Thirty years in Madagascar

I got a fellow missionary to visit our station once a month for six months to teach singing. The class, which was conducted on the sol-fa notation, did our people much good. They enjoyed singing and learned the system readily, and our congregational singing vastly improved. I continued the class to the best of my ability, after the Bible-class on the Friday afternoons. It proved a great attraction, as many as from two hundred to two hundred and fifty attending. The Malagasy are fond of singing, and they sing remarkably well, considering the very small amount of training they have had.

Their beautiful language also lends itself readily to music. Malagasy abounds in vowel sounds and in liquid consonants. Its soft and musical flow has earned for it the name of the Italian of the southern hemisphere. It well deserves the name. It was refreshing to see and hear two hundred, from lisping childhood to grey old age, singing with heart and voice: ‘There is a happy land,’ ‘Oh, that will be joyful,’ ‘Rock of Ages,’ ‘Jesus, the Good Shepherd,’ and other well-known hymns.

At one of these singing-classes, at which we had been practising some new hymns, I asked Razàka how he liked the new hymns. ‘I like them all very well,’ but, he added—the tears meantime flowing down his furrowed cheeks—‘I like best, “Rock of Ages, cleft for me.”’ ‘Yes,’ I thought, ‘that’s the truth that touches the hearts of all God’s people of whatever clime or colour. That has the kernel of the Gospel.’

All the things that go in pairs in Madagascar are called mivàdy, i.e. mated, matched, married—literally, husband and wife. Thus a pair of gloves are mivàdy, the same with a pair of socks, or boots, or shoes. The idea is that of completion. The one is regarded as the complement of the other. The same idea was applied by our people to a hymn and its tune. They were mivàdy—united, mated, married. The hymn was regarded as the husband, and the tune as its vàdy, wife. Every hymn must have its own tune, its own vàdy, wife, and our people would not allow of their separation, their ‘divorce,’ as they called it. I did not know of this idea of theirs for years, and cannot say whether the natives in other parts of the island hold the same view of the matter; but our people in Vònizòngo certainly did. I found this out at one of our singing-classes.

There was a new missionary hymn, a free adaptation of ‘From Greenland’s icy mountains,’ which I wanted them to learn to sing, as I wanted it sung at the opening of our new church. ‘Now,’ I said, ‘I want you to learn to sing this hymn, as it is a very good one, and the author is coming to preach at the opening services, and I am sure he will be pleased to hear his hymn well sung.’ On this I started off singing the hymn to the tune ‘Missionary’; but no one joined in. I stopped and asked: ‘Why are you not joining in the singing?’ They answered: ‘That won’t do, sir.’ ‘Why won’t it do?’ I asked. They said: ‘Sir, that can’t be the proper tune for that hymn for that is the vàdy, wife of another hymn.’ They had married that tune to an adaptation of the English hymn, ‘Go when the morning shineth.’ They felt that it would be improper to separate this well mated and harmonious husband and wife! They demanded consistency on my part. ‘You often tell us,’ they said, ‘that divorcing is wrong, and yet here you yourself want to divorce izy mivàdy,’ these united ones. ‘But,’ I said, ‘that’s carrying the idea as to divorce to absurdity. Why, the hymn suffers nothing by the separation, nor does the tune.’ They said: ‘It would not be right, sir, and we don’t like the idea of separating them.’ ‘Why,’ I said, ‘over on the other side of the ocean, we have one tune to serve a dozen of hymns, and one hymn to a dozen different tunes.’ They answered: ‘You white people may do as you please on the other side of the ocean, but we don’t like such doings. We regard it as culpable divorce, and altogether wrong.’ I asked: ‘Do you really mean all this in sober earnest?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ they answered. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I don’t want to hurt your feelings of propriety, or force you to do what you think wrong; but I am sorry, as I wanted this hymn sung at the opening services.’ ‘So you can, sir,’ they said, ‘if you wish it.’ ‘How can I?’ I asked. They answered: ‘Seek a vàdy for it.’ ‘Where could I get a tune for it?’ I said, ‘I am afraid I don’t know enough about music to be able to set a tune to a hymn, even if I found one.’ They replied: ‘Oh yes, sir, if you set yourself to it, you would manage, somehow,’ and with that we passed on to the singing of another hymn.

