Something about robbery for burnt-offering flashed through Fray Fernando’s mind, but he took the jewel without any other comment than a brief “Thank you.” It was a large golden pin, somewhat resembling a spoon in shape, and with figures ingeniously cut all over its surface. Shortly afterwards, Fray Fernando visited his little prisoner. The child was looking out of the window of the cell when he entered; but he turned quickly round, took a mat from the floor, rolled it up to resemble a burden, placed it on his head, and then walking gravely towards his new master, deposited it at his feet. Fray Fernando could not imagine what he meant by this pantomime; but anxious to soothe him and to reconcile him to his situation, he drew his arm round him, and began to stroke and caress him, as he had done in the morning. Then recollecting one of the very few phrases he happened to know of the child’s native tongue, the Quichua, he asked, “_Yma sutinque?_” (“What is your name?”) The boy, disengaging himself gently from his caressing arm, stood before him, with head erect, and dark eyes kindling with evident pride, as he answered, “_Viracocha Yntip Churi_.” “God and our Lady bless thee, poor heathen child. Thou shalt have a better name than that, a _Christian_ name, ere this sun goes down,” said Fray Fernando. That very day, accordingly, he baptized the child in the presence of the whole colony. He gave him the name of José, which he thought singularly appropriate, both because the boy was baptized on St. Joseph’s day, and because his freedom was purchased with a relic of that saint. Both the Spaniards and the negroes were edified by the evident willingness with which the little heathen submitted to the rite. It was not until long afterwards that Fray Fernando discovered that the neophyte had put a meaning of his own upon what was otherwise meaningless to him. He imagined that this was a ceremony by which his kind protector was publicly asserting his claim to him. But that claim had already been asserted, and confirmed by a pledge stronger than many ceremonies—by love given and returned. And it was allowed in the child’s heart. IV. Viracocha. “A child in whom childhood’s life was dead, Its sweet light marred and dim.” MRS. STUART MENTEITH.