WANDERINGS OF A MISSIONARY.

CHAPTER IV.

To the north of Kolobeng, where Dr. Livingstone was settled among the friendly Bakwains, there was scattered a colony of what are called "Boers." The meaning of that name is literally farmers, and it does not imply anything rude and uncouth, such as we signify by our word boors. They are a people of Dutch descent, and call themselves Christians. But they have wandered into these mountain outskirts, where they live a wild lawless life, cultivating the soil to some extent, hunting game across the desert, and cruelly plundering and oppressing the poor native tribes about them. They are quite a different class from the steady industrious Boers who live on their farms down the country, near Cape Town. They are the rovers or English Bushmen of the land-like Ishmaelites, their hand against every man, and every man's hand against them. In the shelter of the hills they lie in wait-taking toll of traders-harassing missionaries-keeping the native villages in constant dread of their descents, and, when they do fall upon a tribe, wantonly slaying old and young, carrying away the children to be made slaves of in their desert homes, and leaving the huts of the village smoking in blood and ashes.

Our missionary had in vain treated these dreadful people with every kindness, and addressed them with every entreaty. They were glad enough to make use of his medical skill when they needed it—but he was for them too good a friend of the hapless natives; he taught them too much skill, and too many lessons, among other things, of selfdefence and self-reliance, and they became his enemies accordingly, bitterly and outright. For some fancied wrongs they took a terrible revenge. Issuing from the hills, they broke into the Bakwain village, in a crew of. hundreds; and though Sechele and his people bravely defended themselves till nightfall, they were compelled at last to flee, leaving many slain, and two hundred children

VOL. VII. No. XII.

DECEMBER 1, 1858.

carried away captives from the mission school. Dr. Livingstone's house, raised at great cost to himself, was destroyed; his library, many of the books of which had been his friends since childhood, was torn to atoms, and his medicines smashed. Of clothes, of furniture, of everything, he saw himself utterly stripped. Yet how, think ye, did the good brave man turn his loss into consolation? Why, he thought with himself: "These wicked men think they will hinder God's servant from crossing that great mountain barrier to the north. But on crossing it, with the Gospel in my right hand, I am bent. They against-I for —we shall see who wins the day. Meantime, I thank them, that by destroying my all, they have set me free to travel on my journey without encumbrance, and all the more lightly, that I am quit of a hundred cares. Courage, then, under God, more than ever."

We shall see by-and-by how, in his great journey, he prospered. For the present, at this point, he coolly turns aside to tell us how they lived in Kolobeng. Every man needs to build his house with his own hands. He himself did so. Trees he cut out of the forest; he sawed them; planed them; made brick moulds of them; and then, brick by brick, after a world of labour, raised his dwelling, and roofed it in. This three several times over in different localities he did. Then in cooking, the meal is ground first, and the wife makes it into bread by putting the cakes first into an oven scooped out of an anthill, with a stone for the door; or by laying them on hot ashes, covering them with an inverted metal pot, and heaping ashes round and on the top of that again. Besides the desert bread thus prepared, the missionary and his wife churned their own butter, and made their own soap and candles. "There is not much hardship," he says, "in being almost entirely dependent on ourselves; there is something of the feeling which must have animated Alexander Selkirk, on seeing conveniences spring up before him from his own ingenuity and married life is all the sweeter when so many comforts emanate directly from the thrifty striv

ing housewife's hands." How simple, yet noble, this pair of labourers in the vineyard-and through what a long day of small things the patient way was prepared in the wilderness for the coming of the blessed Lord!

