MARTIN RATTLER. 99

“Yes. JI am the Padre Caramuru ; or rather, I was.
I am padre no longer, but Senhor Carlos Caramuru, a
merchant. Yet I know not what to do. When TI
look round upon my country and see how they know
not the precious Word of God, my heart burns in me,
and I sometimes think that it is my duty to go forth
and preach.”

“No doubt ye are right,” said Barney. “T’ve
always bin of opinion that when a man feels very
strong in his heart on any partic’lar subject, it’s a sure
sign that the Almighty intends him to have something
more to do with that subject than other men who
don’t feel about it at all.”

The hermit remained silent for a few minutes, « I
think you are right, friend,” he said; “but I am very
ignorant yet. I have no one to explain difficulties to
me; and I fear to go about preaching lest I should
preach what is not true. I will study yet for a
time, and pray. After that, perhaps, I may go forth.”

“But you have told us nothing yet about the trade
of the country,” said Martin, “or its size, or anything
of that sort.”

“I will soon tell you of that when I have lighted
another cigar. This one does not draw well. Have
you got a full pipe still, my friend 2”

“All right, Mr. Carrymooroo,” replied Barney,