TO THE QUEEN.

HEN are we to see the Queen ?" was the constant inquiry of the Envoys. They had reached the England of which they had heard so much; they had been introduced to the Committee; they were present at the Annual Meetings; but where was the "Kabakka Mkazi"? They could not understand the possibility of strangers of so much importance being even one day in this land without being ushered into the presence of the Sovereign. In their own country any stranger who arrives comes only with the permission and as the guest of the King, and they supposed naturally that so was the custom here.

The first sight they had of Her Majesty was at the review at Aldershot. Then they realised that we are governed by a lady, and heard with interest that her noble consort was dead. Her Majesty most graciously sent to inquire how the chiefs liked all they had seen, and intimated her intention of receiving them when she came to London. When, therefore, the auspicious day arrived, great was their expectation; and smiling self-satisfaction, with a conscious dignity of carriage, marked their demeanour. Special pains were bestowed on their toilet by their kind friend and constant attendant in London, George Vandyke.

Her Majesty had intimated her wish that the Envoys should be accompanied by Mr. Wilson, Mr. Felkin, and the Lay Secretary, and when the party arrived at Buckingham Palace, they found that they were to be presented by the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, Earl Granville. The reception took place in one of the small drawingrooms, and was arranged in this way: -The chiefs with their party followed Lord Granville and the officers of state who were with him up-stairs, through a beautiful corridor, to a handsome circular room, out of which doors opened in three directions. Magnificent furniture, chairs, cabinets, and a grand marble and inlaid table occupied the attention of the chiefs, while Lord Granville and his officers passed into the adjoining room.

OLS.SC.

powerful monarch he had been informed she was; and that they had already seen enough to convince them that England was indeed very great. Her Majesty, who was holding the letter in her hand, then said she hoped that they were pleased with all they had seen, and asked whether they had enjoyed the review at Aldershot. The reception being an official one, there was no opportunity for further communication. Her Majesty handed the letter to Lord Granville, bowed graciously, and gave the signal for the party to retire.

In the ante-room the gentlemen of the Court came and informed the chiefs, through Mr. Wilson, that Her Majesty wished them to sign their names in her birthday-book. As they had no idea of writing, it was with much interest that they were watched to see what they would do. Namkaddi wrote first, and produced something like a large straggling N. Then followed

Kataruba. He took the pen carefully, surveyed what Namkaddi had written, and copied it as closely as he could, adding a tail as a flourish. The pen was then handed to Sawaddu, who copied Kataruba's mark with his tail flourish, and added a second tail on his own account. Then the party were shown over the palace, and saw the splendid state-rooms, the picture gallery, and the gardens.

The chiefs were much astonished with all they saw, and were above all things impressed with the stately courtesy and kindness of Her Majesty Queen Victoria. They must in their own minds have expected something very different. Indeed, all they saw in England opened a new world to them. It was impossible to hold much conversation with them, but by means of the vocabulary prepared by Mr. Wilson some information could be conveyed. The desire of those who were much with them was to take every opportunity of leading them to the real sources of England's wealth and power; and when the events which had recently transpired in Uganda were told them-how Mtesa had sent for the lubari or spirit, Mukassa, and had determined that his people should return to the worship of their fathersadvantage was taken of the visit of the chiefs to the Queen to explain to them that we needed no lubari or Mukassa but could go direct to God the great Creator; that lubari was 66 mafeesh" (worthless), and that God the Creator ("Katonda "), who dwelt above, was our Father in heaven. E. H.

In a few minutes the ushers came out and arranged the party for entering the Royal presence. When the doors were again opened the ushers beckoned the party forward, and on entering, the Queen was seen standing in the centre of the room. A little distance from her, stood Lord Granville, General Sir Francis Seymour, K.C.B. (Master of the Ceremonies), and other state officials. Behind the Queen stood the Princess Beatrice. Lord Granville then presented the Envoys formally to the Queen, and Namkaddi presented the letter, saying, as he did so, "This is a letter from my master, Mtesa, King of Uganda, to your Majesty," which was interpreted by Mr. Wilson. The Queen took the letter, and asked a question as to the exact position of Mtesa's kingdom. This having been explained, Namkaddi, with some dignity, proceeded to address the Queen, Mr. Wilson interpreting. He said that his master had heard much of the fame of England, and had sent them to know if all

