"Yes, and we should all go to God's house on Sunday," said Mrs. Coomber, drying her eyes.
Strange to say, a similar project had been suggested to Coomber by his old friend Peters, who knew a man who wanted to sell his share in one of the large fishing-boats, and was asking forty pounds for it.
"That will leave us ten pounds, mother, to buy the children some new clothes, and take us to Fellness. What do you say to it now?" asked her husband, after they had talked it over.
"Why, it seems too good to be true," said the poor woman, through her tears. "But oh! if only poor Jack was here!" she sighed.
Her husband shook his head, and was silent for a minute or two; but at length he said: "God has been very good to us when we had no thought of Him. I always knew the little 'un must be a sailor's lass, but to think that she should be our Jack's own child is wonderful. The old gentleman had made quite sure of it before he came here—he wouldn't part with his money unless he'd been sure, I know; and now she's ours, just as much as Dick and Bob is. And we'll take good care of her, God bless her, and Him for sending her to us."
The rest of my story is soon told. The fisherman and his family removed to Fellness, and brighter days dawned for them than they had ever hoped to see. When the box arrived from Mr. West, containing the letter and papers relating to the latter years of their son's life, they found that he had become a true Christian through his wife's influence. He had also learned to read and write; and in the last letter sent to his wife before his death, he told her he meant to go and see his parents as soon as he returned from that voyage. Alas! he never did return; but the "little lass," of whom he spoke so lovingly, became God's messenger to his old home, and the joy and comfort of his parents' hearts.
Printed by Cooke & Halsted, The Moorfields Press, London, E.C.