We spent a Sunday on our way up to the confluence of the Leeba and Leeambye.  Rains had fallen here before we came, and the woods had put on their gayest hue.  Flowers of great beauty and curious forms grow every where; they are unlike those in the south, and so are the trees.  Many of the forest-tree leaves are palmated and largely developed; the trunks are covered with lichens, and the abundance of ferns which appear in the woods shows we are now in a more humid climate than any to the south of the Barotse valley.  The ground begins to swarm with insect life; and in the cool, pleasant mornings the welkin rings with the singing of birds, which is not so delightful as the notes of birds at home, because I have not been familiar with them from infancy.  The notes here, however, strike the mind by their loudness and variety, as the wellings forth from joyous hearts of praise to Him who fills them with overflowing gladness.  All of us rise early to enjoy the luscious balmy air of the morning.  We then have worship; but, amid all the beauty and loveliness with which we are surrounded, there is still a feeling of want in the soul in viewing one’s poor companions, and hearing bitter, impure words jarring on the ear in the perfection of the scenes of Nature, and a longing that both their hearts and ours might be brought into harmony with the Great Father of Spirits.  I pointed out, in, as usual, the simplest words I could employ, the remedy which God has presented to us, in the inexpressibly precious gift of His own Son, on whom the Lord “laid the iniquity of us all.”  The great difficulty in dealing with these people is to make the subject plain.  The minds of the auditors can not be understood by one who has not mingled much with them.  They readily pray for the forgiveness of sins, and then sin again; confess the evil of it, and there the matter ends.

I shall not often advert to their depravity.  My practice has always been to apply the remedy with all possible earnestness, but never allow my own mind to dwell on the dark shades of men’s characters.  I have never been able to draw pictures of guilt, as if that could awaken Christian sympathy.  The evil is there.  But all around in this fair creation are scenes of beauty, and to turn from these to ponder on deeds of sin can not promote a healthy state of the faculties.  I attribute much of the bodily health I enjoy to following the plan adopted by most physicians, who, while engaged in active, laborious efforts to assist the needy, at the same time follow the delightful studies of some department of natural history.  The human misery and sin we endeavor to alleviate and cure may be likened to the sickness and impurity of some of the back slums of great cities.  One contents himself by ministering to the sick and trying to remove the causes, without remaining longer in the filth than is necessary for his work; another, equally anxious for the public good, stirs up every cesspool, that he may describe its reeking vapors, and, by long contact with impurities, becomes himself infected, sickens, and dies.