THE NEGRO AND THE RED INDIAN. ROM the foundation of the Church Missionary Society, the Negro has been in a peculiar sense the object of its prayers and efforts. It was from the first, and still is, a Society "for Africa and the East." Yet another race, in the Far West, is, even more exclusively, the care of the Church Missionary Society. In Africa, it has but shared the field with other societies. Among the Red Indians of British North America it has worked almost alone. And many thousands of Red Indian Christians are the fruit of its labours.

It seems fitting, therefore, that a Red Indian face should appear on this page, opposite the interesting picture which so vividly reminds us that while the Society's earliest Mission was to West Africa, its latest Mission has been to Central Africa, whence, under its auspices, those remarkable Envoys came.

TALKS WITH YOUNG WORKERS.

BY THE REV. J. E. SAMPSON.

CHAPTER VIII.

T must not be supposed that we have recorded all the talks which the little party, whose doings (or rather sayings) we have recorded, had one with another. One thing some of them very soon found out-that was their ignorance. They discovered that they absolutely knew nothing of missionary work. And yet this is the great, the greatest work of all, which the Lord has given His servants to do. None are exempt from it. The young and the old, the very rich and the very poor, all are called, I may say commanded to take part in it. And where the Spirit of Christ dwells, the loving heart longs to preach the Gospel to every creature. That law is written, not with ink in the book of God only, but by the Holy Ghost on the heart of every one who is born of Him.

Therefore when the young people who met at Mr. Harper's house got to know more of the real facts of missionary work, their souls were on fire to be engaged in it. They heard of the work, and the patience, and the still onward work, of men of God in Africa, and of ultimate blessing on the work. They heard of the same in China-in New Zealand. They talked about Metlakahtla, about the cold regions of North-West America. Mr. Harper led them about, pointing out the difficulties, the discouragements, but also the tokens of God's presence in all parts. And his friends had begun to read for themselves. They knew something of the pages of the Intelligencer, as well as of the Gleaner. They began to introduce the "Green Book" into the Sunday-schools, and to their younger brothers and sisters.

Mr. Harper noticed all this with a glistening eye. He knew that if he had asked Mr. Treddel, or Mr. Lukewell, or any of them to collect or to work for the good cause six months ago, they would have been at least disinclined; and if to please him they had undertaken the work, they would only have done it with half a heart. His plan was to kindle the fire within, to create a feeling of need, a craving to be doing something. His thought was, "I don't know how Christians can sleep in their beds at night if they are doing nothing for the missionary cause."

And he was right. Young Anthony Welton had not said much, but he had listened earnestly. Mr. Harper noticed this, but he said nothing. "I will not strike till the iron is hot," he said to himself. So he waited. He had been teaching himself to wait, by what he had been talking about at the meetings. Old Mrs. Hope had said to him, "Why don't you ask them to be doing something?"

"No," he said, "I'll wait till they ask me."

But he did put himself in Welton's way one day. He took his arm and said, "Let us have a walk together." And he began to talk-no, not about missionary work-about the daisies in the field. How beautiful they are; how good of God to give us them. In India they never see a daisy. "A dear friend of mine, who often writes letters to soldiers in India, paints a daisy or a buttercup at the top. She says they are sure to take care of her letter then."

"Daisies are not the only beautiful gifts of God the heathen do not know," said Mr. Welton, thoughtfully.

Mr. Harper knew what he meant, but he said, "No, they don't know the golden buttercup.'

"I was thinking, they don't know the Lily of the Valley, nor the Rose of Sharon. They don't know JESUS."

Poor fellow, he quite broke down. Tears rained down his cheeks. And they wept together. Welton's tears were the result of many prayers. He had prayed that his life might be for God; and since he had learnt more of missionary work, he yearned to be of use in it.

"I have often thought," said he, "since we have had our talks, that I should like to go and be myself a missionary. What do you think, Mr. Harper? I don't feel myself worthy. Far from it. Nor yet fitted for such a work; but God is all-sufficient."