The following Friday forenoon, while preparing for the Bible-class, there flashed into my mind a tune I had heard in Edinburgh eight years before. It sounded as if it might be a suitable vàdy for the hymn; for I had tried some of the old Scotch psalm-tunes in vain. There was no marriage likeness between them and the hymn, and till the echo of this tune from the solitary cornopean player on an Edinburgh street came up, match-making did not seem my forte. I do not remember that tune ever entering my head again from that day, when first heard in 1868, till it flashed into my mind that forenoon in 1876. John Wesley is credited with saying, that it was not fair to let the devil have all the best of the tunes. I tried the hymn and the tune over, and it was quite evident that that tune had been intended as the vàdy for that hymn, although, perhaps, the composer did not know what he was doing when he produced it. The ‘marriage likeness’ was so clear, that I proclaimed the banns and united them there and then. I sung the hymn, set to the new tune, to the class in the afternoon. ‘That’s it, sir,’ they said. ‘We knew you could find a vàdy for that hymn, if you only set your wits to work.’

At the opening services, the hymn was sung so well and heartily that the author said to me, on our way home to the manse after the service: ‘How well and heartily your people sing that hymn of mine!’ ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘they sing it very well, don’t they?’ He said: ‘I never heard it sung better, but what tune is that you sing it to, and who set it to that tune?’ I answered ‘I had.’ ‘What tune is it?’ he asked. I said, ‘Don’t you know it?’ ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I do, and yet I can’t name it.’ I said: ‘It’s “God bless the Prince of Wales.”’ Of course it is,’ he said; ‘but how did you come to set it to that tune? We sing it to “Missionary” in the capital.’ I said, ‘We have another vàdy for that tune here in Vònizòngo,’ and then I told him the whole story, and found that the idea was as new to him as it had been to me.

The Rev. W. E. Cousins told in 1877 the following rather amusing incident with regard to the advent of that hymn in Antanànarìvo. He said: ‘Mutual confidence is a thing scarcely known yet in Madagascar, not known at all, perhaps, apart from the influence of the Gospel, and now and then these suspicious people see danger threatening their commonwealth in little suspected quarters. Quite recently a hymn was published. It is our Malagasy representative of “From Greenland’s icy mountains.” The first verse might be translated as follows:

All very simple to us, but to the Malagasy, the gracious Sovereign was none other than Queen Victoria. Her rightful throne was to be set up in Antanànarìvo; and we were asking Queen Victoria to come and take Madagascar to be her own! You see, they read between the lines, and saw meanings that were never intended. The hymn had to be disused for several weeks in consequence of this wide-spread suspicion.’

The event of that year was the opening of our new church at Fìhàonana, the Martyr Memorial church, at the home of the martyrs, where they lived and taught, and among whose rocks, ravines, and caves they hid themselves and the word of God during ‘the killing times.’

We had good opening services, and our people were delighted with them, as also with the number who came from the capital to attend them. We had twelve members of the mission present, three of the chief pastors, who were also royal chaplains, while Her Majesty sent £10, equivalent to £50, to the building fund! Fìhàonana was quite a scene of excitement, and all the houses and huts were full of visitors from all parts of our own and other districts, and from the capital, as were also the houses and huts in all the neighbouring villages. We had a special prayer meeting on the Saturday evening, as a finish to our work of preparation for the opening services, and to invoke a blessing on them.

By five o’clock on the Sabbath morning our people were waiting at the church doors to get in, and hours before the time of service, the church was crammed in every corner, while hundreds stood outside, listening at the open doors and windows. The morning service was from nine to twelve o’clock, and the afternoon from two to five. We had service again on the Monday forenoon. We had six sermons at the services, one each from the three pastors from the capital, and the same from three members of our mission. In them our people had a feast, especially in the magnificent sermon of J. Andrìanaivo, ‘The Spurgeon of Madagascar,’ and in the marvellous oration of Rainimànga, the ex-slave, one of the orators of the island.

After the service on Monday forenoon we adjourned outside, when Hàsina (the unbroken money tendered to Her Majesty’s representatives at all great gatherings, in token of allegiance) was presented, and we received the £10 sent by the queen to the building fund. Matiosy Mivàdy, Matthews, husband and wife, were publicly and profusely thanked in the name of the queen and the prime minister—much to the joy of our people—for all they had done and were doing for the good of the people of Vònizòngo. As I had to respond to that, I simply said we were only doing and had done what we intended when we came to the island, namely, our best and utmost for the good of the people, and the spread of the Gospel: and we purposed continuing in the future to do as we had done in the past.

