We went up to the capital in January, 1874, to attend the meetings of the Imèrina district committee and a missionary conference, held during that month. It was not until the second week of February that we were able to start home again to our own station, and on that journey we had an exciting experience, which might have had a very tragic ending. It was the middle of the rainy season, when the rivers and streams were flooded. This made the journey with young children a trying one; but all went well, until we reached the banks of the Ànjamòka, a small and usually a shallow river, about seven miles from our own home. There had been very heavy rains during the night previous, and we found the river swollen to ten times its ordinary size. The bearers refused to attempt the crossing. They said they would be drowned if they did, as the current was so strong. After waiting on the banks of the river for about an hour discussing the subject, and trying to persuade the men to make the attempt, I felt compelled at last to assume a different tone, and tell them that the river had to be forded. We had neither stretchers nor bedclothes, and we were not prepared to spend the night, within sight of our own home, on mats on the floor of a filthy Malagasy hut full of vermin. As there was no canoe to be had, there was nothing for it but to ford the river. My firm tone had the desired effect, and the men rose and prepared to cross. Four of the tallest of them took up my wife’s palanquin, with her and the baby, and holding it high over their heads, entered the river. Four of their companions entered the river along with them, two swimming on the lower side of the palanquin, and two on the upper side, holding on to the poles with one hand while they swam with the other to keep the bearers from being carried away by the current. My heart was beating fast as I saw them enter the rushing stream; but it almost stood still when I saw the heads of the bearers disappear in the foaming river. I thought I was to see my wife and child drowned before my eyes. Fortunately my wife could not see what was happening. The brave fellows, when they found how deep the river was, had set their teeth, shut their eyes, and marched right on, having to take two or three steps in the bed of the stream, with their heads under water; but holding the palanquin at the utmost stretch of their arms above their heads. The weight of my wife and baby in the palanquin, and the hold which their four companions had of it, helped to keep them steady; but it was a most heroic feat. It was with a sense of ineffable relief that I saw in a moment their heads reappear above the water; but it seemed an age. They soon clambered up the opposite bank, and the precious burden was safe. The bearers then gave vent to their pent-up feeling by laughter and shouting, returned for the other two children, their nurse, and then myself.