ide. Since my arrival every single boat has appeared
shortly before midnight, or shortly after. In either case it means
that the men of the Mission must work all night landing patients and
freight, and the next day there is a chastened and sleepy community to
meet the forthcoming tasks. It is especially hard on the hospital
folk, for the steamer only takes about twenty hours to go to the end
of her run and return, and they try and send those cases which do not
have to be admitted back by the same boat on her southern journey.
This means an all-night clinic. But I can say to the credit of the
patients and staff that I have never heard one word of complaint.
That is certainly a charming feature about this life. There are plenty
of things to growl about, but one is so reduced to essentials that the
ones selected are of more importance than those which afford such
fruitful topics in civilization.

I have just overheard Gabriel informing the other children that "Satan
was once an angel, but he got real saucy, so God turned him out of
heaven." Paradise Lost in a sentence!

The night after the audible lights a furious rain and wind storm broke
over us. No wonder the trees have such a struggle for existence, if
these storms are frequent. They do not last long, but they are the
real thing while they are in progress. I used to smile when I was told
that the Home was riveted with iron bolts to the solid bedrock, but
that night when I lay wide awake, combating an incipient feeling of
_mal de mer_ as my bed rocked with the force of the gale, I thanked
the fates for the foresight of the builders. Never before had I
believed in the tale of the church having been blown bodily into the
harbour; but during those wild hours of darkness I was certain at each
succeeding gust that we were going to follow its example.

Dawn--a pale affair looking out suspiciously on the chastened
world--broke at last, and I "histed" my window (to quote the estimable
'Senath). The rain had stopped. The cheated wind was whistling around
the corners of the old wooden buildings, and taking out its spite on
any passers-by who must venture forth to work. The harbour, usually so
peaceful and so sheltered, was lashed into a cauldron of boiling white
foam, and the rocks were swept so clean that they at least had
"shining morning faces."

I dressed quickly and ran down to the wharf to enquire as to the
health of the Northern Light. The first person I met was the Pr