of his father's life. But Mr. Selwyn had to learn that there are miseries beyond even those of poverty, and would have gladly given all, beyond a mere competence, of his noble fortune, to have accompanied his children to England.
At length, and yet how soon!—the day came for the sailing of the Warren Hastings. Marion, tired out with fatigue, was asleep, in her cabin with her nurse; but Frank still held his father's hand, who lingered to the last upon deck. But the boat was in waiting, and Dr. Irvine gently put his arm through that of Mr. Selwyn, and drew him away. Once more he clasped his boy in his arms; and Frank turned to his father a pale face, but a tearless eye, and said, in a low, but tolerably steady, voice, "You may trust me, father." The splash of the oars was heard in the water, the boat rowed rapidly away; but the effort the heroic boy had made to subdue his feeling was too much for his enervated frame, and he sank quite insensible on the shoulder of an old sailor who had approached to console him.
The young voyagers had not been a week at sea before its good effects were apparent: both recovered their appetite, and Marion's little feet
