We also found, or rather were told, of an instance in which church discipline had been exercised after a new, and rather a drastic fashion, a few weeks before our arrival in the district. The Malagasy knew of no discipline except military discipline, which they had introduced into the church, and would have employed still, had we not arrived on the scene. The special case was this: A worthless character from the capital had been going through the district teaching hymn-singing. He taught so many hymns and tunes for so many dollars. He posed as one of the aides de camp of the prime minister, and this gave him a status in the eyes of the people which he otherwise would never have had. At the same time it ensured the prompt payment of his fees. At one of the villages he met with one as worthless as himself in the person of the wife of one of the deacons, and together they eloped. When this was discovered, a church meeting was called and the husband laid his case before the meeting. He said: ‘Here is a servant of the church at large, whom you brought here. He has run away with my wife, and I think it is your duty to help me to recover her.’ ‘Yes,’ they said, ‘that is quite right,’ and they thereupon appointed another deacon to accompany the husband and assist him in his search for his lost wife. They found out the direction the runaways had taken, followed, and found them sitting sunning themselves on a rock overhanging the river Ikòpa. They caught the man, bound him, rolled him up in his cotton plaid, tied the ends, and flung him from the top of the rock into the river. Then taking the woman with them, they returned and reported the church business finished[28]! Our visit to Vònizòngo in 1871 was most memorable. I then met for the first time many of the early disciples, men and women who had fought a good fight and kept the faith all through ‘the killing times,’ and who had hazarded their lives for the Gospel, and suffered the loss of their little all for their loyalty to the New Religion. Some had been sold into slavery, while others had been put in chains, and others again had to flee for safety to the forest, or other parts of the island, or, like Razàka, had to hide for years in caves, or rice-pits, or dens of the earth. It was a joy to see such noble men and women, headed by the noblest of them all, Razàka. I also met for the first time the widow and children--a son and daughter--of the martyr Ràmitràha, and the son of Àndrìampanìry and his wife, who were burned along with Ràmitràha at Fàravòhitra.