which were now so varied and attractive as to render it a wonder that the magazine had survived at all. He also stated that last year, from the fund of which the magazine is the centre, £800 had been distributed to 100 needy widows of deceased Congregational ministers. Notes were read by the secretary, Rev. I. V. Mummery, expressing regret from many absentees who were unable to be present, and great gratification with the present conduct of the magazine.

The editor, who was warmly welcomed, thanked the brethren for the support he had received, solicited further editorial help, spoke of some of the difficulties an editor had to meet in dealing with the pressing questions of the day, and promised, by the support of his brethren and the blessing of God, to continue his best efforts for the magazine, and through it for the interest of Evangelical truth and life.

The chairman elect of the Congregational Union, Dr. Rees of Swansea, then spoke; and as representing Wales, assured the managers of the interest felt there in the magazine, and of his desire to aid its circulation by every means in his power.

Drs. Conder and Bruce in genial addresses represented Yorkshire, and spoke hopeful words of sympathy with the editor and interest in his work.

Professor Gossman, from Melbourne, referred to a new periodical about to be started in the colonies, and suggested an interchange of communications.

Rev. J. Green, from Tahiti, alluded to the interest felt in the South Seas in the magazine, which reached them once a year, and was circulated afterwards among the islets. He also touchingly referred to the value of the help afforded by the Magazine Fund to the widows of deceased ministers, as illustrated by the case of a family connection in which a widow with ten children was preserved almost from destitution by the annual grant.

Dr. Aveling, who followed, referred to this and other cases; and as one of the oldest managers, knowing the fact of many in similar positions, earnestly pleaded for systematic help through sacramental collections.

Professor Cave, representing our colleges and speaking for young men, suggested that an occasional paper specially suitable for them should appear.

The meeting, though not prolonged owing to the missionary sermon at the City Temple, was real, cordial, practical, and was encouraging alike to the editor and the managers.

SOME men are like pyramids, very broad where they touch the ground, but grow narrower as they reach the sky.

height; though slim, yet well built, with a true, kind expression in his face-a face one could not help loving; and his movements were staid rather than active, giving one the idea of calmness not easily roused, and if aroused soon allayed, to return to his old friendship. He was about forty-five years old, and much respected by the people, and known and liked far beyond his own village. Ah, Koné, I have known many savages, but not one I have loved like you!

During our stay he insisted on our using his mats, and saying to me:

'Whatever you want, just let me know.'

On my return from the west we arrived at his village near midnight, in a thoroughly stormy wet night. Koné was soon on the beach with a flambeau to conduct us to his dubu. He brought his best mats for us to sleep on, got his wife and friends to get their pots on, and, helped by our cooks, we were indeed soon comfortable. The next morning before leaving he begged for a teacher. I have no doubt but he could see tomahawks, knives, beads, and tobacco through a teacher; but I know, too, he saw something else. His tribe being small was often threatened by others; he could see that a teacher living with him would be a help, and he could also see that where teachers were, peace prevailed. Before teachers arrived among the Motu tribe, this tribe was the terror of the coast, and especially of the Yule and Delena part; but now Koné received them without fear, and as friends. Our adversaries say, 'Pray what have missionaries with the Gospel done for New Guinea?' I say, Ask the Motu tribe, and then the other tribes from Round Head to Maina, and I think their answers will be sufficient to warrant the statement that the Gospel has lost none of its power, and still brings 'peace' to savage tribes. I wonder if even then he did not think of a teacher to tell him something of the new Great Spirit that he had now heard of for the first time.

When preparing for teachers last year, I put up a house on land given me by Koné at the back of the village. On my arriving for that purpose I found Koné in great sorrow, and living in a small house over a small grave, and mourning as one without hope. He said:

'Oh, Tamate, I am sore grieved; my beloved child is deaddead, and I am glad you have come!'

'Koné, you must help me in building a house.'

Right willingly he consented and carried it through. To me the greatest sorrow of New Guinea is their want of knowledge of the true God of love, the not knowing of the glorious future life in Christ. I cannot say the war-horn and shrieks of victims draw sympathy from me. As a man of peace, such sounds only raise

wrath! But when such a case as Koné's, weeping even unto death for a beloved child, without hope of a future, comes before me, then I feel a great longing to give them the Gospel. I remember some years ago in Orangerie Bay, at Dauni, one Sunday morning being wakened by our captain, who told me he thought the natives were getting ready to come off to attack us; it was about three a.m. On listening I could hear the horn. blowing, but it was a pig-horn; and in the village opposite the vessel was loud wailing. I returned to sleep. About ten I landed in a canoe, the first foreigner to walk through that village. I sat down with the mourners, and gave a present to the dead. The latter was an elderly man, who had only been a short time ill, and had died during the night. He was dressed in all his finery, with scented sprigs through his pierced nose and ears, and, supported with sticks, was in a sitting posture. Soon a young man came running in, and threw himself on the dead with a loud, long wail-I seem to hear it now; it came from his heart-I think it went to mine; I cannot forget it. With what intense agony he cried: 'Oh, my father, my father! speak, speak to me now; speak, my father, speak!' But from these dead lips came no sound. Would that they only knew of Him who says, 'I am the Resurrection and the Life"!

