rgeous sunsets, the white moonlight, the shining
river, the flaming blossoms amongst which the humming-birds and
butterflies flitted, and all the sights and sounds that were so
different from those in Scotland. She was so glad that she used to write
poems, and in one of these she sings of the beauty of the land:

... the shimmering, dancing wavelets
And the stately, solemn palms,
The wild, weird chant of the boatmen
And the natives' evening psalms,
The noise of myriad insects
And the firefly's soft bright sheen,
The bush with its thousand terrors
And its never-fading green.

Her spirits, so long bottled up in Dundee, overflowed, and she did
things which amused and sometimes vexed the older and more serious
missionaries. She climbed trees and ran races with the black girls and
boys, and was so often late at meals that Mrs. Anderson, by way of
punishment, left her out nothing to eat. But "Daddy" was fond of the
bright-eyed, warm-hearted lassie, and he always hid some bananas and
other fruit and passed them to her in secret. There was no factory
whistle to warn her in the morning, and sometimes she would start up in
the middle of the night and, seeing her room almost as light as midday,
would hastily put on her clothes, thinking she had slept in, and run
out to ring the first bell, only to find a very quiet world and the
great round moon shining in the sky.

It was not long before all the light and colour and beauty of the land
seemed to fade away, and only the horror of a great darkness remain. She
was taken to the homes and yards of the natives in the town and out into
the bush, and saw a savage heathenism that astonished and shocked her.
She did not think that people could be so wretched and degraded and
ignorant. At some of the places the naked children were so afraid of her
that they ran away screaming. She herself shrank from the fierce men who
thronged round her, but her winning way captured their hearts, and she
was soon quite at home with them.

When she came back she was very thoughtful, and talked to Mrs. Anderson
of the things she had seen.

"My lassie," said "Mammy," "you've seen nothing." And she began to tell
her of the terrible evils that filled the land with misery and sorrow.

"All around us, in the bush and far away into the interior, there are
millions of these black people. In every little village there is a Chief
or Master, and a few free men and women, but the