I have told elsewhere how that, when Mb’Obam was dying, he called the people around him and begged them to be good to his wife, Sara, and not to accuse her of bewitching him when he was gone. He also reminded them how in late years he had protected the women against whom this charge was made. They promised, of course, and they meant it; for they revered him; but as soon as he was dead old beliefs prevailed and old customs asserted tyrannous authority. They charged Sara with having caused Mb’Obam’s death by witchcraft. They dared not kill her; for they were in the vicinity of the French government. But they drove her on her hands and knees up and down the street with two men sitting on her back. From this cruelty I rescued her one day with a stout stick which I used somewhat freely; otherwise it might have ended in her death. When Sara was sufficiently recovered I said to her: “Sara, what can I do to protect you against further cruelty?” She replied: “Mr. Milligan, I think you had better find me a husband.” It wasn’t entirely out of my line—if there’s any such thing as a _line_ in a missionary’s work—for, as an essential part of my pastoral duty, I found it necessary to run a kind of matrimonial bureau. Well, we found a husband for Sara, which was not difficult, for they all knew that she was a good woman. A Christian man married her and I hope they may still be living happily together. One night Mb’Obam came to an Mpongwe prayer-meeting in Gaboon and brought a number of his Fang friends. The Mpongwe being a coast tribe, all but the Christians among them despise the Fang. The meeting was in an Mpongwe village and there were many present who were not Christians. It happened that I was conducting the meeting; and after telling the Mpongwe who Mb’Obam was I asked him to address them, which he did in their own language. In the course of his talk he referred to the ark that “Adam” built. Ndong Koni was sitting not far from him, and when Mb’Obam referred a second time to “Adam’s ark,” before these better-informed Mpongwe, Ndong Koni quietly said to him: “Father, you mean Noah.” Mb’Obam, without the least embarrassment, replied: “Was it Noah? Thank you, my son. I thought it was Adam that built the ark; but it does not affect what I was going to say.” The simplicity of it was so beautiful that we scarcely thought of its being amusing. Then he went on and made a most fitting and touching comparison between his own life and that of Noah, preaching through all those years the while he was preparing the ark, a lonely believer in the midst of unbelief and ridicule and wickedness that rends a believer’s heart. “Yet Noah’s words came to pass because they were God’s words; so God will in His own time justify us. Meanwhile we will go on preaching; and may we be faithful and uncomplaining.”