God, will express itself in its simple, beautiful,

Creole way.

The Sabbaths out here come upon us with a freshness and a calm that speak of God and of heaven. There is a "hush" in the soft morning breeze as it begins to blow. The stirring in the top of the palm trees tells us that God is near. There is not that rush and hurry which we so often find, even amongst our Christian people in England. Softly, softly, softly, the day dawns upon us, and the service begins. Eleven o'clock is the hour for public worship, but long before that time the people meet for prayer. In the country stations they have their little gathering at seven, and then they prepare for their journey to town. Some of them walk two, three, and even four miles to the house of God. By halfpast nine these country members begin to drop in. They generally sit under the house, and quietly converse and "cool out." "Well, Buddie! How you do?" Ou, ma'am, me been too sick; me belly hurt me too bad, and fever! hot! hot! hot! But de Lord am too good; one more time He bring me to His house. Bless His holy name." And so "sister meets with sister, and brother meets with brother, and they have fellowship one with another." At half-past ten the first bell for

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service begins to ring. That tells them it is time to start out from their homes. At a quarter to eleven the second bell begins to ring, and it rings on till a few minutes of the hour. "Come! come ! come!" it seems to say. "For you God's house is open! Unto you, oh men, I call. Come! come! come! Now! now! now!' And they do come. From country lane and city streets they wend their way, and by eleven o'clock the church is well filled. Over a thousand people waiting to hear the Word of God! This is in itself an inspiration and a solemn call. And this is what we frequently have at Mission Chapel. Our congregations at home are impressive; but a congregation out here is both impressive and picturesque. The black faces and the dark eyes, and rows of pearly white teeth, when anything humorous is said, at once strikes the observant stranger. And then the beautiful bright colours of the ladies' dresses, and the spotlessly white collars and cuffs and large shirt fronts of the black gentlemen, all tend to make the picture before you a "thing of beauty."

Though many of the people are poor they like to dress well. The old missionaries taught them to come to God's house in their best clothes. "Put on thy beautiful garments, O

Jerusalem," means to them that they must go to church in beautiful garments. And our black young ladies, our "sable beauties," are not a whit behind their pale sisters at home. They have their light muslin dresses of white and pink and sky blue, and pale green and red and yellow; their dark hair often adorned with a sweet-smelling jessamine or a pink rose. In their hands they carry their fan and their book, whilst their feet are compressed into little high-heeled, patentleather shoes, which contrast with the shapely white stockings. But there is a funny side also in this matter of dress. Sometimes you will see an old negress sitting boldly up in front of you with three hats on. First a "kerchief" round the head, worn like a turban, which they call a "tie head," then an old bonnet on the top of that, and crowning the whole some dinged and cast-off billycock, or chimney pot." Occasionally a "Celestial" will come in; his long pig-tail hanging down behind him. The Chinese ladies wear what might be called the "divided skirt," i.e., very wide trousers coming a little lower down than the calf of the leg, and over this a silk tunic. It is often very difficult to tell at first whether the Chinese before you is a man or a woman. I remember going into a shop in Trini

dad kept by Woo-Shang-Hi, and I could not for the life of me tell whether the person behind the counter was a "he" or a "she." The face was smooth, the hair long and plaited, the tunic covered the breast, the voice was soft, the hands small. I said to an English boy in the shop: "Is it a he or a she?" "That is a man," he said; "but the lady of the shop is very much like him." In a tropical church doors and windows are all kept wide open, so that a current of cool air is ever blowing through. In the rainy season we have sometimes to shut down the windows to keep the rain out; then the place becomes almost unbearable; the steam begins to rise from the body, and the perspiration runs down your face and neck in miniature streamlets. One of the results of these open windows is, that the preacher can be heard a long way off. Sick ones in their houses near by have thus been able to share in the blessings of the sanctuary. But whilst those outside can hear the preacher, the preacher can also hear those outside. The loud braying of a donkey close by will sometimes contest the claim of the preacher for the attention of his hearers. And it reminds one of the not-over-reverent wit, who said, "Brethren! let us bray." The negro character has not in it that modesty or shamefaced