As question after question arose in the class, the answer often given would be to open the Bible and read a portion suitable for the question. One day, after this had been done several times, one of the men exclaimed, "It is no use to argue any more; that Book knows everything." The difficulty generally was that, although they believed the Word, they were not willing to take the Way. The darkness seemed too dense, the effort required was too great, the transformation was too absolute for these old people, rocked in the cradle of paganism for generations. It is the younger generation that are chiefly benefited by the mission work. Sometimes some of the others, seeing this, will say, "I am too old; you should have come sooner." Then again the missionary sometimes meets with a Caleb or a Joshua. He receives some encouragement, from even the old. Allow me to give an account of a visit made at this time: We are going to visit an old queen. It is not our first visit to her, but we are informed that she is ill at present and her friends are fearful that she might die, as she is very, very old. Sisters Heise, Cress, and myself are going. We carry a little bread, cocoa, and a New Testament. She is living at the kraal of Mapita, our faithful helper. He also has been sick with fever, but he is somewhat better today, and is sitting out of doors by the fire, where his wife and children are preparing their evening meal. This consists of peanut gravy, kafir-corn porridge, and pumpkin. After greeting these, we pass on to the hut where the queen lies. We sit down on the ground, so that we may look into the little opening which serves as doorway. The woman in charge invites us to enter, and we crawl into the hut. In the center of the hut is a fire with four large stones around it; the smoke finding its way into our eyes or out through the straw roof, for there is no chimney and no window. Near this fireplace lies the poor old queen. Her bed consists of a large hide spread on the hard, polished earthen floor, and a block of wood serves for a pillow. A blanket is thrown over her body. We offer the cocoa, which the sick one gratefully accepts, but the bread is refused. We then go to her side and try to point her to the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world, and tell her of the home prepared for all those who love God. She tries to listen, and sometimes responds to the question asked. Of course our knowledge of the language is still imperfect, and it is more difficult for the old to understand than for the young. When the sick one does not fully comprehend, the nurse, who is Matshuba's mother, explains. Sitting here by this old woman, and seeing her stretch out her thin hands to the warm stones at the fire, we forget that vermin surrounds us or that our clothes might become soiled; our hearts only overflow with a desire to let a flood of light into the soul of the poor one before us. As the talk continues she