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  TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

  Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

  Some minor changes to the text are noted at the end of the book.




NEW AND CHEAPER EDITION ILLUSTRATED.

JOHN G. PATON,

MISSIONARY TO THE NEW HEBRIDES.

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

EDITED BY HIS BROTHER.

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY ARTHUR T. PIERSON, D.D.

Two vols. in box, 12mo, cloth, gilt top net $2.00.


Ministerial Commendation.

“I have just laid down the most robust and the most fascinating piece
of autobiography that I have met with in many a day.... John G. Paton
was made of the same stuff with Livingstone.”—_Theodore L. Cuyler, D.D._

“I consider it unsurpassed in missionary biography. In the whole course
of my extensive reading on these topics, a more stimulating, inspiring,
and every way first-class book has not fallen into my hands. Everybody
ought to read it.”—_Arthur T. Pierson, D.D._


Missionary Praise.

“I have never read a romance that was half so thrilling.”—_Lucius C.
Smith, Guanajuato, Mexico._

“I have never read a more inspiring biography.”—_Thomas C. Winn,
Yokohama, Japan._

“The Lord’s work will not go back while there are such men as he in the
church.”—_James A. Heal, Sing Kong, Cheh Kiang, China._

“I think I have never had greater pleasure in reading any book.”—_R.
Thackswell, Dehra, North India._


Press Notices.

“Perhaps the most important addition for many years to the library of
missionary literature is the autobiography of John G. Paton.”—_The
Christian Advocate._

“We commend to all who would advance the cause of Foreign Missions
this remarkable autobiography. It stands with such books as those
Dr. Livingstone gave the world, and shows to men that the heroes of
the cross are not merely to be sought in past ages.”—_The Christian
Intelligencer._


Fleming H. Revell Company,

                                    { NEW YORK, 30 Union Square, E.
                                    { CHICAGO, 148 & 150 Madison Street.




[Illustration: MISSION HOUSE AT ANIWA.]




                             JOHN G. PATON,

                           MISSIONARY TO THE

                             NEW HEBRIDES.

                           An Autobiography.

                         EDITED BY HIS BROTHER.

                             _SECOND PART._

                        New Illustrated Edition.

                       FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY

                               PUBLISHERS
                         NEW YORK      CHICAGO
          30 UNION SQUARE, EAST.       148-150 MADISON STREET.




INTRODUCTORY NOTE.

BY ARTHUR T. PIERSON, D.D.


The avidity with which Part I. of Mr. Paton’s remarkable life-story
was received by the public in England has been no surprise. Before
this second part was issued from the press, three thousand copies were
already sold; and the entire edition of five thousand was so soon
exhausted that it has been impossible to cope with the demand.

We have no hesitation in pronouncing this second part the most
fascinating narrative of missionary adventure and heroism and success
that we have ever met. This volume abounds in poetry and pathos,
dramatic incident and thrilling experience, lit up by the golden rays
of a delicate and unique humor. It reminds one of a varied landscape
with bold mountains and modest valleys, where snow-crowned summits look
down on summer gardens; where cascades fall into quiet streams, and
where all the marvels of light and shade at once relieve and diversify
the scene. The twenty-two miles’ gallop through the Australian Bush
on the back of Garibaldi, which made the inexperienced rider drunk
with excitement and fatigue; the Aniwan woman who, judging clothes an
evidence of a new heart, approved her decided conversion by coming into
chapel having her person grotesquely adorned with every article of male
attire which she could beg or borrow, may illustrate the comical side
of this charming story. The three years of progress among cannibals, in
laying foundations of Christian families, schools, churches, and even
social order, may serve as one of the greatest vindications, through
all history, of that Gospel which is still the power of God and the
wisdom of God unto salvation.




PREFACE.


It is a true joy to me, that I am enabled to place Part Second of my
brother’s Autobiography in the hands of the Public without undue delay.

The amount of interesting and precious material, entrusted to me to be
re-written and prepared for the Press, has, by its very abundance and
variety, landed me in the greatest perplexity. Amidst all the toil and
anxiety of producing such a book, my only painful experience has been
the necessity of cutting out page after page, every whit as beautiful
and valuable as any of the pages for which room has been found.

That observation applies very specially to the “Letters,” which
constitute Chapter IX. These I verily regret to publish in mere
fragments, instead of in their own rounded completeness.

Two whole Chapters, as outlined by my brother, I am sorrowfully
necessitated to omit, so that the Life-Story itself may not be too
much enlarged or overloaded. The one refers to “The Kanaka, or Labour
Traffic in the South Seas”; and the other to “Annexation, and the
Future of the New Hebrides.” Both are of vital import among the Public
Questions of the day; and, in the discussion of both, his position and
opportunities have led him to take a not inconsiderable share. But the
claims of what may more properly be regarded as the Personal Narrative
were paramount; and the allotted space, within the limits of this
volume, left me, for the present at least, no other choice.

Readers would think me foolishly uplifted, if I indicated one-hundredth
part of the chorus of approbation, that has reached me regarding Part
First of this Autobiography. My best wish for the Second Volume is that
it may be similarly welcomed; and that it may bring a special blessing
to as many hearts in all quarters of the world. More than that I could
not reasonably anticipate.

                                                            JAMES PATON,
                                                            _Editor_.

  _Glasgow,
  October, 1889._




CONTENTS.


  CHAPTER I.

  _THE FLOATING OF THE DAYSPRING._

                                                                    PAGE
  Preliminary Note                                                     1
  Call for a Mission Ship                                              2
  A Brutal Captain                                                     3
  Sun-Worshippers, or Slaves?                                          5
  The Lights of Sydney                                                 6
  Thrown upon the Lord                                                 7
  Mr. Foss’s Open Door                                                 8
  Climbing into Pulpits                                                9
  Shipping Company for Jesus                                          10
  The Golden Shower                                                   12
  Wanted! More Missionaries                                           13
  Commissioned to Scotland                                            14
  Wayside Incidents of Australian Travel                              16
  Lost in the Bush                                                    17
  Sinking in the Swamp                                                21
  Put through my Catechism                                            23
  “Do for the Parson!”                                                24
  Crossing the Colony on Novel Conditions                             25
  Pay-Day at a Squatter’s                                             29
  Three Days in a Public House                                        31
  A Meeting among the Diggers                                         35
  Camping Out                                                         37
  A Squatter Rescued                                                  39
  John Gilpin’s Ride through the Bush                                 40


  CHAPTER II.

  _AMONG THE ABORIGINES._

  A Fire-Water Festival                                               47
  At Tea with the Aborigines                                          48
  “Black Fellow all Gone!”                                            50
  The Poison-Gift of Civilization                                     51
  The “Scattering” of the Blacks                                      52
  The “Brute-in-human-shape” Theory                                   54
  The Testimony of Nora                                               55
  Nathaniel Pepper and their “Gods”                                   57
  Smooth Stone Idols                                                  58
  Rites and Ceremonies                                                59
  “Too Much Devil-Devil”                                              60
  The Quest for Idols                                                 61
  Visit to Nora in the Camp                                           63
  Independent Testimonies                                             65
  Nora’s own Letters                                                  68
  The Aborigines in Settlements                                       71


  CHAPTER III.

  _TO SCOTLAND AND BACK._

  Dr. Inglis on the Mission Crisis                                    73
  Casting Lots before the Lord                                        74
  Struck by Lightning                                                 75
  A Peep at London                                                    76
  A Heavenly Welcome                                                  77
  The Moderator’s Chair                                               78
  Reformed Presbyterian Church and Free Church                        80
  Tour through Scotland                                               82
  A Frosted Foot                                                      83
  The Children’s Holy League                                          84
  Missionary Volunteers                                               85
  A God-provided Help-Mate                                            86
  Farewell to the Old Family Altar                                    88
  First Peep at the _Dayspring_                                       90
  The _Dayspring_ in a Dead-Lock                                      91
  Tokens of Deliverance                                               93
  The _John Williams_ and the _Dayspring_                             95
  Australia’s Special Call                                            98


  CHAPTER IV.

  _CONCERNING FRIENDS AND FOES._

  First of Missionary Duties                                         100
  Maré and Noumea                                                    101
  The French in the Pacific                                          103
  The _Curaçoa_ Affair                                               104
  The “Gospel and Gunpowder” Cry                                     105
  The Missionaries on their Defence                                  106
  The Mission Synod’s Report                                         107
  The Shelling of the Tannese Villages                               109
  Public Meeting and Presbytery                                      111
  Fighting at Bay                                                    114
  Federal Union in Missions                                          115
  A Fiery Furnace at Geelong                                         116
  Results of Australian Tour                                         119
  New Hebrides Mission Adopted by Colonies                           120


  CHAPTER V.

  _SETTLEMENT ON ANIWA._

  The _John Williams_ on the Reef                                    123
  A Native’s Soliloquy                                               124
  Nowar Pleading for Tanna                                           125
  The White Shells of Nowar                                          126
  The Island of Aniwa                                                127
  First Landing on Aniwa                                             129
  The Site of our New Home                                           130
  “Me no Steal!”                                                     131
  House-Building for God                                             132
  Native Expectations                                                135
  _Tafigeitu_ or Sorcery                                             136
  The Miracle of Speaking Wood                                       138
  Perils through Superstition                                        139
  The Mission Premises—a City of God                                 141
  Builders and their Wages                                           142
  Great Swimming Feat                                                144
  Stronger than the “Gods” of Aniwa                                  145


  CHAPTER VI.

  _FACE TO FACE WITH HEATHENISM._

  Navalak and Nemeyan on Aniwa                                       149
  Taia the “Orator”                                                  150
  The Two next Aneityumese Teachers                                  151
  In the Arms of Murderers                                           152
  Our First Aniwan Converts                                          153
  Litsi Soré                                                         153
  Surrounded by Torches                                              155
  Traditions of Creation, Fall, and Deluge                           156
  Infanticide and Wife-Murder                                        159
  Last Heathen Dance                                                 162
  Nelwang’s Elopement                                                163
  Yakin’s Bridal Attire                                              169
  Christ-Spirit _versus_ War-Spirit                                  171
  Heathenism in Death Grips                                          174
  A Great Aniwan Palaver                                             175
  The Sinking of the Well                                            176
  Old Chiefs Sermon on “Rain from Below”                             189
  The Idols Cast Away                                                192
  The New Social Order                                               194
  Back of Heathenism Broken                                          196


  CHAPTER VII.

  _THE LIGHT THAT SHINETH MORE AND MORE._

  My First Aniwan Book                                               198
  The Power of Music                                                 201
  A Pair of Glass Eyes                                               202
  Church Building for Jesus                                          203
  The Hanging of the Bell                                            206
  Patesa and his Bride                                               207
  An Armed Embassage                                                 210
  Youwili’s Taboo                                                    212
  The Conversion of Youwili                                          216
  The Tobacco Idol                                                   218
  First Communion on Aniwa                                           221
  Our Village Day Schools                                            223
  New Social Laws                                                    225
  A Sabbath Day’s Work on Aniwa                                      226
  Our Week-Day Life                                                  229
  The Orphans and their Biscuits                                     231
  The Wreck of the _Dayspring_                                       233
  God’s Own Finger Posts                                             234
  “God’s Work our Guarantee”                                         235
  Profane Swearers Rebuked                                           237
  A Heavenly Vision                                                  238
  On Wing through New Zealand                                        239
  Our Second _Dayspring_                                             240


  CHAPTER VIII.

  _PEN PORTRAITS OF ANIWANS._

  The Gospel in Living Capitals                                      241
  “A Shower of Spears”                                               243
  The Tannese Refugees                                               244
  Pilgrimage and Death of Namakei                                    245
  The Character of Naswai                                            250
  Christianity and Cocoa-Nuts                                        254
  Nerwa the Agnostic                                                 255
  Nerwa’s Beautiful Farewell                                         258
  The Story of Ruwawa                                                260
  Waiwai and his Wives                                               262
  Nelwang and Kalangi                                                268
  Mungaw and Litsi Soré                                              270
  The Maddening of Mungaw                                            271
  The Queen of Aniwa a Missionary                                    275
  Surrender of Nasi to Jesus                                         277
  Daylight Prayer Meeting on Aniwa                                   280
  Candidates for Baptism                                             281
  The Appeal and Testimony of Lamu                                   282


  CHAPTER IX.

  _LETTERS FROM ANIWA._

  Editorial Preface                                                  285
  _Letter for 1867_                                                  286
  Not Tanna but Aniwa                                                287
  “Missi Paton _versus_ Teapots”                                     288
  The Humour of Taia                                                 288
  Evening Village Prayers                                            289
  “Make Him _Bokis_ sing”                                            289
  My Sewing Class                                                    289
  “That No Gammon”                                                   290
  “Talk Biritania”                                                   290
  The Marriage of Kahi                                               291
  _Letter for 1869_                                                  292
  First Communicants on Aniwa                                        292
  Mungaw and the Mission Boys                                        293
  The Blessing of the _Dayspring_                                    294
  _Letter for 1874_                                                  294
  Home to Aniwa                                                      295
  “Taking Possession”                                                296
  “Another Soul Committed to our Care”                               296
  Hutshi and her Lover                                               297
  Six Missionaries on Aniwa                                          298
  _Letter for 1875_                                                  299
  Missi Paton and “Joseph,” and the Tannese                          300
  A Tropical Hurricane                                               301
  The Disgrace and Sale of Hutshi                                    303
  Taia Baited by Nalihi                                              308
  Earthquakes and Tidal Waves                                        310
  Farewells                                                          311
  _Letter for 1878_                                                  312
  A Madman at Large                                                  312
  The Passing of Yawaci                                              324
  Madness and Death of Mungaw                                        325
  Our Native Elders                                                  334
  Music on the Waters                                                335
  A Wicked Vow                                                       335
  _Letter for 1879_                                                  336
  New Year’s Day on Aniwa                                            336
  A Miserable Slaver                                                 337
  Litsi Married Again                                                337
  Mission Synod on Erromanga                                         338
  Tragic and Holy Memories                                           339
  Daylight at last on Tanna                                          340
  Pigs in Galore                                                     341
  Arrowroot for Jehovah                                              341


  CHAPTER X.

  _LAST VISIT TO BRITAIN._

  “Wanted! A Steam Auxiliary”                                        342
  Commissioned Home to Britain                                       343
  English Presbyterian Synod                                         344
  United Presbyterian Synod                                          345
  The “Veto” from the Sydney Board                                   345
  Dr. Hood Wilson                                                    347
  The Free Church Assembly                                           348
  Neutrality of Foreign Mission Committee                            349
  The Church of Scotland                                             350
  At Holyrood and at Alva House                                      351
  Irish Presbyterian Assembly                                        352
  The Pan-Presbyterian Council of 1884                               353
  My “Plan of Campaign”                                              354
  Old Ireland’s Response                                             355
  Operations in Scotland                                             356
  Seventy Letters in a Day                                           358
  Beautiful Type of Merchant                                         359
  My First £100 at Dundee                                            360
  Peculiar Gifts and Offerings                                       361
  Approach to London                                                 364
  Mildmay’s Open Door                                                366
  Largest Single Donation                                            367
  Personal Memories of London                                        368
  Garden Party at Mr. Spurgeon’s                                     370
  The Hon. Ion Keith-Falconer                                        371
  Three New Missionaries                                             372
  “Restitution Money”                                                375
  The Farewell at Mildmay                                            376
  Welcome to Victoria                                                377
  The Dream of my Life                                               378
  The New Mission Ship Delayed                                       378
  Welcome back to Aniwa                                              379
  Parting Testimony                                                  380
  Fare-thee-well                                                     382




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.


