“When our boat had started out for the marriage, the German House hoisted all their flags, an example which all the other traders followed, so that as we returned the river was gay with bunting, and all the flags were dipped in salute, before being taken down. I thought this very nice. Great interest was being shown in consequence of this being the first marriage of a white man in the river. The Germans were specially pleased that it was solemnised by German law. In coming back we had our single misfortune. One of the Kroo-boys who was carrying Mrs. Lyall slipped and dropped her into the water. Happily she took no harm, and only had to change her clothes and iron out her dress. Dr. Allen came to tea. Later we all went into the big house, and after supper and a chat Mrs. Lyall and I came back, leaving the bride in her new home. John Pinnock had to start for Victoria in the afternoon.

“Mrs. Lewis is so jolly and nice, I wish you had seen her. Mrs. Lyall returned to Calabar on Monday. She was much pleased with the Mission here and enjoyed her stay greatly. She said that prior to coming here she had not had a laugh since she came to Africa. She had plenty here, for we are a very merry party, I assure you. Since the wedding, we have settled down. I began school again on Tuesday. Last week we gave holiday in honour of the great event. Things are very happy here now, and we are just like one family. I go into the next house for dinner, and we always have tea together, taking turns. I am so glad Mrs. Lewis is so nice, for Mr. Lewis and I are exactly like brother and sister, and now I seem to have a sister, too. I have been wonderfully fortunate in having such kind friends, so that really I never feel lonely.... Two of my girls have gone to Mrs. Lewis. I have taken two new ones, and another is to come on Saturday. I really cannot take any more, as that will make fourteen. I wish I had a bigger house and room for a lot more. Many are begging to come. I was so glad to hear of you all from Tom Comber, but so sorry to hear that dear Mr. Tucker has lost his wife. He will miss her dreadfully. They always seemed so fond of each other. I think I must finish up now, with heaps of love to Lily, Alice, Mr. Hartland and yourself, from

“Yours lovingly,

“Gwen.”

Before the honeymoon was over the young bride had passed on to the Father’s house, with its many mansions, and its prepared place.

On October 27th Miss Thomas wrote again to Mrs. Hartland: “This letter I mean for my sister as well. I cannot write all I wish to say twice over. I hardly know how to tell you the news, it is so sad, so sudden, so unexpected. Dear Mrs. Lewis has gone to a better home than that which we had prepared for her. She passed away at about 5 p.m. this day week, Tuesday, 20th. I told you in my last letter how bright and merry she was, and how pleased with everything. We were so happy all together, just like one family. Breakfast was the only meal we took separately. I was as a sister to them in everything, and we were making plans for future work, so that we might not be separated. But as Grenfell said about dear John, ‘man proposes, but God disposes,’ and His ways are not our ways. Janie seemed so suitable to be a missionary’s wife, and was just getting into our African ways, beginning to understand the children in the house, taking a class in the Sunday School, coming to school once in the week with me, and helping me with the sewing at home.

“On Saturday, 17th, we went up the river to Jibarri with Mr. Lewis and Dibundu, who, after examining six candidates, baptized them in the river. We then sat down to the Lord’s Supper together. I do not think I ever enjoyed that solemn service more, although it was conducted in Dualla. It was so simple. There were only twenty-six present, in all; no communion plate, but just the common things we had with us. It was indeed a happy, holy time. And that was the last meal we took together.

“When we returned home I went to get tea, and coming back in a few minutes found Mrs. Lewis in fever. Of course I took her into her own house at once, and put her to bed in blankets; and from that time, until she died, she was never left without her husband or me. On Sunday her temperature fell to 101°, but rose later, and we could not bring it down again.... Still we were not alarmed, for the first fever is often very severe, as my own experience had proved. She had a bad night on Monday, and spoke then about dying, but on Tuesday morning seemed better. About 1 p.m. John Pinnock arrived unexpectedly from Victoria. She was so pleased to see him, and after talking a little said she thought she could sleep if we would all leave her, which we did. But very soon she felt the fever coming on again, and called her husband, and he put her into blankets. After dinner I went to sit with her, and about half-past three she said: ‘Gwen, I wish you would call Tom.’ I started to do so, but came back and said: ‘Are you getting low-hearted?’ She said: ‘No, but I don’t think I shall get over this, do you?’ I told her that I really thought she might, but would let her know if I came to think otherwise. Whereupon she said: ‘Very well, I won’t worry Tom by telling him.’ However, I took her temperature, and finding it to be 106·8°, I called Mr. Lewis, and told him what she had said. I then went to get her a cup of tea, and left them together.

“After my return she said: ‘I should have liked to live for your sake, Tom, and for mother and Katie, but I am not afraid and shall be happier there.’ She also said: ‘You will give Gwen my wedding brooch, won’t you?’ Soon after she became delirious, but still recognised us, turning from one to the other, and calling us by name. Just then Dr. Allen came to the beach, and she fell into a kind of coma, but while I had gone to meet him she roused again and said a few precious words to her husband. When we came into the room she was quite unconscious. Everything possible was done, but all was unavailing, and she passed away at five o’clock. Dr. Allen, who was very kind and attentive, says he never knew of such a case before.... She was very anxious that the friends at home should know that she had been so happy, and never regretted coming to Africa.