"I would be the last to discourage such a thought," said Mr. Harper. "But you are young, young enough to give yourself time for more thought and prayer about it."

"I have thought much and prayed much," said Welton.

"I know you have, dear friend. And no one would rejoice more than I if God were to open the door and bid you go into the great Missionfield."

"Then you do not advise me to offer myself? I should like your advice about it, Mr. Harper."

"I will tell you a little of my own experience. When I was about your age (that is five-and-thirty years ago) I had, like yourself, a strong desire to offer myself to the Church Missionary Society. So had also another young man, a little older, and of far more experience in the way of godliness than myself. I used to look up to him as the most holy of my Christian friends, and I was blessed with many in those days. He offered himself. In reply there came a printed list of questions for him

to answer.

Among these was an inquiry as to what he had read in Divinity. His answer was very simple-Pilgrim's Progress and the Bible!"

"And what could be better?" said Mr. Welton.

Ah, nothing surely. But if a man is to cope with shrewd heathens, he must read other books besides. The advice given my friend was that he should read certain standard works on the Creed, the Articles, &c. This was put to him as a test. If a man will not rise early and redeem time for such studies as these, he will not make much of a missionary." "Then you did not offer yourself, Mr. Harper?"

"No; I thought if a man so far my superior in holy living and singlehearted devotedness to God was refused, it would be of no use for me to apply. Indeed I was, I confess, a little astonished, not to say angry, at the result of my friend's application. But I have lived to see that there

were wiser men than I in the world."

Well, I am glad for our sakes you didn't go."

What I should advise you to do is this. Read diligently such books as are required for the preliminary examination. Mr. Verity will tell you what they are. And do everything you can to help the work in every way you can think of. Do not wait till you can preach to heathens with your lips; preach to them by your prayers, your work at home, your endeavour in every way to help the funds of the Society. Then, if you go, you will be the better for what you have read and done; and if you don't go, you will be no worse for it."

"What can I do, Mr. Harper ? "

That was just the question Mr. Harper was wanting. His heart sprang up with joy when he heard it.

"Do!" said he, "why there is everything to be done. Begin with yourself. Keep yourself in the love of God. Let that be the first thing every day with you. All work is vain without that. It may look beautiful, men may praise it; but God will blow upon it, and it will vanish like Men overlook this a summer cloud if your heart is not right with God. in these busy days. But depend upon it, Anthony, in the great sum of Christian labour, personal holiness is a mighty factor. Enoch was a great preacher, a John the Baptist and a Paul in one person. So I gather from Jude's epistle. But when the Holy Ghost records his life, He does not say, And Enoch was a zealous labourer, or Enoch saw huge results. No, it was simply this, Enoch walked with God. It was so with that other preacher, Noah. It was so pre-eminently with St. Paul. While Noah did this, he preached. When he ceased to walk with God, he ceased to work for God. The issues of his later life were not for His glory. My dear friend, if you would help missionary work, 'keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life.""

"Thank you, Mr. Harper, I hope I shall profit by your advice. I shall try. Tell me, what shall I do next?"

"Don't jump all at once into China. Begin at home. There is a nice young fellow in your office; he sits at the same desk as yourself. Did you ever speak to him about his soul?"

Handley do you mean? He is a very fast, wild youth." "And are not heathens wild?"

"I don't think he would listen to me if I were to speak to him." "Do you think heathens are ready to listen?"

"But I think, you know, it might do him more harm than good." "That's just what worldly minds say of missionary work." There was a pause. Mr. Harper said then very quietly, " Did you ever pray for him, Anthony? That would do him no harm.' "Mr. Harper, I am afraid I am not fit to be a missionary." "I don't think you are. But that is no reason why you should not be You have much to learn of yourself, and of your Saviour, as well

fitted. as of books." Mr. Harper had touched a string in young Welton's conscience which vibrated harshly. He felt that many strings were out of tune. The thought of his home life, his sometimes ill-tempers, of his friends, and of his many opportunities of at least commending the Name of Christ to others.