  MISSION HOUSE AT ANIWA                                 _Frontispiece_.

  “ALL THE NATIVES WITHIN REACH ASSEMBLED”        _To face p._       129

  I WANT YOU TO TRAIN LITSI FOR JESUS                  ”             153

  “OH, MY NEW EYES”                                    ”             203

  “I’LL KNOCK THE TEVIL OUT OF HIM”                    ”             211




CHAPTER I.

_THE FLOATING OF THE “DAYSPRING.”_

  Preliminary Note.—Call for a Mission Ship.—A Brutal
  Captain.—Sun-Worshippers or Slaves?—The Lights of Sydney.—Thrown
  upon the Lord.—Mr. Foss’s Open Door.—Climbing into
  Pulpits.—Shipping Company for Jesus.—The Golden Shower.—Wanted
  More Missionaries.—Commissioned to Scotland.—Wayside Incidents of
  Australian Travel.—Lost in the Bush.—Sinking in the Swamp.—Put
  Through My Catechism.—“Do for the Parson!”—Crossing the Colony
  on Novel Conditions.—Pay-Day at a Squatter’s.—Three Days in a
  Public House.—A Meeting among the Diggers.—Camping Out.—A Squatter
  Rescued.—John Gilpin’s Ride through the Bush.


Strange yet gratifying news has reached me. Part First of my
Autobiography has met with a wonderful response from the Public. Within
three weeks of its appearance, a second edition has been called for.

At the Editor’s urgent appeal, therefore, and assured also that the
finger of God is guiding me, I take up my pen to write Part Second,
feeling that I am bound to do so by my promise at the close of the
first volume, and by loyalty to the Lord, who seems thus to use my
humble life-story to promote the glory of His Name both at home and
abroad.

But, oh, surely never any man was called upon to write a book amid
such distracting circumstances! Ceaselessly travelling from Church
to Church and from town to town from one end of Australia to the
other,—addressing a meeting almost every evening of the week, often
also during the afternoons, and several Congregations and Sabbath
Schools every Lord’s Day,—the following pages are the outpourings of
a heart saturated with the subject, but bereft of all opportunity for
quiet thought or studious hours.

Having thus far done my part, I leave all else to the careful
Editorship of my dear brother, whose loving hand will put everything
into shape for the public eyes. This only I can sincerely testify,—The
Lord has called for it, and I lay on His altar the only gift that I
have to offer, believing that He will both accept it and use it as He
sees to be for the best.

       *       *       *       *       *

Rescued from Tanna by the _Blue Bell_ in the Spring of 1862, I was
landed on Aneityum, leaving behind me all that I owned on Earth, save
the clothes upon my back, my precious Bible, and a few translations
that I had made from it into the Tannese language. The Missionaries
on Aneityum—Messrs. Geddie and Copeland—united, after repeated
deliberations, in urging me to go to Australia in the interests of
our Mission. In this appeal they were joined now by my companions
in tribulation, Mr. and Mrs. Mathieson. A Mission Ship was sorely
needed—was absolutely required, to prevent the needless sacrifice of
devoted lives. More Missionaries were called for, and must somehow be
brought into the field, unless the hope of claiming these fair Islands
for Jesus was to be for ever abandoned.

With unaffected reluctance, I at last felt constrained to undertake
this unwelcome but apparently inevitable task. It meant the leaving of
my dear Islanders for a season; but it embraced within it the hope of
returning to them again, with perhaps every power of blessing amongst
them tenfold increased.

A _Sandal-wooder_, then lying at Aneityum, was to sail in a few days
direct for Sydney. My passage was secured for £10. And, as if to make
me realize how bare the Lord had stripped me in my late trials, the
first thing that occupied me on board was the making with my own hands,
from a piece of cloth obtained on Aneityum, another shirt for the
voyage, to change with that which I wore—the only one that had been
left to me.

The Captain proved to be a profane and brutal fellow. He professed
to be a Roman Catholic, but he was typical of the coarse and godless
Traders in those Seas. If he had exerted himself to make the voyage
disagreeable, and even disgusting, he could scarcely have had better
success. He frequently fought with the mate and steward, and his
tyrannical bearing made every one wretched. He and his Native wife
(a Heathen—but not more so than himself!) occupied the Cabin. I had
to sleep on boards, without a bed, in a place where they stored the
sandal-wood; and never could take off my clothes by night or day during
that voyage of nearly fourteen hundred miles. The vessel was miserably
supplied. Any food I got was scarcely eatable, and was sent to me in a
plate on deck. There I spent all my time, except at night or in heavy
rain, when I crept in and lay upon my planks.

The poor steward often came rushing on deck from the cabin, with blood
streaming from his face, struck by the passionate Captain with whatever
came to his hand. Yet he appeared to be a smart and obliging lad, and
I pitied him exceedingly. Seeing no hope for redress, I took careful
notes of his shocking treatment, and resolved to bide my time for
exposing this base and cruel inhumanity.

On reaching Sydney, the steward was dismissed without wages,—the
Captain having accused him to his employers of refusing to work on
board. He found me out, and told me, weeping, that he cared more for
his poor aged mother than himself, as his pay was all her support. On
my advice, he informed the Captain that he would summon him, and that
I had consented to appear in Court and produce my notes of what I had
seen, day by day, on the voyage. He was immediately paid in full, and
came to me big with gratitude.

One hesitates to dwell further on this miserable episode. But I must
relate how my heart bled for some poor Islanders also, whom that
Captain had on board. They knew not a word of English, and no one in
the vessel knew a sound of their language. They were made to work, and
to understand what was expected of them, only by hard knocks and blows,
being pushed and pulled hither and thither. They were kept quite naked
on the voyage up; but, when nearing Sydney, each received two yards
of calico to be twisted as a kilt around his loins. A most pathetic
spectacle it was to watch these poor Natives,—when they had leisure to
sit on deck,—gazing, gazing, intently and imploringly, upon the face
of the Sun! This they did every day, and at all hours, and I wept much
to look on them, and not be able to tell them of the Son of God, the
Light of the world, for I knew no word of their language. Perhaps they
were worshippers of the Sun; and perhaps, amid all their misery, oh,
_perhaps_, some ray of truth from the great Father of Lights may have
streamed into those darkened souls!

When we arrived at Sydney, the Inspecting Officer of the Government,
coming on board, asked how these Islanders came to be there. The
Captain impudently replied that they were “passengers.” No further
question was put. No other evidence was sought. Yet all who knew
anything of our South-Sea Island Traders were perfectly aware that
the moral certainty was that these Natives were there practically as
Slaves. They would be privately disposed of by the Captain to the
highest bidder; and that, forsooth, is to be called the _Labour_
Traffic.

About midnight we came to anchor in Sydney harbour. The Captain
condescended to say, “I will not drive you ashore to-night, but you
must be off by daylight.” His orders might have been spared. It was too
great a relief to get away from such coarseness and profanity.

As we came to anchorage, I anxiously paced the deck, gazing towards the
gas-lighted city, and pleading with God to open up my way, and give
success in the work before me, on which the salvation of thousands
of the Heathen might depend. Still I saw them perishing, still heard
their wailing cry on the Islands behind me. I saw them groaning under
blinding superstitions, and imbruing their hands in each other’s blood,
and I felt as if crushed by the awful responsibility of my work and by
the thought of all that hung upon its success or failure. But I felt
also that there must be many of God’s dear people in Sydney who would
sympathize with such work and help me, if only I could get access to
them. At the same time, I knew not a soul in that great city; though I
had a note of introduction to one person, which, as experience proved,
I would have been better without.

Unfortunately, I had not with me a copy of the Resolution of the
Missionaries, commissioning me to plead their cause and to raise funds
for the new Mission Ship. Again and again I had earnestly requested it,
but the Clerk of the meeting, pressed by correspondence, or for some
other reason, gave me instead that note of introduction, which proved
more of a hindrance than a help in launching my work; except that it
threw me more exclusively on the guidance of my Lord, and taught me to
trust in Him, and in the resources He had given me, rather than in any
human aid, from that day till the present hour.

That friend, however, did his best. He kindly called with me on a
number of Ministers and others. They heard my story, sympathized
with me, shook hands, and wished me success; but, strangely enough,
something “very special” prevented every one of them from giving
me access to his pulpit or Sabbath School. At length, I felt so
disappointed, so miserable, that I wished I had been in my grave with
my dear departed and my brethren on the Islands who had fallen around
me, in order that the work on which so much now appeared to depend
might have been entrusted to some one better fitted to accomplish it.
The heart seemed to keep repeating, “All these things are against thee.”

Finding out at last the Rev. A. Buzacott, then retired, but formerly
the successful and honoured representative of the London Missionary
Society on Rarotonga, considerable light was let in upon the mysteries
of my last week’s experiences. He informed me that the highly esteemed
friend, who had kindly been introducing me all round, was at that
moment immersed in a keen Newspaper war with Presbyterians and
Independents. He had published statements and changes of view, which
charged them with being unscriptural in belief and practice. They, of
course, were rigorously defending themselves. This made it painfully
manifest that, in order to succeed, I must strike out a new course for
myself, and one clear from all local entanglement.

Paying a fortnight in advance, I withdrew even from the lodging I had
taken, and turned to the Lord more absolutely for guidance. He brought
me into contact with good and generous-souled servants of His, the
open-hearted Mr. and Mrs. Foss. Though entire strangers, they kindly
invited me to be their guest while in Sydney, assuring me that I would
meet with many Ministers and other Christians at their house who could
help me in my work. God had opened the door; I entered with a grateful
heart; they will not miss their recompence.

A letter and appeal had been already printed on behalf of our Mission.
I now re-cast and reprinted it, adding a postscript, and appending my
own name and new address. This was widely circulated among Ministers
and others engaged in Christian work; and by this means, and by letters
in the Newspapers, I did everything in my power to make our Mission
known. But one week had passed, and no response came. One Lord’s Day
had gone by, and no pulpit had been opened to me. I was perplexed
beyond measure, how to get access to Congregations and Sabbath Schools;
though a Something deep in my soul assured me, that if once my lips
were opened, the Word of the Lord would not return void.

On my second Sabbath in Sydney, I wandered out with a great yearning at
heart to get telling my message to any soul that would listen. It was
the afternoon; and children were flocking into a Church that I passed.
I followed them—that yearning growing stronger every moment. My God so
ordered it, that I was guided thus to the Chalmers Presbyterian Church.
The Minister, the Rev. Mr. McSkimming, addressed the children. At the
close I went up and pleaded with him to allow me ten minutes to speak
to them. After a little hesitation, and having consulted together,
they gave me fifteen minutes. Becoming deeply interested, the good man
invited me to preach to his Congregation in the evening. This was duly
intimated in the Sabbath School; and thus my little boat was at last
launched—surely by the hand of the dear Lord, with the help of His
little children.

The kindly Minister, now very deeply interested, offered to spend the
next day in introducing me to his clerical brethren. For his sake, I
was most cordially received by them all, but especially by Dr. Dunsmore
Lang, who greatly helped me; and now access was granted me to almost
every Church and Sabbath School, both Presbyterian and Independent.
In Sabbath Schools, I got a collection in connection with my address,
and distributed, with the sanction of Superintendents, Collecting
Cards amongst the children, to be returned through the teachers within
a specified date. In Congregations, I received for the Mission the
surplus over and above the ordinary collection when I preached on
Sabbaths, and the full collection at all week-night meetings for which
I could arrange.

I now appealed to a few of the most friendly Ministers to form
themselves into an Honorary Committee of advice; and, at my earnest
request, they got J. Goodlet, Esq., an excellent elder, to become
Honorary Treasurer, and to take charge of all funds raised for the
Mission Ship. For the Public knew nothing of me; but all knew my good
Treasurer and these faithful Ministers, and had confidence in the
work. They knew that every penny went direct to the Mission; and they
saw that my one object was to promote God’s glory in the conversion
of the Heathen. Our dear Lord Jesus thus opened up my way, and now I
had invitations from more Schools and Congregations than I knew how to
overtake—the response in money being also gratifying beyond almost all
expectation.

It was now that I began a little plan of interesting the children,
that attracted them from the first, and has since had an amazing
development. I made them shareholders in the new Mission Ship—each
child receiving a printed form, in acknowledgment of the number of
shares, at sixpence each, of which he was the owner. Thousands of
these shares were taken out, were shown about amongst families, and
were greatly prized. The Ship was to be their very own! They were to
be a great Shipping Company for Jesus. In hundreds of homes, these
receipt-forms have been preserved; and their owners, now in middle
years, are training _their_ children of to-day to give their pennies to
support the white-winged Angel of the Seas, that bears the Gospel and
the Missionary to the Heathen Isles.

Let no one think me ungrateful to my good Treasurer and his wife, to
Dr. and Mrs. Moon, and to other dear friends who generously helped me,
when I trace step by step how the Lord opened up my way. The Angel
of His Presence went before me, and wonderfully moved His people to
contribute in answer to my poor appeals. I had indeed to make all
my own arrangements, and correspond regarding all engagements and
details,—to me, always a slow and laborious writer, a very burdensome
task. But it was all necessary in order to the fulfilment of the Lord’s
purposes; and, to one who realizes that he is a fellow-labourer with
Jesus, every yoke that He lays on becomes easy and every burden light.

Having done all that could at that time be accomplished in New South
Wales, and as rapidly as possible, my Committee gave me a Letter of
Commendation to Victoria. But there I had no difficulty. The ministers
had heard of our work in Sydney. They received me most cordially, and
at my request formed themselves into a Committee of Advice. Our dear
friend, James McBain, Esq., now Sir James, became Honorary Treasurer.
All moneys from this Colony, raised by my pleading for the Ship,
were entrusted to him; and, ultimately, the acknowledging of every
individual sum cost much time and labour. Dr. Cairns, and many others
now gone to their rest, along with several honoured Ministers yet
living, formed my Committee. The Lord richly reward them all in that
Day!

As in New South Wales, I made all my own engagements, and arranged
for Churches and Sabbath Schools as best I could. Few in the other
Denominations of Victoria gave any help, but the Presbyterians rose
to our appeal as with one heart. God moved them by one impulse; and
Ministers, Superintendents, Teachers and Children heartily embraced the
scheme as their own. I addressed three or four meetings every Sabbath,
and one or more every week-day; and thus travelled over the length and
breadth of Victoria, Tasmania, and South Australia. Wheresoever a few
of the Lord’s people could be gathered together, thither I gladly went,
and told the story of our Mission, setting forth its needs and claims.

The contributions and collections were nearly all in very small sums.
I recall only one exception,—a gift of £250 from the late Hon. G.
F. Angus, South Australia, whose heart the Lord had touched. Yet
gently and steadily the required money began to come pouring in; and
my personal outlays were reduced to a minimum by the hospitality of
Christian friends and their kindly conveying of me from place to
place. For all this I felt deeply grateful; it saved money for the
Lord’s work.

