As we stepped from the ship’s deck on to the landing-stage the sun felt distinctly African. The dazzling white and somewhat congested streets seemed to singe our very boot leather. It was a relief to have pointed out a strip of bright green mainland which lay at the extreme end of a sheltered bay, as the place where hospitality would be offered me and two others of our party of seven, while preparations were being made for our journey up country. A short row brought us to this mission station of the Church Missionary Society—Freretown—the situation of which is very pleasing; in front stretches the transparent blue bay, beyond to the right the white minarets and red tiled roofs of Mombasa, and all around dense foliage—mango and banana trees, creepers and shrubs and flowers in tangled confusion. A warm English welcome awaited us from our missionary friends there who were domiciled in a solid two-storied brick house. The guest room delegated to me was evidently an afterthought, as it was constructed of corrugated iron with plaited grass stretched across for a ceiling. The room opened out on a broad balcony, and as it is the custom to leave open the doors at night to catch the least suspicion of a breeze that might blow in across the bay, the bats and rats made free use of my room until daybreak. The first night I found the rats had shewed an appreciative appetite for Cadbury’s chocolate, for they completely finished off my half-pound tin which had been tusselled for at a chess tournament on board ship. [Illustration: PORT OF MOMBASA.] The terrible famine up country had brought many half-starved folk to the coast. Bishop Peel had sent down some 30 to 40 girls and boys from the Wanika tribe to be clothed, fed, and cared for at the mission dormitory. Starvation had played frightful havoc with them. One wee babe of about two years, all skin and bone, had had her hands held in the fire by her mother because hunger had driven her to steal a banana. Her tiny fingers were twisted back and much distorted, some joints having entirely gone. Other children had no toes, these having been literally eaten away by the little insects known as jiggers, which are very numerous inland, and trouble Europeans as well as natives.