Two of the three swam to their canoes without difficulty, but the third, being unable to swim (a rare occurrence) had a narrow escape from drowning. A little lower down we were again besieged by Krooboys, about twenty of whom were engaged by a Scotch merchant on board. Then came the ceremony of naming. Their real names would be difficult to pronounce, and still more so to remember; hence British traders generally give them English names, and it is no uncommon thing to meet with Kroo-boys rejoicing in such euphonious distinctions as Friday, Sunday, Black Tom, Yellow Will, Pea-soup, Bottleof-beer, &c., &c. Some weeks ago the steam-ship Congo ran aground in the Cameroons river. During some conversation with the officer who brought the mails ashore, I asked him in what position the steamer lay, upon which he shouted Upside-down.' Had the steamer been lying upside-down? O, no! But just as I asked the question, it occurred to the sailor that the boy who carried the mail-bag was lagging behind, hence he shouted Upside-down, come on.' The boy's name was Upside-down, hence the coincidence was amusing.

Kroo-boys are somewhat dull of apprehension, but their powers of imitation are great, and, on the whole, they are remarkably contented and cheerful. If they suffer from fever, head-ache, or ear-ache, a blow on the hand, or a cut on the foot, many of them will, in each case, thankfully accept a dose of Epsom salts, and tell you next morning that they are better. One of our 'boys' came to me, some time ago, complaining of illness. Pointing to his nose, he said,' He be no use, massa; he sick too much; I no fit to work to-day." He was suffering from a severe influenza cold. I gave him a couple of pills, taking for granted that he understood their use. But I suppose he thought they would make convenient plugs for a troublesome running nose ; at all events, he slipped one up each nostril in a very dexterous manner. When I explained their use, he said, 'Oh, me sabby (understand) now," and then swallowed them. If the malcontents of Great Britain were removed to a foreign shore for a few months, they would probably return wiser men, with less disposition to murmur on account of real or supposed mis-rule at home. Certainly a voyage to Western Africa will not tend to lessen one's esteem for Britain; and among the many African admirers of Great Britain may be ranked the Krooboys.

A few months ago an unlucky blunder occurred at the quiet metrɔpolis of Fernando Po. Lieutenant Grandi (of the Livingstone Search Expedition) having been recalled home, came up by the south steamer

Papers from Fernando Po.

31

to St. Isabel, where he intended to remain until the next homeward West Coast mail left our harbour. Accordingly, he, in company with his Kroo-boys and Arab interpreters, proceeded to land in a large surf-boat. There being a considerable swell in the cove, the boat (through mis-management) was allowed to strike very heavily against the landing-stage, thus displacing one of the posts. Now, it so happened, that the Governor observed the boat being brought to the landing-stage, and seeing the post displaced, he ordered a constable to apprehend the head-man,' who should have been more careful in his steering. When the constable got to the pier, the Lieutenant and his company were removing their arms from the boat, and he at once demanded Lieutenant G. to accompany him to 'His Excellency.' Two white men standing near, smiling at the officiousness of the constable, playfully remarked that Lieutenant Grande was quite capable of taking the island. While this conversation was going on, another constable ran up to the Governor's, stating that an English officer, with a number of armed Kroo-boys and Arabs, intended to take the island, upon which the Governor signalled to the Spanish gun-boat. A boat full of officers and marines, armed to the teeth, was sent to apprehend the supposed invader, and for a few minutes the English officer and his troupe were prisoners. Mutual explanations were offered, and matters were arranged amicably. But our 'boys' were indignant. An English officer had been insulted, and England is, in their estimation, the biggest country in the world, and Britons the best people on the face of the globe. Surely an English man-of-war would make its appearance, and Spaniards would be destroyed by wholesale. So thought our boys, and if one might judge from appearance, they were quite ready to lend a helping hand. During the present week some idle rumours have been circulated throughout the town respecting a general rising among the Boobees to drive out the settlers. Yesterday morning a couple of boys were diligently practising a rude kind of sword exercise. When I asked for an explanation, the reply was, 'You no hear that Boobee go come for town and kill all people?' Their plan was for 'Mammy' (Mrs. G.) to get in a boat, in order to be out of the way while they fought to protect the mission premises. But Kroo-boys are, as a rule, very unoffending, and some of them show considerable aptitude for learning. American missionaries are at work in their own country, and during their term of service on mission stations, some of the 'boys' have learned to

read and write, while their lives have afforded evidence of the commencement of a work of grace in their hearts. But there must be much additional effort on the part of the Christian Church ere the thousands of the Kroo coast (to say nothing about the other millions of Africa) can be truly converted. While I write, a number of Krooboys, having provided themselves with a concertina, are going through a series of yellings, stampings, &c., &c., which they call 'playing after their country fashion.' Soon may the poet's sentiments become true of them,

'New songs do now our lips employ,
And dances our glad heart for joy.'