Each of my Treasurers, to whom all contributions were sent direct, kept
me duly posted as to sums received from time to time. The progress made
soon led on to the resolution to aim at a Ship three times the size of
that originally proposed. We set apart the sum of £3,000 as necessary
for it; and I vowed, in my solitude, that if God sent an additional
£800 within a given time, that would be my Gideon’s fleece, and would
warrant me in going home to Scotland to secure more Missionaries
for the Islands. By this time, I had heard of the death of my dear
fellow-labourers, Mrs. Mathieson on Aneityum, and shortly thereafter
Mr. Mathieson on Maré. I alone was now left to tell the story of the
planting of the Standard on Tanna,—our Mission numbered then only four
agents in the field,—and the thought arose, Why keep a Mission Vessel
for so few? The resolution was, therefore, taken in God’s Name to get
more Missionaries too. But this, as yet, was betwixt my own soul and
the Lord.

The work was unceasingly prosecuted. Meetings were urged upon me now
from every quarter. Money flowed in so freely that, at the close of
my tour, the fund had risen to £5,000, including special Donations of
£300 for the support of Native Teachers. Many Sabbath Schools, and many
ladies and gentlemen, had individually promised the sum of £5 yearly
to keep a Native Teacher on one or other of the New Hebrides Islands.
This happy custom prevails still, and is largely developed; the sum
required being now £6 per annum at least—for which you may have your
own personal representative toiling among the Heathen and telling them
of Jesus.

Returning to Melbourne, the whole matter was laid before my Committee.
I reported how God had blessed the undertaking, and what sums were now
in the hands of the several Treasurers, indicating also what larger
hopes and plans had been put into my soul. Dear Dr. Cairns rose and
said, “Sir, it is of the Lord. This whole enterprise is of God, and
not of us. Go home, and He will give you more Missionaries for the
Islands.” My ever-honoured friends, Dr. and Mrs. Inglis, had just
returned to Melbourne from Britain, where they had been carrying the
complete New Testament in Aneityumese through the press. Dr. Inglis was
present at that meeting, and approved warmly of my going home for more
Missionaries, especially as from want of time and opportunity he had
not himself succeeded in getting any additions to our Missionary staff.

Melbourne held a Farewell meeting. The Governor, Sir Henry Barkley,
took the chair. The Hall was crowded; and the Governor’s sympathetic
utterances arrested public attention and deepened the interest in
our Mission. The fact was emphasized that this work, lying at their
very doors in the Pacific Seas, had peculiar claims on the heart and
conscience of Australia.

Thence I hasted to Sydney, and reported myself also there. The New
South Wales Committee gave their cordial approval to our larger plans.
A Farewell was held there too; and the Governor, Sir John Young, took
the chair. The meeting was a great success. His presence, and his
excellent speech, again helped to fix the eyes of all Australians on
the peculiar claims of the New Hebrides. This was _their_ work, more
than that of any other people on the face of the Earth. The awakening
of this consciousness, and intensifying it into a practical and burning
faith, was a great and far-reaching achievement for Australia and for
the Islanders. It is one of the purest joys of my life, that in this
work I was honoured to have some share, along with many other dear
servants of the Lord.

Of the money which I had raised, £3,000 were sent to Nova Scotia, to
pay for the building of our new Mission Ship, the _Dayspring_. The
Church which began the Mission on the New Hebrides was granted the
honour of building its first Mission Ship. The remainder was set apart
to pay for the outfit and passage of additional Missionaries for the
field, and I was commissioned to return home to Scotland in quest of
them. Dr. Inglis wrote, in vindication of this enterprise, to the
friends whom he had just left, “From first to last, Mr. Paton’s mission
here has been a great success; and it has been followed up with such
energy and promptitude in Nova Scotia, both in regard to the Ship and
the Missionaries, that Mr. Paton’s pledge to the Australian Churches
has been fully redeemed. The hand of the Lord has been very visible in
the whole movement from beginning to end, and we trust He has yet great
blessing in store for the long and deeply degraded Islanders.”

Here let me turn aside from the current of Missionary toils, and record
a few wayside incidents that marked some of my wanderings to and fro
in connection with the Floating of the _Dayspring_. Travelling in the
Colonies in 1862-63 was vastly less developed than it is to-day; and a
few of my experiences then will for many reasons be not unwelcome to
most readers of this book. Besides, these incidents, one and all, will
be felt to have a vital connection with the main purpose of writing
this Autobiography, namely, to show that the Finger of God is as
visible still, to those who have eyes to see, as when the fire-cloud
Pillar led His People through the wilderness.

Twenty-six years ago, the roads of Australia, except those in and
around the principal towns, were mere tracks over unfenced plains and
hills, and on many of them packhorses only could be used in slushy
weather. During long journeys through the bush, the traveller could
find his road only by following the deep notches, gashed by friendly
precursors into the larger trees, and all pointing in one direction.
If he lost his way, he had to struggle back to the last indented tree,
and try to interpret more correctly its pilgrim notch. Experienced
bush-travellers seldom miss the path; yet many others, losing the
track, have wandered round and round till they sank and died. For then,
it was easy to walk thirty or forty miles, and see neither a person nor
a house. The more intelligent do sometimes guide their steps by sun,
moon, and stars, or by glimpses of mountain peaks or natural features
on the far and high horizon, or by the needle of the compass; but the
perils are not illusory, and occasionally the most experienced have
miscalculated and perished.

An intelligent gentleman, a sheep farmer, who knew the country well,
once kindly volunteered to lift me in an out-of-the-way place, and
drive me to a meeting at his Station. Having a long spell before us, we
started at midday in a buggy drawn by a pair of splendid horses, in the
hope of reaching our destination before dusk. He turned into the usual
bush-track through the forests, saying,—

“I know this road well; and we must drive steadily, as we have not a
moment to lose.”

Our conversation became absorbingly interesting. After we had driven
about three hours, he remarked,—

“We must soon emerge into the open plain.”

I doubtfully replied, “Surely we cannot have turned back! These trees
and bushes are wonderfully like those we passed at starting.”

He laughed, and made me feel rather vexed that I had spoken, when he
said, “I am too old a hand in the bush for that! I have gone this road
many a time before.”

But my courage immediately revived, for I got what appeared to me a
glint of the roof of the Inn beyond the bush, from which we had started
at noon, and I repeated, “I am certain we have wheeled, and are back at
the beginning of our journey; but there comes a Chinaman; let us wait
and inquire.”

My dear friend learned, to his utter amazement, that he had erred. The
bush-track was entered upon once more, and followed with painful care,
as he murmured, half to himself, “Well, this beats all reckoning! I
could have staked my life that this was impossible.”

Turning to me, he said, with manifest grief, “Our meeting is done for!
It will be midnight before we can arrive.”

The sun was beginning to set, as we reached the thinly timbered ground.
Ere dusk fell, he took his bearings with the greatest possible care.
Beyond the wood, a vast plain stretched before us, where neither fence
nor house was visible, far as the eye could reach. He drove steadily
towards a far-distant point, which was in the direction of his home.
At last we struck upon the wire fence that bounded his property. The
horses were now getting badly fagged; and, in order to save them a
long round-about drive, he lifted and laid low a portion of the fence,
led his horses cautiously over it, and, leaving it to be re-erected
by a servant next day, he started direct for the Station. That
seemed a long journey too; but it was for him familiar ground; and
through amongst great patriarchal trees here and there, and safely
past dangerous water-holes, we swung steadily on, reached his home in
safety, and had a joyous welcome. The household had by this time got
into great excitement over our non-appearance. The expected meeting
had, of course, been abandoned hours ago; and the people were all gone,
wondering in their hearts “whereto this would grow!”

At that time, in the depth of winter, the roads were often wrought
into rivers of mire, and at many points almost impassable even for
well-appointed conveyances. In connection therewith, I had one very
perilous experience. I had to go from Clunes to a farm in the Learmouth
district. The dear old Minister there, Mr. Downes, went with me to
every place where a horse could be hired; but the owners positively
refused—they would sell, but they would not hire, for the conveyance
would be broken, and the horse would never return alive! Now, I was
advertised to preach at Learmouth, and must somehow get over the nine
miles that lay between. This would have been comparatively practicable,
were it not that I carried with me an indispensable bag of “curios,”
and a heavy bundle of clubs, arrows, dresses, etc., from the Islands,
wherewith to illustrate my lectures and enforce my appeals. No one
could be hired to carry my luggage, nor could I get it sent after me by
coach on that particular way. Therefore, seeing no alternative opening
in my path, I committed myself once more to the Lord, as in harder
trials before, shouldered my bundle of clubs, lifted my heavy bag, and
started off on foot. They urged me fervently to desist; but I heard a
voice repeating, “As thy days, so shall thy strength be.” There came
back to me also the old adage that had in youthful difficulties spurred
me on, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” And I thought that, with
these two in his heart, a Scotchman would not be easily beaten.

When I found the road wrought into mire, and dangerous, or impassable,
I climbed the fence, and waded along in the ploughed fields—though they
were nearly as bad. My bundle was changed from shoulder to shoulder,
and my bag from hand to hand, till I became thoroughly tired of both.
Pressing on, however, I arrived at a wayside Public House, where
several roads met, and there I inquired the way to Learmouth, and how
far it was. The Innkeeper, pointing, answered,—

“This is the road. If you are on horseback, it might be three to four
miles just now, as your horse is able to take it. If you are in a
conveyance, with a good horse, it might be six miles. And if you are
walking, it might be eight or ten miles, or even more.”

I said, “I am walking. How many English miles is it to Mr. Baird’s
farm?”

He laughingly replied, “You will find it a long way indeed this dark
night, considering the state of the road, fenced in on both sides so
that you cannot get off.”

I passed on, leaving my Job’s comforter; but a surly watch-dog got upon
my track, and I had much difficulty in keeping it from biting me. Its
attacks, renewed upon me again and again, had one good effect,—they
stirred up my spirits and made me hasten on.

Having persevered along the Learmouth road, I next met a company of men
hastening on with a bundle of ropes. They were on their way to relieve
a poor bullock, which by this time had almost disappeared, sinking in
the mire on the public highway! They kindly pointed me to a light,
visible through the dusk. That was the farm at which I was to stay, and
they advised me to clear the fence, and make straight for that light,
as the way was good.

With thankful heart, I did so. The light was soon lost to me, but
I walked steadily on in the direction thereof, to the best of my
judgment. Immediately I began to feel the ground all floating under
me. Then at every step I took, or tried to take, I sank deeper and
deeper, till at last I durst not move either backward or forward. I
was floundering in a deadly swamp. I called out again and again, and
“coo-ee-d” with all my strength, but there came no reply. It grew
extremely dark, while I kept praying to God for deliverance. About
midnight, I heard two men conversing, apparently at no very great
distance. I began “coo-ee-ing” again, but my strength was failing.
Fortunately, the night was perfectly calm. The conversation ceased for
a while; but I kept on crying for help. At length, I heard one voice
remark to the other,—“Some one is in the swamp.” And then a question
came, “Who’s there?”

I answered, “A stranger. Oh, do help me!”

Again a voice came through the darkness, “How did you get in there?”

And I feebly replied, “I have lost my way.”

I heard the one say to the other: “I will go and get him out, whoever
he may be. We must not leave him there; he’ll be dead before the
morning. As you pass by our door, tell my wife that I’m helping some
poor creature out of the swamp, and will be home immediately.”

He kept calling to me, and I answering his call through the darkness,
till, not without peril, he managed to reach and aid me. Once I was
safely dragged out, he got my bag in his hand and slung my clubs on
his shoulder, and in a very short time landed me at the farm, dripping
and dirty and cold. Had God not sent that man to save me, I must have
perished there, as many others have similarly perished before. The
farmer heartily welcomed me and kindly ministered to all my needs.
Though not yet gone to rest, they had given up all hope of seeing me. I
heard the kind servant say to his mistress,—

“I don’t know where he came from, or how far he has carried his
bundles; but I got him stuck fast in the swamp, and my shoulder is
already sore from carrying his clubs!”

A cup of warm tea restored me. The Lord gave me a sound and blessed
sleep. I rose next morning wonderfully refreshed, though arms and
shoulders were rather sore with the burdens of yesterday. I conducted
three Services, and told the story of my Mission, not without comfort
and blessing; and with gratifying results in money. The people gave
liberally to the work.

One day, after this, I was driving a long distance on the outside of
a crowded coach. A grave and sensible-looking Scotchman sat next me.
He had inquiringly marked me reading in silence, while all around were
conversing on matters of common interest. At last, he queried,—“Are you
a Minister?” I answered, “Yes.”

“Where is your Church?”

“I have no Church.”

“Where are you placed?”

“I am not placed in any charge now.”

“Where is your home?”

“I have no home.”

“Where have you come from?”

“The South Sea Islands.”

“What are you doing in Australia?”

“Pleading the cause of the Mission.”

“Are you a Presbyterian?”

“I am.”

Having gone through this Catechism to his satisfaction, a most
interesting and profitable conversation followed. When the time came
for the payment of fares, nothing would please but that I must allow
him to pay for me—some twenty-two shillings—which he did with all his
heart, protesting,—

“A joy to me, Sir, a great joy; I honour you for your work’s sake!”

Thereafter, a Schoolmaster drove me a long distance across the country
to Violet Town, where for the night we had to stay at an Inn. We had
a taste of what Australian life really was, when the land was being
broken in. A company of wild and reckless men were carousing there at
the time, and our arrival was the signal for an outbreak of malicious
mischief. A powerful fellow, who turned out to be a young Medical,
rushed upon me as I left the conveyance, seized me by the throat, and
shook me roughly, shouting,—

“A parson, a parson! I will do for the parson!”

Others with great difficulty relieved me from his grips, and dragged
him away, cursing as if at his mortal enemy.

After tea, we got into the only bedroom in the house, available for
two. The Teacher and I locked ourselves in and barricaded the door,
hearing in the next room a large party of drunken men gambling and
roaring over their cards. By-and-by they quarrelled and fought; they
smashed in and out of their room, and seemed to be murdering each
other; every moment we expected our door to come crashing in, as they
were thrown or lurched against it. Their very language made us tremble.
One man in particular seemed to be badly abused; he shouted that they
were robbing him of his money; and he groaned and cried for protection,
all in vain. We spent a sleepless and most miserable night. At four in
the morning I arose, and was glad to get away by the early coach. My
friend also left in his own conveyance, and reached his home in safety.
At that period, it was not only painful but dangerous for any decent
traveller to stay at many of these wayside Inns, in the new and rough
country. Every man lived and acted just as he pleased, doing that which
was right in his own eyes; and Might was Right.

After this, I made a Mission tour, in a somewhat mixed and original
fashion, right across the Colony of Victoria, from Albury in New South
Wales to Mount Gambier in South Australia. I conducted Mission Services
almost every day, and three or more every Sabbath, besides visiting
all Sunday Schools that could be touched on the way. When I reached a
gold-digging or township, where I had been unable to get any one to
announce a meeting, the first thing I did on arriving was to secure
some Church or Hall, and, failing that, to fix on some suitable spot in
the open air. Then, I was always able to hire some one to go round with
the bell, and announce the meeting. Few will believe how large were
the audiences in this way gathered together, and how very substantial
was the help that thereby came to the Mission fund. Besides, I know
that much good was done to many of those addressed; for I have always,
to this hour, combined the Evangelist’s appeal with the Missionary’s
story, in all public addresses, whether on Sabbath or other days. I
tried to bring every soul to feel personal duty and responsibility to
the Lord Jesus, for I knew that then they would rightly understand the
claims of the Heathen.

