My household felt sadly the want of fresh water. I prepared two large casks, to be filled when the rain came. But when we attempted to do so at the water-hole near the village, the Natives forbade us, fearing that our large casks would carry all the water away, and leave none for them with their so much smaller cocoa-nut bottles. This public water-hole was on the ground of two Sacred Men, who claimed the power of emptying and filling it by rain at will. The superstitious Natives gave them presents to bring the rain. If it came soon, they took all the credit for it. If not, they demanded larger gifts to satisfy their gods. Even our Aneityumese Teachers said to me, when I protested that surely they could not believe such things,— “It is hard to know, Missi. The water does come and go quickly. If you paid them well, they might bring the rain, and let us fill our casks!” I told them that, as followers of Jehovah, we must despise all Heathen mummeries, and trust in Him and in the laws of His Creation to help us. Aniwa, having therefore no permanent supply of fresh water, in spring or stream or lake, I resolved by the help of God to sink a well near the Mission Premises, hoping that a wisdom higher than my own would guide me to the source of some blessed spring. Of the scientific conditions of such an experiment I was completely ignorant; but I counted on having to dig through earth and coral above thirty feet, and my constant fear was, that owing to our environment, the water, if water I found, could only be salt water after all my toils! Still I resolved to sink that shaft in hope, and in faith that the Son of God would be glorified thereby. One morning I said to the old Chief and his fellow-Chief, both now earnestly inquiring about the religion of Jehovah and of Jesus,— “I am going to sink a deep well down into the earth, to see if our God will send us fresh water up from below.” They looked at me with astonishment, and said in a tone of sympathy approaching to pity,— “O Missi! Wait till the rain comes down, and we will save all we possibly can for you.” I replied, “We may all die for lack of water. If no fresh water can be got, we may be forced to leave you.” The old Chief looked imploringly, and said: “O Missi! you must not leave us for that. Rain comes only from above. How could you expect our Island to send up showers of rain from below?” I told him: “Fresh water does come up springing from the earth in my Land at home, and I hope to see it here also.” The old Chief grew more tender in his tones, and cried: “O Missi, your head is going wrong; you are losing something, or you would not talk wild like that! Don’t let our people hear you talking about going down into the earth for rain, or they will never listen to your word or believe you again.”