deck. He saw that he had been saved as by a miracle. The rope would have been of no service to him, only it caught in a crevice on the edge of the deck and held fast. He stood there dripping in his wet clothes, his thoughts running thus:

“What saved me that time? It must have been God. I could not have saved myself. Just a kink in the rope catching in that crevice saved me, nothing else. That was almost miraculous, and God does miraculous things. He thinks my life is worth saving, and I ought not to throw it away on a seafaring life, and I won’t. I will renounce all such ideas, and get an education.”

During the time that he was thus reflecting he was trying to throw the rope so that it would catch in the crevice. Again and again he coiled the rope and threw it; but it would neither kink or catch. Repeated trials satisfied him that supernatural causes put the kinked rope into his hand, and saved his life.

That accident made a very deep impression upon his mind. His thoughts more than ever turned to his home and praying mother. He knew that every day his dear mother remembered him at the Throne of Grace. He had no more doubt of it than he had of his existence. “Was it her prayers?” He could not evade the inquiry. He thought of all her anxieties and wise counsels, and her undying love. “Such a mother!” The thought would force itself uppermost in spite of himself. He felt rebuked, although he had been a good, obedient son. He had not been tender enough of his mother’s feelings; he would be in future. He would quit the canal boat for ever.

It was but a few weeks after the last immersion before James was quite severely attacked by ague, a disease that prevailed somewhat in that region. It prostrated him to such a degree that he was unfitted for labour; and this offered a favourable opportunity for him to carry out the resolution of that night of disaster.

“I must go home, captain,” said James.

“It’s a wise conclusion, Jim. You are too unwell for work, and there’s no place like home for sick folks. I don’t want to part with you, and the men will be sorry to have you go; but I think you’d better go.”

“I regret to leave your service, captain, for I’ve enjoyed it; but I’ve been thinking of your advice, and I guess I shall put it in practice.”

“You can’t do a wiser thing, Jim; and I wouldn’t lose a day about it. As soon as you are able, I’d go to studying, if I was in your place.”

The captain settled with James, paying him at the rate of twelve dollars a month while he was driver, and eighteen dollars a month while he was bowman; and James started for home.

James was never so melancholy in his life as he was on the way home. The ague had taken his strength away, and made him almost as limp as a child. Then, he was thinking more of his duties and his good mother. He had not written to her in his absence, between two and three months, and he rather rebuked himself for the neglect. “True,” he thought, “I have been on the wing all of the time, and there has been little opportunity for writing;” and so he partially excused himself for the neglect. His mother supposed that he was serving on a schooner somewhere on Lake Erie. He ought to have informed her of his whereabouts. So his thoughts were busy during his lonely journey home. It was nearly dark when he left the boat, so that he did not reach home until eleven o’clock at night.

As he drew near the house, he could see the light of the fire through the window. His heart beat quick and strong; he knew that it would be a glad surprise to his mother. Looking in at the window, he beheld her kneeling in the corner, with a book open in the chair before her. Was she reading? He looked again: her eyes were turned heavenward; she was praying. He listened, and he distinctly heard, “Oh, turn unto me, and have mercy upon me! Give Thy strength unto Thy servant, and save the son of Thine handmaid!”