sea and on every coast, and the
fond father had garnered these marvellous legends to tell to his little
listener at home, till the child's eyes glowed bright as he panted to
taste of peril, and do and dare amid the stormy waves.

Now indeed came a time of peril to Blair. With secret delight he found
he had a power to charm and move even the rough band who gathered round
him to catch every word of the glowing narratives he poured forth from
his crowded storehouse. There is something within us all which prompts
us to adapt our conversation to the taste and capacity of our
companions. A kindly inclination it may be, and yet it is full of
danger. He who may dare to be "all things to all men," must, like St.
Paul, have set his feet on the rock Christ Jesus, and be exalted by the
continual remembrance of the "cloud of witnesses" in the heavenly
kingdom, and the fixed, all-searching glance of the pure eye of God,
reading the inmost soul.

Insensibly Blair inclined to use the language in which his hearers
couched their own thoughts. As we speak baby-talk to the infant, and
broken English to the Frenchman, he unconsciously dealt in expressions
adapted to the wild eager faces that looked into his. Here had surely
been a temptation that would have dragged the young speaker down to the
pit which the great adversary had made ready for him, but for the strong
Deliverer who walked amid the flames of fire with the three faithful
"children" of old.

Blair saw his danger, and met it not in his own strength. Whether he sat
down at table, or mingled in the groups on deck, or shared the watch of
a companion, by a determined and prayerful effort he strove to keep in
his mind the presence of "One like unto the Son of man." To him that
face, unsullied by taint of sin or shame, was in the midst of the
weather-beaten, guilt-marked countenances of the crew of the Molly. He
who "turned and looked on Peter" was asking his young servant in a
tender, appealing glance, "Will you blaspheme my name? Will you offend
Him in whose eyes the heavens are not pure, and who chargeth even his
angels with folly?"

A deep "No; so help me God," was the full response of the whole being of
Blair Robertson. He would watch his tongue and guard his lips by the
continual prayer which should stir in his heart in the midst of speech,
song, or tale of wild adventure.

When the young sailor had taught his listeners gladly to hear when he
would give them pleasure, he b