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Elsewhere I have alluded to the horror the girls had of being left alone.Whenever I went off with the men on a hunting expedition Ileft them in charge of my other women-folk, who were thoroughly capable of looking after them.I also persuaded the natives to keep some distance away from our dwelling, particularly when they were about to hold a cannibal feast, so that the girls were never shocked by such a fearful sight.Certainly they had known of cannibalism in their old camp, but I told them that my own people were a superior race of natives, who were not addicted to this loathsome practice.

Although we had long since lost count of the days, we always set aside one day in every seven and recognised it as Sunday, when we held a kind of service in our spacious hut.Besides the girls, Yamba, and myself, only our own women-folk were admitted, because Iwas careful never to attempt to proselytise any of the natives, or wean them from their ancient beliefs.The girls were religious in the very best sense of the term, and they knew the Old and New Testaments almost by heart.They read the Lessons, and I confess they taught me a good deal about religion which I had not known previously.Blanche would read aloud the most touching and beautiful passages from the Bible; and even as I write I can recall her pale, earnest face, with its pathetic expression and her low, musical voice, as she dwelt upon passages likely to console and strengthen us in our terrible position.The quiet little discussions we had together on theological subjects settled, once and for all, many questions that had previously vexed me a great deal.

Both girls were devoted adherents of the Church of England, and could repeat most of the Church services entirely from memory.

They wanted to do a little missionary work among the blacks, but Igently told them I thought this inadvisable, as any rupture in our friendly relations with the natives would have been quite fatal--if not to our lives, at least to our chances of reaching civilisation.

Moreover, my people were not by any means without a kind of religion of their own.They believed in the omnipotence of a Great Spirit in whose hands their destinies rested; and him they worshipped with much the same adoration which Christians give to God.The fundamental difference was that the sentiment animating them was not LOVE, but FEAR: propitiation rather than adoration.

We sang the usual old hymns at our Sunday services, and I soon learned to sing them myself.On my part, I taught the girls such simple hymns as the one commencing "Une nacelle en silence," which I had learnt at Sunday-school in Switzerland.It is interesting to note that this was Bruno's favourite air.Poor Bruno! he took more or less kindly to all songs--except the Swiss jodellings, which he simply detested.When I started one of these plaintive ditties Bruno would first protest by barking his loudest, and if Ipersisted, he would simply go away in disgust to some place where he could not hear the hated sounds.On Sunday evening we generally held a prayer-service in the hut, and at such times offered up most fervent supplications for delivery.

Often I have seen these poor girls lifting up their whole souls in prayer, quite oblivious for the moment of their surroundings, until recalled to a sense of their awful positions by the crash of an unusually large wave on the rocks.

The girls knew no more of Australian geography than I did; and when I mention that I merely had a vague idea that the great cities of the continent--Sydney, Adelaide, Perth, and Melbourne--all lay in a southerly direction, you may imagine how dense was my ignorance of the great island.I am now the strongest possible advocate of a sound geographical training in schools.