"To some," says the story, "it may appear quite a romantic mode of life. It is one of active benevolence, and such as the good may enjoy at home. Take a single day as a sample of the whole. We rose early, because however hot the day may have been, the evening, night, and morning at Kolobeng were deliciously refreshing: cool is not the word where you have neither an increase of cold nor heat to desire, and where you can sit out till midnight with no fear of coughs or rheumatism. After family-worship and breakfast, between six and seven we went to keep school for all who would attend-men, women, and children, all being invited. School over at eleven o'clock; while the missionary's wife was engaged in domestic matters, the missionary himself had some manual labour, as a smith, carpenter, or gardener, or whatever was needed for ourselves or the people; if for the latter, they worked for us in the garden, or at some other employment: skilled labour was thus exchanged for the unskilled. After dinner and an hour's rest, the wife attended her infant-school, which the young, who were left by their parents entirely to their own caprice, liked amazingly, and generally mustered an hundred strong; or she varied that with a sewing school, having classes of girls to learn the art-this, too, was equally well relished. During the day every operation must be superintended, and both husband and wife must labour till sundown. After that, the husband went into the village to converse with any one willing to do so,-sometimes on general subjects, at other times on religion. On three nights in the week, as soon as the milking of the cows was over, and it had become dark, we had a public religious service, and one of instruction on secular subjects, aided by pictures and specimens. These services were diversified by attending upon the sick and prescribing for them, giving food, and otherwise assisting the poor and wretched. We tried to gain their affections by attending to the wants of the body. The smallest acts of friendship, an obliging word and civil look, are no despicable part of the missionary's armour. Nor ought the good opinion of the most abject to be uncared for, where politeness may secure it. Their good word, in the aggregate, forms a reputation,

which may be well employed in procuring favour for the Gospel. Shew kind attention to the reckless opponents of the Gospel on the bed of sickness and pain, and they never can become your personal enemies. Here, if anywhere, love begets love."

Think, reader, how many beautiful applications in your own case, this touching narrative may have! Next, we shall, with our missionary, cross the Great Desert.

THE DESERT VILLAGE SCHOOL.

HE following letter of a missionary's wife to a young friend in one of our Scottish country manses, speaks for itself. It is sent us that every Sabbath scholar may read its simple story:

LIKATLONG, April 30, 1858.

MY DEAR LITTLE J-Your interesting letter of February I have just received, and, with very great pleasure, sit down to answer your inquiries. As to my sewing school at this station, it generally averages thirty, or more; but, dear, you would wonder to see little black girls sewing and knitting (some very neatly), not dressed, but having only skins of different kinds of animals about their bodies. The first garment that the children wear in this land is a skin petticoat; but the children of the heathen do not even wear this, but are adorned with beads about their necks, bodies, ankles, and arms, their heads being covered with shining stones, powdered and mixed with fat, resembling_quicksilver. These are the poor little heathen. I need scarcey tell you that they may all, with their parents, be brought to the feet of Jesus, to learn of Him, and be clothed, and in their right mind.

In the day-school here the children sing some English pieces very well. Some read and write very well, but have not made much progress in figures. As a reading book, they have the "Pilgrim's Progress," translated into their own Sechuana language by Mr. Ashton. Nearly all the girls in the school have a baby on their backs, for they must nurse while their mothers go to work in the fields. Many of these poor little babies have not a garment to cover them; and our people being very poor now (for they have lost nearly all their cattle by a disease called the lungsickness, which has continued very long), the children are often very hungry as well as cold. We are not able, from our own resources, to do much for them. I am sure if you were here, and many of the Sabbath scholars of Britain, you would all wish often to help them. The women get more help from their husbands now than they used to do. Many take their waggons to bring home their things. Many, too, plough the fields now for their wives. It is very hard work to dig as they do; not with a spade, but with an instrument more like a hoe. They first cast the seed on the surface of the earth, then pick it into the soil.

You ask if we have cows; yes, and make our own butter, soap, and candles. You also inquire about birds; we often see very pretty birds indeed in this country-many of them having very gay feathers. I mean (God willing) to send you some pretty stones and fossils when I can meet with an opportunity. I enclose in this letter a few wildflower seeds, very common with us, but perhaps they will be new to you. I got the other day some small cala