The queen’s message with regard to education was then given, which flatly contradicted all the false reports that the old heathen party had set in circulation to the effect that Her Majesty had no longer any love or respect for religion, that she was about to put a stop to public worship, close all the schools, and had forbidden the people to pay any salary to the schoolmasters.

We then expected the bullock to be presented to the queen’s messengers and the pastors from the capital; but it had been stolen during the night by an uninvited official—one of the judges—who had turned up, and sent it off by one of his slaves at daylight to the capital to be sold there! I did not know all this till a fortnight afterwards.

As there was no bullock and none to be had (although there might have been, had the poor people had money with which to buy another one), the visitors had to be fed on pork, at which they were very displeased, and little wonder, thinking that Razàka, the chiefs, and our people were a very mean set of folks not to have provided a bullock for them.

Many years after, one of the city pastors present at the opening services, in speaking of them to me, brought the charge of meanness against Razàka, the chiefs, and the people of Fìhàonana because of the treatment they had received on that occasion, and I had to tell him, much to his astonishment, how it was that they were treated as they were, and had no bullock presented.

About a fortnight before the date we had originally fixed for the opening of our new church, we found we should have to take down the south gable, as it had been built off the plumb, while we were away on our holiday. A hurricane had so shaken the roof that we found the gable was giving, and would have to be taken down and rebuilt. We put off the opening services for a month. We took off a third part of the roof, took down the gable, made 40,000 bricks, put it up again, plastered it outside and in, whitewashed the inside, reroofed the part we had removed, and did all in five weeks. Nearly all the work was done by our own people, who in addition provided all the material, while an entire set of new mats for the floor was provided by the women.

Our people came out very clean and tidy for the opening services, and some of them ‘braw’ even. Their singing was very much admired; for although we had no ‘kist o’ whistles’ to lead the singing, as our people made good use of the organs God had given them our singing was always hearty, and if not always quite as correct and harmonious as it might have been, there was always soul in it, and all joined in the service of song.

Our friend, the late Joseph Sewell, of the Friends’ Mission, came to see us that year, and to spend a few days at our station previous to his retirement from the Madagascar Mission. He took my Saturday morning class for pastors and local preachers; and had a long talk with them on the subject of slavery, a subject on which ‘Friends’ have always been ‘sound.’ The following Saturday morning, as I also wished to have a talk with them on the same subject, I asked what Mr. Sewell had been talking to them about the previous Saturday morning, and they answered, ‘Slavery.’ ‘Well,’ I said, ‘and what is your opinion of what he had to say on that subject?’ ‘Well, sir,’ they said, ‘we cannot see slavery in the light that you white men see it.’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘I don’t suppose you can, or you would have done with it at once.’

As I wished to present slavery to them in the strongest and most repulsive light I could, I asked them: ‘Supposing Jesus Christ were in the market on sale for thirty dollars—“thirty pieces of silver”—would you buy Him?’ ‘No, sir,’ they answered; ‘how can you ask such a question?’ I replied that I had a purpose in asking it, and said again: ‘Suppose He were in your possession as a slave, would you sell Him for thirty dollars?’ ‘No,’ they said, ‘most certainly not, that would be as bad as Judas Iscariot.’ ‘Well,’ I said, ‘perhaps it would, I just wanted to know your opinion on the point. Then you would neither buy Him nor sell Him, even if you could,’ I said. ‘Most certainly not,’ they all answered. ‘Well,’ I continued, ‘we have a good many church members here at Fìhàonana who are slaves; now if they are true members of the church, they are members of the mystical body of our Lord Jesus Christ, are they not, and sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty?’ ‘Yes,’ they answered, ‘that is quite correct.’ ‘Well,’ I added, ‘do you remember reading, or hearing read from the New Testament, that one day, while Jesus Christ was teaching, His mother and His brethren came and wished to speak with Him, and some one told Him, when He said: “Who is My mother, and who are My brethren? Those who do the will of My Father Who is in Heaven.”’ They said they remembered the incident. ‘Well,’ I continued, ‘while it is quite true, and never to be forgotten, that Jesus Christ was and is the Son of God in a sense that no created being can ever be, still, if those slaves who are members of the church are true members, they are sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty, and brothers and sisters of the Lord Jesus, by His own showing; so that while you keep on buying and selling them, you are really buying and selling the sons and daughters of God, and the brothers and sisters of the Son of God, and it seems to me to be going but one step further to sell Himself!’