"A missionary, and a missionary-worker," continued Mr. Harper, "should be made of the same stuff. There are not two fields, but one. Why should Mr. Matthews speak to those around him in New Zealand, if Mr. Welton is not to speak to those around him here in England? Has God given an instruction for His servants there which He has not given here? What would you say of a missionary in Africa who met his neighbour day by day, and told him what sort of a morning it was, and yet never told him of Jesus ? "

"But a missionary is sent out for the very purpose of preaching to every one."

"I do not think we sufficiently recognise our personal responsibility. Do not be obtrusive; especially do not be disrespectful to your superiors in age or position; but cultivate a spirit which is ever longing for the conversion of souls. That is the true missionary spirit. Not zeal for a society, but zeal for souls. I take great shame to myself, Anthony, while I say this."

"You have always been faithful to me, dear sir, and I should like

more advice from you in the furtherance of missionary work; and I think there are others of our party who are disposed to do something." "Then let us make it the subject of our next talk. Let me use you Remember as a missionary helper in this-get them all to come. I remember going to a missionary meeting missionaries are workers. with Bishop Horden (he was Mr. Horden then). We took a cab and drove seven miles, and after the meeting seven miles back. I do not When we got into the think there were twenty people in the meeting. cab to return, Mr. Horden pointed to the vicarage with his thumb, and said, 'What is he about? Why, if I had been vicar of the place, I would have gone myself to every house with a kettle for a drum, and made them come, before I would have. let a missionary come all this distance to such a meeting as that.' I thought to myself, that's what missionaries are made of. Now, Anthony, let us have a goodly company for our next talk."

O sinless man in Paradise

The pathway from the distant skies

For angel wing was clear;
And sinners by earth's summer seas,
When Eden odours fill the breeze,
Not far from heaven appear.

But sure where round the Arctic pole
The heaving waves no longer roll,
And flower and fruit are dead;
Where stars alone in still heaven glow,
Or shiver in the ice below,

No angel foot may tread.

Hark! in the snow hut bleak and lone,
They hear a dying Indian's moan,

Watched by his starving child;
And angel wings are flashing bright,
A glow strikes through the Arctic night
As if the morning smiled.

The parting soul is upward borne
Where Heaven's new wine and plenteous corn
For ever satisfy.

And one from the far shining track
With loving pinion hastens back
To soothe the mourner's cry.

The light and warmth from Paradise
Fall on the little maiden's eyes;

"Fear not," the angel said,

"The GOD your father loved will bless
The widow and the fatherless,

And give you daily bread."

Then, as the happy vision fades,
And fall again the frozen shades,

She hears across the wild

Her mother's footsteps strong and brave,
With hard-won food, in hope to save
Her husband and her child.

Too late for him who feasts above,

But not too late a mother's love
To break her daughter's fast;
Led by the Saviour's grace, they go
With tears and songs across the snow,
To meet in Heaven at last.

SOME ILLUSTRATIONS OF NATIVE CHRISTIANITY
IN THE PUNJAB.

(From the Rev. R. Bateman's Report.)

WAS passing a village, late one evening, in which a solitary Hindu convert lives. I found that he had not yet returned home from his shop, and went there to look for him. The shop was open and apparently empty, but there was a light behind the door. Putting my head in, and looking round the corner, I saw my friend crouched over his Prayer-book, on his knees, saying evening prayer, and, without salaam or salute, received an invitation to join him. It was no small privilege to with heathen. Alone in his faith-Hindus and Mohammedans persecutjoin such an one in such an exercise after a weary day of contact only ing him, his wife reviling, and his own son sometimes even striking him— he braces himself for every effort, and refreshes himself in all distress, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving. I met the same man on his return from Amritsar lately. He had there been solicited to become an Arian, and had given audience to his would-be instructor, until he failed to give any definite reply to the question, "What, then, must I do to be saved if I renounce Christianity ?"

