mantles, were the work of the men, the women had by far the heavier task of agriculture, building houses, fencing, bringing firewood, and the like. They were therefore the drudges of their haughty and lazy husbands, who found them too useful to part with any of their number. During the greater part of the year they were constantly employed in laborious work of many kinds, living on a coarse and scanty fare, and having a baby frequently fastened to their backs while they tilled the soil or performed other heavy manual duties.

After remaining among the Bechuanas for more than six years, we seemed to have made no progress at all. They had by this time become perfectly callous and indifferent to all instruction, except it were followed by some temporal benefit. Moreover, they seemed to regard us as lawful prizes, to be used and plundered at pleasure. They would rob our houses, our smith's shop and garden, and would carry off our cattle from the field, or through love of mischief would drive them into a bog, and leave them to perish there or to be eaten by wild beasts. Because of the scarcity of grain and vegetables, we lived for the most part on animal food. Our sheep were procured from a distance, but before they reached us we generally lost a considerable number which had been stolen from the flock on the way. They would break their legs, cut off their tails, and frequently carry them entirely off. Our saws, axes, knives, spoons, they especially coveted; and very often, if we went away from the spot where we were engaged at work, even though not many yards distant, we had to take all our tools with us.

Our duties at this time were exceedingly heavy, for we had to do nearly everything with our own hands. We built our houses, and planted our gardens. But our labours were constantly thwarted, for when we had dug a trench of several miles for irrigating our land, the water which ran into it from the Kuruman river would be diverted from its channel by the natives for their own fields, leaving us without a drop either for garden or household purposes. Mr. Hamilton and myself have had to watch in turn the whole night in order to save the few vegetables growing in our gardens; and when, after all our vigilance and labour, we had saved what was so necessary to our health, the natives would steal them by day as well as by night, and, after a year's toil and care, we scarcely reaped anything to reward us.

During these earlier years the few people

who attended public worship did so from purely interested motives, either to receive from us tobacco, or a tool, or our personal help, or some other favour. They very often manifested the greatest indecorum. Some would snore, others would laugh, while others would work or amuse themselves in a manner very distressing to us to witness. Never having been accustomed to chairs or stools, some, by way of imitation, would sit with their feet on the benches, having their knees, according to their usual mode of sitting, drawn up to their chins. In this posture one would fall asleep and tumble over, to the great merriment of his fellows. Sometimes, when the missionaries were absent from their homes at public worship, the opportunity would be embraced to pilfer their property. Mr. Hamilton and myself, when we met in the evening, had almost always some tale to tell of our losses, but never of our gains, except those of resignation and peace, the results of prayer, patience, and faith in the unchangeable purposes of God.

The prospects of the mission at this time were of the gloomiest character, and, as we proceeded in our work, appeared to become darker than ever. We were suspected of befriending the Bushmen, who annoyed the Bechuanas incessantly by capturing their cattle, and killing the men who watched over them. The ground of the charge was, that when we sent our men to assist in retaking the cattle driven away, we enjoined upon them not to kill the Bushmen. They acknowledged that we wronged no man, but at the same time regarded us as the authors of many of their troubles, and as the causes of the drought which afflicted the land. Everything wrong done by a Griqua while hunting in the country, was thrown in our teeth; and if any one of the natives felt himself aggrieved during a visit to that people or to the South, we were told that we ought to have prevented it. To reason with them only tended to arouse their passions.

But now heavy judgments came upon the land, which were to be the prelude of brighter days. War and bloodshed, drought and locusts, devastated the country, and tamed the people, making them more inclined than they had hitherto been to listen to the preaching of the Gospel. This was at first manifest by an increasing number of natives coming to the mission chapel, and by the greater attention which was paid to the words of the preacher, as well as by the readiness with which many answered the questions on the Bible which were put to them. Towards the

end of 1828, on the return of Mr. Hamilton, who had visited the colony for a season, we were favoured with the manifest outpouring of the Spirit from on high. The moral wilderness was now about to blossom. Cheeks bedewed with tears attracted our observation. To see females weep, was nothing extraordinary. According to Bechuana notions, it was their province, and theirs alone. In family or national afflictions, it was the women's work to weep and wail. But men would not weep. They would sit in sullen silence, brooding over deeds of revenge and death. The simple Gospel now melted their flinty hearts; and eyes wept which never before shed the tear of hallowed sorrow. Our temporary little chapel became a place of weeping; and the sympathy of feeling spread from heart to heart. The chapel became crowded with anxious inquirers, and for some time it was impossible to maintain order or even decorum among them. Those under concern for their souls held prayer-meetings from house to house; so that the sounds predominant throughout the village, instead of rioting and folly, as in former times, were those of singing and prayer. When there were none able to engage in prayer, they sang till a late hour, and before morning dawned assembled again at some house for worship, and then went forth to their daily labour.

