Since I wrote last we have had a series of meetings during the evenings of one week. Every Friday evening there is a meeting for prayer and religious instruction, attended by all the scholars. This has been greatly blessed. Twenty of the scholars profess to have been converted. As soon as their parents knew that they were interested about their souls’ welfare, many of them were put under the instruction of ignorant godfathers or godmothers, to be “brought through” by a course of dreams and other superstitions. How far this has turned them away from simple trust in Jesus we cannot tell. We can only teach them the right way, and leave them with the Master. One thing I have learned—that these teachers are never satisfied with their pupils till they obtain a promise to join _their_ church. Four joined us at our communion season in March. One, an old white-headed man; three, children. These children are exposed to persecution because they did not “come through” the right way. They are told that they are no Christians, for they “hav’n’t dun prayed yet.” One little boy, who has been a member of the church a year, and of whose life all speak well, could not partake with us. He sat and looked on sadly as long as he could endure it, and then went out and wept bitterly. He did not go to his godfather for guidance, and he has now persuaded the boy’s mother to forbid his communing. I found him weeping after meeting, but still trusting in Jesus. He said, “I know I love Him, and try every day to do what He wants me to.” This course of “travel” in dreams is what they call “praying.” Though most of those converted will join other churches, yet they will continue in our Sunday-school, being absent only when there is preaching in their churches. Thus we hope to lead them to take the Bible for their guide. Notwithstanding the house is so open that we have to hold our papers tightly, or put a weight on what we lay down (for the wind always blows there), yet my school at Cross Roads is increasing in numbers and interest. Last Sabbath the wind was breaking trees and throwing down fences, and twice during our school here burst open the door and blew over benches, so that all said, “You cannot go to Cross Roads; you will get killed by falling branches.” After asking guidance, I thought I ought to go. As I passed under swaying limbs, and was enveloped in a cloud of sand, I saw how impossible it would be to teach in that open house; but I thought, God can calm the wind. I asked Him, and almost immediately there was a comparative calm, and I went on comfortably.