_Thursday, 29th July._--My house has been thronged all day with heathen visitors, and I have tried to say something about our blessed religion. I hope they were duly impressed. They certainly gave me a warm invitation to visit them which I shall not be backward to accept, and moreover they promised to pick me out two or three boys to go to Norfolk Island. One man was most anxious to visit Norfolk Island, and I promised him that if he were so minded when the ship came back his wish should be gratified. I dare say I was quite safe in my promise, for no doubt he will cry off at the last. However, I hope I may get the boys. Everything was a matter of astonishment to these poor people, who have rarely if ever seen a white man, and a trumpet and pop gun which I gave a small boy produced the most unbounded delight. I wish my good friend Archdeacon Stock and Miss Kreeft had been here to see what unfeigned joy their kind gifts produced. A prettily dressed doll I brought with me, and which came too, I think, from Wellington, has been the seven day wonder during my visit. Yesterday one of the boys threw it down by accident, and the frail waxwork fell to pieces. There has been more lament over that lifeless toy than over half a dozen ordinary female human beings. Agnes, however, this morning disgorged a beautiful doll of her own, which she got from a Christmas tree, carefully wrapped in ample folds of calico, and the Bushmen I think will never lose the impression the revelation of its beauty produced upon them. How true it is that little things please little minds, and what a boon it is that the adage is so true. To us, whom civilization and the natural fitness of things have raised so far above nature, it is a matter of a striking character to see these heathens on their travels. They are burdened with absolutely nothing except a club or bow and arrows in their hands. Their dress is but a slight remove from the original fig leaf of the garden of Eden, and they carry neither bedding nor food. They sleep anywhere and eat what they can get. Their endurance in the matter of food too is extraordinary, whether they eat or whether they eat not does not seem to affect them, and in this way they beat us all to fits on the march. These Bushmen tell me they prefer making a journey in rain for it is cooler, and the only change of raiment they need at the end is to dry nature’s clothing before a fire. They are a very hardy race, I suppose from being inured to hardship all their lives. I missed poor blind Sulu from school to-day, and on enquiring for him was told that his pet pig, whose tusks are getting long and very sharp, importuned him beyond bearing, and that in kicking out to get rid of him the tusk ran into his foot and almost right through it. Poor old fellow, I am going by and bye to see what I can do to administer comfort to him.