in English hymns, which,
however, I adapted to gay and artless melodies, such as "There's some one
in de house wid Dinah!" or "Old Joe kicking up behind and afore!"

This kind of entertainment was entirely new to the natives, who heartily
preferred it to their own dull music, resembling what are called, I
believe, "Gregorians," by a bloated and Erastian establishment.

So far, then, I may perchance trust that my efforts were not altogether
vain, and the seed thus sown may, in one or two cases, have fallen on
ground not absolutely stony. But, alas! I have little room for hope.

I pursued my career of unblushing "economy"--as the Jesuits say, meaning,
alas! economy of plain truth speaking--and of heathen dissipation. Few
were the dances in which I did not take a part, sinking so low as
occasionally to oblige with a hornpipe. My blue ribbon had long ago worn
out, and with it my strict views on Temperance. I acquired a liking for
the strange drink of the islanders--a thick wine and water, sometimes
mixed with cheese and honey. In fact, I was sliding back--like the
unfortunate Fanti missionary, John Greedy, M.A., whose case, as reported
by precious Mr. Grant Allen, so painfully moved serious circles--I was
sliding back to the level of the savagery around me. May these
confessions be accepted in the same spirit as they are offered; may it
partly palliate my guilt that I had apparently no chance of escape from
the island, and no hope beyond that of converting the natives and
marrying Doto. I trusted to do it, not (as of old) by open and fearless
denunciation, but by slowly winning hearts, in a secular and sportive
capacity, before gaining souls.

Even so have I seen young priests of the prelatical Establishment aim at
popularity by playing cricket with liberal coal-miners of sectarian
persuasions. They told me they were "in the mission field," and one
observed that his favourite post in the field was third man. I know not
what he meant. But to return to the island.

My career of soul-destroying "amusement" (ah, how hollow!) was not
uninterrupted by warnings. Every now and again the mask was raised, and
I saw clearly the unspeakable horrors of heathen existence.

For example, in an earlier part of this narrative, I have mentioned an
old heathen called Elatreus, a good-natured, dull, absent-minded man, who
reminded me of a respectable British citizen. How awful was _his_ end,
how trebly awful when I reflect how