served, and he seemed unwilling to intrude himself
upon us. After some time, however, he came and sat near us, and thanked
me for the note I had written, which, as he supposed, had not only been
the means of obtaining his freedom, but of his life being preserved.

"I wrote merely on the possibility of any European having escaped the
massacre which I understood had taken place," I answered. "I can
therefore claim no thanks from you."

"I am not the less grateful," he answered. "I had so fully expected to
be killed, that I feel like one risen from the dead."

"I trust that you have risen to newness of life," I ventured to say, for
I am sure it was a remark my father would have made, and I felt anxious
to be assured that the young man was under religious impressions. It
was an opportunity indeed I dare not let pass by.

"Yes, Miss Liddiard, I do feel that," he exclaimed. "And with what
horror do I reflect what would have been my doom had I died with my
companions. I knew the truth when I was a boy, for I had been brought
up by a pious father and mother, but I became careless and wild, and
neglected all their precepts and warnings. I went on from bad to worse,
and at length, believing that if I could get out to the Pacific--of
which I had read--I could enjoy unfettered liberty and licence, I
shipped on board a vessel bound out, round Cape Horn. Having knocked
about in the way I proposed for some time, though, as may be supposed, I
did not find the life among rough seamen and fierce savages as agreeable
as I had expected, I at length reached Sydney in New South Wales. I
there joined the sandal wood trader, which has been so fearfully
destroyed.

"Just before going on board I met an old friend of my father's, a
missionary, whom I had known at home. He spoke to me seriously, and
warned me against joining the vessel, knowing as he did, the lawless
character of her crew. He offered to obtain my discharge if I would
come and live with him. His words made a deep impression on my heart,
although I was too self-willed to follow his advice. During the voyage,
while we were sailing from island to island, those words often and often
recurred to my mind. I in vain attempted to drive them from me. When I
saw my companions being put to death--expecting to meet the same fate--
how earnestly I wished that I had followed my friend's counsels. I
could only utter, `Lord be merciful to me a sinner,' and entreated God
to pro