It was difficult to get two truths burned into their minds: _the heinousness of sin_--whether found out or not--and _the holiness of God_. If they did not quite believe that ‘’tis only daylight that makes sin,’ they certainly did believe that ‘a sin concealed is half-forgiven.’ It is only fair to remember in view of this the dense ignorance of the vast majority, and the fact that they had so lately emerged from heathenism. They were strange blendings of good and evil; of vices and virtues; of lofty aspirations and gross pagan practices; of Christian ideals and heathen traditions. Still, notwithstanding these grave drawbacks, there was much to be profoundly thankful for, and especially the help we received from our converts. We had a noble band of native fellow-labourers--pastors, local preachers, teachers, evangelists, and latterly Sabbath-school teachers. What was most needed was more evangelical fervour, moral earnestness, and missionary enthusiasm. ‘No kind of mission work,’ some one has said, ‘is safe that is not enthusiastic.’ We are still, I fear, far from being safe in this respect, either at home or abroad. Emerson speaks of liberty and snow always being associated; but in religious affairs cold and corruption, torpor and formality generally go together. We are told that fevers never spread except in hot weather; cold always kills the infection. That may be quite true with regard to fevers and infection; but we know as a fact that real religion seldom spreads except in an atmosphere of fervour. Frigid religion will never help to kindle the fires of a new devotion in hearts dead in trespasses and sins; it can only help to foster formality. Cold may prevent the spread of infection in the natural world; but it is almost always the cause of disease, death, and corruption in the spiritual. Frosty friendships are but sorry affairs; but frozen religion is one of the abominations that make desolate. I know that fire _may_ be got by using a piece of _ice_ as a burning-glass; but ice is not generally used for that purpose! By the death at this time of Ràsamoèly (a young dentist, and one of our local preachers at Lazaina) in the out-district, we lost one of the best and most warm-hearted of our young men, and that too under most painful circumstances. There had been a number of very daring burglaries in the capital and suburbs during the previous few months. A few nights before Christmas, 1889, Ràsamoèly dreamt that his house had been broken into by burglars, and starting up in his fright and half-asleep he jumped out at the window. He fell on his back, and died a fortnight after from spinal injury.