preaching, ritualistic services, and the like! us rest satisfied with this and nothing more!" How many of Such are among the questions now agitating the captain's mind — an agitation which he is determined to push through the Christian community, whether people hear or whether they forbear. He has already been urging his views on a number of our ministers; and, while most of them admit that such a reform would undoubtedly result in good, few consider it practical or even possible, as society is at present constituted an argument, however, which has little weight with the captain, who is of opinion that not only church-work and methods, but the present constitution of society itself needs reforming, root and branch. [The reader need scarcely be informed that many of our modern churches have adopted, to a certain extent, the methods and uses so strenuously advocated by Captain Antle; while not a few have even exceeded the limits designed by him, and, possibly, with quite as beneficial results as he could have anticipated.] Nearly five months elapsed before I again heard from the Water-street Mission, and then, alas! came what must constitute our final chapter. XVIII. LONG before this, of course, you must have seen the sad announcement of Captain Antle's death. . . Even yet, I can scarcely believe it-scarcely realize that such a full, rich, active life is ended-such a bright light extinguished. It is inexplicable! What can we do but stand in wonder and ask ourselves, "Why is it? What means it?" How many could be better spared! Yet he, of all others, is the one to be taken. . . . How truly mysterious are the ways of Providence. His fatal malady gave him no intimation of its approach, possibly no suffering; "no fiery throbbing pain, No cold gradations of decay; And freed his soul the nearest way." Never was he more active and cheerful than during his last day on earth; but, in the night-watches, his angel came and led him softly home. Can we doubt that he is already reaping his glorious reward-that his delighted spirit has already heard the "Well done, good and faithful servant"? That his loss to the Mission is irreparable, goes without saying. Although we have no lack of good friends and efficient helpers, the painful truth is all too evident, there can be only one George Antle. I tremble to think of it; but confidently believe that the Lord will not allow his work to languish for want of human instrumentality. The funeral service was held in the Mission-room, and was one of the most remarkable occasions of the kind I ever attended. Not only the room, but the street was thronged; while, out of respect to the deceased, the stores in the vicinity were closed, many of them draped in mourning, and every vessel in the port had her flag at half-mast. Clergymen from four different denominations took part in the exercises, professional singers rendered the music, and eight sailors acted as bearers. Just as the friends were about to be invited to view the remains for the last time, the Roman Catholic priest of the parish, the venerable Father Burke, stepped on the platform, and said: "My friends, though uninvited and, no doubt, unexpected, I make no apology for being here on this solemn occasion. The good man, whose remains lie before us and whose voice, so familiar to many in this room, is now silent forever,was the friend of us all my friend as well as your friend my brother as well as yours. "Of the dead and the absent, to say nothing but what is good, is an old maxim and an excellent one. Surely, whether dead or living, absent or present, nothing but what is good could be truthfully spoken of him whom we mourn to-day. Yes, he was a good man, if ever there was one; and if any man ever strove to obey the Divine command, it was he. Like the holy apostles of old the humble fishermen of Galilee he left all to follow the Lord; and faithfully did he follow wherever those blessed footsteps led him. "Yes, he was a good man, and you will excuse me if I say he was a good Catholic; for I mean by that, mark you, that his heart was large enough to take us all in, of whatever name or creed. I don't believe that ever a word was heard in this room at any rate, from his lips- either for or against any church or any denomination whatever; so that adherents of all creeds came in here and forgot their differences-forgot all but their need of a Saviour. And all because of the largeness of his heart—all because he was human before he was anything else. "Known as the Sailor's Friend, he was that and more he was the friend of the poor, the outcast, the despised. Out of the mire of iniquity, he rescued many a poor creature; and whether it was to your church or to my church that soul was added, was all one to him, so long as that soul was out of danger. "No one I ever knew, better exemplified the lesson of the Good Samaritan or more faithfully followed the teachings of Him who died on that cross which for you and for me is our common symbol of salvation. . . His working-day "Yes, he is gone; but he is not dead. has ended; but his work remains. His voice is silent; but his words live in many a heart. His hands are folded; but the good seed they scattered will multiply a hundredfold. "Farewell, brother! but only for a day. We shall soon follow you. Would to God, we could leave behind us such a record as yours!" No words that were uttered on the occasion made a deeper impression on the minds of the assembly than those of Father Burke. It was an extraordinary circumstance, to be sure, for a Roman Catholic clergyman to be heard in such a place; but it must be remembered that the Mission-room was not a church nor Captain Antle a minister of any denomination. Moreover, the captain and he were intimate friends, and the priest himself a man of broad sympathies and independent views. That he was thoroughly sincere in all he said or implied was evident not only from the tenderness of his expressions but from the tears that accompanied their delivery. An opportunity was then given to view the remains, and for over half an hour, the crowd filed past — as motley a crowd, certainly, as ever was gathered together. Never was coffin bedewed with more abundant, more sincere tokens of sorrow and not tears only, but sobbings and wailings of grief arose from poor creatures, when they beheld, for the last time, that face which was never turned toward them but in compassionate sympathy. Then, the coffin-lid replaced and the national flag folded round it, the eight young seamen bore the body of their beloved captain to its resting-place beneath the scarlet and gold of October. Sandy McGregor and myself, together with the worthy couple with whom the captain had so long resided, were his chief mourners. After us, came Mr. Buckminster, Mr. Beals, and many of the employés of the house, followed by a long |