ere
hillocks.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

THE RUINED VILLAGE.

For an instant the horror of finding the house in ruins, and being
unable to discover my wife and the dear ones with her, almost overcame
me. I should have sunk to the ground exhausted, had not the native
supported me.

"Trust in Jehovah, friend," he remarked, quietly. "He knows what is
best for us all: your wife and our good missionary are in His hands."

"How long have you been a Christian?" I could not help asking.

"Two years," was the answer. "Before that I was a gross idolater and
cannibal; there was no wickedness I did not do. But, praised be the
Lord Jesus Christ, I was, through the teaching of the Holy Spirit,
brought out of darkness into the light of His glorious truth."

I felt rebuked, and grasping my staff once more, braced myself up to
continue my search. The native accompanied me.

"They may have escaped to the mountains," he observed. "We will go
there. I can find the path even in the dark, and there is a cavern not
far up, where they may have taken shelter. Once, when we were devil's
people, we dreaded to enter it, thinking it the abode of evil spirits;
now that we are God's people, we know that God is everywhere, and have
no fear."

Again I felt how the remark of this babe in Christ, this late savage
heathen, would rebuke many of those in our own dear England who, even in
this professedly enlightened nineteenth century, yet tremble at the
thoughts of ghosts, witches, and other similar phantoms of their foolish
imaginations.

It appeared to me that the hurricane was subsiding; but still our
progress was slow and painful. It was, however, an advantage having a
beaten path, though that in many places was cut up by the water, and in
others, trees and roofs of cottages had been blown across it. I found
that we were ascending,--higher and higher up the mountain we got.
Lofty rocks appeared on every side,--the lightning seemed to be more
vivid,--the crash of the thunder, as it reverberated in rattling peals
amid the cliffs, was even louder than before. I remembered my
companion's remark, and felt no fear.

"There is the cavern," he said, at length.

I hurried in through a narrow opening, following closely at his heels.
A light was shining at the farther end: it was from a fire, round which
a number of persons were collected. On the opposite side, with the
light shining full on his countenance, stood my brother John. A b