The Uncommercial Traveller | Page 8

pillow of peace kiss thy cheek, and the pleasures of
imagination attend thy dreams; and when length of years makes thee
tired of earthly joys, and the curtain of death gently closes around thy
last sleep of human existence, may the Angel of God attend thy bed,
and take care that the expiring lamp of life shall not receive one rude
blast to hasten on its extinction.
A sailor had these devices on his right arm. 'Our Saviour on the Cross,
the forehead of the Crucifix and the vesture stained red; on the lower
part of the arm, a man and woman; on one side of the Cross, the
appearance of a half moon, with a face; on the other side, the sun; on
the top of the Cross, the letters I.H.S.; on the left arm, a man and
woman dancing, with an effort to delineate the female's dress; under
which, initials.' Another seaman 'had, on the lower part of the right arm,
the device of a sailor and a female; the man holding the Union Jack
with a streamer, the folds of which waved over her head, and the end of

it was held in her hand. On the upper part of the arm, a device of Our
Lord on the Cross, with stars surrounding the head of the Cross, and
one large star on the side in Indian Ink. On the left arm, a flag, a true
lover's knot, a face, and initials.' This tattooing was found still plain,
below the discoloured outer surface of a mutilated arm, when such
surface was carefully scraped away with a knife. It is not improbable
that the perpetuation of this marking custom among seamen, may be
referred back to their desire to be identified, if drowned and flung
ashore.
It was some time before I could sever myself from the many interesting
papers on the table, and then I broke bread and drank wine with the
kind family before I left them. As I brought the Coast-guard down, so I
took the Postman back, with his leathern wallet, walking-stick, bugle,
and terrier dog. Many a heart-broken letter had he brought to the
Rectory House within two months many; a benignantly painstaking
answer had he carried back.
As I rode along, I thought of the many people, inhabitants of this
mother country, who would make pilgrimages to the little churchyard
in the years to come; I thought of the many people in Australia, who
would have an interest in such a shipwreck, and would find their way
here when they visit the Old World; I thought of the writers of all the
wreck of letters I had left upon the table; and I resolved to place this
little record where it stands. Convocations, Conferences, Diocesan
Epistles, and the like, will do a great deal for Religion, I dare say, and
Heaven send they may! but I doubt if they will ever do their Master's
service half so well, in all the time they last, as the Heavens have seen
it done in this bleak spot upon the rugged coast of Wales.
Had I lost the friend of my life, in the wreck of the Royal Charter; had I
lost my betrothed, the more than friend of my life; had I lost my
maiden daughter, had I lost my hopeful boy, had I lost my little child; I
would kiss the hands that worked so busily and gently in the church,
and say, 'None better could have touched the form, though it had lain at
home.' I could be sure of it, I could be thankful for it: I could be content
to leave the grave near the house the good family pass in and out of

every day, undisturbed, in the little churchyard where so many are so
strangely brought together.
Without the name of the clergyman to whom--I hope, not without
carrying comfort to some heart at some time--I have referred, my
reference would be as nothing. He is the Reverend Stephen Roose
Hughes, of Llanallgo, near Moelfra, Anglesey. His brother is the
Reverend Hugh Robert Hughes, of Penrhos, Alligwy.
CHAPTER III
--WAPPING WORKHOUSE

My day's no-business beckoning me to the East-end of London, I had
turned my face to that point of the metropolitan compass on leaving
Covent-garden, and had got past the India House, thinking in my idle
manner of Tippoo-Sahib and Charles Lamb, and had got past my little
wooden midshipman, after affectionately patting him on one leg of his
knee-shorts for old acquaintance' sake, and had got past Aldgate Pump,
and had got past the Saracen's Head (with an ignominious rash of
posting bills disfiguring his swarthy countenance), and had strolled up
the empty yard of his ancient neighbour the Black or Blue Boar, or Bull,
who departed