only he thought that but for that tea-meeting his fa

plugging, and tarring, when Tiny, who had been playing on the san

OLD MAN. [S

, old man over there, and he says

ey did in this out-of-the-way spot. She was "Tiny," or "deary," or "the little 'un," and no need had arisen for any other name; and so, after scratching his head for a minute, he said:

he knowed my mother when sh

somebody come to claim the child after all? He instinctively clutched her hand for a

man seated on one of the sandhills,

fter my little

me, my man?" he said, taking out a

omb

he old man, dropping h

n. "Didn't you tell my little Tiny that you knew

ou suppose I should know your name? I told the child I knew her name was Matilda Coomber,

come to fetch her!"

ght, when I picked up that old newspaper the other day, and read about her being saved, I'd just like to come and have a look at her. I was pretty sure she was my

s Coomber! Where is he? What was he

her death. With this letter she sent her own portrait, and that of her husband and child, begging me to keep them for the child until she grew up. A day or two after came another letter, saying she was dead, and a neighbour was coming from Grimsby to London by ship, and would bring the child to me; but I never heard or saw a

He stood looking half-dazed for a minute or two after the stranger had ceased speaking

et-book as he spoke. "Here they are; I took care to br

is him! It is my Jack!" he gasped.

r saw or spoke to my daughter after she married him; but I'm willing to

er. "Do you mean to say lit

do. What else could I

d have as much right to her as you

he said; "I'm not going to dispute it. I'm willing to do my duty

me first. Let me have my say, and then, perhaps, we can come to terms about the matter. You've got a wife, I s'pose, that can look after this child. I haven't; and if she came to me, I shouldn't know w

accept no payment; but just then he caught sight of Bob and the old boat, and the

at once. You've had her about eighteen months now, so there's about thirty pounds

iscontent, and so he said, quickly, "Well now, I'll throw you ten pounds in, as I hear you were the one that saved her, and pay

tle girl had been to him. It was only the thought of the bitter winter they had just passed through, and that, if he could g

d: "Well, sir, for the little 'un's sake I'll take your offer. But, look you, I shall use this m

can do as you like about that. I shall

terrupted Coomber, drawing his sleeve across his eyes. "Do you k

etters and these portraits, and some other odds and ends, to be kept for her little Matilda. I'll send you them if you like;

d Coomber, who could not understand his wi

and see her sometimes. And now, if you'll follow me as quickly as you can to the village, we'll settle this bu

here to-day, and I want to get my wits a bit together before I tell your mother. But you nee

iness. But his next words explained it. "I've heard of Jack," he said; "no storms will trouble him again;" and then the fis

s; and if I ain't home by five o'clock, you come and meet me

e news to the astonished group at home; and so, before Coomber returned, his wife had got over the first outburst of grief for the death of her son, and she and Bob had had time to talk cal

ldn't it be better than buying a little one for ourselves?" suggested Bob; "then we coul

, too," p

God's house on Sunday," said

is old friend Peters, who knew a man who wanted to sell his share in

some new clothes, and take us to Fellness. What do you say t

the poor woman, through her tears. "But oh

must be a sailor's lass, but to think that she should be our Jack's own child is wonderful. The old gentleman had made quite sure of it before he came here-he wouldn't part wi

the latter years of their son's life, they found that he had become a true Christian through his wife's influence. He had also learned to read and write; and in the last letter sent to his wife before his death, he told her he meant

alsted, The Moorfiel