llege for elder lads at Kiungani, a new generation
was growing up of children saved from degradation and misery for a
happy, useful Christian life.

And the most striking sign of the change that has been worked, is the
scene which now meets the eye of the visitor to Zanzibar when he seeks
the site of the old slave-market. The ground was bought by a member of
the Universities' Mission, and upon the spot once given over to
injustice and cruelty arose the stately Cathedral of Zanzibar: a church
full of memories, where Bishop Steere was master-builder, watching over
the mixing of the mortar and the laying of the stones, studying
brick-making in England that he might put it into practice in East
Africa. It was he who suggested the material for the roof--pounded
coral, of which the island of Zanzibar actually consists, mixed with
Portland cement and forming a solid arch across the church.

'It is supported by charms until the opening day,' said the Arabs; 'then
it will fall and crush the Christians.' But the roof of Zanzibar
Cathedral stands sure and firm after twenty-six years, and on the
opening day, Christmas 1879, the hymns, 'Hark, the herald angels sing,'
and 'While shepherds watched their flocks by night,' were sung in the
native tongue on the spot where men had bought and sold their brethren,
and as the 'up-and-down music' of chiming bells greets the traveller
from the Cathedral tower, it will bring to his mind many a brave name
among clergy, teachers, sailors and statesmen who took their part in
'healing the open sore of the world.'

MARY H. DEBENHAM.

SAVED BY A GIPSY.

The late Archduke Joseph of Austria was fond of telling a story of how
he bad been saved from disaster by a gipsy soldier.

It happened during the war with Prussia, in 1866, when the camp was
pitched near a Bohemian village. A little before dawn the Duke was
awakened by the sentry's challenge, 'Halt! who goes there?' and directly
afterwards an adjutant came in to say that a gipsy was outside, and
insisting on speaking to him in private.

The gipsy was a soldier, and on his being admitted, the Archduke asked
him what he had to say.

'The enemy is stealing on us, and wishes to surprise us,' was the man's
answer.

'But the outposts have seen nothing suspicious,' said the Archduke.

'No, your Highness,' said the gipsy, 'because the enemy is still far
off; but he will soon be here, and then we are undone.'

'Well! but how do you know