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Naked and scourged and starved, they groan in slavery!"

The rector had encouraged me to browse through his library. He said that ministers should be well-read men. It was no hardship for me—I was fond of books. One day, as I was reading "Hakluyt's Voyages," he rushed into the room. His usually pale face was red and distorted from excitement.

"David, I've news of your brother!" he cried. "I told you that there was a Providence that safeguarded scapegraces! He's in Algiers. He's been captured by pirates! They're holding him in slavery for ransom!"

"Humph," said the commodore, who had followed him into the room, "I don't call that being guided by a special Providence!"

"Well," the rector said, "they might have killed him, or he might have died of a fever in that pestilential country. Yes, I think Providence is watching over him!"

The news had come in a bulky envelope that had been forwarded to Dr. Eccleston by the State Department.

"Read that," cried the rector, tossing the letter into my lap, "and see what becomes of lads who leave comfortable homes to sail the ocean!"

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