What a queer mixture the Anglo-Saxon is. Probably it would be impossible to convince the average Englishman that the African is a more religious being than himself; or that there is anything incongruous in himself, the Englishman, being at one and the same time the Imperialist ruler of these dark races and their spiritual uplifter. And yet, to what vital extent do spiritual influences mould the society or the policy of Europe? Has not religion—official religion—there taken upon itself very largely the character of a social force, and lost its spiritual significance? Is not its whole trend social rather than spiritual? Has Europe, in any racial sense, an inner spiritual life, as has the East? The “law of Christ,” says the Church, in the matter of relations between the sexes _everywhere_, commands monogamy. But the law of Christ commands, in a far more definite manner than any words that may be culled from His sayings in regard to this, many other things which the religion of Europe absolutely, entirely, and wholly ignores, because the customs of Europe and the laws of Europe, and the social life of Europe do not square with it. I was told the other day that a great Emir in these parts was informed of the intended visit—this happened some years ago—of a great White _Mallam_ who was coming to uplift the spiritual life of the people. The Emir and his councillors looked over the wide plain. “Surely,” they said to one another, “as the White man is so strong in war, so cunning in invention, so mighty in knowledge, then the White man’s _Mallam_ must be very, very near to _Allah_.” Soon they saw a cloud of dust. Marvelling somewhat, the Emir, nevertheless, sent out messengers. The messengers sped swiftly onwards. They looked for a solitary figure, the figure of an ascetic, bearing stamped upon features, lined and worn with thought, and in gaunt form, the imprint of holiness; in whose eye, illumined with the fire of inspiration, they would read intimate communing with God. What they saw was a long file of weary carriers, conveying boxes full of food, drink, apparel, and camp furniture. Behind them, quite an ordinary looking White man on horseback. “Is this the great White preacher?” they asked the interpreter, who headed the caravan. “Is this the _Mallam_ who is to uplift our souls?” “Even so,” replied the interpreter. So two of the Emir’s messengers off-saddled, and when the preacher came along they bowed low, as is the custom of the country. But the third messenger had turned back. He prostrated himself before the Emir, and he told what he had seen. The Emir drew his flowing cloak a little closer round him, for the sun was about to set, and the air grew chill. Then he turned himself towards Mecca, and lowered his forehead in the dust, followed by his councillors.