V.

CAPTAIN ANTLE, after his remarkable change, developed a power of mental absorption in studying the Scriptures that was truly astonishing and such as enabled him to retain in his memory the greater portion of what he read; and he read with the avidity of one who literally hungered and thirsted after knowledge.

Thus did he draw not only inspiration, but mental and spiritual pabulum from the very fountain-head of divine truth. From these studies he formulated a simple and primitive creed, and saturated his mind with all the richness of a pure and vigorous English.

Of a sanguine temperament, energetic, warm-hearted, fearless, aggressive-in him, we have the make-up of a man who cannot easily be suppressed or long kept in the background. On the contrary, such are the men who always come to the front and eagerly lead in desperate assaults and forlorn hopes. With nothing of the Puritan's narrowness and bigotry, Captain Antle had all the Puritan's fiery zeal and stubborn tenacity.

As a natural consequence, the captain did not wait long for a favorable opportunity to begin his great life-work. He created opportunities. He began at home with those who ministered to him. He began with Mrs. Williams and her husband (a man of mere negative merits), who became daily

attendants at the captain's chamber-meetings, but who, eventually, connected themselves with a near-by Methodist society. Even Molloy felt the prevailing influence and went to mass more frequently, admitting that the captain seemed to him like one of the old saints- like Xavier or DeSales, for example and ventured to predict, or rather, to bet, that he would end his days in a monastery.

But never was the genial doctor more mistaken in a prognosis; for all the captain desired, and that with his whole heart, was to be able to get out once more among menout among the publicans and sinners, and into the very thick of the fight with the world, the flesh, and the devil. No dim religious cloister for such as he! Especially did he yearn to be among the sailors, whom he thoroughly understood, in all their trials and temptations, and with whom he heartily sympathized. For this work he was peculiarly adapted; nay, more; divinely called, as he himself believed.

One day, as he was beginning to think about venturing out of doors again, he said to me in his abrupt way, “Charles, I shall want you to help me."

"Certainly, captain," I replied, "I shall be only too happy to do so at any time; but first along, I suppose, you will need your crutch, won't you?”

Oh, no, Charles! That's not what I mean. I can hobble around now with a stick, well enough. What I want, Charles, is for you to help me in my work. You're a man of education. I want you to be my schoolmaster, and I want you to help me in other ways. There's a work for you to do in

the Lord's Vineyard. The Master is calling you, my dear brother. He has given you more than the one talent. You must put them all to good use, Charles. Yes, I shall want you to help me in the Lord's work."

My entire unworthiness if not inability, to be even the humblest co-laborer with such a man as Captain Antle, was borne in on me with painful consciousness. Hesitating to accept this commission, I shook my head doubtfully.

Charles," the captain said, taking me gently by the arm, "you love the Lord Jesus?"

This question, propounded in a tone of such tender solicitude, and with such personal directness, was, indeed, extremely searching, and not easily evaded. What could I say that would be at once consistent with the truth and yet perfectly satisfying to my esteemed friend? Observing my embarrassment he laid his hand on my shoulder, and in a voice almost trembling with emotion, said,

"Charles, my dear Charles! You, of all my friends, could not tell me that you do not love that Jesus who shed his most precious blood to save your immortal soul?"

I was at a loss how to answer him. I felt like a convicted culprit. The captain drew me closer to his side, pleadingly, almost, I may say, wooingly.

"Charles, my dear friend! I could never bear to hear from your lips that you did not love my Saviour. It would break my heart. It would, indeed. You of all others! Surely, you couldn't do it, Charles!"

"I fear, captain, I do not love Jesus as I ought to," I at

last ventured to reply; "but no intelligent person who has candidly read the Gospels, can possibly fail to admire so perfect, so divine a character."

"Character!" the captain echoed, almost in horror. “Oh, no, Charles, not character! Don't say character! Saviour! Redeemer! The Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world! My sins-your sins! The sweet, spotless, innocent Lamb, slain for me, for you, for all mankind! The just for the unjust to bring us to God. Oh, Charles, Charles! Think of it! Even now he is standing at the door of your heart and knocking. I don't ask you to answer me, Charles; but can you refuse to answer Him? How long would you let your father or your mother stand knocking at your door? Jesus is more to you than mother or father, or all the world beside."

"If I had your great faith, captain," I replied, almost at a loss what to say, "I know I should be able to declare my love for Jesus; but I have faith enough to believe that my faith will be strengthened and my love increased as we work and pray together. I promise you, captain, I shall do what I can."

"No one can promise more, Charles; no one can do better, provided you cast yourself entirely on the Lord. Nothing but faith can save your soul-faith in your Redeemer. Salvation is offered on no other terms. For forty years I was the vilest of sinners. In the twinkling of a neye, all was forgiven. I know you are different from me, and I know that you will grow in grace and in the knowledge of

the Lord Jesus. Perhaps what was a birth in my soul will be a growth in yours. Oh, my dear friend, I pray the Lord may lead you to Him at last, whatever be the way chosen. I don't ask or expect you to leave your friends, change your occupation, or give much of your time. But, as I say, you being a man of education, one who has always attended church and read the Bible, and been brought up in a Christian home you, Charles, can be of great assistance to me in my work, in many ways, and I know you will do it. I shall rely on you, at all events. To-morrow, please God, I intend to call on Mr. Buckminster and tell him my plans. Mr. Beals has been to see me several times, good soul; but he's always in such a hurry, and, besides, he's not the man to talk with about such matters, anyway. I must tell the governor first, you know, and then 'twill be all ship-shape all right. But I suppose he won't listen to my giving up the sea. He'll think I'm crazy, like poor Molloy does, and the rest. But I can't help it, Charles. The Lord is the one to be obeyed. He is the Captain of my salvation."

Accordingly the next forenoon being a sunny April day, the captain left his chambers for the first time in three months, for the purpose of paying his respects to his employers.

Though, ordinarily, the walk would not have taken more than twenty minutes he was nearer two hours in accomplishing it, and that not by reason of his lameness, but because of encountering on the way so many of his old friends and acquaintances, who were eager to grasp his hand and congratulate him on his recovery. Some who had heard of his "craze"