and granny and Nelly love you, and will
go on loving you as much as ever."

"I know you do, father, and so do granny and Nelly; I am sure they love
me," said the boy gazing earnestly into Paul's face, with wonder and a
shade of sorrow depicted on his own countenance.

"That's true," said Paul. "But about what I was going to say to you.

"My wife, who is gone to heaven, Nelly's mother, and I, never had
another child but her. Your father, Michael, as true-hearted a seaman
as ever stepped, had been my friend and shipmate for many a long year.
We were bred together, and had belonged to the same boat fishing off
this coast till we were grown men, when at last we took it into our
heads to wish to visit foreign climes, and so we went to sea together.
After knocking about for some years, and going to all parts of the
world, we returned home, and both fell in love, and married. Your
mother was an orphan, without kith or kin, that your father could hear
of--a good, pretty girl she was, and worthy of him.

"We made up our minds that we would stay on shore and follow our old
calling and look after our wives and families. We had saved some money,
but it did not go as far as we thought it would, and we agreed that if
we could make just one more trip to sea, we should gain enough for what
we wanted.

"You were about two years old, and my Nelly was just born.

"We went to Falmouth, where ships often put in, wanting hands, and
masters are ready to pay good wages to obtain them. We hadn't been
there a day, when we engaged on board a ship bound out to the West
Indies. As she was not likely to be long absent, this just suited us.
Your father got a berth as third mate, for he was the best scholar, and
I shipped as boatswain.

"We made the voyage out, and had just reached the chops of the Channel,
coming back, bound for Bristol, and hoping in a few days to be home
again with our wives, when thick weather came on, and a heavy gale of
wind sprang up. It blew harder and harder. Whether or not the captain
was out of his reckoning I cannot say, but I suspect he was. Before
long, our sails were blown away, and our foremast went by the board. We
did our best to keep the ship off the shore, for all know well that it
is about as dangerous a one as is to be found round England.

"The night was dark as pitch, the gale still increasing.

"`Paul,' said your father to me as we were standing together, `you and I
may never see another s