“Cannot you give us some ‘medicine’ to make us understand the ‘book’ talk?” they would pleadingly ask of us. “No,” we replied; “there is no ‘medicine’ that can give you such wisdom. You must learn letter by letter, and of course you have no brains for such work. What is the use of wasting time in teaching you?” If we had exhibited any special eagerness to teach them, they would have held back; but chaffing them and pretending that they had not enough brains to learn had the desired effect of putting them on their mettle, and they begged us to start school right away. We showed no hurry to fall in with their wishes, and this only piqued them and made them more desirous of having a school. At last we acceded to their repeated requests, and told them that on the day that followed the next “rest-day” (i.e. on Monday next), we would begin school and hold it every morning for five days a week. The eventful morning dawned, and with it about twenty lads arrived to enter upon the mysteries of the white man’s “book.” At that time I was busy building a suitable house in anticipation of my wife’s arrival, so my colleague, Mr. Stapleton, took charge of the new school. His room was the school-house. We had written out the alphabet in large letters, and had prepared some slips from which they might copy. We opened a box containing some slates and pencils. The school-house and apparatus were in keeping with the scholars, but the latter brought with them a large amount of enthusiasm and determination, so what was lacking in school furniture, and in the attire of our pupils, was made up in the willingness and earnestness of the scholars. The adults were almost as greatly excited as the boys. They watched every movement of the teacher, and tried to imitate the sounds of the various letters. As I passed to and fro at my work I could see the door and windows crowded by the throng of onlookers, and could hear their laughable attempts at learning. Two hours at this kind of teaching thoroughly exhausted my colleague, for there were not only twenty sprightly boys to look after, but a crowd of men and women who demanded no little attention. In a week or two the newness of the school wore away, fewer adults gathered around the doors and windows, and some of the lads, finding that there really was no “medicine” to drink imparting to them book knowledge, no royal road to learning, but that it entailed continuous effort, gave up coming, and by the end of a fortnight only about half the original class was left—but they were worth teaching, and they persevered until they became good scholars and afterwards teachers of others.