Wheresoever railway, steamboat, and coach were available, I always used
them; but failing these, I hired, or was obliged to friends of Missions
for driving me from place to place. On this tour, having reached
a certain place, from which my way lay for many miles across the
country where there was no public conveyance, I walked to the nearest
squatter’s Station and frankly informed the owner how I was situated;
that I could not hire, and that I would like to stay at his house all
night, if he would kindly send me on in the morning by any sort of trap
to the next Station on my list. He happened to be a good Christian
and a Presbyterian, and gave me a right cordial welcome. A meeting of
his servants was called, which I had the pleasure of addressing. Next
morning, he gave me £20, and sent me forward with his own conveyance,
telling me to retain it all day, if necessary.

On reaching the next squatter’s Station, I found the master also at
home, and said,—

“I am a Missionary from the South Sea Islands. I am crossing Victoria
to plead the cause of the Mission. I would like to rest here for an
hour or two. Could you kindly send me on to the next Station by your
conveyance? If not, I am to keep the last squatter’s buggy, until I
reach it.”

Looking with a queer smile at me, he replied,—“You propose a rather
novel condition on which to rest at my house! My horses are so employed
to-day, I fear that I may have difficulty in sending you on. But come
in; both you and your horses need rest; and my wife will be glad to see
you.”

I immediately discovered that the good lady came from Glasgow, from a
street in which I had lodged when a student at the Free Normal College.
I even knew some of her friends. All the places of her youthful
associations were equally familiar to me. We launched out into deeply
interesting conversation, which finally led up, of course, to the story
of our Mission.

The gentleman, by this time, had so far been won, that he slipped out
and sent my conveyance and horses back to their owner, and ordered his
own to be ready to take me to the next Station, or, if need be, to the
next again. At parting, the lady said to her husband,—

“The Missionary has asked no money, though he sees we have been deeply
interested; yet clearly that is the object of his tour. He is the first
Missionary from the Heathen that ever visited us here; and you must
contribute something to his Mission fund.”

I thanked her, explaining, “I never ask money directly from any
person for the Lord’s work. My part is done when I have told my story
and shown the needs of the Heathen and the claims of Christ; but I
gratefully receive all that the Lord moves His people to give for the
Mission.”

Her husband replied, rather sharply, “You know I don’t keep money here.”

To which she retorted with ready tact and with a resistless smile, “But
you keep a cheque book; and your cheque is as good as gold! This is the
first donation we ever gave to such a cause, and let it be a good one.”

He made it indeed handsome, and I went on my way, thanking them very
sincerely, and thanking God.

At the next Station, the owner turned out to be a gruff Irishman,
forbidding and insolent. Stating my case to him as to the others, he
shouted at me, “Go on! I don’t want to be troubled with the loikes o’
you here.”

I answered, “I am sorry if my coming troubles you; but I wish you every
blessing in Christ Jesus. Good-bye!”

As we drove off, he shouted curses after us. On leaving his door, I
heard a lady calling to him from the window: “Don’t let that Missionary
go away! Make haste and call him back. I want the children to see the
idols and the South Sea curios.”

At first he drowned her appeal in his own shoutings. But she must
have persisted effectually; for shortly we heard him “coo-ee-ing,” and
stopped. When he came up to us, he explained: “That lady in my house
heard you speaking in Melbourne. The ladies and children are very
anxious to see your idols, dresses, and weapons. Will you please come
back?”

We did so. I spent fifteen minutes or so, giving them information about
the Natives and our Mission. As I left, our boisterous friend handed me
a cheque for £5, and wished me great success!

The next Station at which we arrived was one of the largest of all.
It happened to be a sort of pay day, and men were assembled from all
parts of the run, and were to remain there over night. The squatter and
his family were from home; but Mr. Todd, the overseer, being a good
Christian and a Scotchman, was glad to receive us, arranged to hold a
meeting that evening in the men’s hut, and promised to set me forward
on my journey next day. The meeting was very enthusiastic; and they
subscribed £20 to the Mission—every man being determined to have so
many shares in the new Mission Ship. With earnest personal dealing, I
urged the claims of the Lord Jesus upon all who were present, seeking
the salvation of every hearer. I ever found even the rough digger, and
the lowest of the hands about faraway Stations, most attentive and
perfectly respectful.

To the honour of Australia I must here record, that anything like
uncivil treatment was a rare exception in all my travels. Sometimes,
indeed, I have suspected that people were acting as if to say, Let
us treat him kindly, do as little for his cause as we can, and get
rid of him as quickly as possible! But, as a rule, almost without an
exception, I have met with remarkable kindness, hospitality, and help
from all the Ministers and people of Australia. Scarcely ever, at any
place visited, was I without one or more invitations to be guest of
some of the Lord’s people; and I was there treated as a dear friend
of the family, rather than a passing stranger. Colonials, indeed, are
proverbial for the open door and the generous hand to pilgrims by the
way. May the Divine Master grant them evermore of His own Spirit, with
His ever-enriching blessings on their Souls and in their homes!

Disappointments and successes were strangely intermingled. Once I
travelled a very long way to conduct a meeting at a certain township.
I had written pleading with the Minister to make due intimation; but
he had informed no person of my intended visit, neither had he written
to me, which he could easily have done. When I arrived, he met me on
horseback, said, “I have arranged no meeting here,” and instantly rode
away. Only two coaches weekly passed that way, so I had to remain
there at a Public House for the next three days. Drinking and noise,
of course, abounded; but they kindly gave me a small back room, as far
away as possible, and looking out into a quiet garden. It was to cost
me thirteen shillings and sixpence per day; and there I sat patiently
and somewhat sadly working up my heavy correspondence. The district was
rich, and I knew that there were pious as well as wealthy people there,
who could have been interested in our Mission and would have helped
me,—hence my keen disappointment.

On the afternoon of the second day, I saw a beautiful garden from my
bedroom window, wherein a considerable party of ladies, gentlemen,
and handsomely dressed children were disporting in happy amusements.
Thinking that they were growing tired, and might not object to a little
variety, I summoned courage to walk up and ask for the gentleman of
the house. I told him that I was a Missionary from the South Sea
Islands and had come here to address a meeting, and how I had been
disappointed; that I was staying at the Public House till the next Mail
passed inland, and that I had there some Heathen idols, clubs, dresses,
and “curios,” which perhaps the ladies and children would like to see,
and to hear a little about the Lord’s work on the Islands. I explained
also that I asked no money and received no reward, but only wished an
opportunity of interesting them in this work of God. He consulted the
company. They were eager to see what I had got, and to hear what I had
to say.

On returning with my bundle of “curios,” I found them all arranged
under the verandah, and a chair placed in front for me and my articles
of mystery. They eagerly examined everything, and listened to my
description of its uses. I gave them a short account of the Islanders
and of our efforts to carry to them the Gospel of Jesus. I pressed on
them the blessings and the advantages of the great Redemption, and the
peace and joy of living for and walking daily with God here, in the
assured hope of eternal glory with Him hereafter; and I urged one and
all to love and serve the Lord Jesus. Having stated how I came to be
there, and how I had been disappointed, knowing that many would have
sympathized with and helped my Mission if only I could have addressed
them, I intimated that I would not ask any contributions, but I would
leave a few of the Collecting Cards for the new Mission Ship; and if,
after what they had heard, they chose to do anything, all money was to
be sent to the Treasurer at Melbourne.

Some offered me donations, but I declined, saying, “I am a stranger to
you all. The Minister has cast suspicion on me by refusing to intimate
any meeting. In the circumstances, I can in this case receive nothing.
But I will rejoice if you all do whatever you can for the precious
work of our Lord Jesus among the Heathen, and send it on to Melbourne,
whence every penny will be acknowledged in due time.”

Many took cards and became eager collectors for the Mission; and I
knew, ere I returned to the Public House that day, that the Lord’s
finger was here also, and that the trial of disappointment through the
Minister was being already over-ruled for good.

This was even more remarkably manifested on the evening of that same
day, and within the said Public House itself. A very large number of
men were assembled there, some at tea, and others drinking noisily,
on their return from a great cattle market and show. I tried to get
into conversation with some of the quieter spirits, and produced and
explained to them the idols, clubs, and dresses, till nearly all
crowded eagerly around me. Then I told them the story of our Mission,
in process of which I managed to urge the Gospel message on their own
hearts also; and invited them to ask questions at the close. The rough
fellows became wonderfully interested. Several took Collecting Cards
for the _Dayspring_ fund. And the publican and his wife were thereafter
very kind, declining to take anything from me either for bed or
meals—another gleam out of the darkness!

It is my conviction that in these ways the Lord helped me to gain as
much, if not, more for the Mission than all that was lost through
lack of a meeting; and it is certain that I thus had opportunity of
speaking of sin and salvation, and of setting forth the claims of
Jesus before many souls that never could have been reached through
any ordinary Congregation. Again I learned to praise the Lord in all
circumstances—“Bless the Lord _at all times_, O my soul.”

A lively and memorable extemporized meeting on this tour is associated
in memory with one of my dearest friends. The district was very remote.
He, the squatter, and his beloved wife were sterling Christians, and
have been ever since warmly devoted to me. On my arrival, he invited
the people from all the surrounding Stations, as well as his own
numerous servants, to hear the story of our Mission. Next day he
volunteered to drive me a long distance over the plains of St. Arnaud,
his dear wife accompanying us. At that time there were few fences in
such districts in Australia. The drive was long, but the day had been
lovely, and the fellowship was so sweet that it still shines a sunny
spot in the fields of memory.

Having reached our destination about seven o’clock, he ordered tea at
the Inn for the whole party; and we sallied out meantime and took the
only Hall in the place, for an extemporized meeting to be held that
evening at eight o’clock. I then hired a man to go through the township
with a bell, announcing the same; while I myself went up one side of
the main street, and my friend up the other, inviting all who would
listen to us to attend the Mission meeting, where South Sea Island
idols, weapons, and dresses would be exhibited, and stories of the
Natives told.

Running back for a hurried cup of tea, I then hasted to the Hall, and
found it crowded to excess with rough and boisterous diggers. The hour
struck as I was getting my articles arranged and spread out upon the
table, and they began shouting, “Where’s the Missionary?” “Another
hoax!”—indicating that they were not unwilling for a row. I learned
that, only a few nights ago, a so-called Professor had advertised a
lecture, lifted entrance money till the Hall was crowded, and then
quietly slipped off the scene. In our case, though there was no charge,
they seemed disposed to gratify themselves by some sort of promiscuous
revenge.

Amidst the noisy chaff and rising uproar, I stepped up on the table,
and said, “Gentlemen, I am the Missionary. If you will now be silent,
the lecture will proceed. According to my usual custom, let us open the
meeting with prayer.”

The hush that fell was such a contrast to the preceding hubbub, that I
heard my heart throbbing aloud! Then they listened to me for an hour,
in perfect silence and with ever-increasing interest. At the close
I intimated that I asked no collection; but if, after what they had
heard, they would take a Collecting Card for the new Mission Ship,
and send any contributions to the Treasurer at Melbourne, I would
praise God for sending me amongst them. Many were heartily taken, and
doubtless some souls felt the “constraining love,” who had till then
been living without God. Next morning, I mounted the Mail Coach, and
started on a three days’ run, while my dear friend returned safely to
his home.

It was really very seldom, however, that I found myself thus driven to
extemporize my meetings. Some Christian friend, if not the Minister of
the place, arranged all, and advertised my coming. And the Lord greatly
helped me in carrying on the burdensome correspondence thereanent, and
keeping it always three weeks ahead.

I travelled thus over the length and breadth of New South Wales,
Victoria, Tasmania, and South Australia, telling the story of our
Mission, and delivering the Lord’s message, not only in great centres
of population, but in almost every smaller township; and not only
thereby Floating the _Dayspring_, but sowing, by God’s help, seeds of
far-reaching blessing, whose fruits will ripen through the years to
come. Blessed be His holy Name!

And here let me recall what happened at Penola, a border town between
Victoria and South Australia. In the flooded, swampy country and bad
bush-track between it and Mount Gambier the roads were impassable,
and the coach broke down. The Mail was sent forward on horseback. I
had waited for nearly a week, in the hope of getting to the Mount for
the Sabbath Services that had been arranged. At length I succeeded in
engaging a man, with a pair of horses and a light spring cart, to drive
me there for £4 10_s._ He declared the horses to be fresh, and able
for the journey. We started about mid-day; but, ere many miles had
been covered, he began to whip them severely. The horses looked utterly
exhausted, and the truth at once flashed on me. I was pleading with him
not to flog them so, when, on reaching a higher piece of ground, he
pulled up, and said,—

“I am ashamed to tell you that my horses are done! They had just come
off a journey of forty miles when we started. I have told you a lie;
but I hope you will forgive me. I was sorely in need of the hire, and
I deceived you. There is no help for it now. We must camp out for the
night on this dry ground. I do hope you won’t catch cold. You shall
sleep in the cart; I can rest under it. I will set fire to this large
fallen tree to keep us warm. I have brought a loaf of bread, and a
billy (= a bushman’s can for boiling water). We can have some tea; and,
rest assured, I shall land you there in time for the Sabbath Morning
Service.”

So saying, while I listened dumbfounded, he turned aside, unyoked the
horses, “hobbled” them, and let them go upon the grass. He made the
black tea which bushmen drink, and appeared to enjoy it. The conveyance
was drawn near to that burning tree, and I got located into it, and
was expected to rest. I sat there wide-awake during weary hours! Time
passed at a dreadfully slow pace, and sleep refused to come near me.
Kangaroos, wallabies, with other nameless wild creatures and screaming
birds, kept loud festival all around; and mosquitoes tortured me,
apparently in thousands. Towards midnight I saw a light in the distant
bush, and, awaking my companion, inquired if he could say what it might
be. He had heard that a Wesleyan farmer from near Adelaide had come
into that region to take up a sheep and cattle Station there, as in
that swampy country the grass was excellent. It might be their light,
or it might be that of some benighted party camping out like ourselves.
He assured me that he could find our way to that light, and back again
to our burning tree, and, partly to pass the time, I resolved to try.

We found the Wesleyan farmer there, living in a large bush-shed,
surrounded by a still larger enclosure wherein horses, cattle, and
sheep were kept for the night all together upon the dry ground,
awaiting the erection of houses and fencing, with which they were
busily engaged. Unseemly as was our hour of call, the dogs had
loudly announced our approach, and we got a cordial greeting, being
immediately surrounded by all the family. They eagerly listened to
everything about the Mission. We had worship together. They gave us a
hearty tea, besides a loaf of bread and a jug of milk for our breakfast
next morning—the jug to be left by us beside the burning tree, whither
they could send for it after we departed. Their regrets were genuine
and profuse that their circumstances prevented them from offering us
a bed, but we exceedingly enjoyed our intercourse with them, and felt
them to be dear Christian friends. How delightful and responsive is
the communion of those who love the Lord Jesus, wherever they meet;
and oh, what will it be in Glory, when, made like unto the Saviour, we
shall “see Him as He is!” At daybreak we were off again on our weary
journey, and reached the destination safely and in good time. A hearty
welcome awaited us from dear Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell, who had long since
despaired of my appearing. All the Services were largely attended, and
the Lord led the people to take a deep interest in our Mission, many
generous and devoted friends to it arising there, where the Minister
and his wife struck the right key-note, and were so highly and justly
esteemed.

Returning to Penola, we found that the Mail coach would not try to run
for some time. I had to reconcile myself to wait there for several
days. Every day I beheld a man staggering about at all hours under
the influence of drink. I learned that he had been a wealthy and
open-handed squatter, had lost everything, had recently laid his wife
in the grave, and now, followed about by his three little girls, was
trying to drown his sorrows in whisky. Overcome with irresistible pity,
I followed him day after day, and again and again remonstrated with
him on the madness of his conduct, especially appealing to him for his
children’s sake. At last he turned upon me, with an earnest gaze, and
said, “If you take the pledge with me, God helping me, I will keep it
for life.”

