Such is the unvarnished story of the escape and of the travels of these four British sailors. There are few men who could have stood the fatigue and borne the sufferings through which they passed so bravely and so well. But a kind Providence watched over them, and when they stepped once more on the soil of their native land they wept for joy, and could scarcely restrain the emotions of their breasts. How sweet is liberty to a man after he has been deprived of it for a time! and it is all the sweeter when it has been dearly bought.

John Murray and Peter Smith proceeded to their repective homes. George Smith and Charles Chambers went on together to Scarborough, whither we shall follow them in the next chapter.

CHAPTER IV.

HOME

AGAIN.

"TO ADAM, PARADISE WAS HOME.

TO THE GOOD AMONG HIS

DESCENDANTS HOME IS PARADISE.-J. C. Hare.

"HE IS TO BE PITIED WHOSE HOUSE IS IN SOME VALLEY OF GRIEF BETWEEN THE HILLS, WITH THE LONGEST NIGHT AND THE SHORTEST DAY. HOME SHOULD BE THE CENTRE OF JOY, EQUATORIAL AND TROPICAL."-H. W. Beecher.

"Man, through all ages of revolving time,
Unchanging man, in every varying clime,
Deems his own land of every land the pride,
Beloved by heaven o'er all the world beside.
His home the spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer sweeter spot than all the rest.”

J. MONTGOMERY.

CHAPTER IV.

HOME AGAIN.

HE love of home is instinctive in the human

THE

breast. Whether it is a palace or a cottage, a mansion or a wigwam, which bears that title, its owner looks upon it with greater fondness than on any other spot on earth; and, after being absent from it for awhile, returns to it with peculiar joy. But all homes are not homely. Some are scenes of strife and rioting; others of icy selfishness and mutual unconcern; and others again of anxious and corroding care arising from a want of confidence in God. If you have a true home-a home of peace, affection, and contentment-value it highly, and do all you can to render it as happy as, in this world, a home can be.

To reach his home, must be to one who has long been roaming through the desert, tossed upon a boisterous sea, or a prisoner in a dreary fortress, an event fraught with inexpressible delight; and some of

E

the veterans of the war with France, who for so long a period were unjustly detained in the fortress of Verdun, could tell of their emotions when they were at length set free, and once more trod the shores of their native land. George Smith has left a record of what now occurred, in his own words, and from that record I must quote. We left him with his friend Charles Chambers, on their way from Shields to Scarborough; and in a letter, now before me, giving an account of what followed, he says—

"When we had got within five miles of the town, I said to him, Now, Charles, I have no doubt that we have completed on foot 900 miles; we will foot it no longer, and I took him to the public house where the Bridlington carrier puts up, got him a pipe and a pint of ale, left him, and went among my friends. It was soon known all over Scarbro' that I had arrived, and many others having husbands and sons in prison, I was soon surrounded with a number of persons who sent for my companion, provided us with a good dinner, and procured us a couple of horses, to take us to Bridlington Quay, and a lad to bring them back. He was a sillyish lad, and went off, without my knowing it, to tell my mother. As we came in sight of the Quay, I saw a man-of-war in the bay, and