I remember noticing that the face of my neighbour, 'Mwanga, was running with tears.
He spoke of the great days of Prester John, and a hundred names I had never heard of.

He pictured the heroic age of his nation, when every man was a warrior and hunter, and rich kraals stood in the spots now desecrated by the white man, and cattle wandered on a thousand hills.
Then he told tales of white infamy, lands snatched from their rightful possessors, unjust laws which forced the Ethiopian to the bondage of a despised caste, the finger of scorn everywhere, and the mocking word.
If it be the part of an orator to rouse the passion of his hearers, Laputa was the greatest on earth.

'What have ye gained from the white man ?' he cried.

'A bastard civilization which has sapped your manhood; a false religion which would rivet on you the chains of the slave.

Ye, the old masters of the land, are now the servants of the oppressor.
And yet the oppressors are few, and the fear of you is in their hearts.
They feast in their great cities, but they see the writing on the wall, and their eyes are anxiously turning lest the enemy be at their gates.' I cannot hope in my prosaic words to reproduce that amazing discourse.
Phrases which the hearers had heard at mission schools now suddenly appeared, not as the white man's learning, but as God's message to His own.