162 REST AT LAST. 



is assured that he would have died a thousand times, if possible, 

 before he would have complied with such a demand. At length 

 a young officer of the Portuguese militia, Cypriano di Abrue, 

 made his appearance, and by his assistance the whole party were 

 soon beyond the reach of the impositions and difficulties which 

 had made their whole experience with the border tribes one of 

 bitter anxiety and want. No wonder they passed so gladly 

 along through the tall, waving grass, in the footsteps of the 

 generous and friendly half-caste sergeant. And it was a lighter 

 heart which beat in the little tattered tent that night, as it stood 

 in front of Cypriano's house, than had been in it for a long, long 

 time. And oh how thankfully the man of God, now almost 

 ready to fall under the weight of his labor for Christ and souls, 

 turneo! his eyes back on the great hidden world which he had 

 partly found out and hastened now to make known ; and for- 

 ward to the anxious, waiting brotherhood in Jesus, who would 

 be glad to follow the thread of his journeys through those 

 wildernesses with light and truth ! 



We will believe that he rested sweetly that night, and that 

 the attending angel guard, which formed the nearer circle 

 around him, looked on lovingly and with respect, and wondered 

 that weak men, for love's sake only, should so endure and toil. 



The little village where the weary traveller had spread his 

 storm-beaten tent so joyfully on the evening of the 4th of April 

 was very far from being such a one as our imaginations might 

 the more readily picture, in contrast with the darkness and 

 degradation of barbarism. Angola, you must remember, is only 

 an out-station of enlightenment ; but it is in the care of the Portu- 

 guese government, and its mongrel population have many of 

 the ideas and customs inseparable from the comfort of those who 

 have been accustomed to the feelings of security and fellowship 

 which legal government and enlightened society inspire. After 

 so many months of anxiety and caution, the pleasure of sleeping 

 under the authority of civilization, though absolutely in the hut 

 of a heathen, was an inexpressibly precious privilege. The 

 small cluster of neat, square houses, with the groups of half- 

 caste Portuguese standing about, the whole nearly hidden in the 

 tall, waving grass Avhich fringes the Quango on the west bank, 

 was the scene of our friend Cypriano's dignity. In even such 



