. . . . . .
Life on the island and on the sweet blue sea around it had become very delightful now.
Strange that our religion should be capable of remoulding even the heart of a savage and cannibal. But so indeed it is.
Perhaps, though, never was the Gospel preached with more earnestness, or gentle and sweet persuasiveness, than that which fell from the tongue of Leona.
There was no rant, no cant. It was all commonsense. It was heart appealing to heart, therefore it was effectual.
But now, alas! the character of my story—through no fault of mine—must change in a moment almost from that of peace to wild war.
My clansman, the good and great General Gordon, who was slain at Khartoum, used to say that war was a weapon of Jehovah Himself, and that we poor blind worms, crawling on this earth below, must not question the goodness of the Being who made us all.
Well, reader, we will know everything in good time; all we have got to remember now is, that our minds are but finite, and we see darkly and dimly. “Who by searching shall find out God?” Man never shall nor can in this world.
But not to digress: the woodland scenery of the island was enchanting, either on hill or plain. True, there were a few snakes in the woods, but our heroes never meddled with them. Sometimes a beautiful green thing, like the thong of a whip, would depend from the branch of a tree, or one would wobble out from a bunch of bananas; only they were more frightened than our boys themselves, and always dropped down and fled.
There was also a long thin snake, called the fire-serpent, of which the natives were terribly afraid. It was of a bright crimson colour, and very lovely.