of the fellows shouted as they went,
"Gord bless you, sir. We wants you in the winter." No doubt some of them
would, at other times, have used a verb not quite allied to bless; but I
could see that they were making an attempt to show courtesy toward an
agency which they respect, and though I remained like a silent Lama,
receiving the salutes of our grimy, greasy friends, I understood their
thoughts, and, in a cynical way, I felt rather thankful to know that
there are some men at least on whom kindness is not thrown away. The
captain of the carrier said, "I never seen 'em so quiet as this for a
long time, but that was because they seed you. They cotton on to the
Mission--the most on 'em does."

This seems to me a very pretty and significant story. Any one who knows
the British Rough--especially the nautical Rough--knows that the luxury
of an oath is much to him, yet here a thorough crowd of wild and excited
fellows become decorous, and profuse of civilities, only because they
saw a silent and totally emotionless man smoking on the deck of a
steam-carrier. On board the steamer, I noticed that the same spirit
prevailed; the men treated me like a large and essentially helpless
baby, who must be made much of. Alas! do not I remember my first trip on
a carrier, when I was treated rather like a bundle of coarse fish? The
reason for the alteration is obvious, and I give my very last experience
as a most significant thing of its kind. Observe that the roughest and
most defiant of the irreligious men are softened by contact with an
agency which they regard as being too fine or too tiresome for their
fancy, and it is these irregular ruffians who greet the Mission smacks
with the loudest heartiness when they swing into the midst of a fleet.

Now, I put it to any business man, "Is not this a result worth paying
for, if one wants to invest in charitable work?" I repeat that the
Mission is indirectly effecting a national insurance; the men think of
England, and of the marvellous army of good English folk who care for
them, and they are so much the better citizens. We hear a dolorous howl
in Parliament and elsewhere about the dearth of seamen; experts inform
us that we could not send out much more than half our fleet if a pinch
came, because we have not enough real sailors. Is it not well for us, as
Britons, to care as much as we can for our own hardy flesh and
blood--the finest pilots, the cleverest seamen, the bravest men in the
wo