hould never see you any more; or old England,
or the Hall, or Uncle Tom, or any of my friends. Peter wasn't so
unhappy, because he had no friends remaining, and his native village was
in ruins. The darkness came thicker and thicker down upon us. Nothing
could we see but the dark waves rising up on every side against the sky.
Not a star was visible. We no longer, indeed, knew in which direction
to look for the schooner. It appeared, I remember exactly, as if we
were being tossed about inside a black ball. I could not calculate how
long a time had passed since I had fallen overboard, when I began to
feel very hungry. I had had a bit of biscuit in my pocket, but that had
been lost with my jacket, and now I had nothing to eat. I bore it for
some time, and then I felt very faint, and thought that I could not
possibly hold on any longer. Still I did my best not to let go, and
every now and then Peter spoke to me and encouraged me, "Neber fear,
massa," said he. "Him you tell me of, live up in sky, Him watch over
us." We did not speak much, however; we could not, I do not know why.
Oh, that was a dreary, awful night, not likely to be forgotten! Yet
here I am alive. I shall never despair after that, and shall always
feel, in however terrible a position I am placed, that a merciful God is
watching over me, and that He will find means to save me.

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 7.

CAUSE FOR GRATITUDE.

The longest night must come to an end. Many people, when kept awake in
a comfortable bed with the toothache or some other pain, or perhaps with
a little fever, think themselves very miserable, and much to be pitied.
Peter Pongo and I were rather worse off, tossing about on the grating
out on the Atlantic there, not having anything to eat, and not knowing
any moment when we might be washed away from our unsteady raft. How we
held on during all that night I cannot tell. The light came at last.
We knew where the east was by seeing a bright red streak in the sky. We
kept our eyes turned eagerly in that direction, for we fancied that
there we should see the schooner. Our view, however, was very much
circumscribed, and it was only as we were tossed up to the top of a sea
that we could obtain even a glimpse of the horizon. We had scarcely
time to assure ourselves whether or not there was a sail there before
either a foam-topped sea jumped up before us, or we sank down again into
the trough. We gazed, but we gazed in vain. N