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the Bay. Having rounded Cape Bullen and Longstone, we passed Shark River, Bassupoo West, and Bottle Nose, and had got within a couple of miles of Goat Island by daybreak. Our only halting place was opposite Kid Island, at the yellow, sandy beach to which we referred in our last paper. We landed here, hoping to find some turtles' eggs, but we were disappointed. Arriving at Mission Hill about 8 a.m., we found Mr. Luddington just recovering from an attack of fever. About mid-day he had a return of ague, but we had managed to hold our Quarterly Meeting in the interim, and were pleased to be able to report prosperity in both stations.

Next morning, at 3 o'clock, we continued our voyage, but soon after starting, the boys discovered that they had forgotten to fill the water casks, so we had to put in at Little Bokoko, some miles distant. After the boys had brought the full cask on board, we found that the water was decidedly brackish; hence we were necessitated to put in for a fresh supply at Big Bokoko, some miles further on. Here we obtained excellent water, and a sprinkling of salt spray into the bargain. From George's Bay to Cape Badgley our course was a south-westerly one; therefore the usual sea breeze would be against us until we rounded that cape, after which it would be in our favour. When starting from Mission Hill we expected to have passed this point before the sea breeze sprang up, but through our repeated delays we failed to do so; hence, finding that it would be an immense strain upon the boys if they were kept tugging against wind and waves for half-a-dozen miles, we put about,' and had a pleasant drive before the wind back to Big Bokoko, where we lay at anchor until about 10 p.m., at which time we put to sea again, and were gently wafted along by a slight land breeze. About midnight we had a light tornado, but with the exception of being drenched with rain we were not much inconvenienced by it. The tornado being spent, and the clouds having dispersed, the moon shone out in such splendour that I had some difficulty in convincing the boys that it was not the sun. It is a curious fact that our moonlight is more brilliant than yours; for instance, I find no difficulty in reading the Juvenile Magazine' by the light of the full moon. Probably our comparative freedom from clouds accounts for this.

Having rounded Capes Badgley and Eden by moon-light, daybreak on the morning of the 20th found us sailing eastwards along the southern coast. This part of the Fernandian shores is bold and

rugged, and in rough weather the surf is tremendous. About 6.30 a.m. the boys having seen turtle tracks on the beach, begged me to put in as near the shore as possible. I did so, and without much ceremony two of them plunged into the sea, and-half wild with glee-swam towards the shore, giving an occasional dive to escape the force of the huge breakers near the beach. They succeeded in finding some dozens of turtles' eggs, so that a third boy had to help to bring the booty on board. We now crept along near the shore, keeping a sharp look out for a suitable place to land, which we found about 8 o'clock. Went on shore, and took possession of an empty shed, where we kindled a fire, and had a hearty breakfast ; but we had scarcely finished our repast when a strong breeze sprung up in the East, in consequence of which we were 'weather-bound.' Returning to our shed we tried to sleep, but this was out of the question, for in a short time we were surrounded by upwards of a dozen Boobees, from whom we learned that we were in the district called Oreko.

Knowing so very little of their language, and having no interpreter, we could not converse much with them, still we spent some pleasant hours in their company, and found that there was some difference between the terms they used for common nouns, and those used by the George's Bay Boobees. We tried to explain how we had come across the sea from the 'white man's country' to do them good, after which we sang some hymns upon which our audience became quite uproarious in their admiration. An African traveller has said that a company of musicians might travel with safety throughout the length and breadth of the continent, and we are quite inclined to believe it, especially if the music contained a good sprinkling of Staccatos, Fortes and Fortissimos. These Boobees appeared to be cleaner than the generality of their countrymen, and certainly the two adjacent 'farms,' were the neatest we have seen on the island. About mid-day we dined on turtles' eggs and 'topay' (palm-wine), the latter being the gift of a Boobee. Before tea we had a bathe in clear fresh water, and just before sun-set-the headwind having ceased-we bade our Boobee friends good-bye and continued our voyage. We rounded Cape Barrow (the S.E. corner of island), and got near Melville Bay by daylight on the morning of the 21st,-landed at Biappa and hastily cooked our food in order to be off again. After proceeding some miles beyond Biappa, we were again opposed by a headwind; hence we anchored at Bahwo for some hours. Off again as soon as the wind had slightly abated

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and in due course we passed Basakato, Basualla, Banny, and Cape Horatio, arriving at St. Isabel about mid-night, thus completing a voyage of some 120 miles.

We thoroughly enjoyed the trip, and by it obtained a better idea of the island as a whole. In a remarkable manner God led us here. As far as the great work of evangelizing the Boobees is concerned, Fernando Po belongs to Primitive Methodism. Other missionary societies have left the island to us, and are watching our operations. Shall we betray our trust? I think I bear thousands of Primitive Methodists exclaiming, 'God forbid !' But let such remember that the rate of our progress on the island depends largely upon them. Our missionaries have not yet seen the tenth-part of the Boobee towns on the island. Would it be wise to expect two missionaries to accomplish the work of evangelization in the Isle of Wight, or the Isle of Man? But Fernando Po is considerably larger than either of these islands, to say nothing of other difficulties, such as the physical conformation of the island, the almost impenetrable bush,' tropical heat and malaria, and the state of the people among whom we have to labour; and yet there are but two English missionaries there.

