"The ship will weigh anchor in less than an hour," said a voice close to Hubert's ear, and, turning round, he saw the gentleman who had accompanied him from his home.
"Oh, how do you do?" said Hubert, shaking hands with him. "Do you sail with us?"
"No, only just a mile or so, then I shall return in a boat. Have you a letter to your parents? if so, I shall be happy to post it for you."
Hubert's face turned red: he had forgotten to write, and he replied, "I have not a letter."
"Perhaps you have already sent one?"
"Yes," said Hubert; "I mean no; I have not written; the ship sails so soon, and I have been so engaged that I forgot."
"Forgot?" said the stranger, retaining his hand. "What! forget to write to those parents you may never see again? Come, my lad, that looks ill in a soldier; take a friend's advice, and write a letter at once; if I cannot take it, you will have an opportunity of sending it before many days pass, and your parents must be anxious about you: try and remember all the good counsels they gave you before you left, and never forget them. Good-bye; remember what I say; good-bye."
There was much warmth in the stranger's manner as he shook Hubert's hand, into whose young heart every good resolution returned, and he hastened to the cabin which he was to share with three other cadets. He was silent and thoughtful as he unpacked his chest to find his writing materials, and there the previous evening he had placed his Bible. As he raised the lid, his eye fell upon his mother's last gift, and more earnestly than before he determined upon writing a long letter. The paper was found, and the writing-desk, which a dear little sister had given him, was opened, when in rushed the three noisy companions of his cabin, and made so much disturbance that he found it impossible to write; so, thinking that he should have plenty of time "to-morrow," he put his things back again into his chest, and became as noisy as the others. Another opportunity was lost, another good resolution broken, for the society of noisy and riotous companions; and it may be that the many evils and sorrows of his after-life were but the fruits of his neglecting this first great duty. Had he remembered his parents and their counsels, and cherished the little germ of goodness that was springing up in his heart, heavenly dews might have descended upon the flower, and kept him from the ways of evil.
The vessel at last set sail, and order was restored. Hubert was upon deck, and as he looked over the side of the ship, and saw the white cliffs of his country fading from his view, he for once felt lonely—felt he was leaving all he loved, and he wished he had written home.
"Just a line: I might do it now," he said to himself. He found, however, upon turning to go below, that he would be required to perform one of his military duties almost immediately, so that he could not write then; and he felt such a mixture of sorrow and vexation, that the feelings of the boy mocked, as it were, the dress he wore; and, leaning his head over the side of the ship, more than one large tear mingled with the waters of the deep.