"The next island we came to was barren--no water, and no nuts; we must have perished had we been cast on it.  Then we reached another with some inhabitants on it.  We understood, in part, their language.  Their ancestors had, they believed, been cast on it wandering as we were across the ocean.  Their canoe had been destroyed, and they had remained there without wishing to depart.  They had been driven forth from their native isles by cruel wars, in which the greater number of their kindred had been destroyed.  They received us in a friendly manner, and invited us to remain with them.  They had heard nothing of the Truth.  The gospel-message had never reached their ears.  From consulting with them we were convinced that we had been driven so far out of our course that we should never reach the islands of which we were in search.  Here, however, was work for us to do, pointed out clearly by the finger of God.  We told the islanders, to their joy, that we would remain with them; and by degrees we opened to their wondering ears the glorious tidings we had brought.  Astonished, they heard, but did not refuse to listen.  Some speedily believed.  The news we brought was of a nature their hearts had long yearned for; it spoke of rest from toil--rest from suffering--rest from sin.  Others, in time, accepted the truth with thankfulness.  Every day we preached, and every day some one acknowledged himself a sinner, and sought redemption through Him alone who can give it.  At length our glorious work was accomplished.  We gave them books; we taught them to read.  We told them that we must depart to try and reach our own homes.  They entreated that one of our number would remain with them.  It was resolved that one should remain to guide them aright.  We drew lots.  He on whom the lot fell, without a murmur, with his wife and family, joyfully remained--though he well knew that he could never hope again to see the land of his birth, and many dear to him there.  But I am making my story longer than I intended.