The first day of the New Year was celebrated in proper Scottish fashion. Our brethren of Livingstonia, and all the Englishmen within our reach, had been invited to Blantyre. At an early hour all the gentlemen, lay and clerical, donned aprons and began to cook. Some prepared a “haggis,” others a plum-pudding, others had charge of soups and meats. Though kindly exempted from culinary duties, I thought that the exemption would prove of small service. Every corner of our little house was filled with plates, cups, trays, crystal, &c., &c., and so great was the stir that study was impossible. At last I went to another hut, and sat in the verandah with a group of natives, who enabled me to add a few more words to my African vocabulary. I could not help contrasting a tropical New-Year’s Day with an English. In Africa I did not venture to leave the shade of the verandah without a thick hat and an umbrella. Coats and vests were dispensed with, and even the lightest clothing that we had was burdensome. But amidst our new surroundings it was pleasant to remember the old customs of our native land, and we sat down in due season to a New-Year’s Day dinner. The natives had been watching the strange preparations with breathless interest, utterly at a loss to know what it all meant; and as dinner proceeded, more than a hundred—men, women, and children—stood gazing in at the windows and doors, which had been thrown wide open on account of the heat. We observed all the time-honoured ceremonies as gravely and formally as if we had been at home. In connection with the toast of “The Queen” it was remarked that most of us had been long enough in Africa to appreciate the value of an orderly government. One gentleman proposed that we should take a note of each other’s names, and see where we should all be four years later, little thinking that long ere then he would sleep by the soft-flowing waters of the Chiri. At the close we joined hands and sung “Auld Lang Syne”. That day was quite an oasis in our desert, it brought us the long-expected mail. Next morning saw the first pic-nic in the history of the school. At sunrise we started for the top of Michiru. I was the only European that went, but my valour exceeded my discretion, for at one spot I had to lie down till two boys ran to a stream for water. Little fellows of 10 years put me to shame as they ran up the steep sides of the hill like baboons. A buck was shot, cooked, and nearly all eaten on the spot. It was late in the afternoon before we returned.