"Well, there\'s nothin\' to do, but to hev faith, an\' keep a-tryin\'."

The speaker was old Mrs. Simmons, boarding-house keeper, and resident of a certain town on the Ohio River. The prime cause of her remark was Captain Sam Toppie, of the steamboat Queen Ann.

Captain Sam had stopped with Mrs. Simmons every time the Queen Ann laid up for repairs, and he was so genial, frank and manly, that he had found a warm spot in the good old lady\'s heart.

But one thing marred the otherwise perfect happiness of Mrs. Simmons when in Captain Sam\'s society, and that was what she styled his "lost condition." For Mrs. Simmons was a consistent, conscientious Methodist, while Captain Sam was—well, he was a Western steamboat captain.

This useful class of gentlemen are in high repute among shippers and barkeepers, and receive many handsome compliments from the daily papers along the line of the Western rivers; but, somehow, the religious Press is entirely silent about them, nor have we ever seen of any special mission having been sent to them.

Captain Sam was a good specimen of the fraternity—good-looking, good-natured, quick-witted, prompt, and faithful, as well as quick-tempered, profane, and perpetually thirsty. To carry a full load, put his boat through in time, and always drink up to his peg, were his cardinal principles, and he faithfully lived up to them.

Of the fair sex he was a most devoted admirer, and if he had not possessed a great deal of modesty, for a steamboat captain, he could have named two or three score of young women who thought almost as much of him as the worthy boarding-house keeper did.

Good Mrs. Simmons had, to use her own language, "kerried him before the Lord, and wrastled for him;" but it was very evident, from Sam\'s walk and conversation, that his case had not yet been adjudicated according to Mrs. Simmons\'s liking.

He still had occasional difficulties with the hat-stand and stairway after coming home late at night; his breath, though generally odorous, seemed to grieve Mrs. Simmons\'s olfactories, and his conversation, as heard through his open door in Summer, was thickly seasoned with expressions far more Scriptural than reverential.

One Christmas, the old lady presented to the captain a handsome Bible, with his name stamped in large gilt letters on the cover. He was so delighted and so proud of his present, that he straightway wrapped it in many folds of paper to prevent its being soiled, and then stowed it neatly away in the Queen Ann\'s safe, for secure keeping.

When he told Mrs. Simmons what he had done, she sighed deeply; but fully alive to the importance of the case, promised him a common one, not too good to read daily.

"Daily! Bless you, Mrs. Simmons! Why, I hardly have time to look in the paper, and see who\'s gone up, and who\'s gone down, and who\'s been beat."

"But your better part, cap\'en?" pleaded the old lady.

"I—I don\'t know, my good woman—hard to find it, I guess—the hull lot averages purty low."

"But, cap\'en," she continued, "don\'t you feel your need of a change?"

"Not from the Queen Ann, ma\'am—she only needs bigger engines—"

"Change of heart, I mean, cap\'en," interrupted Mrs. Simmons. "Don\'t you feel your need of religion?"

"Ha! ha!" roared Captain Sam; "the idea of a steamboat captain with religion! Why, bless your dear, innocent, old soul, the fust time he wanted to wood up in a hurry, his religion would git, quicker\'n lightnin\'. The only steamboatman I ever knowed in the meetin\'-house line went up for seven year for settin\' fire to his own boat to git the insurance."

Mrs. Simmons could not recall at the moment the remembrance of any pious captain, so she ceased laboring with Captain Sam. But when he went out, she placed on his table a tract, entitled "The Furnace Seven Times Heated," which tract the captain considerately handed to his engineer, supposing it to be a circular on intensified caloric.

Year after year the captain laid up for repairs, and put up with Mrs. Simmons. Year after year he was jolly, genial, chivalrous, generous, but—not what good Mrs. Simmons earnestly wanted him to be.

He would buy tickets to all the church fairs, give free passages to all preachers recommended by Mrs. Simmons, and on Sunday morning he would respectfully escort the old lady as far as the church-door.

On one occasion, when Mrs. Simmons\'s church building was struck by lightning, a deacon dropped in with a subscription-paper, while the captain was in. The generous steamboatman immediately put himself down for fifty dollars; and although he improved the occasion to condemn severely the meanness of certain holy people, and though his language seemed to create an atmosphere which must certainly melt the money—for those were specie days—Mrs. Simmons declared to herself that "he couldn\'t be fur from the kingdom when his heart was so little set on Mammon as that."

"He\'s too good for Satan—the Lord must hev him," thought the good old lady.

Once again the Queen Ann needed repairing, and again the captain found himself at his old boarding-place.

Good Mrs. Simmons surveyed him tenderly through her glasses, and instantly saw there had something unusual happened. Could it be—oh! if it only could be—that he had put off the old man, which is sin! She longed to ask him, yet, with a woman\'s natural delicacy, she determined to find out without direct questioning.

"Good season, cap\'en?" she inquired.

"A No. 1, ma\'am—positively first-class," replied the captain.

"Hed good health—no ager?" she continued.

"Never was better, my dear woman—healthy right to the top notch," he answered.

"It must be," said good Mrs. Simmons, to herself—"it can\'t be nothin\' else. Bless the Lord!"

This pious sentiment she followed up by a hymn, whose irregularities of time and tune were fully atoned for by the spirit with which she sung. A knock at the door interrupted her.

"Come in!" she cried.

Captain Sam entered, and laid a good-sized, flat flask on the table, saying:

"I\'ve just been unpackin\', an\' I found this; p\'r\'aps you ken use it fur cookin\'. It\'s no use to me; I\'ve sworn off drinkin\'."

And before the astonished lady could say a word, he was gone.

But the good soul could endure the suspense no longer. She hurried to the door, and cried:

"Cap\'en!"

"That\'s me," answered Captain Sam, returning.

"Cap\'en," said Mrs. Simmons, in a voice in which solemnity and excitement struggled for the mastery, "hez the Lord sent His angel unto you?"

"He hez," replied the captain, in a very decided tone, and abruptly turned, and hurried to his own room.

"Bless the Lord, O my soul!" almost shouted Mrs. Simmons, in her ecstacy. "We musn\'t worry them that\'s weak in the faith, but I sha\'n\'t be satisfied till I hear him tell his experience. Oh, what a blessed thing to relate at prayer-meetin\' to-night!"

There was, indeed, a rattling of dry bones at the prayer-meeting that night, for it was the first time in the history of the church that the conversion of a steamboat captain had been reported.

On returning home from the meeting, additional proof awaited the happy old saint. The captain was in his room—in his room at nine o\'clock in the evening! She had known the captain for years, but he had never before got in so early. There could be no doubt about it, though—there he was, softly whistling.

"I\'d rather hear him whistlin\' Windham or Boylston," thought Mrs. Simmons; "that tune don\'t fit any hymn I know. P\'r\'aps, though, they sing it in some of them churches up to Cincinnaty," she charitably continued.

"Cap\'en," said she, at breakfast, next morning, when the other guests had departed, "is your mind at peace?"

"Peace?" echoed the captain—"peaceful as the ............