‘Well, sir,’ they said, ‘we certainly never saw it in that light; for it was never put to us in that way before.’ ‘Well, but,’ I added, ‘don’t you see and admit, that it may be looked at in this way?’ They answered that they did, and then there was silence for some time, which was broken by one of them asking: ‘Well, sir, how would this do? Set all the children of God free; but the children of the devil, keep them in slavery as long as they live!’

‘Well,’ I answered, ‘by that plan you would get rid of the difficulty and be clear of the guilt of buying and selling the sons and daughters of the Almighty, and the brothers and sisters of His Son; but don’t you see, that you would not get rid of all the difficulties even by that plan, in fact, you would only remove them a step. You remember God said: “Let Us make man in Our own image after Our likeness ... So God created man in His own image, in the image of God created He him; male and female created He them.” And so you see, you would not quite get rid of all the difficulties, as you would still be buying and selling men and women created in the image of God, and also desecrating that humanity which has been sanctified by the Son of God tabernacling in it.’

‘It’s of very little use,’ they said, ‘arguing with you white men on the subject of slavery. You have always an answer ready for everything we may advance in support of it, and we always get the worst of the argument; and so we may just as well give in now; for we are certain to be beaten in the end.’ ‘You have a very bad cause to defend,’ I said, ‘and although “Good men may be connected with a bad cause, good men can never make a bad cause good.” Your cause is thoroughly bad. It is rotten to the core, and the sooner you cut all connexion with slavery—as you will have to do some day—the better it will be for yourselves and everybody else.’ ‘Well, sir,’ they said, ‘that may be quite true, but it will require a great deal of the grace of God to enable us to see slavery in the light that you white men see it, and cut all connexion with it.’ ‘Very likely,’ I answered: ‘for it took a great deal of the grace of God to enable our forefathers to see slavery in its true light.’

The state of the churches that year, and the causes which affected them, had also a detrimental effect on the schools; for with the exception of the four schools connected with the four principal churches and a few others, the majority had made but little progress, as we found at the annual examination. The four schools mentioned had trained teachers, who had not been disturbed in their work; whereas other schools had poor teachers, who had been very much disturbed, and hence had got very little teaching done. Still, at the annual examination, I was surprised with the progress that had been made, notwithstanding all hindrances; and especially with the work done in the four principal schools. Where-ever I went to preach, I made a point of catechizing the children for an hour the first thing on Sabbath mornings. There were many and great advantages in following this plan. It not only benefited the children, but the adults also. They heard the questions, the answers, and the explanations; and learned something in spite of themselves.

It was very cheering and refreshing to find that the schools had made such progress, especially in Bible knowledge. I had sent six of my best lads to the normal school at the capital for two years’ training; and as that class of teachers increased our schools improved. For trained teachers our people were quite prepared to pay, when they would not pay for trained evangelists. They could see sooner the results of the teachers’ work in the progress of their children than discern improvements in themselves.

Except here and there, at advanced central stations, trained evangelists were not needed, and the people would not pay for their services. Their own pastors and local preachers were quite equal to the spiritual and intellectual wants of their churches. These country pastors were rapidly improving in knowledge of all kinds, by their attendance at the Bible-classes, by reading the Monthly, and commentaries. They got no salary, so that even the poorest churches could avail themselves of their services. The great want was trained godly teachers; for our hopes for the future of the churches, the district, and the country were based upon the work of the schools, more than even on the churches themselves.

At the examination at the beginning of the year, I had picked out forty of the most advanced lads from the various schools in the district, got them freed from government service, and brought to Fìhàonana to be prepared for the entrance examination of the Normal school. Fourteen of these passed. At the spring examination I picked out other fourteen for preparation, so that I had sixty lads under training to be teachers, forty at Fìhàonana, and twenty at the Normal school.

