issions; and Mr. Crossland went farther
off, to the Dyaks, on the Undop, where he eventually built a church and
gathered a little flock of Christians about him. Mr. Richardson came as
catechist about the same time, and after staying a short time at Lundu,
built himself a house among the Selaku Dyaks at Sedemac, in the country
towards Sambas. He was much beloved by those simple people, who speak
quite a different language to the Lundus. They exerted themselves to
build their own church of substantial balean-wood, and their women
learnt to pray as well as the men. "To learn to pray" is the Dyak
description of a Christian. "What will you do," asked a missionary, "to
bring those around you to Christ?" "I will teach them to pray," was the
answer. And surely this is the great distinction between the Christian
and the heathen--the one has communion with his Father in heaven, an
all-powerful, wise, and loving Friend; the other may cherish some vague
belief and worship of an unknown God, but has neither love nor trust to
carry him above this world's troubles and trials.

Another baby was added to our family in May, 1862, whose mother died at
her birth. This little one stayed with us only seventeen months, and was
a great happiness to me; then Sir James Brooke took her to England.
However, it was a pleasant chapter as long as it lasted.

Julia, one of our original school-girls, became very useful to me at
this time. We had taken her home with us in '59, and sent her to a
training-school for teachers in Dublin, so that she was quite competent
on our return to take the management of the girls' school. We had eight
girls in the house, and a few day-scholars from the town. Lessons used
to go on in a room on the basement, where of course I was
superintendent, and they learnt sewing in the afternoon. Julia was a
very gentle mistress, and I was feeling very happy about my girls, when
I found to my sorrow that Julia had an admirer, and I must make up my
mind to part with my child who had lived with us since she was four
years old. Such natural events must not be considered trials, but the
difficulty of replacing her was insuperable. I was obliged at last to
send my girls to Mrs. Abe, at the Quop Station, for I was too often away
in the mission-boat with the Bishop to keep them at the mission-house.
This was not until 1865, however. Poor Mildred felt parting with "her
girls," as she called them, very much, and often said, "Mamma, if Sarah