man here, the giant king of the Ankwe, photographed just as he came to see me, to ask for the white man’s religion. Last year he was a simple Pagan. To-day he is followed everywhere by his Moslem Malam. It is not too late yet to reach him. Next year, humanly speaking, it will be too late. He and his tribe will have gone over to Mohammed, and will look down on Christianity.

Look at this man, the king of the Burmawa, whose people—most of them cannibals—held their own for generations against the advancing hosts of the false prophet. He built a high wall on the principle of the great wall of China, right along the northern end of the Murchison range of mountains, and defended his land successfully against the Moslem slave raiders. Woe to the Moslem trader or missionary who dared venture into the Burmawa mountains! His possessions would have gone to enrich the poor of the land, and he himself would have been food for the hungry.

Now Britain has conquered the Burmawa, and Moslem traders are passing safely through their country. The Moslem teacher has settled down in the capital, and a large mosque is being built there.

“ Do send us Chnstian teachers!” were the king’s words to me.

The British Government has supplied him with a Mohammedan Secretary to enable him to carry on a correspondence with the British Resident at Bautchi. And so directly and indirectly with the 4