Said the dying man, “I can answer you all in one word—I did not obey my parents!" These were the last words he spoke to me. After saying a few words more to him, I came away, reflecting upon his awful condition, and the reason which he gave me for being in that dark and gloomy jail-"I did not obey my pa rents!" THE DROWNING CHILD. A FAMILY, the father, mother, and three children, the youngest between two and three years old, had been making a visit, and were returning to the city of New York by one of the Williamsburgh ferry-boats toward evening, on the fourth of July. They were evidently in humble life, and had had a rare treat in the pleasure of a holiday, dressed in their best, and flushed with the enjoyment of health. They were sitting in the stern of the boat, and near the railing; the younger children playing near the parents, frolicsome as kittens. It was a picture pleasing to look upon, and it made one's heart glad and grateful to see a group so joyful in each other, and evidently as blest among themselves as if they had been born to wealth. It was a very pleasant day, and a pleasant hour of the day. A few minutes more would bring them home, and the children, tired of their day's play, would be asleep. Suddenly the youngest, frolicking on the floor, rolled under the railing, and in an instant was overboard. Many were looking on, but it was so sudden and unexpected that no one could arrest it. A shout was raised for the boat to be stopped; but before that could be done the father leaped over into the deep, and struck out manfully in search of his drowning child. The mother had shrieked with agony as her child had gone; and now that her husband was also overboard, her anguish was terrible to behold. A lady strove to console her, gathered the other children about her, and bade her trust in God and hope for the best. The father proved to be a noble swimmer, but the water was so agitated by the motion of the boat that he could see nothing of his child, and for some minutes he beat about to no purpose. Small boats put out from the shore, and one of them picked the father up when he was nearly exhausted, and he was brought to the steamer and lifted on board. was a fresh scene of distress, when the father and mother met again. He had returned from the watery-grave himself; but their child, their pet-lamb, was lost. As he was raised on deck, the mother Here cried, "The child! the child! where is he?" He looked at her, and with a thoughtfulness and beauty not to be expected in such a moment, answered gently, "Mary, God has him!" The boat still lingered, and the passengers were straining their eyes into the distance, hoping that one of the boats might yet rescue the child. It had now been half-an-hour in the water. Presently a shout went up, and the word was passed along that the child was found. It was picked up by one of the many in search, and a solitary oarsman rowed on with his precious charge. As he came alongside, the hardy old tar, with a tenderness of feeling that did him honour, covered the face of the child. He could not bear to shock the parents with the sudden sight of their dead child! Yes, it was dead. It was taken on board, and the gentle lady who had sought to comfort the mother in her anguish, took the little one and opened its dress, and laid her hand on its heart, but it was still. All the means that could be applied were of no avail to restore the spirit that had fled. What a change was here! The boat reached its wharf, and the family, a mourning, wretched family, went off with their dead child to their dreary home. The papers mentioned the next morning under the head of accidents, that a child was drowned from one of the ferry-boats yesterday; but how little of the sorrow of that disaster is told in such a line! How much sorrow there is in this world, that the world knows nothing of! THE PRAYING SAILOR-BOY. THE Cornelia was a good ship (said one of the West India chaplains of the Seaman's Friend Society), but at one |