audience, on account of her interest in the missionary sons of Hawaii. Educated in the Royal School, taught by missionaries, she is deeply interested in the educational advancement of her people.

She told us, in our interview with her, that she had just returned from a tour around the islands, in which she had visited schools and churches. She was, on the whole, well satisfied with what she had seen.

We have heard that on that tour the Queen and seventy-five of her followers were invited to a feast. Great preparation was made by the manager of the sugar plantation. The company sat on the ground under an awning, Her Majesty at the head of a long table. But before they began she commanded silence, and a gray-headed Hawaiian stood up and offered prayer. Punch was prepared for the guests; and though most of the men drank it, or something stronger, it was noticed that the Queen declined everything of the sort, and by her influence the whole meal was orderly,-in marked contrast to the doings of the late King.

The days passed rapidly away, the Australia was again at the wharf, and our homeward-bound tickets were bought. The good-bye was as poetic, as heartfelt as the greeting. Nowhere else in the wide world could be found such a scene. There was Bergeis' band of Hawaiians, trained to skillful work. They played their own soft, plaintive airs, or set our hearts a-throbbing with "America" and other familiar airs. The friends, old and new, were all there. They came with leis of fragrant flowers, which they hung upon our necks as they turned away and went down from the ship. The gangway was drawn up, the cables were slipped, the steamer moved slowly away. We singled out a rose or a pink and threw it to friends, whose upturned faces still spoke of love and interest. We sailed out through the crimson sea into the green, and then into the dark blue waters of the lonely ocean, and left behind us the "Paradise of the Pacific,”—a lovely memory. When the first missionaries of the American Board left New England for the Hawaiian Islands, they little dreamed of such an experience as this. Their journey was long and tedious. Their homes were thatched huts. They found themselves alone among an uncivilized people, to build up a pure Christian Church. Their privations, often sufferings, are recounted to-day as stories of the long ago.

The Hawaiians, as a nation, are Christian, and the chief work to-day is the gospel instruction of the Chinese, Japanese, and Portuguese, who have come to the Islands by thousands. The missionaries' children now left on the islands are helping this work with great generosity. Through the Hawaiian Board and the Woman's Board of the Pacific Islands, the gospel has been sent to the distant islands of Micronesia. What a stimulus to faith

is this wonderful story! And shall not Christ be glorified in every land in which his name is proclaimed by missionary lips? Let every heart consecrated to his service respond with loving sacrifice and earnest prayer.

AFRICA.

UMCITWA AND YONA.

[Zulu Missionaries to the Matabele.]

BY MRS. AMY BRIDGMAN COWLES.

It was in the year 1872 that a heathen woman appeared at the door of the missionary's house at Umzumbe. Her body was wrapped in a blanket, her face thoughtful, her head slightly bent, in token of sorrow and trial. A soul sickened of darkness, groping for the light, she wanted to become a Christian. No threats of her pursuing, persecuting husband availed to turn her back. She stayed with the missionary, and ere long her devoted trial followed. Together they lived upon the station, Gugulana, the wife, learning rapidly the Word of the Lord and the ways of light. But the mother heart could not rest. Away off in a heathen kraal were her two little girls by a former husband,-Yona, ten, and Marthe, eight years of age,—both the inherited property of a heathen uncle, Scorching Sun by name. Alone in her room, the mother's sobs and cries were often heard as she thought of her treasures buried in darkness; of her little girls naked, untaught, learning every day vilest language and grossest wickedness. But "the Lord's hand is not shortened that it cannot save, neither his ear heavy that it cannot hear." At last, in a way almost miraculous, the mother was given her children, the only condition made by the magistrate being that Scorching Sun should have the cattle due him when the girls were married. All this, however, not without great display of heat on the part of Scorching Sun. Indeed, his temperature rose so high that the two little girls had to be protected from his piercing rays behind closed windows and blinds. At length a prison cell proved the only effectual cooler to this sun of the tropics. Straightway Yona and Marthe were placed in the Umzumbe Home. Two forlorn, frightened little mortals they appeared on their arrival. Clad in scanty blankets they huddled together, scarcely daring to venture their first look at the visage of the dreaded white man; refusing to touch a crumb of his bread, lest, as they had been warned, they should become Christians. Oh, dreaded catastrophe! About this time, also, Umcitwa came to the station, then a little boy ten years old. He is described as a "quaint, comical little specimen, with small eyes and small forehead, but, withal, something so

taking in his frank, lively manner as to make him, after thorough ablutions," a successful candidate for the position of nurse to the missionary baby. Ten or eleven years passed away. Yona, in the Home, showed a bright and loving disposition, and "grew in favor with God and man." Umcitwa, at work either for the missionaries or for godless white men, passed through many vicissitudes, and sank into the sins and immoralties of his companions. At last, however, truly converted, he became a new creature in Christ, and a worthy suitor of sweet, modest Yona.

Ten head of cattle, a bright blanket, a pot, a coat, and innumerable smaller things were the price demanded for Yona by Scorching Sun. Not till poor Umcitwa's pocketbook was drained of every penny did this insatiable heathen discontinue his demands. The wedding was very simple. Yona dressed in white muslin, and Umcitwa in a neat suit, stood with bare feet upon the chapel floor, while the ceremony was being performed. A pleasant repast, provided by the teachers in the Home, followed; then the happy couple walked home to their lowly, thatched cottage close by.

Fifty years of labor had been spent by the American missionaries in Natal; years of faithful, earnest effort rewarded by results apparently small. Not a single Zulu convert had volunteed as missionary to the regions beyond. Great, therefore, was the rejoicing when in 1887 eleven young men volunteered. This in response to a call from the London Missionary Society, asking for a Zulu man and his wife to join their missionaries in Matabele Land. Prayerful deliberation resulted in the choice of Umcitwa and Yona as the most fitted to go. Bravely, cheerfully they set about the preparations for their journey. Theirs was no small sacrifice. Around their little cottage home they had planted flowers and fruit trees. Within they had adorned it with many little knickknacks. In each other and in their two children they were perfectly happy. All was love in that fond household. In all church work they were first and foremost, earnest, strong, and vigorous. Indispensable they seemed to the missionary and the little Umzumbe church. But for Christ's sake they were ready to leave all, home, kindred, friends, fatherland; yes, and even their dear little Amy, then only twenty months old. This last well nigh broke the mother's heart. Perhaps never again should she see her bright little darling; not at least till many years had flown, and she had ceased to call her mother. But for the sake of their child, and "In His Name," they would spare her the dangerous journey and a life in that dark land. Into the hands of the missionary's wife they committed their treasure. Then taking baby Elia in their arms, with streaming eyes they turned their backs upon their other darling.

(To be continued.)

LET me tell you of that mountain retreat which, since a recent real-estate investment of the Woman's Board, has a new interest for you and me. I remember my last visit to Mahableshwar as a child, before I went home to America. To Arthur's Seat, one of the highest points, my father took me, and as I sat upon a dizzy height looking down straight three thousand feet, and with childish unconcern viewing the inimitable scene before me, I was startled by his words: "Look well, for you may never in India or in America, see anything grander than this." Even then my eyes were opened, and I carried away with me such an impression of the majesty of the place as could not be obliterated by all my years of absence.

It is the same landscape, though from a different standpoint, that is overlooked by the Ladies' Bungalow,-your gift to us. The same valleys, the same winding rivers, the same multiplied ranges of mountains, the same tidal floods and deep ocean line in the distance, lie stretched before us, and the bungalow stands upon such an eminence that nothing can bar our vision save the sentinels upon the right and left, Elphinstone and Sidney points.