CHAPTER X 
THE MISSION 
July, 1916. 
It is the dry season. Every evening we go for a 
walk on the big sandbanks in the river bed and enjoy 
the breeze which is blowing upstream. The hospital 
is not so busy as usual at this season, for the villagers 
are occupied with their great fishing expeditions, and 
will not bring me any patients till they are over. So I 
will make use of these vacant hours to note down the 
impressions I have formed about the mission. What 
do I really think about mission work after three years 
on a mission station ? 
What does the forest dweller understand of Chris- 
tianity, and how does he understand — or misunder- 
stand — it ? In Europe I met the objection again and 
again that Christianity is something too high for 
primitive man, and it used to disturb me ; now, as a 
result of my experience, I can boldly declare, “ No ; it 
is not.” 
First, let me say that the child of nature thinks a 
great deal more than is generally supposed. Even 
though he can neither read nor write, he has ideas on 
many more subjects than we imagine. Conversations 
I have had in the hospital with old natives about the 
ultimate things of life have deeply impressed me. The 
distinction between white and coloured, educated and 
