“Ah! here no Sabbath bell Awakes the Sabbath morn,” for there was one very active bell, whose tones were heard almost every day. Opposite our abode stood a small Roman Catholic Church, and all the bodies of the deceased Portuguese were taken here for the funeral service. The negroes do not receive Christian burial. We asked whether they had any worship of God, and the answer was, “No, No, the Kafirs are like brutes, but the missionaries are teaching them in the interior”. The natives work on Sundays as on other days. They are splendid porters, they carry everything on their heads,—even weights of 70 pounds; nor do they dash boxes as is often done at railway stations in Britain. They are never in haste about anything. They consider sixpence a day very good wages. As they wear no clothes and get food easily, they have hardly any motives to work, and when they obtain a few coppers they generally spend them in rum. There being no carts or horses at Quilimane, many natives were employed in carrying enormous trees, each of which required about 30 bearers. Every party was accompanied by a man with a whip who seemed to have as hard work as any of them! We were detained for nearly four weeks at Quilimane. Often did we stand and look up the river to see whether the Mission boats were coming, and even after they did come there was much delay. A journey to the coast occupied from six to eight weeks and was seldom undertaken by the Missionaries. Consequently it was always desirable to take up to Blantyre as much goods as possible. It is at Quilimane that strangers first realize the nakedness of the land they are going to, and here they have the last opportunity of buying anything. The merchants are Banians, and the prices are three times the rate of goods in England. There is not only great expense but also great risk in taking goods to such a remote place. Many articles that would not cost fourpence at home were charged a rupee here. “It only costs 4d. in England,” says the buyer. “Oh yes, in England! Well you—my brother, I’ll give it for two shilling!” We all suffered more or less from our stay at Quilimane. One morning none of our party was able to be at breakfast but myself, and I was far from well. As I thought of the terrible journey that lay before us, I concluded that our lives were not worth much. In this land one is much impressed with the uncertainty of time. I knew a Missionary that made no secret of carrying, on every journey, a box containing a will—more I suppose as a matter of form than because a poor Missionary has anything to bequeath.