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 I persisted, 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.