Well, Koné was in that dense painful darkness,' without hope.' Often have I seen him sitting mourning by that small grave, and occasionally have I sat with him, telling him of the Man of Sorrows, the Christ of God, the Light and Life of the World, and the grave's destruction. I taught him a short prayer; it was, 'God of love, give me light; lead me to Christ.' I spent a month with him then, and the most of that time Koné was near me. He helped us in house-building, gave us food, killed a pig, came regularly to services, and many evenings came alone. On another visit, Koné day and night kept near us, was a diligent learner, and anxious indeed to be taught. When parting with him he always came to the boat and gave me a parting present, and weeping, would say: 'Do come back soon; day and night we shall think of you and long for your return.'

Last October I went to the Gulf to visit tribes near to Bald Head, and called at Delena to take Koné on with me. I shall close with an extract from my journal:

'Anchored this morning about two o'clock, just round point about three miles from Delena; at daylight drew up anchor and ran down to anchorage. Very soon we saw boat coming, Lavao standing up aft, and several of the men with native cloth on heads as for mourning. I missed Koné, and anxiously waited for them to come alongside. As they neared there was no loud

talking, and all looked sorrowful. Lavao (the Lolo chief) stepped

on board, and I asked:

"Where is Koné?"

'After a little he said:

"Oh, Tamate, Koné your friend is dead."

""Dead, Lavao?" I had to sit down.

"Yes, Koné is dead,'and we buried him on your ground near your house, the house of his one great friend."

"Did Koné die of sickness?"

"No; he was speared by your friend Laoma. After you left there was a feast at Selena; Koné and others were there, also some Naara natives. At night Laoma came with

his spears to kill a Naara man; and when about to throw a spear, Koné caught the Naara man and placed him behind him, the spear entering his own breast. We carried him home, and on the second moon he died."'

Since then I have met Laoma, and he tells me the same. My poor Koné, my kind savage friend, shall we meet again? Has that prayer of thine from out your darkness to the God of love for light and life been unanswered? I cannot think so, and I can hope that even now they have been revealed to you.

SKETCHES OF THE FAMILY LIFE.

BY PROFESSOR E. JOHNSON, M.A.

XI. PLUTARCH'S CONJUGAL PRECEPTS.

We have already made some references to this writing of the philosopher; and perhaps our readers will be glad to see a few further extracts from it. The discourse illustrates not merely the philosopher's own views, but the best sentiments of antiquity in general on the subject of the marriage relation.

It is addressed by Plutarch to a young wedded pair, Pollianos and Enydiké, and is sent to them as a present, with a prayer that the Muses may unite with love in presiding over their home and life. For it is philosophy which must render that life sweet and harmonious, and philosophy may be compared to the lyre and cithara of the Muses.

In his precepts to the wife, he holds distinctly to the oldfashioned theory of the 'subjection of women,' equally with St. Paul and other great teachers. But he would have it a rational, not a slavish subjection. He says that those women

'Rain, remain, and come not here.'

I called laughingly on the rain to come, and soon it did come in earnest.

Koné, my friend, now who is right?'

He stopped and turned, and looking me earnestly in the face, said:

'Tamate, did you think I took you for a mere child? No; I knew you were a great chief and had power, and the rain listened to you. You should not have called on the rain to come; but I, too, am a chief, and have power.'

'Koné, I did not make the rain, nor have I power to make it come; no man possesses that power; only the Great and Good Spirit Who created all things can do that, and He alone it is Who gives us rain.'

Koné had never before heard of the Great Spirit, the Creator; and during the remainder of our journey he listened, and I think thoughtfully, to what I said.

On our arrival at the village he introduced me to the Queen, and her husband and people, and gave them to understand I was a chief of great power.

It was raining heavily, and we decided to remain. We camped in the large dubu (or temple), and with a good fire were soon dry and warm. Koné kept close by me all night, and fearing lest I should be disturbed, he told the people to remain quiet. The evening was spent in smoking and chewing betel-nuts, Koné recounting the rain-story and some of what I told him on the journey. After evening prayers we all lay down by the fire, Koné lying down close by me. In the early morning I roused the sleepers, got some yams, sago, and taro cooked, helping these down with cocoanut milk. We returned to the coast, where all had to listen to the experiences of the trip. We were followed to the shore by nearly all the natives of Namoa, carrying kangaroo and betel-nuts, and a pig for my party presented to me by the Queen. As I intend writing about Koloka I say nothing of her here. When trading was finished canoes were launched, and bidding farewell to our new-made friends, we started for Delena, Koné leaving his own canoe to have the pleasure of being by me. On our arrival at Delena all the homestayers were told of the new friend, of whom they had long heard, but never seen; and they were told to have food cooked at once, as he might be hungry. Koné insisted on my staying ashore, and taking his dubu until I left. He did everything possible to make me comfortable. In a very quiet and unostentatious way he became servant to us, insisting on attending to all our wants. Now I have written all this of him and said nothing of his appearance. He was about five feet six inches in