HAPPINESS AND THE PUPvSUIT OF IT, 
voyage. None who have landed on that shore ever 
returned, so that you cannot actually realize what 
is before you, what awaits you. Are you ready ? 
No — for, after the long voyage, much as we used 
to complain and grumble at the bad fare on board — ■ 
for where, and when,, was there ever a passenger 
who was not dissatisfied with some portion of his 
“^^bill of fare,” and thought he was poorly treated 
for his money ? — we are really sorry to leave the 
ship. Many of our fellow-passengers whom we con- 
sidered very bad company, in fact have not spoken 
to for days, now seem not such unpleasant fellows 
after all, and all the old stiffness drops off, as we 
become very friendly. Why, oh why, were we so 
foolish as not to make this discovery before. What 
a pleasant voyage we might have had ! ‘‘Are your 
trunks packed?” “No, we will do it to-morrow ! ” 
To-morrow I ! “ Let go the anchor,” sounds through 
every corner and crevice of the ship, and the rattle 
of that chain is the rattle in your own throat. 
Into the boat you are pushed without that luggage 
which you were to have packed to-morrow. It has 
just saved you the trouble, for these boats take in 
no luggage ; they push off and enter either the dark 
gloomy mist or the bright clouds with the golden 
lining that conceal the shore, are no more heard of, 
and forgotten, for “None return from that quiet 
shore who cross with the boatman pale and cold.” 
It would be difficult to tell what Mr. John’s feel- 
ings were now, for he was sitting with his elbows 
on his knees and his face buried in his hands. He 
was probably thinking it ’s all the same in the end, 
all the same fifty years hence, or may be fifty or 
five days. But he started up and said, “Away with 
such foolish thoughts, as we don’t know when the 
voyage wfill terminate. Due provision must be made 
in case it may prove a long one, or, as it draws 
towards its end, the pilot may be long in boarding. 
Just suppose we were tacking up ‘the Channel,' 
home in view, our voyage over, and waiting for a 
pilot, and all our ship’s stores done ; but the pilot 
does not sail up indeed, none of their flags are as 
yet visible : about, and the passengers are starving, 
with home and plenty in view, what if a strong 
easterly wind should set in, and again blow them 
out to sea ? How are we ever to weather the last 
storm, if our stores are exhausted ? But, before think- 
ing of exhausted stores, I must first think how they are 
to be purchased ; there seems no chance of that at present. 
But the present only is ours, and a capital stamp it is, 
with which to coin the future. For there is no, 
present state of being, however mean, low, and miser- 
