Snow, snow, down from the apple-trees,
Pink and white drifting of petals sweet!
Kiss her, and crown her, and flutter adown her,
And carpet the ground for her dear little feet!
A SEARCH FOR THE LACE-LEAF.
By Alice May.
Early one morning, a palanquin carried by native bearers, and containing as passengers Mr. Steedman, an English missionary, and his little son Harry, was proceeding up the one street of Biforána, a queer little bamboo village on the island of Madagascar, situated about midway between Antananarivo, the capital, and the eastern coast.
Comparatively little is known of Madagascar, although the unsuccessful attempt of France to obtain possession of it drew interest and attention to it not many months ago. There are but two larger islands in the world. As many of you know, it lies some two hundred and fifty miles to the east of the African coast, is nine hundred and eighty miles long and two hundred and fifty wide, and is therefore nearly four times as large as England and Wales combined.
The Queen of this island kingdom is a young woman with the curious name of Rasendranovo Ranavalo III. She succeeded to the throne in 1883. She is a Christian, as is also a large part of the population of her realm; and there are numerous missionary stations throughout the island.
Harry Steedman's father was one of these missionaries, and Harry himself was accustomed to traveling by palanquin, since there are no roads nor carriages to be found in Madagascar.
