while we know not which shall prosper, either this or that, we know that “he that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall _doubtless_ return again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.” CHILDREN’S PAGE. * * * * * ALBERT BURTON JOWETT. I was born, in 1860, in a little town called Mocolo. They have no houses there, but little mud huts covered with thatch. There are no roads, nor horses, nor cows. The people walk, or ride in little canoes on the rivers. Not much work is done. What little clothing they wear is made of native cloths. They have no cradles, and no clothing is needed for their children. My father was away in the country to buy rice for the Mendi Mission, and was taken prisoner a little before I was born. The town was destroyed and the inhabitants killed, but my father’s life was spared. He was redeemed by Mr. Burton, one of the missionaries, who paid twenty-five shillings, English money, for his release. My father moved to Good Hope when I was quite young, and I attended school and studied the English language. Not far from the school-house there are groves of limes, pine-apples, plums, and bacon-fire, and the boys amuse themselves by battling each other with limes. The principal holidays are Christmas, New-Year’s and Good Friday. They celebrate Christmas by having a big dance out of doors, lasting all day and often all night. The music is made by beating drums, and by women who sing and clap their hands. The place was lighted through the night by an immense fire in the centre. Pots of rice are cooked, and a sauce made of palm-oil, rice and fish, is served with it. They always have rum and gin, which is supplied them very much more freely than the Gospel. We have no stoves in our country. The fires are built either out of doors or in the corner of the hut. As there are no chimneys, it is sometimes very smoky. The natives have no lamps, but use palm-oil in a dish. For a wick they wrap a piece of cloth around a stick. They have no tables, but sit down around a large mat and eat their food from wooden bowls, making one spoon do for the whole family. On funeral occasions they have a big dance, which they sometimes keep up two or three days. All the people of the village attend, and the nearest relative is expected to furnish all the rum he is able to pay for, and a liberal supply of food, but they have no religious ceremonies. When a big man marries, if he has sufficient money, he keeps up a dance for a week. The missionaries are welcomed, and are doing a great deal to break up these old customs. In 1877, the Rev. Mr. Snelson and two other Freedmen came to our mission, and it was under their instruction that I was urged to give my heart to the Saviour. When Mr. Snelson asked me to try and become a Christian, I told him I couldn’t do it.