Feb. 1, 1867.

MISSION LIFE.

CENTRAL AFRICAN MISSION.

HOME WORK.

JUDGING by the contributions received during the past month (see annexed list), and the hearty expressions of interest with which they have been accompanied, there seems every reason to hope that, as the work of the Mission abroad expands, and stations are formed on the mainland, ample funds will be forthcoming. An idea seems to be entertained by some that it is intended to dispense entirely with European agency, and that therefore work on the mainland is likely to be postponed indefinitely. This is entirely a misconception. Indeed, a great part of all but the earliest training of native teachers themselves must necessarily be on the scene of their future labours, where their stability and fitness for undertaking the responsibilities of the ministry may be tested; and in all cases the work of evangelization must be begun by Europeans, though not without native assistants.

The very essence of the plan proposed by Bishop Tozer is, as Bishop Patteson has so often pointed out with regard to his work in Melanesia, that the boys under training should never be so alienated from their own people as to feel as strange amongst them and to understand them as little as Europeans would.

A boy taken as a child from Africa, and brought up till the age of twenty or twenty-four just as an English boy, would probably be, in every respect but bearing the climate, a less suitable agent for the evangelization of his countrymen than a European. Were this

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Feb. 1, 1867.

not the case, Zanzibar would clearly have no advantage over the Cape as the site of a native College, the Cape being confessedly more healthy.

THE MISSION SCHOOL.

(By H. GOODWIN.)

THE boys now at the Mission-house at Zanzibar were, with few exceptions, taken out of a slave dhow; very different they are now from the miserable half-starved looking creatures which they were when just entrusted to the Bishop's care. Few persons probably realise the sufferings endured by the poor creatures brought over to Zanzibar from the mainland. The dhows by which the slave-trade is carried on are, on an average, not much larger than the fishing boats which one sees at Hastings or Ramsgate; and in these wretched little craft something like a hundred or even two hundred black people, men, women, and children, are packed together for a week or a fortnight, during the passage to Zanzibar, and with scarcely enough food given them to keep them alive. I never should have thought it possible for human beings to live with so little flesh on their bones as I have sometimes seen them in the town of Zanzibar.

It is a very curious trait in the character of the boys, that they always try to evade any questioning about their life before they came to the Mission-house. If one only asks them what they called such and such a thing in their own native dialect (as, although the Suaheli language is generally understood and spoken on the east coast, many different tribes have peculiarities of their own in the pronunciation of the words), they will turn away and hang their heads down, and, if their colour allowed it, certainly blush; they seem to want to forget utterly everything connected with their past life, even so far as to disown their own relations. I do not think that this is a bad sign when one considers that family ties in Africa are as different from what we understand by them in England, as dark from daylight. You cannot expect reasonable children to show much affection for parents who would and do sell them for a few yards of cloth; the brutal way in which some of them punish their children is quite enough to drive away all notions of there ever being any love between them. I have sometimes seen from the window of my room at the Mission-house a woman take a child less than two years old, who had been crying, up by one leg, and drag it about with its head knock

ing on the ground, holding it with one hand, and whipping it with the other, the child being without a vestige of clothing. It cannot be wondered at, that as soon as they are kindly treated they wish to forget that they were ever in such a state, and spend what love they are capable of on those who befriend them. Slavery may be, and doubtless is, a very bad and wicked institution, but, as far as the actual present is concerned, the slaves are infinitely better off and more cared for than they would be among their own people. Another peculiarity of the boys is their amazing fondness of everything English, English ships (Merikabos, as they call them) being their chief delight. If ever I asked one of them to draw anything it was certain to be a Merikabo, and very well some of them drew ships, too, considering it was an art they were quite unused to. As soon as ever the flag at the American Consulate announced that a ship was in sight there was a rush of the boys to the roof, unless a lesson was going on, and then it was quite amusing to see their impatience under the spirit of discipline. They one and all want very much to come to England. I often told them that it was dreadfully cold there; that oranges were about three pice each instead of being six for one pice; that there were no cocoa-nut trees there; no mango trees; no pine-apples, none at least that they could buy; and, in short, drew as melancholy a picture of dear old England as I possibly could, in order to reconcile them to their own country; but it did not matter. "Pliss, sir, I want go England," little M'gendua said to me one night, after I told them I was going back to England, in that plaintive tone of voice, really as if his little life depended upon the answer; and Kongo, the biggest and best of the boys (the future bishop, as we used to call him), was positively sulky for the space of a week after the four boys chosen by the bishop had left with him for England, because his future lordship was not included in the number.

Kongo is a tall, well-made boy for his age, or, rather for his looks, for his age is a matter of conjecture, with very small features, and without any of that particular ugliness of lip and nose so common to most of the negroes; and such a fellow to run, but very shy and bashful to strangers. One night, just before going to bed, I heard a great scuffling going on among the boys outside my bedroom door, and on coming out to see what was the matter, I found Mr. Samuel Kongo having a stand-up fight with Ferrugalla, who had been always a sort of cock of the school, and a little bit of a bully besides. Both boys were pounding away at each other in

good earnest, English fashion, with fists. I saw Ferrugalla had met with his match, and felt very much inclined to let them go on—a very improper feeling, no doubt; but one always likes to see a bully getting a thrashing. However, the smaller boys were looking at me, and made it necessary for me to separate them; a very easy thing to do for the moment, but as soon as one's back was turned they would commence again as hard as ever. I never saw such obstinate creatures as they are in their quarrels. You can get nothing out of them,—not a single word about the origin of the disagreement all they seem to be capable of thinking about at the time is how to take revenge for their injuries. Kongo is a capital fellow for work; anything he is set about is always carefully done— his capability for drawing was quite surprising to me; he always seemed to know when a line was wrong, and would come and ask for the india-rubber to correct it before I came and looked over his work. I think they all liked drawing, even Maconyessa, dull at everything else, brightened up when I gave him a pencil and some paper, and something to draw from. It was amusing to see the smaller boys looking over pictures, as they always insisted on having them upside down, and would shout "Merikabo" with great delight whenever a ship turned up. I think very few people would doubt their capability for receiving and benefiting by instruction if they could have seen a lot of them looking over some old numbers of the Illustrated London News '-eyes sparkling, each one pointing to some particular thing that struck him, and all wanting to turn over the leaves in a great state of excitement about what would come next; it was quite a picture of black intelligence.

I must now try and give some idea of the arrangements of each day. They were as follows:-At six o'clock in the morning a bell is rung, which is the signal for the inmates of the Mission-house to get up. At half-past six the bell is rung again, and the boys and girls muster at the top of the stairs, and all go down to the chapel to morning service. Breakfast at seven. After breakfast the boys and girls wash their plates and dishes, and make themselves tidy for school, which commences at nine, or sometimes a little before. The school-teaching was generally carried on by the Bishop in the morning, as regards the boys, Dr. Steere being engaged with the printing-press. At eleven the boys have an hour's play, two or three of them making ready for dinner. Dinner at twelve-generally over by half-past. Boys' dinners is generally a kind of nutritious