The missionary committee is prepared to deal liberally with Africa, but they must be backed up by the Connexion. Let the readers of this magazine do their utmost. Are there not some who, under the guidance of their circuit ministers, will take out new boxes for Africa? But let all be done-not for the missionaries-but for God and the sons of Ham.

THE SAD AND LASTING REGRET.

S. G.

A FEW years ago four children-two brothers and two sisters-lived in a pleasant village. Charlie, the eldest, was eleven, Ellen nine, Emma eight, and Willie six. Back of the house, on the hill-side, was a fine orchard, bordered by a swift, clear stream. Down in the bottom, near the creek, stood a barn nearly filled with hay. Close to their home a large new barn had been building, and was, at the time of which I speak, nearly completed. During the winter of that year the scarlet fever had been raging in the village, and the children, from fear of exposure, had been much confined to the house. How they longed for the time when they could play out of doors again ! As soon as the long, clear days of May came round they were

allowed a rest from books, and liberty to play as long as they wished. What fun they had in that new house, hiding in the closets, walking on the uncovered beams of the floors, trying to 'lath,' above all, climbing the tall ladder which stood in the place of the large chimney. They hunted hens' nests in the barn, tumbled in the hay, and played see-saw with the boards. Best of all, they liked 'playing tag,' bareheaded on the sandy shore of the creek and in the orchard.

But all through that bright spring Willie had been drooping. The little feet often lagged wearily in the race. He liked to be with the others, but latterly preferred looking on to joining. Sometimes he seemed as well as ever, and then his great ambition was to do like Charlie. But better than any sport, he loved the long stories his sisters would sometimes tell him in the quiet evenings, when play hours were over. Often did he ask to hear about Samson and Joseph, and once cried bitterly about the story of the little boy of Bethlehem, whom Herod tried to kill.

One Saturday afternoon they were playing as usual. Willie did not run fast enough nor hide quick enough. They told him he spoiled their fun-to 'go into the house.' He wished to stay. 'No,' they said they would not stay where they were not wanted if they were in his place. Made sensitive by disease, this was enough. He did not cry nor complain, but turned and walked slowly up the hill to the house.

This was the last time Willie ever trod that path-the last time he ever saw the blue sky. That night fatal sickness came upon him. There were a few days of sorrowful watching for the parents, a few of passionate grief for the children, a few of sharp and hopeless suffering for little Willie, and then, on a pleasant Sabbath evening, brothers and sisters were called to see him die.

Years have passed since then. Charlie and Emma never forgot the lesson of that sad time. They early found there was something which would restrain them from sin. They learned that the love of Jesus may so fill the heart that there is no room for unkindness. They, at length, looked upon Death, not as the terrible enemy he seemed at Willie's dying-bed, but as a good friend, who would lead them to a better land. In early youth they too were called away; and Willie, Emma, and Charlie sleep together.

Ellen is a woman now. Among many griefs, the memory of this first sometimes seems most bitter. There is no likeness of Willie.

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She remembers well his pleasant ways, and many of their early talks ; but when she tries to recall his childish countenance, the sorrowful expression of his pale face, as he turned away from them that afternoon, is the one that always comes back.

Little children, never forget that, although the Saviour has blessed such as you, he has also told you, by that disciple he himself loved best,' Little children, love one another.'

FOR YOUNG LADIES.

ABOUT thirty-five years ago there was a great temperance movement in America, and at that time, a young man, the hero of the following story, lived in "the South." As truth is often stranger than fiction, the tale may appear improbable, but there are living witnesses to its truth:

John Thomas was a child of fortune. God had been very good to him, and no earthly good had been withheld. Physically, he was what the ladies call a splendid looking man. Mentally, he was much more than ordinary. He graduated at one of our best colleges with the honours of his class, and for further culture and pleasure he went to Europe, where he spent six years in study and travel. At the age of thirty he returned home a man of culture, and entered upon his vast estates, and as slavery was an institution he was truly a man having authority, for he could say to this man do this, and he did it, and to that man go there, and he obeyed. Soon after his settlement at home Miss Minnie S. visited the city where this very beautiful home was, and, although Minnie was not yet sixteen, Mr. Thomas was greatly pleased with her, and Minnie would sit for hours as one entranced listening to his graphic description of the grandeur of the Alps, or the magnificence of the Appennines, or the glories of an Italian sunset, or in subdued silence catch his words as he described the places so sacred to every Christian heart, for he had travelled through the Holy Land too, and could tell of the beautiful Sea of Galilee and the Garden of Gethsemane, and had sat where it is said Jesus sat when he wept over the then beautiful but wicked Jerusalem, now an almost forsaken city. He had climbed the mountains, too, that had witnessed in solemn silence so many thrilling incidents of Bible history. It was no wonder that Minnie was charmed with the attentions that Mr. Thomas showered upon her. At the urgent