any negro help us? Why, Lord Wolseley told your
friend Sir James Roche that a thousand Fantees ran away from fifty
painted men of some other tribe; and Lord Wolseley said that you can
only make a negro of that sort defend himself by telling him that he
will die if he runs away. You wouldn't neglect our own men who are so
brave. Why they might have to defend London, where all your money is,
and they would do it too." (Oh! the artful minx!) "And we send missions
to nasty, brutal Fantees who run away from enemies, and we leave our own
splendid creatures far worse off than dogs."

"Well, if I'm not having the law laid down to me, I should like to know
who ever had. But I'm interested. Let's go round by the avenue, through
the kitchen garden, and then round to the front by road, and make the
walk as long as you can. Why on earth didn't Blair tell me something of
this before? Most wonderful. He talks enough, heaven knows, about
anything and everything, but he never mentioned that. Why?" "Now don't
be a crusty dear. I don't know what good form is, but he told me he
thought it would hardly be good form to bring up the subject in your
company, as it might seem as though he were hinting at a donation. Now
that's plain."

"Good. Now never mind the preaching. I understand you to say that's done
good."

"Perfectly wonderful. You remember how we were both insulted and hooted
at Burslem, only because we were strangers! Well, now, in all the time
that we were away we never heard one uncivil word. Not only they were
civil, and so beautifully courteous to us, but they were so kindly among
themselves, and it is all because they take their Christianity without
any isms."

That wicked puss! She knew how Robert Cassall hated the fights of the
sects, and she played on him, without in the least letting him suspect
what she was doing. He snorted satisfaction. "That's good! that's good!
No isms. And you say they've dropped drink?"

"Entirely, uncle, and all through the preaching without any isms. It is
such a blessed, beautiful thing to think that hundreds of men who used
to make themselves and every one about them wretched, are now calm,
happy fellows. And they do not cant, uncle. All of them know each
other's failings, and they are gentle and forgiving to each other."

"What a precious lot of saints--much too good to live, I should fancy."

"Don't sneer, you graceless. Yes it's quite true. Do you know, dear, the
Early Christian movemen