you to join in their pastimes, only remember when you take part in their games, not to take part in their evil ways too, and not to let them think that you countenance their profane language or dishonest deeds, but let them see plainly that you are a Christian and are not ashamed of being one. Be as bold to confess your Saviour as you were to resent the insult on your father's name and character that day when I found you lying stunned upon the beach."

Tears started into the lad's eyes as he turned them affectionately upon the young clergyman. "Oh, sir," he said with deep emotion, "I never can forget how kind you were in coming to my rescue; that brutal fellow Nichols might have killed or maimed me for life, if you hadn't appeared at the right moment. Yes, sir, I have been wrong. I am ashamed of myself, I am indeed; sometimes when the lads have said things against you, and called you names, I have let it pass and said nothing, and once I laughed ; and then I haven't liked to speak to you when I have been in their company, and have felt vexed when you have talked to me. I have been very, very ungrateful, but I won't be so again, sir; I won't indeed."

"Philip, my dear boy," said Arthur kindly, "don't think about me, it isn't much I have done for you, and for that little, I see by your looks, and hear by your words, that you are grateful. No, it is not man, but God, that you offend when you are ashamed to stand up for the right, and to confess that you are His. If you feel gratitude towards me who have done so little for you, what ought you not to feel towards Him Who died to save you. Ah, Philip, in your baptism you were made His child, you were enlisted into His army, it was then promised for you that as His faithful soldier and servant you would fight manfully under His banner till your life's end. Are you striving to keep that promise? will you be a good and brave soldier in that great army of the living God, or will you be a coward and deserter?'

"I often feel, sir, that I have not strength to resist all the temptations I have to endure from companions I cannot always avoid. I pray to God to help me indeed, but now and then I have given way, and said and done what I have afterwards been ashamed of."

"That is the very reason, Philip, why you should come to be confirmed, that you may obtain more strength for

this daily conflict against sin and the great enemy of souls; and still more help will be supplied you, if afterwards you receive prayerfully and worthily the Blessed Sacrament of our Lord's Body and Blood."

"I'll think over what you have said, sir; you have put these matters in a new light to me this evening; but if, after being confirmed and taking the Sacrament I should do something wrong, be led away by the bad fellows I must be with every now and then "

"If you pray to Him, God will give you His Spirit so that you will be able to resist temptation, however strong it may be. Remember you are enlisted in an army the final victory of which is absolutely certain, the great Captain of our salvation can never be defeated. Trust in Him only, look not to yourself but to Him; 'Commit thy way unto the Lord, and put thy trust in Him, and He shall bring it to pass,' says the Psalmist, and further on in the same psalm is the comforting assurance, The Lord ordereth a good man's goings, and maketh his way acceptable to Himself; though he fall, he shall not be cast away, for the Lord upholdeth him with His hand.'

At that moment Owen and his daughter entered the cottage. After exchanging friendly greetings with them, and chatting for a few minutes with Owen about the fishing season and other matters, Arthur took leave of the family, telling Philip he would take an early opportunity of seeing him again and continuing their conversation.

CHAPTER VIL

THE CAPTURE.

"Thou who in darkness walking did'st appear
Upon the waves and Thy disciples cheer,
Come, Lord, in lonesome days, when storms assail
And earthly hopes and human succours fail :
When all is dark may we behold Thee nigh,
And hear Thy voice,- Fear not, for it is L.'”

THE next day was Sunday. It was a glorious morning, not a cloud on the bright blue sky, the sea was smooth as a mirror, and fell in the gentlest ripples on the shingly beach where all the fishing boats were drawn up; as more from the force of habit, than from any sense of religion, the Sennen folk did not as a rule go out fishing on Sundays. Out in the offing lay a cutter at anchor. She had arrived in the night, and was recognised by those who were earliest astir in the morning as a revenue boat. On board her was the dreaded pressgang.