The first converts were baptized in the month of June, 1829. They had given very satisfactory proofs of a change of heart. After full examination separately they were found to possess a much larger knowledge of the Scriptures than had been anticipated. Although they had long listened with unbelieving hearts, and often with disgust, their memories were retentive-a general characteristic of such as never use memoranda. They exhibited great simplicity of faith, and an implicit reliance on the atonement of Christ, of which they appeared to have a remarkably clear conception, especially when we remembered the darkness of their minds previously. The new chapel and schoolhouse was crowded to excess on the occasion, and the greatest interest was excited by the ceremony. A sermon was preached on John i. 29, and a suitable address was delivered to the candidates. In the evening we united with them in celebrating the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. It is impossible to describe our feelings at that time. We were as those that dreamed while we realised the promise on which our souls had often hung: "He that goeth forth and weepeth,

bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." The hour had arrived on which the whole energies of our souls had been intensely fixed, when we should see a church, however small, gathered from among a people who had so long boasted that neither Jesus, nor we, His servants, should ever see Bechuanas worship and confess Him as their King.

Our joy was great. But we rejoiced with trembling, for we knew that the heathen party was still very powerful, and would probably soon display a violent opposition to the spread of the Gospel among the Bechuanas. Being satisfied, however, that the work was of God, we knew that it was under His guidance, and that He would not suffer it to be impeded. There were many prejudices yet to be overcome. The relation in which the young converts stood to their heathen neighbours, would expose their faith to trial. The excitement in the village would gradually pass away, and might be followed by a reaction. But we gave ourselves unto prayer, in the belief that He who had begun the good work would carry it on.

Christianity brought with it civilisationfor those who embraced the new religion were at once seized with the desire to reform their personal habits and social usages. Cleanliness began to be practised, and instead of besmearing themselves with grease they washed themselves with water. Ornaments which were formerly in high repute as adorning, but more frequently disfiguring, their persons, were now turned into bullion to purchase skins of animals, which, being prepared almost as soft as cloth, were made into jackets, trousers, and gowns. For a long period, when a man was seen to make a pair of trousers for himself, or a woman a gown, it was a sure intimation that we might expect additions to our inquirers. Abandoning the custom of painting the body, and beginning to wash with water, was with them what cutting off the hair was among the South Sea islanders, a public renunciation of heathenism. Thus, by the slow but certain progress of Gospel principles, whole families became clothed and in their right mind. In their eagerness for improvement the people sometimes arrayed themselves in grotesque garbs. One would have on a coat of many colours; another would wear a jacket with only one sleeve, because the other was not finished, or cloth was wanting to complete it. The people were now anxious to learn how to use the needle, and to make garments; and at first it was no easy matter for them to do

His providence to participate in this heavenly banquet. I was afterwards joined by Mr. Ashton, who rendered valuable service to the mission in many ways; but he, after long service, was removed to the station at Lekatlong. His place, however, was filled at Kuruman by my son, John Moffat, who entered on his work there in the year 1866, and who in turn has been removed to the station once occupied by Dr. Livingstone, and latterly by Mr. Price, now of the Ujiji or Tanganyka mission.

Formerly, travellers among the Bechuanas were exposed to great danger. Now they may go for many miles in all directions without fear of molestation. A consider able trade has sprung up between these tribes and Europeans from the Cape colony; and foreign manufactured goods of the value of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds are annually imported into the country, and exchanged for native produce. There was no commerce or barter carried on between Europeans and the Bechuana tribes at the commencement of missions among them, nor could they be induced to trade, till through the Divine blessing converts were made. These were the first to adopt a European dress. During the previous years traders came as far as the Kuruman mission station, bringing all kinds of tempting articles which they displayed before the natives, who could not be made to see either comfort or beauty in them. These men who had hoped to realise a profit by ostrich feathers, ivory, cattle, &c., &c., could only dispose of a few pounds of beads, and returned some hundreds of miles sadly mortified. The example set by our first converts approved itself to others, and it being entirely out of our power to supply them with what was required, having but a scanty supply for our own wants, they were instructed to make dresses from skins prepared for the purpose, and in which they made a very respectable appearance. They had an example in Mrs. Hamilton and myself, who generally wore parts of our dress of the same material. It was soon found necessary to apply for a merchant to come and settle on the station.

HAS

The Gospel has thus changed the moral aspect of a large portion of the Bechuana tribes, and its gracious influence has been felt among the Bakwaries, Bamanguatos, as far even as the distant Matabeles; and many true believers in Christ are to be found not merely in Kuruman, but also in many other parts of the country. Heathenism still exists in some places, but it is gradually dying out, and giving place to Christianity. Education is spreading, and young men are being trained as preachers and teachers. The people are very fond of their Bibles, which they study most diligently, and also take great delight in the singing of hymns. And they have never lost the pleasure of attending the public services in the mission chapels, where they assemble together with singular regularity. But they need more depth of knowledge, which I trust they are gradually receiving.