Our station school at Fìhàonana had kept up well during the year. Till June we had a daily attendance of from two hundred to two hundred and twenty, exclusive of the forty lads under special preparation; but the stupid excitement on the subject of slavery led to many of the slave children being removed, so that the school fell for a time to one hundred and eighty. We soon got it up to former numbers, however, by an influx of new scholars. Our school cost us £1 17s. 0d., equivalent to £9 5s. 0d., a month, which was a large sum for even a station school; but it was the largest station school in the island then. By the examination returns we found that we had 80 who could read, 67 from the Gospels; 96 had slates, 65 could write on them, and 57 could do some arithmetic, while two years before there was only a school of 30, not 20 of whom could read, or write, or had Bibles, Testaments, or slates; so that considerable progress had been made, an earnest of what was afterwards to be. The false reports set in circulation by the old heathen party, that there was to be no more praying allowed, affected the sale of books very much; still, we sold 300 Testaments, 50 Bibles, 600 catechisms, 1,000 school slates, and many hundred lesson-books, hymn-books, and arithmetics, &c., besides 300 Good Words monthly.

I was very deeply disappointed with the reception that my two trained nurses met with for some months after their return from the hospital at the capital. No one would have them, because ‘they followed the white people’s mode of treatment’; and when some cases turned out badly under the insane old heathen methods, and our nurses were sent for I declined to let them go. This brought a good many to their senses. Unless our nurses were called in at first, they were not permitted to attend. This brought the more sensible to see things in a proper light. The tide soon turned in the nurses’ favour, and their services were appreciated, paid for, and greatly in request. The old heathen ideas as to medicine, nursing, and general treatment of the sick rapidly died out in the neighbourhood, while ours as rapidly gained ground.

With the exception of superintending the girls’ school and taking the sewing-classes for two hours a week, my wife had neither time nor strength for doing more that year; but her labours in that direction were much appreciated, and there was always a larger attendance at school on the days of the sewing-class. We had a very handsome subscription to the building fund of the new church from the sale of the work of the girls at the sewing-classes.

That year marked, very decidedly, the rapid passing away of old things, external and internal. Old heathen ways of doing and looking at things changed. The leaven had been put into the meal, and was rapidly working its way to the surface, affecting everything and everybody, and all the ways and walks of life.

The damp floor of our new church, and the day-school being taught in it, soon destroyed the fine set of mats prepared by the women for the opening services. They had rotted away and were soon in shreds. As the women could not be expected to provide new mats every few months, or the congregation to buy them, something had to be done, and I was greatly exercised in mind to know what to do to get a dry floor. I could not lay down a wooden floor, that would have cost £100. As I had no £100, and was weary of begging, I had to set my wits to work to find out how a dry floor could be secured. After some time I came to the conclusion that the best thing would be to macadamize it.

I went down to the school next morning, to enlist the services of the children. I said to them: ‘I want you to help me to floor the church.’ They looked at me and then at each other, not seeming to understand what I meant, and, perhaps, suspecting that I had gone slightly wrong in my head. I said: ‘We white men have a proverb which says: ‘Foolish people and children should never see half-finished work.’ You just do as I tell you, and you will find that it will be all right in the end. Every morning as you come to school, bring a stone in each hand, about the size of your fist, and fling them down at the church door.’ They did so for several months, and I went down one morning, and we flung all they had brought into one corner of the church; but they only filled a space of about twelve feet square and a foot deep. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘children, it will evidently take us a very long time to floor the church at this rate; suppose we set to work and finish it off at once.’ ‘Just as you please, sir,’ they said. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘you shall have a holiday to-day; but come at the usual hour to-morrow morning.’ They were all there at 8 o’clock next morning, and so was I, and after the hymn, reading of the Scriptures, and prayer, we started off to gather stones till 12 o’clock, and we kept at that, all over the moor from 8.30 till 12 o’clock for five days a week for over a fortnight. We filled the floor of the church, a space of 60 feet by 40. I got the women folks to bring me sand from the banks of the stream, and spread a few inches of sand over the stones. What was then wanted was a roller, but there was no such thing to be had. ‘Take what you have and you’ll never want’ came in useful again. I had no roller, but I had 260 children with a couple of feet each, and I set them scampering and dancing all over that floor, until they had tramped it as hard as any roller could have made it. I then had three inches of mud spread above the sand, and the whole floor washed with odorous waters, which, repeated at intervals, kept the floor unbroken, and gave freedom from the insect pest of Malagasy churches, and thus we got a clean, dry, comfortable floor, which had not cost money, and all felt that they had done their share in the producing of it—a most important item.

