Thus day after day and week after week passes over us on Aniwa; and much the same on all the Islands where the Missionary has found a home. In many respects it is a simple and happy and beautiful life; and the man, whose heart is full of things that are dear to Jesus, feels no desire to exchange it for the poor frivolities of what calls itself “Society,” and seems to finds its life in pleasures that Christ cannot be asked to share, and in which, therefore, Christians should have neither lot nor part. The habits of morning and evening family prayer and of grace at meat took a very wonderful hold upon the people; and became, as I have shown elsewhere, a distinctive badge of Christian _versus_ Heathen. This was strikingly manifested during a time of bitter scarcity that befell us. I heard a father, for instance, at his hut door, with his family around him, reverently blessing God for the food provided for them, and for all His mercies in Christ Jesus. Drawing near and conversing with them, I found that their meal consisted of fig leaves which they had gathered and cooked,—a poor enough dish; but hunger makes a happy appetite, and contentment is a grateful relish. During the same period of privation, my Orphans suffered badly also. Once they came to me, saying,— “Missi, we are very hungry.” I replied,—“So am I, dear children, and we have no more white food till the _Dayspring_ comes.” They continued,—“Missi, you have two beautiful fig trees. Will you let us take one feast of the young and tender leaves? We will not injure branch or fruit.” I answered,—“Gladly, my children, take your fill!” In a twinkling each child was perched upon a branch; and they feasted there happy as squirrels. Every night we prayed for the vessel, and in the morning our Orphan boys rushed to the coral rocks and eagerly scanned the sea for an answer. Day after day they returned with sad faces, saying,— “Missi, _Tavaka jimra_!” (= No vessel yet). But at grey dawn of a certain day, we were awoke by the boys shouting from the shore and running for the Mission House with the cry,—“_Tavaka oa! Tavaka oa!_” (= The vessel, hurrah!) We arose at once, and the boys exclaimed,—“Missi, she is not our own vessel, but we think she carries her flag. She has three masts, and our _Dayspring_ only two!” I looked through my glass, and saw that they were discharging goods into the vessel’s boats; and the children, when I told them that boxes and bags and casks were being sent on shore, shouted and danced with delight. As the first boat-load was discharged, the Orphans surrounded me, saying,— “Missi, here is a cask that rattles like biscuits! Will you let us take it to the Mission House?”