The Christian community at Clarkabad has increased very much during the year, chiefly by the baptism of converts from the agricultural class. At one time there were forty-five candidates, of whom, after public accommodate the congregation in the school, so we went into the unexamination, thirty-one were baptized on one day. It was impossible to finished church. This too, to my dismay, was crowded to overflowing. In the middle of the service a procession was formed, and we went, singing hymns, to our new tank. The Christians stood on the steps on one side, I and the candidates on the other; and, as each was baptized, he was passed across to join his brethren in the faith.

I am now encamped with the Christians whose baptism in their village pool I reported last year. On my arrival yesterday, the old disciple (a faqir) clasped me in his arms, and, instead of the usual salutation which, as a Mohammedan devotee, he would have given to his teacher, he said, "I believe in the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen," and then released me. Last year, when I reached his hut, I found him apparently at the point of death; so much so that his coffin had been made, and was lying there in front of him. We all prayed very earnestly that his valuable life might be prolonged. The same day he ordered his coffin out Another year has been of his house, saying he should not want it now. "reader" (strange name for a given to him, and he has been appointed a man who does not know a letter in any language) by the Punjab Native Church Council.

The other faqir, who, as I said last year, was turned out of his holding on becoming a Christian, has not had the oxen which I asked for given to him; but he has built a house by the road-side in a desolate place, has planted a number of trees, and is digging a well. He receives hosts of travellers, provides them with water brought from a great distance, gives them a light for their pipes, and often a night's lodging, and preaches Jesus to them. He is very popular, and some of the heathen, who have enjoyed his hospitality, have petitioned Government to help him in building his well pro bono publico. Again I ask, Who will give him a pair of oxen to work it?

There is a flourishing middle school belonging to the Kangra Mission, and I am most thankful to say that the head boy of it has come out, and was baptized by the Bishop on the occasion of his lordship's visitation in July. The convert is a very promising and consistent Christian, and will, I hope, in a year or so, enter the Lahore Divinity School. Even now he is impatient to go there, as he wants to use all his efforts in preparation for the work of the ministry. It is an interesting fact that the heathen schoolboys and their masters subscribed as much as eleven rupees for the support of this boy when he joined the Christians. Nothing had been promised by us before his baptism in the way of support; and this spontaneous token of sympathy and admiration was called forth by the evident genuineness of the conviction which led him to leave all to follow Christ. He has five brothers, who have sworn to kill him for disgracing their family by his Christianity. For a long time it was necessary to guard him against them.

4

THE FIERY FURNACE. Drawn by Matthew Tai. is like, for they are common everywhere. Once a year the villagers, by general consent, devote an entire day to merrymaking. All ordinary business is suspended; the farm lads leave their hedging and ditching, the farm lasses forget their milkpails and household work, friends from the neighbouring villages come in, and every one lays himself out for enjoyment. "How particularly nice!" you say. Yes, very nice if all the amusement is harmless, but we fear that too often the village feast does far more harm than good, both to people's souls and bodies. The public-house is generally filled all day; towards evening the gaiety becomes uproarious, and the feast-day too often ends much less happily than it began.

Now, although Birkin is the smallest of villages-" the High Street" consisting only of two houses, one on each side—and the population is below 200, yet a few years ago the principal farmers came to the conclusion that the feast-day might be much better spent than it was. They came to the Rector, told him their feeling, and requested that an annual service should be held in church on the feast-day; if he agreed, they would guarantee a good congregation, and a collection for any society

66

Several years have passed away since that conversation-the old Rector too, and some of his people with him-and now for the Birkin Feast" as it is. The first thing that will strike you on driving in from Ferrybridge, is the extreme neatness of the hedges and ditches within the parish boundaries, and no wonder, for during the past week or two old John Lee has been very busy with bill-hook and spade "tidying up a bit," as he says. And now we reach the fine old Norman church. How cool it feels this hot summer's day! and yet it is full of people, all in their best. It is an afternoon service, yet none of the farm boys think of going to sleep during the missionary sermon, for has not the preacher come from a long distance in honour of the occasion? The choice of a preacher is no light matter in Birkin, and from the time Hugh Stowell used to come over from Manchester, some of the most eminent friends of the Society have occupied the quaint old pulpit. Many stay to witness the counting of the collection, which last year was over £22.

And now, before the ensuing meeting is thought of, true