of Ashanti and Uganda or the famous "Female Elephant," queen of Swaziland, to the host of good wives and mothers who made the men of Africa, and to the women evangelists, nurses, and teachers who are serving successive African generations.
It has been an absorbing study. There has been the background of Africa, pagan or Moslem, full or strange beauty, always touched with shadow, sometimes dark with superstition and pain. There has been the nearness of that haunting primitive life which surrounded our own ancestors centuries ago. There has been the social miasma from groups of stagnant, decadent, dispossessed people, more extensive though far less reprehensible than similar plague spots in the West. A sickening sense of evil has been left by records of white men who have accelerated the degradation of the African, of places where African savagery and vice have held sway. There has been the crudeness of racial adolescence; the evidence of racial awakening to issues not fully understood. But through all, the discovery of the sons of Africa has grown more clear. Characters of real beauty, of solid worth and outstanding capacity, have constantly emerged. In men and
