On our first arrival we often had dishes that tempted curiosity; but an appeal to the senior members of the Mission was always answered with a suggestive quotation of the maxim “Where ignorance is bliss, &c.” Seldom, therefore, did the processes of Meg Dods’ art, as practised by the natives, engage attention. Sometimes a boy was asked, “Do you call that roast fowl?” He listened to the implied rebuke with a marked air of penitence; but as soon as he rejoined his companions outside, he repeated, “Do you call that roastee fowlee? Ha! ha! ha!” and there followed a burst of loud and prolonged laughter, which greatly amused the Europeans also. The white man’s mess was tacitly regarded as common property, but if the cook happened to be on bad terms with the various “tasters,” the affair might become public. One day I was addressing a class, everything was calm and still, the pupils sat in respectful attention, the subject had advanced to the point of greatest interest, when all at once, a boy dashed into school with a half-eaten potato, and the cook dashed after him with a ladle. The interruption was a grave misdemeanour. But the cook called out in great indignation, “I am cooking for the white men and not for this boy!” The little boy had evidently regarded the school as a house of refuge, could he only reach it before his pursuer. But the building had no doors, and many large holes for windows as well as a large doorway, and before they were aware, they had both committed themselves, and might expect to be much laughed at. The natives, however, were usually too prudent to let these things come to light. Baking was not without its difficulties. Bread was made at first by means of the native beer, and was exceedingly sour. Still those that had become accustomed to it generally took it without a murmur. Occasionally a native of some originality would bake several loaves with water alone, only this was apt to cause considerable criticism. In many articles native taste differs from European. Though few natives eat eggs (C), those that do, resemble the Hottentots, who are said to take kindly to eggs that would “alarm a European at six paces’ distance!” Before the use of spoons was properly understood, our servants attempted to take the eggs out of boiling water with their fingers, one half standing to laugh at the experiment, while the other half tried to carry it out!