Just as Arthur was about to ride to St. Sennen for morning service, his faithful servant, old Roger, came up to him, and said,

"I hear, Mr. Arthur, that a cutter with the pressgang on board is at anchor off Sennen Cove. Sunday is a favourite day for those chaps to land; they always find the men at home then, and so they are easier to catch. I thought I would warn you about it, sir, because their game now is to carry off all the men and lads who are called Methodists; so you had better tell some friends of ours to make themselves scarce for the day."

"This is bad news, indeed, Roger," said Arthur; “I knew a pressgang was in the neighbourhood, but never thought of their coming our way. I will gallop down to Sennen Cove at once; I shall have time to ride there and see what's going on before service begins."

When Arthur arrived at the Cove he found everything as usual; there lay the cutter indeed quietly at anchor; a few men and boys sitting or lying lazily on the beach were watching her, and speculating as to the intentions of those on board. To Arthur's inquiries, they replied that no one had landed yet, and some asserted that there was no pressgang with the cutter, but that she was probably sent to look out for smugglers. Arthur left the beach and proceeded to church.

Being so fine a day there was a larger congregation than usual. Philip, with his father and sister, was in his accustomed place. Arthur's manner to-day was unusually grave and earnest. His long talk with Philip on the previous evening had left a melancholy impression on his mind. He felt that the few who were striving to do right, who had some faith in God and some love towards their Saviour, were exposed to trials, temptations, and persecutions, which he feared lest they might not have strength to withstand. For Philip he was specially anxious, and fervently had he that morning prayed to his Father in heaven to guide and protect the lad, and not suffer him to be tempted above what he was able to bear. this new cause of trouble, the idea of the pressgang coming down upon his flock, had filled him with alarm and apprehension. It was with difficulty that during the service he could keep his mind calmly fixed on Him without whose permission not a sparrow falleth to the ground. Before the sermon he gave out a psalm which was a favourite both with himself and the villagers-the 121st:

"To Sion's hill I lift my eyes,
From thence expecting aid,
From Sion's hill and Sion's God,

Who heaven and earth hath made.

"Sheltered beneath th' Almighty's wings
Thou shalt securely rest,

Where neither sun nor moon shalt thee
By day or night molest.

"From common accidents of life,

His care shall guard thee still,

From the blind strokes of chance and foes

That lie in wait to kill.

Then

"At home, abroad, in peace, in war,

Thy God shall thee defend,

Conduct thee through life's pilgrimage
Safe to thy journey's end."

These, indeed, were words of cheer and solace which had often breathed comfort into sad and desponding hearts. To those whose lives were spent for the most part on the treacherous deep they came with peculiar force; but never had Arthur himself felt their power as he did that day. The little congregation sung the psalm very heartily, as if fully convinced by their own experience of its truth. When Arthur ascended the pulpit his confidence had. returned, and he felt that he could trust his own future and that of his flock in the hands of the Almighty, Who had hitherto helped and sustained him. He spoke on a theme of which he was never weary, he told them of a Father's loving care over His children, how He yearned over them all, though they had wandered far away from Him; how it was His will "that all men should be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth." The terrors of the law, he said, might indeed sometimes startle men in the midst of a career of sin, and rouse them to a sense of their danger, but it was the story of God's great love to the world, in sending His Son to die for poor fallen men and women, which moved and melted hardened hearts far more than fear,-that must not be the element of our religion, but love, for God is love, and, "His tender mercies are over all His works." And then, if they loved Him, and trusted Him, help would come to them from above, when they most needed it. "I will lift up my eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help." Now all might be peaceful and secure with them, the sky bright and cloudless, health, happiness, and quiet days secured to them. But who could tell how long such pleasing prospects might last? How often had they seen, after some calm brilliant day in summer, the little cloud rise out of the sea, which as it rose became larger and blacker, till it burst in a furious storm, and the lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and the winds raged. So it might be with many among them. The cloud might come, but no cloud was too dense for God's love to penetrate, no storm so fierce that He could not keep those who loved Him and trusted Him safe

D