ing spoke to the officers and
crew of the _Saint Fiorenzo_ in a kind manner, taking an interest in
their private histories, they were loyal to the backbone. Does not our
heavenly King and Father speak to us daily, through the Holy Scriptures,
words full of kindness, love, and mercy? Surely he does, if we will but
diligently read that Book of books. He allows us, too, as no earthly
king can do, to go to him daily--every hour--every moment of our lives.
His ear is ever open to our prayers--he who keeps Israel neither
slumbers nor sleeps--to tell him our private histories--our wants, our
wishes, our hopes; to confess to him all we have done amiss--all our
sins. And, moreover, he promises us that if we repent of them, and
trust to the cleansing blood of Jesus, he will forgive them freely and
fully, and give us what no earthly monarch can give, eternal life, and
raise us to dwell with him in happiness unspeakable, for ever and ever.

CHAPTER NINE.

THE SMUGGLER'S FATE

THE SMUGGLER'S WIFE--HANSON STARTS ON HIS TRIP--HIS WIFE'S ANXIETY--THE
REVENUE OFFICERS APPROACH--THE SMUGGLERS TAKE TO THE WATER--THE FIGHT--A
FEARFUL END.

"Good-bye, Susan--good-bye, my wife. I'll bring thee over a silk gown,
and such Brussels lace as you've never yet set eyes on. It will make a
lady of you; and you're not far off being one now, to my mind, so don't
fret--don't fret, Susan, dear."

These words were uttered by Robert Hanson, a fine sailor-like-looking
man. And a bold seaman he was, indeed; but was also unhappily known to
be one of the most daring smugglers on the coast. Having kissed his
wife affectionately, and knelt down by the side of the cradle in which
their infant slept, to bestow another kiss on its smiling lips, he
hurried from the cottage.

Susan looked after him sorrowfully. She had entreated him, over and
over again--not as earnestly as she might, perhaps--to give up his
dangerous and lawless occupation, and with a laugh he had told her that
each trip should be his last. Did it never occur to him how his promise
might be fulfilled? It did to Susan; and often and often she had
trembled at the thought. She had been brought up by praying parents,
and had been taught from her childhood to pray, but she could not pray
now--she dared not--she felt it would be a mockery. She was wrong,
though. She could not pray that God would protect her husband in his
lawless occupation, but she might have prayed that her merc