But why should I bore you with such talk?
Thank Heaven that your lines are cast in pleasant places.

Yes, please, I will take one more glass; it does me good." "Tell me some more about that tribe you were speaking of in your sermon, the 'Sons of Fire' I think you called them," said Owen, as he passed him the decanter.
So, with an eloquence induced by the generous wine and a quickened imagination, the Deputation told him--told him many strange things and terrible.

For this people was an awful people: vigorous in mind and body, and warriors from generation to generation, but superstition-ridden and cruel.

They lived in the far interior, some months' journey by boat and ox-waggon from the coast, and of white men and their ways they knew but little.
"How many of them are there ?" asked Owen.
"Who can say ?" he answered.

"Nearly half-a-million, perhaps; at least they pretend that they can put sixty thousand men under arms." "And did they treat you badly when you first visited them ?" "Not at first.