that people sometimes wondered how it was possible that she could be
the mother of such a stalwart son. She was one of those kind, gentle,
uncomplaining, and unselfish beings, who do not secure much
popularity or admiration in this world, but who secure obedient
children, also steadfast and loving friends. Her favourite book was
the Bible; her favourite hope in regard to earthly matters, that men
should give up fighting and drinking, and live in peace; her
favourite theory that the study of _truth_ was the object for which
man was created, and her favourite meal--tea.

Ruby was her only child. Minnie was the daughter of a distant
relation, and, having been left an orphan, she was adopted by her.
Mrs. Brand's husband was a sailor. He commanded a small coasting
sloop, of which Ruby had been the mate for several years. As we have
said, Ruby had been prevailed on to remain at home for some months in
order to please his mother, whose delicacy of health was such that
his refusal would have injured her seriously; at least the doctor
said so, therefore Ruby agreed to stay.

The sloop _Penguin_, commanded by Ruby's father, was on a voyage to
Newcastle at that time, and was expected in Arbroath every day. But
it was fated never more to cast anchor in that port. The great storm,
to which reference has been made in a previous chapter, caused many
wrecks on the shores of Britain. The _Penguin_ was one of the many.

In those days telegraphs, railroads, and penny papers did not exist.
Murders were committed then, as now, but little was said, and less
was known about them. Wrecks occurred then, as now, but few, except
the persons immediately concerned, heard of them. "Destructive
fires", "terrible accidents", and the familiar round of "appalling
catastrophes" occurred then, as now, but their influence was limited,
and their occurrence soon forgotten.

We would not be understood to mean that "now" (as compared with
"then",) all is right and well; that telegraphs and railways and
daily papers are all-potent and perfect. By no means. We have still
much to learn and to do in these improved times; and, especially,
there is wanting to a large extent among us a sympathetic telegraphy,
so to speak, between the interior of our land and the sea-coast,
which, if it existed in full and vigorous play, would go far to
improve our condition, and raise us in the esteem of Christian
nations. Nevertheless, as compared with now, the state of things