We entered the house together, signed a pledge, and solemnly invoked
God in prayer to enable us to keep it till death. For his sake, I
renewed the vow of my youthful days; and he, by my sympathy, took this
vow for the first time, and, by God’s help, he kept it. He left Penola
next day, shaking off old associates, and started a humble business
where he had once owned much of the land. He became a Christian out and
out, and has been an Elder of the Church for many years. I have often
been laughed at by whisky drinkers, and also by so-called “temperance”
men, for being a Total Abstainer; but even one case like that (and,
thank God, there are many) is an eternal reward, and can sustain us to
smile down all ridicule.

Dear reader, can you measure the effect of the example which you are
setting? Are you to-day amongst the ranks of the moderate drinkers?
Remember that from that class all drunkards have come; and ask yourself
whether you would not act more nobly and unselfishly to abstain, for
the interests of our common Humanity, for loyalty to our Lord Jesus
Christ, and for the hope of leading a pure and unstained life yourself,
as well as helping others to do so, whom Jesus died to save?

The crowning adventure of my tour came about in the following manner:
I was advertised to conduct Services at Narracoort on Sabbath, and at
a Station on the way on Saturday evening. But how to get from Penola
was a terrible perplexity. On Saturday morning, however, a young lady
offered me, out of gratitude for blessings received, the use of her
riding horse for the journey. “Garibaldi” was his name; and, though
bred for a race-horse, I was assured that if I kept him firmly in hand,
he would easily carry me over the two-and-twenty miles. He was to be
left at the journey’s end, and the lady herself would fetch him back. I
shrank from the undertaking, knowing little of horses, and having vague
recollections of being dreadfully punished for more than a week after
my last and almost only ride. But every one in that country is quite at
ease on the back of a horse. They saw no risk; and, as there appeared
no other way of getting there to fulfil my engagements, I, for my part,
began to think that God had unexpectedly provided the means, and that
He would carry me safely through.

I accepted the lady’s kind offer, and started on my pilgrimage. A
friend showed me the road, and gave me ample directions. In the bush,
I was to keep my eye on the notches in the trees, and follow them.
He agreed kindly to bring my luggage to the Station, and leave it
there for me by-and-bye. After I had walked very quietly for some
distance, three gentlemen on horseback overtook me. We entered into
conversation. They inquired how far I was going, and advised me to
sit a little “freer” in the saddle, as it would be so much easier for
me. They seemed greatly amused at my awkward riding! Dark clouds were
now gathering ahead, and the atmosphere prophesied a severe storm;
therefore they urged that I should ride a little faster, as they, for
a considerable distance, could guide me on the right way. I explained
to them my plight through inexperience, said that I could only creep
on slowly with safety, and bade them Good-bye. As the sky was getting
darker every minute, they consented, wishing me a safe journey, and
started off at a smart pace.

I struggled to hold in my horse; but seizing the bit with his teeth,
laying back his ears, and stretching out his eager neck, he manifestly
felt that his honour was at stake; and in less time than I take to
write it, the three friends cleared a way for us, and he tore past
them all at an appalling speed. They tried for a time to keep within
reach of us, but that sound only put fire into his blood; and in an
incredibly short time I heard them not; nor, from the moment that he
bore me swinging past them, durst I turn my head by one inch to look
for them again. In vain I tried to hold him in; he tore on, with what
appeared to me the speed of the wind. Then the thunderstorm broke
around us, with flash of lightning and flood of rain, and at every
fresh peal my “Garibaldi” dashed more wildly onward.

To me, it was a vast surprise to discover that I could sit more easily
on this wild flying thing, than when at a canter or a trot. At every
turn I expected that he would dash himself and me against the great
forest trees; but instinct rather than my hand guided him miraculously.
Sometimes I had a glimpse of the road, but as for the “notches,” I
never saw one of them; we passed them with lightning speed. Indeed, I
durst not lift my eyes for one moment from watching the horse’s head
and the trees on our track. My high-crowned hat was now drenched, and
battered out of shape; for whenever we came to a rather clear space, I
seized the chance and gave it another knock down over my head. I was
spattered and covered with mud and mire.

Crash, crash, went the thunder, and on, on, went “Garibaldi” through
the gloom of the forest, emerging at length upon a clearer ground with
a more visible pathway. Reaching the top of the slope, a large house
stood out far in front of us to the left; and the horse had apparently
determined to make straight for that, as if it were his home. He
skirted along the hill, and took the track as his own familiar ground,
all my effort to hold him in or guide him having no more effect than
that of a child. By this time, I suspect, I really had lost all power.
“Garibaldi” had been at that house, probably frequently before; he knew
those stables; and my fate seemed to be instant death against door or
wall.

Some members of the family, on the outlook for the Missionary, saw
us come tearing along as if mad or drunk; and now all rushed to the
verandah, expecting some dread-catastrophe. A tall and stout young
groom, amazed at our wild career, throwing wide open the gate,
seized the bridle at great risk to himself, and ran full speed, yet
holding back with all his might, and shouting at me to do the same.
We succeeded,—“Garibaldi” having probably attained his purpose,—in
bringing him to a halt within a few paces of the door. Staring at me
with open mouth, the man exclaimed, “I have saved your life. What
madness to ride like that!” Thanking him, though I could scarcely by
this time articulate a word, I told him that the horse had run away,
and that I had lost all control.

Truly I was in a sorry plight, drenched, covered with mud, and my
hat battered down over my eyes; little wonder they thought me drunk
or mad! Finally, as if to confirm every suspicion, and amuse them
all,—for master, mistress, governess, and children now looked on from
the verandah,—when I was helped off the horse, I could not stand on my
feet! My head still went rushing on in the race; I staggered, and down
I tumbled into the mud, feeling chagrin and mortification; yet there
I had to sit for some time before I recovered myself, so as either to
rise or to speak a word. When I did get to my feet, I had to stand
holding by the verandah for some time, my head still rushing on in the
race. At length the master said, “Will you not come in?”

I knew that he was treating me for a drunken man; and the giddiness was
so dreadful still, that my attempts at speech seemed more drunken than
even my gait.

As soon as I could stand, I went into the house, and drew near to an
excellent fire in my dripping clothes. The squatter sat opposite me in
silence, reading the newspapers, and taking a look at me now and again
over his spectacles. By-and-bye he remarked, “Wouldn’t it be worth
while to change your clothes?”

Speech was now returning to me. I replied, “Yes, but my bag is coming
on in the cart, and may not be here to-night.”

He began to relent. He took me into a room, and laid out for me a suit
of his own. I being then very slender, and he a big-framed farmer,
my new dress, though greatly adding to my comfort, enhanced the
singularity of my appearance.

Returning to him, washed and dressed, I inquired if he had arranged
for a meeting? My tongue, I fear, was still unsteady, for the squatter
looked at me rather reproachfully, and said, “Do you really consider
yourself fit to appear before a meeting to-night?”

I assured him that he was quite wrong in his suspicions, that I was a
life-long Abstainer, and that my nerves had been so unhinged by the
terrible ride and the runaway horse. He smiled rather suggestively, and
said we would see how I felt after tea.

We went to the table. All that had occurred was now consummated by my
appearing in the lusty farmer’s clothes; and the lady and other friends
had infinite difficulty in keeping their amusement within decent
bounds. I again took speech in hand, but I suspect my words had still
the thickness of the tippler’s utterance, for they seemed not to carry
much conviction,—“Dear friends, I quite understand your feelings;
appearances are so strangely against me. But I am not drunken, as ye
suppose. I have tasted no intoxicating drink, I am a life-long Total
Abstainer!”

This fairly broke down their reserve. They laughed aloud, looking at
each other and at me, as if to say, “Man, you’re drunk at this very
moment.”

Before tea was over they appeared, however, to begin to entertain the
idea that I _might_ address the meeting; and so I was informed of the
arrangements that had been made. At the meeting, my incredulous friends
became very deeply interested. Manifestly their better thoughts were
gaining the ascendancy. And they heaped thereafter every kindness upon
me, as if to make amends for harder suspicions.

Next morning the master drove me about ten miles further on to the
Church. A groom rode the race-horse, who took no scathe from his
thundering gallop of the day before. It left deeper traces upon me.
I got through the Services, however, and with good returns for the
Mission. Twice since, on my Mission tours, I have found myself at
that same memorable house; and on each occasion a large company of
friends were being regaled by the good lady there with very comical
descriptions of my first arrival at her door.




CHAPTER II.

AMONG THE ABORIGINES.

  A Fire-Water Festival.—At Tea with the Aborigines.—“Black Fellow
  all Gone!”—The Poison-Gift and Civilization.—The “Scattering” of
  the Blacks.—The “Brute-in-human-shape” Theory.—The Testimony of
  Nora.—Nathaniel Pepper and their “Gods.”—Smooth Stone Idols.—Rites
  and Ceremonies.—“Too much Devil-Devil.”—The Quest for Idols.—Visit to
  Nora in the Camp.—Independent Testimonies.—Nora’s own Letters.—The
  Aborigines in Settlements.


Detained for nearly a week at Balmoral by the break-down of the coach
on these dreadful roads, I telegraphed to Hamilton for a conveyance;
and the Superintendent of the Sunday School, dear Mr. Laidlaw,
volunteered, in order to reduce expenses, to spend one day of his
precious time coming for me, and another driving me down. While
awaiting him, I came into painful and memorable contact with the
Aborigines of Australia. The Publicans had organized a day of sports,
horse-racing, and circus exhibitions. Immense crowds assembled, and,
amongst the rest, tribe after tribe of the Aborigines from all the
surrounding country. Despite the law prohibiting the giving of strong
drinks to these poor creatures, foolish and unprincipled dealers
supplied them with the same, and the very blankets which the Government
had given them, were freely exchanged for the fire-water which kindled
them to madness.

Next day was Sabbath. The morning was hideous with the yells of the
fighting Savages. They tore about on the Common in front of the Church,
leading gentlemen having tried in vain to quiet them, and their wild
voices without jarred upon the Morning Service. About two o’clock, I
tried to get into conversation with them. I appealed to them whether
they were not all tired and hungry? They replied that they had had no
food all that day; they had fought since the morning! I said,—

“I love you black fellows. I go Missionary black fellows far away. I
love you, want you rest, get food. Come all of you, rest, sit round me,
and we will talk, till the _jins_ (= women) get ready tea. They boil
water, I take tea with you, and then you will be strong!”

By broken English and by many symbols, I won their ear. They produced
tea and _damper_, _i.e._, a rather forbidding-looking bread, without
yeast, baked on the coals. Their wives hasted to boil water. I kept
incessantly talking, to interest them, and told them how Jesus, God’s
dear Son, came and died to make them happy, and how He grieved to see
them beating and fighting and killing each other.

When the tea was ready, we squatted on the green grass, their tins were
filled, the “damper” was broken into lumps, and I asked the blessing
of God on the meal. To me it was unpleasant eating! Many of them looked
strong and healthy; but not a few were weak and dying creatures. The
strong, devouring all they could get, urged me to be done, and let them
finish their fighting, eager for the fray. But having gained their
confidence, I prayed with them, and thereafter said,—

“Now, before I leave, I will ask of you to do one thing for my sake,
which you can all easily do.”

With one voice they replied,—

“Yes, we all do whatever you say.” I got their leaders to promise to me
one by one. I then said,—

“Now you have got your tea, and I ask every man and boy among you to
lie down in the bush and take a sleep, and your wives will sit by and
watch over your safety!”

In glum silence, their war weapons still grasped in their hands, they
stood looking intently at me, doubting whether I could be in earnest. I
urged them,—

“You all promised to do what I asked. If you break your promise, these
white men will laugh at me, and say that black fellows only lie and
deceive. Let them see that you can be trusted. I wait here till I see
you all asleep.”

One said that his head was cut, and he must have revenge before he
could lie down. Others filed past showing their wounds, and declaring
that it was too bad to request them to go to sleep. I praised them as
far as I could, but urged them for once to be men and to keep their
word. Finally they all agreed to lie down, I waiting till the last man
had disappeared; and, being doubly exhausted with the debauch and the
fighting, they were soon all fast asleep. I prayed that the blessed
Sleep might lull their savage passions.

Before daylight next morning, the Minister and I were hastening to the
scene to prevent further fighting; but as the sun was rising we saw the
last tribe of the distant Natives disappearing over the brow of a hill.
A small party belonging to the district alone remained. They shouted
to us, “Black fellow all gone! No more fight. You too much like black
fellow!”

For three days afterwards I had still to linger there; and if their
dogs ran or barked at me, the women chased them with sticks and stones,
and protected me. One little touch of kindness and sympathy had
unlocked their darkened hearts.

The Aborigines of Australia have been regarded as perhaps the
most degraded portion of the human race, at least in the Southern
Hemisphere. Like the Papuans of our Islands, they rank betwixt Malay
and Negro in colour and appearance. Their hair, coarse, black, curly,
but not woolly; eyes, dark and yellowish, with very heavy eyebrows;
nose flat, with hole bored through septum, in which ornament is hung;
small chin, thick lips, large mouth, and lustrous teeth; high cheek
bones, with sunken eyes and well-developed brow. Like all Savages
in their natural state, they were nearly nude, filthy, and wretched;
especially in winter, when covered with kangaroo and opossum skins,
which they hung around themselves loosely by day, and under which
they slept at night. They sometimes daubed their bodies all over with
paint, mud, charcoal, or ashes. Their women are generally of a slender
build. All these features and notes are true of many of our South Sea
Islanders too; but they, again, are decidedly of a higher type. On many
of the Islands, faces, though dark, are as pleasant and as well formed
as amongst Europeans. Besides, the Islanders are not nomadic; they live
in settled villages, and cultivate the land for their support.

Having read very strong statements for and against the Aborigines, in
my many journeys twenty-four years ago I resolved to embrace every
opportunity of learning their customs and beliefs directly from
themselves. I have also seen their disgusting “Corrobbarees,” and know
by facts how demoralizing these Heathen dances are. I know also what
strong drink has done amongst them.

Who wonders that the dark races melt away before the _whites_? The
pioneers of civilization _will_ carry with them this demon of strong
drink, the fruitful parent of every other vice. The black people drink,
and become unmanageable; and through the white man’s own poison-gift an
excuse is found for sweeping the poor creatures off the face of the
earth. Marsden’s writings show how our Australian blacks are destroyed.
But I have myself been on the track of such butcheries again and again.
A Victorian lady told me the following incident. She heard a child’s
pitiful cry in the bush. On tracing it, she found a little girl weeping
over her younger brother. She said,—

“The white men poisoned our father and mother. They threaten to shoot
me, so that I dare not go near them. I am here, weeping over my brother
till we die!”

The compassionate lady promised to be a mother to the little sufferers,
and to protect them. They instantly clung to her, and have proved
themselves to be loving and dutiful ever since.

In Queensland itself, the Native Police, armed and mounted—accompanied
by only _one_ white officer, that no tales might be told—were reported
to be regularly sent out to “scatter” the blacks! That meant, in many a
case, wholesale murder. But in 1887, the humane Sir Samuel Griffiths,
premier, had these blood-stained forces disbanded for ever. The _Sydney
Morning Herald_, 21st March, 1883, contains stronger things than were
ever penned or uttered by me as to the wholesale destruction of the
Aborigines. The watchword of the white settlers, practically if not
theoretically, has been, “Clear them out of the way, and give us the
soil!”