St. Isabel, Nov. 28, 1874.

SAMUEL GRIFFITHS.

TO MY SISTER.

I think of thee, my sister,
As the hours roll swifty on,
Each telling as it passes

Of some duty to be done.

When head and hands are busy,
The heart can still be free;
And 'tis at such a season
I love to think of thee.

I think of thee, my sister,

Whilst wandering on the shore;
Watching the foaming billows,
And listening to their roar.

My thought is backward carried,
Down memories silent tide-
To times, and scenes, and places,
When thou wast at my side.

I think of thee, my sister,

When daylight's labours close;
And evening's lengthened shadows
Invite me to repose.

In fancy's airy chariot

I take my flight to thee;

And oh ! if thought can bring thee,
Thou art near indeed to me.

Twice Two.

I think of thee, my sister,
When sadness dims my eye;
The sense of absent loved ones
Excites the half drawn sigh.

When words in harshness spoken
Make silent tears to flow,
I miss thy loving accents,

That soothed my childhood's woe.
Yet there are hours, my sister,
When most I think of thee!
'Tis when in Jesu's presence
I bow the suppliant knee.
Ah! then we seem united
By more than common ties,
As fellow heirs of glory,
As travellers to the skies.

We are parted now, my sister,
And perhaps for many a day,
But thou canst not be forgetful
Of him so far away.

No, no! I am persuaded
That such can never be

With a true sister's fondness,

Thou wilt always think of me.

33

LAWSON, late of Preston.

TWICE TWO.

BY AUNT KATE.

'ANY breakfast for a fellow ?' said a boy in ragged pants and shabby

boots, to a girl at least two years younger.

The girl looked up with a smile, and without replying, asked eagerly.

'Did you sell any, Percy ?'

'Heaps of them, Fifee, and I'm half starved.

Where's father ?'

'Gone again; but don't talk loud: baby has worried all night, and Two is fast asleep.'

What a strange scene the morning sun looked in upon through the slit in the green curtain at the room window! A large room, with a

bed on one side, a cooking-stove, a rough pallet, a couch, and a few chairs with cane-seats nearly gone.

The girl was a pretty child, with a kind round face, and large dreamy eyes, and hair so profuse and lovely the young artist on the next street had painted it again and again on the various heads which adorned his room.

He saw the child one day walking with the sickly baby in her arms, and her large eyes and hair fascinated him.

'Come, little one,' he said, 'to my studio, and I will show you some pictures, and copy your beautiful hair.'

Fifee had a dim consciousness of Mamie's care concerning her, when she used to walk out with nurse on these very streets, and hesitated.

'Go ask your mother, child, if you want to. She can come too : but leave the baby behind. I don't want that.'

Fifee looked up at him, with the large eyes full of tears.

'There's no one to ask, sir; she's-' but the cold, hard, choking word, dead, would not come, and Fifee sat down on the steps near by and sobbed.

'This is a pretty position for a rising artist,' said Walter Gray, more sorry for the child than he cared to seem, and yet half afraid lest she were one of the impostors so common in our city streets.

Fifee looked up to find him gone, and elasping the baby in her arms, she ran back to the dismal room.

When Percy came, they talked it over, and the boy said, in a manly way, 'I'll find him, dear; and if he will pay you something, we will get some coal or wood, and be cosy. He shan't paint my sister for nothing.'

'But, Percy, it was so dreadful to cry so, in the street, too, and he a stranger. But when he told me to go ask her, and I remembered how you and I used to run to her with every thing, it all came back, and, O Percy, why couldn't God just let us have mother? I wouldn't mind work then, or baby, or poor little Two, or any thing. But I ache and ache for mother all day long, and when I wake up in the night to give baby his food, I cannot see his poor little face sometimes for crying. It wouldn't be so bad to bear father if she were here. Look! Percy, he did it!' She rolled up the sleeve of her dress, and showed long, dark bruises where the man in his strength had nearly crushed the fair white arm.