or she his hand. Bertha, who had never told me the same thing about her restlessness, said that this had taken a heavy load off her heart. In the evening she accompanies me from the village.

January 20th, 1840.
I didn't have school today because I slept too long. Br. Teichelmann agrees with me that it is advisable to contact Pastor Kavel either verbally or in writing for an explanation about his previous and ongoing relationship with the mission. In the evening we were together at the Marimeyunna, where there was a good opportunity to proclaim the divine truth. Muranga partanna* was back.

January 21st, 1840.
The Marimeyunna were very short and grumpy today because I scolded them for the Kartiatoanki* and they were now ashamed.

( 220 ) January 22nd, 1840.
My bride, whom I visited today, is still suffering from a worrying cough. She had heard about Fiedler's slander, which annoyed her but didn't otherwise worry her at all. She planned to confront him about it and ask him whether what he said about her now would not have come true if she had previously wanted it like he had? She told me that one night, when A. Fiedler and Dr. Mathiesen were already in the house, Fiedler crept into the hut at her and Mathilde's feet and lay down between her and Mathilde. She was frightened when she woke up and she, like her sister, jumped up and made a noise, to which he [had] said not to be grumpy and to keep quiet. --

I reminded Bertha of the little respect her father showed her in such delicate matters, and she agreed with me. In the evening she accompanies me to the end of the village.

January 23rd, 1840.
As promised, I visited Mr. Fiedler this morning to go with him to Mr. Rowland. Since we didn't meet him at home, we went to Mr. C. Calton, with whom we arranged the horse matter in such a way that Fiedler should deliver 3 tons of hay to the well and then receive six months' grace from him (Calton) for the arrears.

In the evening my neighbor Wattiwattipinna confessed to me that the natives used to kill children so that they could wander more freely. In their view, the Pindimeyunna* are the souls of their deceased ancestors, all of whom learned the wisdom and art that they now possess in the pit. ( 221 ) Even now the souls (and perhaps also the bodies) of the adults go to that pit, but those of the children are eaten by a black man from a distant land (ngarkodi tanka* or yitpi takutya*) and then were reborn there. A bird called Karkanye* announces with its cries the time when the little souls will be eaten. +