Though amongst the lower types of the human race, the Aborigines have
made excellent stock riders, bullock drivers, fencers, and servants in
every department. And they have proved honest and faithful, especially
when kindly treated. Australians are sometimes bitter against them, for
a reason that ought rather to awaken sympathy. They take Aboriginal
boys or girls into their service, they train them just till they are
beginning to be useful, and lo! they go back to their own people. But
in almost every case of that kind, the reason is perfectly clear. They
are only taught so far as to make them useful tools. Their minds were
not instructed, nor their hearts enlightened in the fear of God and
the love of Jesus. They were not on an equality in any way either with
children or with servants. They grew up without equals and without
associates. They saw their parents and tribesmen treated with contempt
and abuse. They instinctively felt that the moment they were unable to
serve the self-interest of their employers, they themselves would be
thrust out. They had not the spirit of the slave, though kept in the
rank of a slave; and they yearned for satisfaction of these instincts,
which the supply of their mere animal necessities could not assuage.
Among the whites, they felt degraded and outcast; amongst their own
people, they had the honour and esteem that were within reach of their
kindred, and they might weave around their poor lot the mysterious and
ever-blessed ties of family and home. And here and there, doubtless,
flashed in the heart of some Native boy a gleam of that patriotism
that led Moses to escape from Pharaoh’s court, and refuse to be
identified with the despisers and oppressors of his own enslaved
race,—divine in the Aboriginal as in the Hebrew, though each might give
a very different account of its origin!

A book once fell into my hands, entitled,—“Sermons on Public Subjects,”
by Charles Kingsley. I knew him to be a man greatly gifted and greatly
beloved; and hence my positive distress on reading from the eighth
sermon, page 234, “On the Fall,” the following awful words:—[1]“The
Black people of Australia, exactly the same race as the African Negro,
cannot take in the Gospel.... All attempts to bring them to a knowledge
of the true God have as yet failed utterly.... Poor brutes in human
shape ... they must perish off the face of the earth like brute beasts.”

I will not blame this great preacher for boldly uttering and publishing
what multitudes of others show by their conduct that they believe,
but dare not say so. Nor need any one blame me, if, knowing facts
and details which Kingsley could never know, I turn aside for a few
moments, and let the light of practical knowledge stream in on this and
all similar teaching, come from whatsoever quarter it may.

While I was pondering over Kingsley’s words, the story of Nora, an
Aboriginal Christian woman, whom, as hereafter related, I myself
actually visited and corresponded with, was brought under my notice,
as if to shatter to pieces everything that the famous preacher had
proclaimed. A dear friend told me how he had seen Nora encamped with
the blacks near Hexham in Victoria. Her husband had lost, through
drink, their once comfortable home at a Station where he was employed.
The change back to life in camp had broken her health, and she lay sick
on the ground within a miserable hut. The visitors found her reading a
Bible, and explaining to a number of her own poor people the wonders
of redeeming love. My friend, Roderick Urquhart, Esq., overcome by the
sight, said,—

“Nora, I am grieved to see you here, and deprived of every comfort in
your sickness.”

She answered, not without tears, “The change has indeed made me unwell;
but I am beginning to think that this too is for the best; it has at
last brought my poor husband to his senses, and I will grudge nothing
if God thereby brings him to the Saviour’s feet!”

She further explained, that she had found wonderful joy in telling her
own people about the true God and his Son Jesus, and was quite assured
that the Lord in His own way would send her relief. The visitors who
accompanied Mr. Urquhart showed themselves to be greatly affected by
the true and pure Christian spirit of this poor Aboriginal, and on
parting she said,—

“Do not think that I like this miserable hut, or the food, or the
company; but I am and have been happy in trying to do good amongst my
people.”

For my part, let that dear Christlike soul look out on me from
her Aboriginal hut, and I will trample under foot all teachings
or theorizings that dare to say that she or her kind are but poor
brutes;—they who say so blaspheme Human Nature. “I thank thee, O
Father, Lord of Heaven and Earth, that Thou hast hid these things from
the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes.”

Recall, ere you read further, what the Gospel has done for the near
kindred of these same Aboriginals. On our own Aneityum 3,500 Cannibals
have been led to renounce their heathenism, and are leading a civilized
and a Christian life. In Fiji, 70,000 Cannibals have been brought under
the influence of the Gospel; and 13,000 members of the Churches there
are professing to live and work for Jesus. In Samoa, 34,000 Cannibals
have professed Christianity; and, in nineteen years, its College has
sent forth 206 Native teachers and evangelists. On our New Hebrides,
more than 12,000 Cannibals have been brought to sit at the feet of
Christ, not to say that they are all model Christians; and 133 of the
Natives have been trained and sent forth as teachers and preachers of
the Gospel. Had Christ been brought in the same way into the heart
and life of the Aborigines by the Christians of Australia and of
Britain—equally blessed results would as surely have followed, for He
is “the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.”

It is easy to understand, moreover, how even experienced travellers
may be deluded to believe that the Aborigines have no idols and no
religion. One must have lived amongst them or their kindred ere he
can authoritatively decide these questions. Before I left Melbourne,
for instance, I had met Nathaniel Pepper, a converted Aboriginal from
Wimmera. I asked him if his people had any “Doctors,” _i.e._, sacred
men or priests. He said they had. I inquired if they had any objects of
Worship, or any belief in God? He said, “No! None whatever.”

But on taking from my pocket some four small stone idols, his
expression showed at once that he recognised them as objects of
Worship. He had seen the sacred men use them; but he refused to answer
any more questions. I resolved now, if possible, to secure some of
their idols, and set this whole problem once for all at rest.

At Newstead, on another occasion, I persuaded a whole camp of the
Aborigines to come to my meeting. After the address, they waited to
examine the idols and stone gods which I had shown. Some of the young
men admitted that their “doctors” had things like these, which they and
the old people prayed to; but they added jauntily,—

“We young fellows don’t worship; we know too much for that!”

No “doctors” were, however, in that camp; so I could not meet with
them; but I already felt that the testimony of nearly all white people
that the blacks had “no idols and no worship,” was quickly crumbling
away. Besides, my ever-dear friend, Andrew Scott, Esq., had informed me
that when he first went out among the blacks,—almost alone, and one of
the first white men they had ever seen,—he saw them handling, and going
through ceremonials with just such “smooth stones” as I had brought
from the Islands, without for a moment dreaming that they were idols.
Yet such is the actual fact; very much as it was in the ancient days
when Isaiah (ch. lvii. 6) denounced thus the “sons of the sorceress,”
who were “inflaming themselves with idols.” “Among the smooth stones
of the stream (or valley) is thy portion; they, they are thy lot; even
to them hast thou poured a drink offering, hast thou offered a meat
offering (or oblation).”

Yet again, R. Urquhart, Esq., Tangery, informed me that he also had
seen the Aborigines engaged in religious observances. First of all,
a vast multitude of men and women joined in a great Corrobbarree,
or Heathen festival and dance. Thereafter each marched individually
towards the centre of a huge ring, and after certain ceremonies, bowed
as if in worship towards two manlike figures cut in the ground. Our
life amongst the heathen had taught us that Worship was there.

The rite of circumcision was practised also amongst the blacks of
Australia as well as amongst our New Hebrideans. Boys, on attaining
what was looked upon as early manhood, were thus initiated into their
privileges as men; and the occasion was accompanied with feasting,
dancing, and what they regarded as religious ceremonies.

Some tribes in Australia, as on our Islands also, indicate the rank
or class to which a man belongs by the barbarous custom of knocking
out the two front teeth! This is done on reaching a certain age;
with feasts and dancings held at midnight, and during full moon, in
connection with sacred spots, which no one but a priest will be found
daring enough to approach.

Hence there is no doubt in my mind as to the character and meaning of
such “mysterious figures” as those so much discussed, carved on the
flat rocks at Middle Harbour, or on the South Reef promontory at Cape
Cove. They are found also at Point Piper, at Mossmans, at Lane Cove,
and at many other places throughout Australia, representing the human
figure in almost every attitude, the kangaroo, the flying squirrel,
the shark, the whale, etc., etc.,—all of which I believe to be sacred
objects, and these rocks and cliffs to be sacred places. Some of the
fish carved there are twenty-seven feet long. The Aborigines would
give no explanation of their origin, except that they were “made by
black fellows long, long ago;” and that the blacks would not live near
them, for “too much devil-devil walk about there.” The Balmoral blacks
informed me that their sacred men carried about such objects as I
showed them, and “that they were devil-devil,”—which is their only word
for God or Spirit, when they talk to you in broken English.

The 18th of February, 1863, was a day worthy of being chronicled and
remembered. I visited the Wonwonda Station in the Wimmera district
of Victoria, and there beheld a great camp of the Aborigines on the
plain near by. Securing the company of the following witnesses, I
proceeded to the camp, and found that part of them had already seen me
at Balmoral. Two of them spoke English fairly well. I managed to break
through their reticence, and in course of time they told us freely
about the customs and traditions of their people. They took us to their
“doctor,” or Sacred Man, who was lying sick in his hut. Half concealed
among the skins and clothes behind him, I observed several curious
bags, which I knew at once would probably contain the little idols of
which I was in quest. I urged the witnesses to take special notice
of everything that occurred, and draw up and sign a statement for my
future use. The following is their attested report:—

“Mr. Paton, having carefully explained to the blacks that he would
like to see some of the sacred objects which they said made the people
sick and well, assured them that his aim was not to mock at them, but
to prove to white people that the blacks had objects of worship and
were not like pigs and dogs. He offered them a number of small pieces
of silver to get bread and tea for the “doctor,” if they would open
these little bags and let us see what was in them. After a good deal of
talk amongst themselves, he took some of the Island stone-gods from his
pocket, saying, ‘I know that these bags have such things in them.’ An
Aboriginal woman exclaimed, ‘You can’t hide them from that fellow! He
knows all about us.’ Mr. Rutherford offered to kill a sheep, and give
them sugar and tea to feast on, if they would open the little bags, but
they refused. After consulting the Sacred Man, however, he took the
silver pieces and allowed them to be opened before us. They were full
of exactly such stones and other things as Mr. Paton had brought from
the Islands, to prove to white people in Melbourne that they were not
like dogs, but had gods; he offered the Sacred Man more money for four
of the objects he had seen. After much talk among themselves, he took
the money; and in our presence Mr. Paton selected a stone idol, a piece
of painted wood of conical shape, a piece of bone of human leg with
seven rings carved round it, which they said had the power of restoring
sick people to health, and another piece of painted wood which made
people sick; but they made him solemnly promise that he would tell
no other black fellows where he got them. They were much interested
in Mr. Paton’s conversation, and said, ‘No Missionary teach black
fellow.’ They then showed us square rugs, thread and grass bags, etc.,
all neatly made by themselves, as proofs that if they were taught they
and their wives could learn to do things and to work just like white
people; but they said, ‘White man no care for black fellow.’ All this,
we, whose names follow, were eye-witnesses of:—G. Rutherford, (Mrs.)
A. Sutherland, (Mrs.) Martha Rutherford, Jemima Rutherford, Ben. B.
Bentock, tutor of the Rutherford family.”

On returning to Horsham, I informed my dear friends, Rev. P. Simpson
and his excellent lady, of my exploits and possessions. He replied,—

“There is a black ‘doctor’ gone round our house just now to see one of
his people who is washing here to-day. Let us go and test them, whether
they know these objects.”

Carrying them in his hand we went to them. The woman instantly on
perceiving them dropped what she was washing, and turned away in
instinctive terror. Mr. Simpson asked,—

“Have you ever before seen stones like these?”

The wily “doctor” replied, “Plenty on the plains, where I kick them out
of my way.”

Taking others out of my pocket, I said, “These make people sick and
well, don’t they?”

His rage overcame his duplicity, and he exclaimed, “What black fellow
give you these? If I know him I do for him!”

The woman, looking the picture of terror, and pointing to one of the
objects, cried,—

“That fellow no good! he kill men. No good, no good! Me too much
afraid.”

Then, looking to me, she said, pointing with her finger, “That fellow
savy (knows) too much! No white man see them. He no good.”

There was more in this scene and in all its surroundings, than in many
arguments; and Mr. Simpson thoroughly believed that these were objects
of idolatrous worship.

On a later occasion I showed these four objects to Aborigines, with
whom I got into intercourse far off in New South Wales. They at once
recognised them, and showed the same superstitious dread. They told me
the peculiar characteristics and the special powers ascribed to each
idol or charm. This I confirmed by the testimony of five different
tribes living at great distances from each other; and it is morally
certain that amongst all the blacks of Australia such objects are so
worshipped and feared in the place of God.

And now let me relate the story of my visit to Nora, the converted
Aboriginal referred to above. Accompanied by Robert Hood, Esq., J.P.,
Victoria, I found my way to the encampment near Hexham. She did not
know of our coming, nor see us till we stood at the door of her hut.
She was clean and tidily dressed, as were also her dear little
children, and appeared glad to see us. She had just been reading the
_Presbyterian Messenger_, and the Bible was lying at her elbow. I said,—

“Do you read the _Messenger_?”

She replied, “Yes; I like to know what is going on in the Church.”

We found her to be a sensible and humble Christian woman, conversing
intelligently about religion and serving God devotedly. Next Sabbath
she brought her husband, her children, and six blacks to Church, all
decently dressed, and they all listened most attentively.

At our first meeting I said, “Nora, they tell me you are a Christian.
I want to ask you a few questions about the blacks; and I hope that as
a Christian you will speak the truth.” Rather hurt at my language, she
raised her right hand, and replied, “I am a Christian. I fear and serve
the true God. I always speak the truth.”

Taking from my pocket the stone idols from the Islands, I inquired
if her people had or worshipped things like these. She replied, “The
‘doctors’ have them.”

“Have you a ‘doctor’ in your camp?” I asked. She said, “Yes, my uncle
is the Sacred Man; but he is now far away from this.”

“Has he the idols with him now?” I inquired.

She answered, “No; they are left in my care.”

I then said: “Could you let us see them?”

She consulted certain representatives of the tribe who were at hand.
They rose, and removed to a distance. They had consented. Mr. Hood
assured me that no fault would be found with her, as she was the real,
or at least virtual head of the tribe. Out of a larger bag she then
drew two smaller bags and opened them. They were filled with the very
objects which I had brought from the Islands. I asked her to consult
the men of her tribe whether they would agree to sell four or five of
them to me, that I might by them convince the white people that they
had gods of their own, and are, therefore, above the brutes of the
field; the money to be given to their Sacred Man on his return. This,
also, after a time was agreed to. I selected three of the objects,
and paid the stipulated price. And the undernoted independent witness
attests the transaction:—

“I this day visited an encampment of the Hopkins blacks, in company
with Rev. Mr. Paton, Missionary, and was witness to the following.
Mr. Paton being under the impression that many of the superstitions
and usages, common to the South Sea Islanders were similar among the
Aborigines of Australia, began by showing some idols, etc., of the
former, and asking if they had seen any like them. This inquiry was
made of a highly civilized woman, named Nora, who can read and write,
and has great influence with her tribe. She answered: Oh yes, the
‘doctors’ have them.

