Mr. Thom was a faithful servant of his Master, the Lord Jesus Christ. He did not rest satisfied with these public efforts, but, during the week, he visited us for the purpose of serious conversation. Several of us were really under strong conviction, and would confess, at these inquiry meetings, and to each other as we paced the yard, how often we had sinned, even cursing our Maker when on the yard at night, amid the roaring of the storm, the bellowing of the thunder, and the angry flashing of the lightning. A happy practical effect followed. Gambling ceased, cards and shake-bag lost their charms. The time was spent in reading useful books. Bibles and religious books were given or loaned to us. Among these were Baxter’s _Call_, Doddridge’s _Rise and Progress of Religion_, &c. To some extent we were altered men. Had we remained much longer under these gracious influences, most of us, I think, would have become experimental Christians. As it was, the seed was not wholly wasted. Impressions were made, which, no doubt, have, in many cases, yielded rich fruit long before this. My own mind was strongly wrought upon. A singular dream added to my seriousness. In my dream, I saw myself drowning, while a fierce-looking soldier was pointing his loaded musket at my head. Thus death threatened me from two sources. In this extremity my anguish was very great. All my gracious opportunities passed before me, but now it seemed too late for salvation. “Oh,” thought I in my sleep, “what would I give, if this were only a dream! How faithfully would I serve the Lord when I awoke.” Just at that moment I did awake, scarcely able to convince myself that the ideal scene was not an awful reality. That day I eagerly sought the missionary, and sat with serious delight listening to his instructions. Still I did not give myself up to the service of Christ. So difficult was it for me to make the requisite sacrifice of my beloved sins. Just at this interesting crisis, a glad report of peace between England and America reached our prison. With joyful faces we assembled round the good man, when he came that day, to inquire if it was really so. While he assured us of its truth, he mildly asked “if it was peace with Heaven;” assuring us that it was a matter of the greatest importance for us to be at peace with God. As a memento of our esteem for Mr. Thom, we made him several little presents. One of them was a hat made from a _bullock’s horn_. The horn was peeled into narrow slips, these were scraped, split, and braided like straw, and then sewed together. We also made him a model of a ship, fully rigged from stem to stern. The missionary received these marks of our regard with evident pleasure; and, no doubt, when looking upon them afterwards, offered many a prayer for the salvation of the prisoners, who were, for many weeks, the subjects of his anxiety and labors. Blessings rest on him, if he yet lives! Peace to his ashes, if he slumbers among the dead!