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passage sometime; though I must say I have never come to relish the matter.”

In the evenings of the months that came, the two of them sat in the black depths of the veranda, and James Flower poured his unrelated facts into the ears of young Henry Morgan. The boy listened eagerly, for often the planter spoke of ancient wars and their conduct.

“And are these things in the books that line the walls?” Henry asked one night.

“All of these things, and, oh! many thousands of things more.”

After a time Henry begged, “Would you be teaching me the languages of the books, sir? There must be things there I should like to read for myself.”

James Flower was delighted. In teaching this boy the things he had read, he had come nearer to satisfaction than ever before. His heart was warm toward the young slave.

“The Latin and the Greek!” he cried with enthusiasm. “You shall learn them from me; and the Hebrew, too, if you wish.”

“I want to read the books of war and sailing,” young Henry said. “I want to read of those old wars you speak of, for one day I shall be a buccaneer and take a Spanish town.”

And in the months that followed, he learned the languages very rapidly because of his wish to read the books. James Flower plunged more deeply