A fine site for the manse was secured on the rising ground to the east of the village of Fìhàonana. A very large village had formerly stood there, and so there was a fosse and embankment round it. The chief and his brother made it over to me, declining any rent. I told them, however, that there must be rent, however nominal, in order that I might make an agreement with the government for it on behalf of the Society, and then they agreed to the nominal sum of four shillings a year. When the agreement came to be signed by the then Hova foreign secretary--a ‘haughty Hova,’ thinly veneered with a profession of Christianity--he took the chiefs to task for allowing me to have such a site so ridiculously cheap. This led to an animated interchange of ideas between him and me. Ultimately it was agreed that the ground-rent should be twelve shillings a year. For that small sum an enclosed site of five acres was secured for forty years to the London Missionary Society. There I built a manse, a large school-house, and a smaller one for girls. Afterwards another dwelling-house and school were erected there. But, alas! in 1897 all that remained of these buildings were seized by the French, and no compensation has ever been paid for them. With the moulds brought from the capital, I soon taught the people how to make sun-dried bricks. The chiefs and pastors of the district offered to have all the bricks required made for nothing; but having strong views on the subject of slavery, I asked them: ‘Will you hire and pay men to make them or will you simply make your slaves do it?’ Of course they said they would set their slaves to make the bricks, so I felt I must decline their generous offer. At this they seemed astonished and hurt. My action in this matter was a mistake. I ought to have accepted their proffered aid, and then given their slaves the money afterwards paid for making the bricks, in the form of ‘presents’ wherewith to buy salt and beef, to fit them for their extra work. But we have all to buy our experience. One morning I sent for the men who professed to be equal to making the bricks I required. ‘Now,’ I said, ‘I want 200,000 bricks (made); how much per thousand will you make them for?’ ‘Well,’ they said, ‘you are a good man who has left his home, relatives, and native land to come to teach us.’ ‘Yes, yes,’ I said, ‘that’s all right, but never mind those trifles at present, we can discuss them at any time, they will keep, let’s discuss the bricks now. How much will you make them for per thousand?’ ‘Well,’ they answered, ‘as you are that good man we mentioned, we will make them for _you_ for four shillings a thousand.’ That would have been $200 = £40, but then equal to £200 to them. ‘Thanks,’ I said, ‘I am much obliged, but I can only give sixpence per thousand.’ ‘Only sixpence a thousand,’ they said, with well-simulated astonishment. ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘We won’t make them for that,’ they said.