bushman, who had just disposed of an ivory, “dressed to kill” in a lady’s under-garment, fresh from the box, snow-white and trimmed with delicate embroidery. He was so proud as he strutted along that he could scarcely speak. But clothes, until they have learned to take proper care of them, are often injurious to their health. They will keep these garments on night and day, wet or dry, and may not take them off till they fall off. It is worse with shoes. The feet of the native are shod with natural sole-leather; and if they were not, the bush-paths would be impassable for him. But he wears his shoes through mud and water, and keeps them on at night. The result is that they make his feet tender, besides injuring his health. Shortly after we went to Efulen, such was the passion for clothes that if one should throw away an old pair of socks instead of burning them, no matter where they might be thrown, one might count on it that somebody, probably a boy, would soon appear in the yard wearing those socks, sometimes on his hands instead of his feet, thinking that they would last longer. One day when I decided that a certain pair of shoes were no longer fit to wear, I took them out into the yard and placing them on a block, took an axe, and proceeded to chop them into small pieces. All the natives in the yard, visitors and workmen, came running to me and loudly begged for the shoes with outstretched hands. But oblivious to their clamorous entreaties, I kept swinging the axe and compelling them to stand back. When I had finished I asked them what they wanted, explaining that I could not swing an axe and listen to them at the same time, especially when they were all talking at once. They turned away with looks of disgust. A certain chief at Efulen succeeded in procuring a suit of bright blue denim. The following Sunday the family came to our service with the suit divided between them, the women having divested themselves of the native attire. The old man wore the coat, his wife followed with the trousers, and a grown daughter brought up the rear with the vest. Of course they came late, and walked to a front seat. The missionaries were supposed to maintain their gravity. I was not there myself and am indebted to Mr. Kerr for the incident. My visits to the coast were like coming back to civilization; such was the contrast of Batanga and Efulen. And, besides, there was a white child at the coast, little Frances, a dear little girl about a year old, whom I carried in my arms much of the time that I was there. For I have already told how one longs for the sight of a white child. During those visits to the coast I often preached in the Batanga Church and I became well acquainted with that congregation. By their progress of a few years and by the Christian character of many individuals known to me, I was accustomed to measure the possibilities of the Bulu and the prospect of our work. [Illustration: THE OLD CHURCH AT BATANGA.