tonous wailing of a peculiar horn, used only in funerals, told us that one and another had gone from this dark seat of heathenism to the eternal world. At night, all around us arose the mournful outcries of assemblages, who, with rude music, bells, and loud invocations, were for hours calling upon the goddess to stay her anger. Oh! how sad, how painfully sad, to know, that of all who were around us not one called upon God!—that, except ourselves, for miles and miles in any direction, there was not one follower of Christ, nor one missionary to bid them turn from idols to the living God!
When the people found that we had come to preach and distribute books, they began to flock to the small rest-house in which we had taken up our quarters. Instead of going into the streets to preach at this place, we stationed two of our bearers at the gate of the compound in which the bungalow stands, with directions only to admit the men, and not more than thirty at a time. Seating these on mats in our room, we each addressed them, setting before them the way of salvation through Christ and the hopelessness of heathenism, and, to all who could read, gave books. When one audience had thus been addressed and presented
