owing very fast, we carried away our main-top
mast. This accident was fatal; the privateer came alongside of us and
laid us by the board, and that night I was in a French prison, and, I
may say, a pauper; for the insurance of the vessel was void, from my
having sailed without convoy. I felt that I had no one to thank but
myself for the unfortunate position I was in; at all events, I was
severely punished, for I remained a prisoner for nearly six years. I
contrived to escape with three or four others; we suffered dreadfully,
and at last arrived in England, in a Swedish vessel, without money, or
even clothes that would keep out the weather. Of course, I had nothing
to do but to look out for a berth on board of a ship, and I tried for
that of second mate, but without success; I was too ragged and looked
too miserable; so I determined, as I was starving, to go before the
mast. There was a fine vessel in the port; I went on board to offer
myself; the mate went down to the captain, who came on deck, and who
should he be but Sanders? I hoped that he would not remember me, but he
did immediately, and held out his hand. I never did feel so ashamed in
my life as I did then. Sanders perceived it, and asked me down into the
cabin. I then told him all that had happened, and he appeared to forget
that I had behaved so ill to him; he offered me a berth on board, and
money in advance to fit me out. But if he would not remember my
conduct, I could not forget it, and I told him so, and begged his
forgiveness. Well, sir, that good man, as long as he lived, was my
friend. I became his second mate before he died, and we were again very
intimate. My misfortunes had humbled me, and I once more read the Bible
with him; and I have, I trust, done so ever since. When he died, I
continued second mate for some time, and then was displaced. Since
that, I have always been as a common seaman on board of different
vessels; but I have been well treated and respected, and I may add, I
have not been unhappy, for I felt that property would have only led me
into follies, and have made me forget, that in this world we are to live
so as to prepare ourselves for another. Now, William, you have the
history of Masterman Ready; and I hope that there are portions of it
which may prove useful to you. To-morrow we must be off betimes, and as
we are all to breakfast early together, why, I think the sooner we go to
bed the better."

"Very true," repli