The walls of our new church had been nicely coloured and ornamented by means of stencil plates; but as we had to conduct a large day-school in it, the walls got soiled and suffered in other ways. We found, to our surprise, that there were a great number of budding artists among our boys, and they would persist in exercising their gifts on the walls, until our people became quite angry over their doings. They said: ‘We cannot allow the walls of God’s house to be desecrated in that way. If those boys won’t desist, we shall turn them out of the church to learn outside.’ ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘It is very thoughtless of them; but you “can’t put old heads on young shoulders,” and boys will be boys, the fact is, I was once a boy myself. There is nothing for it but to build a large school-house, and get them out of the church.’ ‘Oh,’ they said, ‘but that is building again, and we are tired of building.’ ‘Well,’ I said, ‘If you are tired of it, what do you think I am? What’s to be gained by falling out with the indications of Providence? Sit down and let us discuss the situation’; that is what the Malagasy enjoy.

We sat down and discussed the matter for two hours, until every one had his say—some several times over. After we had gone over all the pros and cons, I said: ‘Now to bring things to a point, you will make the bricks for the new school, the children will carry them to the site, and I will pay for the laying of them. The women will gather the thatch for the roof, you will thatch it, and I will be responsible for all the wood-work—the roof, the doors, the windows, and the glazing. ‘That’s it, sir,’ they said, and we all set to work with a will, and our fine large school was soon an accomplished fact.

The people fulfilled their part of the agreement with great heartiness. In fact, after I declined to leave them and go to Mojangà, to open a new mission on the north-west coast, they were most diligent; I had only to mention what I wanted done, and it was done at once. The men made 200,000 bricks, the school children carried them to the site, the women gathered 100 bundles of thatch, and the men thatched the building. The glass for the school, and also for three churches in the district, was a gift from my old friend Colonel R. Pilkington, M.P., of St. Helen’s. It was a fine school, a fit addition to our model church. It was of immense service for years. It was requisitioned during the reign of martial law, after the arrival of the French, and since 1897 there has been a large government High School for boys conducted in it. Compensation was paid for the other buildings requisitioned; but nothing has ever been obtained for it, for the remains of the manse, or for the yard for which we had a forty years’ lease.

While buildings were being erected, and the schools were being carried on, the churches of the district kept gradually increasing in number, and were being consolidated, as the people grew in knowledge, in the fear of God and in Christian liberality. The darkness and ignorance of their former benighted state gradually gave way before the rays of the rising sun of righteousness; and the light of the knowledge of the glory of God, as it shone ever clearer in the face of Jesus Christ. Hence there was a growing anxiety for instruction—especially religious instruction—as they came to understand more clearly what church membership and a profession of Christianity meant.

Of course such things could only be said of the members of the more advanced and intelligent churches; for, as might have been expected, from their very recent state, there was a want of reality among many. Much of their religion consisted of attendance at church on the Sabbath. They showed but slender signs of Christian life, if ever they had tasted that the Lord is gracious. We were convinced of the truth that ‘The soul of all reformation is the reformation of the soul.’ Until that takes place, there is nothing that can be depended upon. We have, however, thankfully to acknowledge that hundreds made really most praiseworthy efforts towards higher and better things. Remembering how handicapped many of them were by their past habits and heathen surroundings, their progress was most creditable.

There were many indications of improvement and progress that could not always be tabulated, or reported, such as: the gradual but most decided improvement in the social condition of the people, and especially in their view of the marriage relation. More attention was also devoted to personal cleanliness, comfort, and decency in clothing. There was still a love for finery, and a weakness for gaudy colours among the women folk; but even they showed signs of an improvement in taste. Many huts, which had been little better than filthy pigstyes seven years before, became clean, tidy, decent, and comfortable. This led to an improvement in health and morals; for you cannot have anywhere dirty overcrowded homes and good morals any more than good health. Prayer and praise began to rise from firesides, amòrom-pàtana—formerly given over to heathen folk-lore and filthy communications. Bible-reading took the place of story-telling and gossip. Health so far improved that in our village of Fìhàonana, and a few near, with the exception of mild attacks of malarial fever, sickness so decreased that I had not one patient where formerly I had ten. Typhoid fever, which had been the plague of the place, and which, had they followed my advice to the full, I believe we could have stamped out, or nearly so, was greatly diminished.

With the improvement in the huts and homes, there was also an improvement in the church buildings. The large mud huts were replaced by handsome brick buildings, with platform pulpits, and, in a few cases, with tiled roofs and glazed windows.