“On Mr. Paton expressing great anxiety to see some of them, she,
after consulting some time with the other blacks, said she had some
belonging to King John, her uncle, who was absent, and had left them in
her care. After considerable reluctance shown on the part of the other
blacks, who were off when they saw Mr. Paton knew all about them, a
bag was produced, in which there were kangaroo tusks or bears’ tusks,
pieces of human bone, stones, charred wood, etc., etc. She described
the virtues attributed to the different articles. If any evil was
wanted to befall one of another tribe, the ‘doctor,’ after muttering,
threw such a stone in the direction he was supposed to be, wishing he
might fall sick, or might die, etc. The spirit from the idol entered
into his body, and he was sure to fall sick or die. Another piece of
charred wood, that the ‘doctor’ rubbed on the diseased part of any
sick person, made the pain come out to the spirit in the wood, and
the ‘doctor’ carried it away. All this time the other blacks were in
evident dread of the things being seen and handled, repeating, ‘No
white man ever see these before!’ Mr. Paton got three specimens from
them, viz., an evil and a good spirit, and a piece of carved bone.
Robert Hood, J.P., Hexham, Victoria, Merang, 28th February, 1863.”

Mr. Hood asked Nora how he had never heard of or seen these things
before, living so long amongst them, and blacks constantly coming and
going about his house. She replied,—

“Long ago white men laughed at black fellows, praying to their idols.
Black fellows said, white men never see them again! Suppose this white
man not know all about them, he would not now see them. No white men
live now have seen what you have seen.”

Thus it has been demonstrated on the spot, and in presence of the most
reliable witnesses, that the Aborigines, before they saw the white
invaders, were not “brutes” incapable of knowing God, but human beings,
yearning after a God of some kind. Nor do I believe that any tribe
of men will ever be found, who, when their language and customs are
rightly interpreted, will not display their consciousness of the need
of a God and that Divine capacity of holding fellowship with the Unseen
Powers, of which the brutes are without one faintest trace.

The late Mr. Hamilton, of Mortlake, wrote me in 1863 as follows:—

“During a residence of twenty-six years in New South Wales and
Victoria, from constant intercourse with Australian Aborigines I am
convinced that they are capable of learning anything that white people
in an equally neglected condition could learn. In two instances I
met with females possessing a greater amount of religious knowledge
than many of our white population. The one was able to prompt the
children she was attending as a servant in the answers proper to give
to the questions I put to them regarding the facts and doctrines of
Christianity. This was in New South Wales. The other was Nora Hood,
baptized and married to an Aboriginal. I conversed with her according
to the usage of the Presbyterian Church, and I believe her to be a
sincere and intelligent Christian. I baptized her children without
hesitation; while I felt it to be my duty in many cases to withhold the
privilege from white parents, on account of their being unable to make
a credible profession of their faith in Christ and obedience to Him.
Under God, she owes her instruction and conversion to Mrs. MacKenzie.
William Hamilton, Minister.”

William Armstrong, Esq., of Hexham Park, wrote in 1863:—

“The Aborigines of Australia certainly believe in spirits, and that
their spirit leaves the body at death and goes to some other island,
and they seem to have many superstitious ideas about the dead.... I
believe they would have been as easily influenced by the Gospel as
any other savages, if they had been taught; but intoxicating spirits,
and the accompanying vices of white people have ruined them. William
Armstrong.”

But let Nora, one of the “poor brutes in human shape,” who was
“incapable of taking in the Gospel,” and must “perish like brute
beasts,” now speak to the heart of every reader in her own words. In
February, 1863, she wrote to me as follows:—

“Dear Sir,—I received your kind letter, and was glad to hear from you.
I am always reading my Bible, for I believe in God the Father and in
Christ Jesus our Lord, Amen. I often speak to the blacks about Jesus
Christ; and some of them believe in God and in Jesus. I always teach
my children to pray to God our Father in Heaven.... Colin will try not
to drink any more. He is always praying to God. Them blacks that come
with me, I will tell about God and about their sins; but they are so
very wicked, they won t listen to me teaching them. Sir, I shall always
pray for you, that God may bless and guide you. O Sir, pray for me, my
husband, and my children! Your obedient servant, Nora Hood.”

In her second letter, she says:—“Your kind letter gave me great
comfort. I thank God that I am able to read and write. Mrs. and Miss
MacKenzie taught me; and through them I came to know Jesus Christ my
Saviour. Our Lord says, ‘Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy
laden, and I will give you rest.’ ‘Ho, every one that thirsteth, come
ye to the waters!’ Sir, I will tell Joe and King John, and I have been
always telling Katy and all the rest of them about Jesus Christ our
Saviour. Please, Sir, I would like you to write to me, that I may show
them your letters,” etc., etc.

In a third letter, also dated 1863, she says:—“Dear Sir, Colin and I
were glad to hear from you. I am telling the blacks always about God
our Saviour and the salvation of their souls. They are so very wicked.
They go from place to place, and don’t stop long with me. I am always
teaching my children to pray, and would like to send them to School
if I could.... I hope you will go home to England safely, get more
Missionaries, and then go back to your poor blacks on the Islands. I
will be glad to hear from you. May the Lord God bless you, wherever you
go! Your affectionate, Nora Hood.”

Poor, dear, Christian-hearted Nora! The Christ-spirit shines forth
unmistakably through thee,—praying for and seeking to save husband and
children, enduring trials and miseries by the aid of communion with
thy Lord, weeping over the degradation of thy people and seeking to
lift them up by telling them of the true God and of His love to Mankind
through Jesus Christ. Would that all white Christians manifested forth
as much of the Divine Master’s Spirit!

Alas, in reading Marsden’s “Life,” and other authorities, one shrinks
with a sickening feeling at the description of the butcheries of the
poor blacks! Imagine 1830, when the inhabitants were called out to join
the troops, and nearly three thousand armed men gloated in the work
of destruction from the 4th of October till the 26th November. Read
of one boasting that he had killed seven blacks with his own hand;
another, that he had slain, and piled up in a heap, thirty men, women,
and children; and a third, a _gentleman_, of whom Lieutenant Laidlaw
tells, exhibiting as a trophy over his bookcase the skull of a poor
black, pierced by the bullet with which he had shot him! And their sin,
their crime? Oh, only seizing a sheep, in the frenzy of hunger, which
fattened on the lands where once grew their food and from which the
white man had pitilessly hunted them. Retribution comes, but sometimes
slowly, and is not recognised when she appears; but Australia suffers
to-day from the passions then let loose against the blacks. The demons
have come home to roost.

During my last Mission tour, in 1888, through Victoria and part of New
South Wales, I visited all Stations of the Aborigines that could be
conveniently reached. There the few remnants of a once numerous race
are now assembled together. They try hard to constrain themselves to
live in houses. But the spirit of the wanderer is in them. They start
forth, every now and again, for an occasional ramble over their old
hunting grounds, and to taste the sweets of freedom. In Victoria, the
Government now provide food and clothing for the Aborigines who will
remain at the appointed Stations, so that in regard to temporals the
survivors are not badly off. Their religious training and spiritual
interests are left entirely to the Churches. The Government provides
a Superintendent at each Station; and where he is a Christian man,
and takes any interest in the religion and morals of the tribes,
contentment reigns. At Ramayeuk, for instance, the Superintendent is
Rev. F. A. Haganeur; and he and his excellent wife regularly instruct
the blacks. Nothing can be more delightful than the results. The faces
of the people were shining with happiness. Their rows of clean and neat
cottages were a picture and an emblem. In their Church, a Native woman
played the harmonium and led the praise. I never had more attentive
Congregations. On two occasions they handed me £5, collected at their
own free will, for our Island Mission. Their School received from the
Government examiners one of the highest percentages. Many at this
Station have, after a consistent Christian life, died in the full hope
of Glory together with Jesus.

At all the other Stations in Victoria the outward comforts of the
Natives are attended to, but Superintendents ought to be appointed, in
every case, to care for their souls as well as their bodies. For strong
drink and other vices are rapidly sweeping the Aborigines away; and
Australia has but short time to atone for the cruelties of the past,
and to snatch a few more jewels from amongst them for the Crown of
Jesus our Lord.

At my farewell meeting in Melbourne, Sir Henry Barkley presiding, I
pleaded that the Colony should put forth greater efforts to give the
Gospel to the Aborigines; I showed the idols which I had discovered
amongst them; I read Nora’s letters, and, I may, without presumption,
say, the “brute-in-human-shape” theory has been pretty effectually
buried ever since.




CHAPTER III.

_TO SCOTLAND AND BACK._

  Dr. Inglis on the Mission Crisis.—Casting Lots before the
  Lord.—Struck by Lightning.—A Peep at London.—A Heavenly Welcome.—The
  Moderator’s Chair.—Reformed Presbyterian Church and Free Church.—
  Tour through Scotland.—A Frosted Foot.—The Children’s Holy
  League.—Missionary Volunteers.—A God-provided Help-Mate.—Farewell to
  the Old Family Altar.—First Peep at the _Dayspring_.—The _Dayspring_
  in a Dead-Lock.— Tokens of Deliverance.—The _John Williams_ and the
  _Dayspring_.—Australia’s Special Call.


Each of my Australian Committees strongly urged my return to Scotland,
chiefly to secure, if possible, more Missionaries for the New Hebrides.
Dr. Inglis, just arrived from Britain, where he had the Aneityumese
New Testament carried through the press, zealously enforced this
appeal. “Before I left home,” he wrote back to the Church in Scotland,
“I thought this would be inexpedient; but since I returned here, and
have seen the sympathy, interest, and liberality displayed through
the blessing of God on Mr. Paton’s instrumentality, and the altered
aspect of the Mission, I feel that a crisis has been reached when
a special effort must be made to procure more men, for which I had
neither the time, nor had I the means to employ them, but which may now
be appropriately done by Mr. Paton; and my prayer and hope are that he
may be as successful in securing men at home as he has been in securing
money in these Colonies.”

Yet my path was far from clear, notwithstanding my Gideon’s fleece
referred to already. To lose time in going home to do work that others
ought to do, while I still heard the wail of the perishing Heathen on
the Islands, could scarcely be my duty. Amidst overwhelming perplexity,
and finding no light from any human counsel, I took a step, to which
only once before in all my chequered career I have felt constrained.
Some will mock when they read it, but others will perhaps more
profoundly say: “To whomsoever this faith is given, let him obey it.”
After many prayers, and wrestlings, and tears, I went alone before the
Lord, and, on my knees, cast lots with a solemn appeal to God, and the
answer came, “Go home!” In my heart, I sincerely believe that on both
these occasions the Lord condescended to decide for me the path of
duty, otherwise unknown; and I believe it the more truly now, in view
of the after-come of thirty years of service to Christ that flowed out
of the steps then deliberately and devoutly taken. In this, and in many
other matters, I am no law to others, though I obeyed my then highest
light. Nor can I refrain from adding that, for the very reasons
indicated above, I regard so-called “lotteries” and “raffles” as a
mockery of God, and little if at all short of blasphemy. “Ye cannot
drink at the Lord’s Table, and at the table of devils.”

I sailed for London in the _Kosciusko_, an Aberdeen clipper, on 16th
May, 1863. Captain Stewart made the voyage most enjoyable to all.
The son of my old friend Bishop Selwyn and I conducted alternately a
Presbyterian and an Anglican Service. We passed through a memorable
thunder-burst in rounding the Cape. Our good ship was perilously struck
by lightning. The men on deck were thrown violently down. The copper
on the bulwarks was twisted and melted—a specimen of which the Captain
gave me and I still retain. When the ball of fire struck the ship,
those of us sitting on chairs, screwed to the floor around the Cabin
table, felt as if she were plunging to the bottom. When she sprang
aloft again, a military man and a medical officer were thrown heavily
into the back passage between the Cabins, the screws that held their
seats having snapped asunder. I, in grasping the table, got my leg
severely bruised, being jammed betwixt the seat and the table, and had
to be carried to my berth. All the men were attended to, and quickly
recovered consciousness; and immediately the good Captain, an elder of
the Church, came to me, and said,—

“Lead us in prayer, and let us thank the Lord for this most merciful
deliverance; the ship is not on fire, and no one is seriously injured!”

Poor fellow! whether hastened on by this event I know not, but he
struggled for three weeks thereafter in a fever, and it took our united
care and love to pull him through. The Lord, however, restored him;
and we cast anchor safely in the East India Docks, at London, on 26th
August, 1863, having been three months and ten days at sea from port to
port.

It was 5.30 p.m. when we cast anchor, and the gates closed at six
o’clock. My little box was ready on deck. The Custom House officers
kindly passed me, and I was immediately on my way to Euston Square.
Never before had I been within the Great City, and doubtless I could
have enjoyed its palaces and memorials. But the King’s business,
entrusted to me, “required haste,” and I felt constrained to press
forward, looking neither to the right hand nor to the left. The streets
through which I was driven seemed to be dirty and narrow; many of the
people had a squalid and vicious look; and, fresh from Australia, my
disappointment was keen as to the smoky and miserable appearance of
what I saw. No doubt other visitors will behold only the grandeur and
the wealth; they will see exactly what they come to see, and London
will shine before them accordingly.

At nine o’clock, that evening, I left for Scotland by train. Next
morning, about the same hour, I reported myself at the manse of the
Rev. John Kay, Castle Douglas, the Convener of the Foreign Missions
Committee of the Reformed Presbyterian Church, to which I belonged. We
arranged for a meeting of said Committee, at earliest practicable date,
that my scheme and plans might at once be laid before them.

By the next train I was on my way to Dumfries, and thence by conveyance
to my dear old home at Torthorwald. There I had a Heavenly Welcome from
my saintly parents, yet not unmixed with many fast-falling tears. Five
brief years only had elapsed, since I went forth from their Sanctuary,
with my young bride; and now, alas! alas! that grave on Tanna held
mother and son locked in each other’s embrace till the Resurrection Day.

Not less glowing, but more terribly agonizing, was my reception, a few
days thereafter, at Coldstream, when I first gazed on the bereaved
father and mother of my beloved; who, though godly people, were
conscious of a heart-break under that stroke, from which through their
remaining years they never fully rallied. They murmured not against the
Lord; but all the same, heart and flesh began to faint and fail, even
as our Divine Example Himself fainted under the Cross, which yet He so
uncomplainingly bore.

The Foreign Mission Committee of the Reformed Presbyterian Church met
in Edinburgh, and welcomed me kindly, nay, warmly. A full report of all
my doings for the past, and of all my plans and hopes, was laid before
them. They at once agreed to my visiting and addressing every Sabbath
School in the Church. They opened to me their Divinity Hall, that I
might appeal to the Students. My Address there was published and
largely circulated, under the motto: “Come over and help us.” It was
used of God to deepen vastly the interest in our Mission.

The Committee generously and enthusiastically did everything in their
power to help me. By their influence, the Church in 1864 conferred on
me the undesired and undeserved honour, the highest which they could
confer—the honour of being the Moderator of their Supreme Court. No
one can understand how much I shrank from all this; but, in hope of
the Lord’s using it and me to promote His work amongst the Heathen, I
accepted the Chair, though, I fear, only to occupy it most unworthily,
for Tanna gave me little training for work like that!

