“Mr. Hooper has had wonderful health; not a day’s illness since he came two years ago. Mr. Pinnock looked very poorly; he has just left for his furlough. They have both worked very hard, and have got up a nice house in which we are now living. Tom is now beginning our new house. It is a great comfort to have a boarded floor once more.
“We miss our old friend Edward very much, but the two mules we brought out with us are delightful. I rode nearly all the way up, and you can hardly imagine the lovely change it was from the hammock. They go beautifully. Tom rode the whole way, and so saved all his hammock men. They will be a great saving both of money and fatigue if they live. They are dear creatures, very friendly and tame. We have named them ‘Taffy’ and ‘Queenie.’ My little furry friend Sandy flourishes still; he actually knew me at once, and ever since has been doing his pussy best to let me know how glad he is.
“You will be pleased to know that my little boy, Daniel, has grown a very nice useful boy, and I am in hopes that he is going to turn out well. He with another came down to the coast to meet us. There and back was a walk of some four hundred miles. Not bad for a boy of twelve! He enjoyed it, I think, and was very pleased to see us again.”
“September 8th.—When I last wrote I had just recovered from a slight fever; I am thankful to say I have been quite well since then. Tom has been suffering from toothache, a most unusual thing for him; I do hope it will soon go, for it pulls one down so. He is very busy starting our new house; Mr. Hooper helps him in the morning, and takes school in the afternoon. I take the medicine in the morning, which is not much here compared with what it was at San Salvador. In the afternoon I give my three girls some lessons, and on Wednesday evening I have all the children to a Bible class. Yesterday was Sunday, and we had about twenty outside people to the service. That is the largest number we have had since we returned. I get two or three women sometimes to come and talk with me, and the girls on Sunday afternoons, but as yet I cannot get any girls to school. Some want to come very much, and one little thing came several afternoons running; but she has been stopped by her master, and it is the same with the others; so there is nothing for it but patience. They will come in time. I do all I can to make friends with the women; I go round the towns as often as possible with the girls, so as to get them accustomed to me and to get to know them. Just now there seems nothing but burials; day and night the drums are going, and the people dancing and howling. The darkness is appalling to think of, and although the light is here, as yet they will not come to it. Of course it is nothing new; but it is so different from where we have been before. There the difficulty was to find time to talk to all the people who wanted to be taught; here the trouble is to get the people to listen.”
THE DISPENSARY AT KIBOKOLO. MRS. LEWIS STANDING IN DOORWAY.
“September 30th.—Well! here there is nothing to write about. Tom is housebuilding, assisted by Mr. Hooper, who teaches the boys in the afternoon, and studies the language in the evenings. They both of them take prayers in turn, to which we try to get the people to come, without much success so far. As for me, I am a kind of maid-of-all-work. I am housekeeper, gardener, organist, and occasional preacher, i.e., when they both go out on Sunday morning. Sometimes, too, I go round to the towns on Sunday afternoon and hold a service. Last Sunday, after hunting everybody up, I got thirty, sometimes we only get two or three. One of the women who lives close by has just been here to sell plantain. I asked her why she did not come to service; she said, ‘What will you give me for coming?’ and that is the answer one usually gets.”
“October 8, 1902. (A circular letter.)—A sad trouble has befallen us. As I write I look from the window upon the still smoking ruins of what but two days ago was the flourishing and most populous township in Zombo. But I will begin at the beginning and try to tell you what has happened.
“This is Wednesday. On Sunday morning, as we were just about to sit down to breakfast, two soldiers came asking to buy something. We told them to wait till the next day, and inquired then what they were here for. They said they had come from the Resident at Makela to demand carriers which were owing to him from Nzamba (the town just opposite, across the stream). We thought the people would be a little frightened, so did not expect a good meeting. Tom and Mr. Hooper went off, each to separate towns, and I had the service here. On their return we all felt a little encouraged, for I had had over twenty townsfolk here, and they both had had fair numbers to listen.