uld make two or three voyages and save money, I would go
to England and study there, and be better able to declare the glad
tidings of salvation, and that the people would more willingly listen to
me.

"It was on the second trip I made that the vessel I was in was wrecked
not far from the mouth of the Bonny, and I was making my way with some
of those who had escaped with me to Sierra Leone when Captain Willis
engaged me to serve on board the `Chieftain.'"

While Paul was giving me this sketch of his history an idea had forcibly
taken possession of my mind. "Tell me," I exclaimed suddenly, "what was
your name before you were christened?"

"Cheebo," he answered.

"And your father's name," I inquired eagerly.

"My father, him called Quamino," he said, in a surprised tone.

"Oh Paul!" I cried out, seizing his hand, "I have indeed then good news
for you. Your father's and your prayers have been answered, for I can
assure you that your mother is a true and faithful Christian. I have
known her all my life, her name she has told me was Ambah, and that she
was torn away from her husband and child as your mother was from you."

"Yes, yes, Ambah was my mother's name, and did she tell you that her
husband's name was Quamino, and their piccaniny was called Cheebo?" he
asked, almost gasping for breath.

"Those were the very names she gave me, and I wrote them in my pocket
book so that I might not forget them." I answered.

"Oh, Massa Harry, that is indeed joyful news," he cried out. "Then I
and my mother and father will all meet in heaven, Praise God! I now not
fear what man can do unto me."

It would be difficult to do justice to the feeling displayed by Paul,
even were I to repeat all he said, his piety, his gratitude, and his
joy. He could talk of nothing else during the night. He seemed to be
insensible to hunger and thirst, and to forget altogether the dangerous
position in which we were placed. Now he kneeled down in prayer, now he
gave vent to his feelings in a hymn of praise. I could not help
sympathising with him, and rejoicing that I had been the means of giving
him the information which made him so happy. Still I must confess that
I myself suffered not a little from the pangs of hunger, and would have
given much for a glass of cold water.

When morning dawned the schooner was still in sight. I looked anxiously
round for the sign of a breeze, hoping that if it did come the stranger
would stand towa