shirt, a pair of stockings, and flannel pants. This was his
entire outfit. My mother never knowingly allowed any of
these poor little wanderers to pass without bringing them to
our home. They were promptly supplied with bread and milk
while the big tub was got ready so that they might be
bathed. They were then provided with night clothing and put
to bed while she had their own clothes washed, and mended if
need be (they always required washing); they were then sent
on their journey with many petitions to God for their safety
and welfare. Some of the villagers were curious to know why
this gratuitous hospitality was given to unknown passers-by,
and my mother satisfied their curiosity by pointing to her
own children, and remarking, "Don't we live within the sound
of the sea? and I wish to do by these poor children that
which I should like some one to do by mine if it ever should
come to pass that they need it." Little did she suspect
when these words were uttered that one of her own sons was
so soon to be travelling in an opposite direction in quest
of a cabin-boy's berth.

One of the most touching memories of sweetness comes to me
now. It was a chill winter afternoon; a little boy stood out
on the common fronting our house; the customary bundle was
under his arm, and he was singing in a sweet treble these
words, with a strong Scotch accent:--

"A beggar man came over the lea
Wi' many a story to tell unto me.
'I'm asking for some charitie,
Can ye lodge a beggar man?'"