But yesterday, in hunting for ink, he had opened a bottle of strong ammonia. For a moment he had been paralyzed by the fumes, then he coughed and sputtered and scolded and screamed and ran to the top of one of the tall palm trees in front of the house. He would never open any more bottles! He seemed to be saying so as he chattered. [Illustration: _Courtesy Women's Missionary Society, United Lutheran Church_ OLD MISSION CHAPEL BUILT BY DR. DAY, AND HIS COFFEE INDUSTRY Dr. Day believed that not only must men be taught about Jesus, but they must be given work to keep them busy and create self-respect.] After breakfast a bell rang, and Mr. Day hurried to the chapel. It was time for prayers, and then he would get at his important task. He had, besides a loving heart, a good head, and he believed that it was not enough to teach men about Jesus and to persuade them to have faith in Him. One must also give them work to do so that their minds and hands might be occupied and they might be self-respecting and busy. Then the tempter would not be able to win them back to sin. Each boy and girl and each man and woman in the mission had a task. In the first place they went to school, and hundreds had learned to read the Bible, some so well that they could teach others. They did the work in the mission house and on the coffee plantations, they toted the baggage, and they farmed for themselves. Mr. Day not only believed that they should work, but he believed that they should have good tools and labor-saving devices just as the white people had, and this morning a long-looked-for steam engine was to be set in place. There was no use to try to have any other work done, or even to keep school. Mr. Day was excited, but he was the least excited of all the people for miles around. He conducted chapel soberly, and then he went down to the river, followed by a great crowd. There were little girls in neat gingham dresses and little boys in white cotton trousers and shirts and older folks who were also clean and neatly dressed. Behind them came another throng who lived near by, but who did not belong to the mission. At their head was a chief who had fixed himself up for the occasion by borrowing all the clothing his friends owned. He wore shoes which were too tight, and consequently he took mincing, awkward steps. The rest of his wardrobe consisted of three heavy coats, the lower one very long, the upper one cut off so as to show the tails of the other two, and a high paper collar. Like all the rest, he was afraid of the large object which lay at the landing. Not much of it was to be seen through the crate which covered it, but he could tell that it was black and dangerous looking. He muttered as he went along. "We no made for do dis ting. 'Merican man got dat sense. Country man too fool; no sava (know) dem ting called steam. Sava cook, sava eat, sava rice; but dis ting pass him."