Now that we can look to the number and extent of missionary stations, and missionaries of other societies as well as of our own, which occupy a vast extent of country, and the numbers which have been gathered into the fold of the Redeemer, we may well say, What hath God wrought? The Scriptures are translated into several languages, and are read by thousands; and institutions are raised for educating a native ministry, some of whom have gone forth and are proclaiming the everlasting Gospel to their own countrymen. Little more than fifty years ago, there were only a small mission station in Namaqualand, and another at Griqua Town. These were all beyond the colony except the Kuruman, still in an embryo state. Now missionaries of half a dozen societies occupy stations from beyond Natal, on the east, to the Damaras, on the west, and among their churches forty thousand church members are the fruits of missionary enterprise. If every one bearing the Christian name, and hoping to be saved through Him who tasted death for every man, were to do what he is expected to do in reference to every creature to whom He commissioned His disciples to go, to tell of full and free redemption, we might hope that two-thirds of the world would be reclaimed in fifty years more.

faults in the eyes of his fellow-men. And, perhaps, the saying is truer than it ought to be. But for the husband of Romola, rarely gifted as he was by nature, who feels anything other than loathing from the first dawn of his good fortune until he meets his horrible end?

And yet on that April morning, when Tito lay sleeping under the loggia, he was far from being wholly bad, very far from being hateful. He wished no ill to any one. He would have had all the world happy, if only —it was a big saving clause-their happiness did not interfere with his.

That saving clause undid him, as it has undone many an other. For selfishness mostly has its Nemesis.

Care for himself, and only for himself, led Napoleon to put away the blameless wife whom he professed to love, to murder the innocent Duc d'Enghien, and to leave the soldiers, who would have followed him to the world's end, to be buried beneath snowdrifts on the Russian steppes, or drowned in the icy waters of the Borodina. And he died an unhappy prisoner, with not one of his own blood near him. Care for himself, and only for himself, led the brilliant Buckingham to sow discord between his country and his king, and an assassin's knife punished his misdeeds.

In every-day life, the same story in a tamer form is repeated again and again. For when that canker of indulged selfishness once fairly eats its way into men and women's natures, the kindliness and justice and pity that may be in them are pretty sure, sooner or later, to wither away and leave them with but one fixed aim-their own comfort, their own enjoyment, their own gain, to be bought, not, perhaps, at the price of such suffering as Baldassare's, of such a doom as Tito's, but at the price probably of many tears, many heart-aches to those about them, and certainly of a peevish, unlovable old age to themselves.

It comes to us like a solemn warning when we follow the downward steps of Tito's life, and note the ghastly train of crimes to which pure selfishness, quite untinged with malignity, could drive a man, outwardly so genial and light hearted. It may be a very wholesome warning, if we feel, as many of us must do, that the seeds of such selfishness lie within

us.

But in the recoil from this danger, in the eager determination to choose the better part, and to fight against their lower impulses, enthusiastic spirits may sometimes carry their

self-abnegation too far, not for their own good, but for the good of others.

And so comes up the hard question, and a very hard one it is "Where should selfabnegation stop?" With most of us the difficulty of getting anywhere near the limit is too great to make it needful that we should trace it out accurately. But apart from a noble desire to lead the highest life, there are three kinds of motives which may and do impel people now and then to overstep the line, and so to become actually hurtful, by fostering in their friends and daily companions that very vice which they wouldsome of them at least-shudder to find in themselves.

The lowest of these motives is, of course, that moral cowardice which makes it less painful to succumb than to provoke anger or complaints. And here self-sacrifice is, in truth, only another name for self-pleasing, since it simply means choosing the lighter of two evils. Where there is no such cowardice, natural amiability and docility will often incline women, and sometimes men, at once to yield a disputed point rather than excite annoyance, to follow another's way rather than insist pertinaciously upon their own. And, again, when neither fear nor meekness prompts submission, it may spring from a conscientious belief-the stern belief which has incited so many men in past ages to fastings and flagellations-that to forego personal wishes, to endure hardness, is a Christian's constant and most binding duty.

But do the kindly people who only want to see around them universal content, and the earnest-minded people who are striving at any cost to do right, always consider quite enough whether they are helping to bring about real content; whether they are doing right when they passively resign themselves to neglect, or bow to domestic tyranny, or humour unreasonable caprices?

If such habitual forbearances touched the tyrants' hearts, and by heaping coals of fire. on their head brought them to contrition and amendment, it would clearly be both right and politic to practise it. But experience seems to show that thoroughly selfish people have not usually very sensitive consciences or quick appreciation of any needs or desires but their own. If the world is going well with them they feel a comfortable assurance that it is of necessity going well with every one else; they see no reason why they should deny or control themselves, and each day's indulgence of their wilfulness and self-absorption confirms them in their errors.