TWO DIANAS IN SOMALILAND 15 
expedition to freedom, and no man can do more than 
that. 
But I begged the padre to give Moses his rightful 
mother at last. For the mother of Moses was not she 
who took all the credit for it. The mother of Moses 
was undoubtedly the Princess, his father some hand- 
some Israelite, and that is why Moses was for ever in 
heart hankering after his own people, the Israelites. 
The Princess arranged the little drama of the bull- 
rushes, most sweetly pathetic and tender of stories, 
arranged too that the baby should be found at the 
crucial moment, and then gave the little poem to the 
world to sing through the centuries. 
I shocked the parson profoundly, and he never asked 
me to subscribe again. 
He was a narrow, bigoted little creature, and I 
should think has the church and the screen very much 
to himself by now. I went to hear him take service in 
the saloon on Sunday. He was quite the sort of 
padre that makes one feel farther off from heaven 
than when one was a boy. 
I often wonder why so clever a man as Omar asked : 
“ Why nods the drowsy worshipper outside ? ” He 
must have known the inevitable result had the drowsy 
worshipper gone in. 
I fell asleep during the sermon, and only wakened 
up as it was about ending, just as the padre closed an 
impassioned harangue with “ May we all have new 
hearts, may we all have pure hearts, may we all have 
good hearts, may we all have sweet hearts,” and the 
graceless Cecily says that my “ Amen ” shook the ship, 