The Church, as there represented, passed a Resolution, declaring:—

“It is with feelings of no ordinary pleasure that we behold present at
this meeting one of our most devoted Missionaries. The result of Mr.
Paton’s appeals in Australia has been unprecedented in the history of
this Mission. It appears in the shape of £4,500 added to the funds of
the New Hebrides Mission, besides over £300 for Native Teachers, to be
paid yearly in £5 contributions, and all expenses met. The Spirit of
God must have been poured out upon the inhabitants of the Colonies,
in leading them to make such a noble offering as this to the cause of
Missions, and in making our Missionary the honoured instrument God
employed in drawing forth the sympathy and liberality of the Colonists.
Now, by the good hand of God upon him, he holds the most honoured
position of Moderator of the Church, etc., etc.”

The Synod also placed on record its gratitude for what God had thus
done; and its cordial recognition of the many and fruitful services
rendered by Ministers and Sabbath Schools, both in Scotland and
Australia, in standing by me and helping on the _Floating of the
Dayspring_.

I have ever regarded it as a privilege and honour that I was born and
trained within the old covenanting Reformed Presbyterian Church of
Scotland. As a separate Communion, that Church is small amongst the
thousands of Israel; but the principles of Civil and Religious Liberty
for which her founders suffered and died are, at this moment, the heart
and soul of all that is best and divinest in the Constitution of our
British Empire. I am more proud that the blood of Martyrs is in my
veins, and their truths in my heart, than other men can be of noble
pedigree or royal names. And I was,—in that day of the Church’s honour
so distinguished for her Missionary zeal,—filled with a high passion
of gratitude to be able to proclaim, at the close of my tour, and
after the addition of new names to our staff, that of all her ordained
Ministers, one in every six was a Missionary of the Cross.

Nor did the dear old Church thus cripple herself; on the contrary, her
zeal for Missions accompanied, if not caused, unwonted prosperity at
home. New waves of liberality passed over the heart of her people.
Debts that had burdened many of the Churches and Manses were swept
away. Additional Congregations were organized. And in May, 1876, the
Reformed Presbyterian Church entered into an honourable and independent
Union with her larger, wealthier, and more progressive sister, the Free
Church of Scotland,—only a few of the brethren, doubtless with perfect
loyalty to what they regarded as duty to Christ, still holding aloof
and standing firmly in the old paths, as they appeared to them.

In the Deed of Union the incorporating Church took itself bound legally
and formally to maintain the New Hebrides Mission staff, and also
the _Dayspring_, committing herself never to withdraw, as it were,
till these Islands were all occupied for Jesus. Now that the French
have been constrained to abandon the scene, the field is open, and
the Islands wail aloud for eight or ten Missionaries more than we at
present have (1889); and then the Standard of the Cross might speedily
be planted on every separate isle, and a true sense might at last
come into the foolish name given to these regions by their Spanish
discoverer, when he called the part at which he touched, thinking it
the fabled Southern Continent, _the Land of the Holy Ghost_.

When the aforesaid Union took place, all the Missionaries of their own
free accord cast in their lot with the incorporating Church; not only
those directly supported by the old Reformed Presbyterians themselves,
but also the several Missionaries sent forth by them, though supported
by one or other of the Australian Colonies. And, beyond question, one
feature in the Free Church that drew them and bound them to her heart
was her noble zeal for and sacrifices in connection with the work of
Missions, both at home and abroad. For it is a fixed point in the faith
of every Missionary, that the more any Church or Congregation interests
itself in the Heathen, the more will it be blessed and prospered at
Home.

“One of the surest signs of life,” wrote the Victorian _Christian
Review_, “is the effort of a Church to spread the Gospel beyond its
own bounds, and especially to send the knowledge of Jesus amongst
the Heathen. The Missions to the Aborigines, to the Chinese in this
Colony, and to the New Hebrides, came to this Church from God. In a
great crisis of the New Hebrides, they sent one of their number to
Australia for help, and his appeal was largely owned by the Head of
the Church. The Children, and especially the Sabbath Scholars of the
Presbyterian Churches, became alive with Missionary enthusiasm. Large
sums were raised for a Mission Ship. The Congregations were roused to
see their duty to God and their fellow-men beyond these Colonies, and a
new Missionary Spirit took possession of the whole Church. Their deputy
from the Islands agreed to become the Missionary from this Church.
Many circumstances indeed combined to show that it was the will of the
Master, that this Church should join the other Presbyterian Churches
in taking possession of this field of usefulness; and already the
results are very important both to the Church and to the Mission. The
Missionaries feel much encouraged in receiving substantial support from
the largest Presbyterian Church in the Australian Colonies; while the
Presbyterian Church in Victoria is largely blessed in her own spirit
through the Missionary zeal awakened in her midst. Thus, there is that
scattereth and yet increaseth; bringing out anew the words of the Lord
Jesus, how He said, It is more blessed to give than to receive.”

But, in all this, I am rather anticipating. My tour through Scotland
brought me into contact with every Minister, Congregation, and Sabbath
School in the Church of my fathers. They were never at any time a rich
people, but they were always liberal. At this time they contributed
beyond all previous experience, both in money and in boxes of useful
articles for the Islanders.

Unfortunately, my visit to the far North, to our Congregations at Wick
and Stromness, had been arranged for the month of January; and thereby
a sore trial befell me in my pilgrimages. The roads were covered with
snow and ice. I reached Aberdeen and Wick by steamer from Edinburgh,
and had to find my way thence to Thurso. The inside seats on the Mail
Coach being all occupied, I had to take my place outside. The cold was
intense, and one of my feet got bitten by the frost. The storm detained
me nearly a week at Thurso, but feeling did not return to the foot.

We started, in a lull, by steamer for Stromness; but the storm burst
again, all were ordered below, and hatches and doors made fast. The
passengers were mostly very rough, the place was foul with whisky and
tobacco. I appealed to the Captain to let me crouch somewhere on deck,
and hold on as best I could. He shouted,—

“I dare not! You’ll be washed overboard.”

On seeing my appealing look, he relented, directed his men to fasten a
tarpaulin over me, and lash it and me to the mast, and there I lay till
we reached Stromness. The sea broke heavily and dangerously over the
vessel. But the Captain, finding shelter for several hours under the
lee of a headland, saved both the ship and the passengers. When at last
we landed, my foot was so benumbed and painful that I could move a step
only with greatest agony. Two meetings, however, were in some kind of
way conducted; but the projected visit to Dingwall and other places had
to be renounced, the snow lying too deep for any conveyance to carry
me, and my foot crying aloud for treatment and skill.

On returning Southwards, I was confined for about two months, and
placed under the best medical advice. All feeling seemed gradually to
have departed from my foot; and amputation was seriously proposed both
in Edinburgh and in Glasgow. Having somehow managed to reach Liverpool,
my dear friend, the Rev. Dr. Graham, took me there to a Doctor who
had wrought many wonderful recoveries by galvanism. Time after time he
applied the battery, but I felt nothing. He declared that the power
used would almost have killed an ordinary man, and that he had never
seen any part of the human body so dead to feeling on a live and
healthy person. Finally, he covered it all over with a dark plaster,
and told me to return in three days. But next day, the throbbing
feeling of insufferable coldness in the foot compelled me to return at
once. After my persistent appeals, he removed the plaster; and, to his
great astonishment, the whole of the frosted part adhered to it! Again
dressing the remaining parts, he covered it with plaster as before, and
assured me that with care and rest it would now completely recover. By
the blessing of the Lord it did, though it was a bitter trial to me
amidst all these growing plans to be thus crippled by the way; and to
this day I am sometimes warned in over-walking that the part is capable
of many a painful twinge. And humbly I feel myself crooning over the
graphic words of the Greatest Missionary, “I bear about in my body the
marks of the Lord Jesus.”

On that tour, the Sabbath Schools joyfully adopted my scheme, and
became “shareholders” in the Mission Ship. It was thereafter ably
developed by an elder of the Church. A _Dayspring_ collecting box has
found its way into almost every family; and the returns from Scotland
have yielded ever since about £250 per annum, as their proportion
for the expenses of the Children’s Mission Ship to the New Hebrides.
The Church in Nova Scotia heartily accepted the same idea, and their
Sabbath School children have regularly contributed their £250 per
annum too. The Colonial children have contributed the rest, throughout
all these years, with unfailing interest. And whensoever the true
and full history of the South Sea Islands Mission is written for the
edification of the Universal Church, let it not be forgotten that the
children of Australasia, and Nova Scotia, and Scotland did by their
united pennies keep the _Dayspring_ floating in the New Hebrides; that
the Missionaries and their families were thereby supplied with the
necessaries of life, and that the Islanders were thus taught to clothe
themselves and to sit at the feet of Jesus. This was the Children’s
Holy League, erewhile referred to; and one knows that on such a Union
the Divine Master smiles well pleased.

The Lord also crowned this tour with another precious fruit of
blessing, though not all by any means due to my influence. Four new
Missionaries volunteered from Scotland, and three from Nova Scotia.
By their aid we not only reclaimed for Jesus the posts that had been
abandoned, but we took possession of other Islands in His most blessed
Name. But I did not wait and take them out with me. They had matters to
look into and to learn about, that would be infinitely helpful to them
in the Mission field. Especially, and far above everything else, in
addition to their regular clerical course, some Medical instruction was
an almost absolute prerequisite. I myself had attended several Medical
Classes at the Andersonian College, when a student in Glasgow, and had
had personal training from an experienced physician. This had proved
invaluable, not only on the Islands, but in the remote bush during
Australian tours, and indeed on many private occasions, when other
medical help was unavailable. Every future Missionary was therefore
urged to obtain all insight and instruction that was practicable at
Medical Missions and otherwise, especially on lines known to be most
requisite for these Islands. For this, and similar objects, all that
I raised over and above what was required for the _Dayspring_ was
entrusted to the Foreign Mission Committee, that the new Missionaries
might be fully equipped, and their outfit and travelling expenses be
provided for without burdening the Church at home. Her responsibilities
were already large enough for her resources. But she could give men,
God’s own greatest gift, and His people elsewhere gave the money,—the
Colonies and the Home Country thus binding themselves to each other in
this Holy Mission of the Cross.

But I did not return alone. The dear Lord had brought to me one
prepared, all unknown to either of us, by special culture, by godly
training, by many gifts and accomplishments, and even by family
associations, to share my lot on the New Hebrides. Her heart was
stirred with a yearning to aid and teach those who were sitting in
darkness; her brother had been an honoured Missionary in the foreign
field, and had fallen asleep while the dew of youth was yet upon
him; her sister was the wife of a devoted Minister of our Church in
Adelaide, both she and her husband being zealous promoters of our work;
and her father had left behind him a fragrant memory through his many
Christian works in all the Stirling district, and not unknown to fame
as the author of the still popular books of _Anecdotes_, illustrative
of the Shorter Catechism and of the Holy Scriptures. Ere I left
Scotland in 1864, I was married to Margaret Whitecross, and God spares
us to each other still; and the family which He has been pleased in His
love to grant unto us we have dedicated to His service, with the prayer
and hope that He may use every one of them in spreading the Gospel
throughout the Heathen World.

Our marriage was celebrated at her sister’s house in Edinburgh; and I
may be pardoned for recalling a little event that characterized the
occasion. My youngest brother, then tutor to a gentleman studying at
the University, stepped forth at the close of the ceremony and recited
an _Epithalamium_ composed for the day. For many a month and year the
refrain, a play upon the Bride’s name, kept singing itself through my
memory:—

    “Long may the Whitecross banner wave
      By the battle blasts unriven;
    Long may our Brother and Sister brave
      Rejoice in the light of Heaven.”

He described the Bride as hearing a “Voice from the far Pacific Seas”;
and turning to us both, he sang of an Angel beckoning us to the
Tanna-land, to gather a harvest of souls:—

    “The warfare is brief, the crown is bright,
      The pledge is the souls of men;
    Go, may the Lord defend the Right,
      And restore you safe again!”

But the verse which my dear wife thought most beautiful for a bridal
day, and which her memory cherishes still, was this:—

    “May the ruddy Joys, and the Graces fair,
      Wait fondly around you now;
    Sweet angel Hopes and young Loves repair
      To your home and bless your vow!”

My last scene in Scotland was kneeling at the family altar in the old
Sanctuary Cottage at Torthorwald, while my venerable father, with his
high-priestly locks of snow-white hair streaming over his shoulders,
commended us once again to “the care and keeping of the Lord God of the
families of Israel.” It was the last time that ever on this Earth those
accents of intercession, loaded with a pathos of deathless love, would
fall upon my ears. I knew to a certainty that when we rose from our
knees and said farewell, our eyes would never meet again till they were
flooded with the lights of the Resurrection Day. But he and my darling
mother gave us away once again with a free heart, not unpierced with
the sword of human anguish, to the service of our common Lord and to
the Salvation of the Heathen. And we went forth, praying that a double
portion of their spirit, with their precious blessing, might rest upon
us in all the way that we had to go.

Our beloved mother, always more self-restrained, and less demonstrative
in the presence of others, held back her heart till we were fairly gone
from the door; and then, as my dear brother afterwards informed me, she
fell back into his arms with a great cry, as if all the heart-strings
had broken, and lay for long in a death-like swoon. Oh, all ye that
read this page, think most tenderly of the cries of Nature, even
where Grace and Faith are in perfect triumph. Read, through scenes
like these, a fuller meaning into the words addressed to that blessed
Mother, whose Son was given for us all, “Yea, a sword shall pierce
through thine own soul also.”

Here, in passing, I may mention that my mother, ever beloved, “fell on
sleep,” after a short agony of affliction, in 1865; and my “priest-like
father” passed peacefully and joyfully into the presence of his Lord
in 1868; both cradled and cherished to the last in the arms of their
own affectionate children, and both in the assured hope of a blessed
immortality, where all their sons and daughters firmly expect to meet
them again in the Home prepared by their blessed Saviour.

We embarked at Liverpool for Australia in _The Crest of the Wave_,
Captain Ellis; and after what was then considered a fast passage of
ninety-five days, we landed at Sydney on 17th January, 1865. Within an
hour we had to grapple with a new and amazing perplexity. The Captain
of our _Dayspring_ came to inform me that his ship had arrived three
days ago and now lay in the stream,—that she had been to the Islands,
and had settled the Gordons, McCullaghs, and Goodwills on their several
Stations,—that she had left Halifax in Nova Scotia fourteen months ago,
and that now, on arriving at Sydney, he could not get one penny of
money, and that the crew were clamouring for their pay, etc., etc. He
continued, “Where shall I get money for current expenses? No one will
lend unless we mortgage the _Dayspring_. I fear there is nothing before
us but to sell her!” I gave him £50 of my own to meet clamant demands,
and besought him to secure me a day or two of delay that something
might be done.

Having landed, and been heartily welcomed by dear Dr. and Mrs. Moon and
other friends, I went with a kind of trembling joy to have my first
look at the _Dayspring_, like a sailor getting a first peep at the
child born to him whilst far away on the sea. Some of the irritated
ship’s company stopped us by the way, and threatened prosecution
and all sorts of annoyance. I could only urge again for a few days’
patience. I found her to be a beautiful two-masted Brig, with a
deck-house (added when she first arrived at Melbourne), and every way
suitable for our necessities,—a thing of beauty, a white-winged Angel
set a-floating by the pennies of the children to bear the Gospel to
these sin-darkened but sun-lit Southern Isles. To me she became a
sort of living thing, the impersonation of a living and throbbing love
in the heart of thousands of “shareholders”; and I said, with a deep,
indestructible faith,—“The Lord _has_ provided—the Lord _will_ provide.”

For present liabilities at least £700 were instantly required; and, at
any rate, as large a sum to pay her way and meet expenses of next trip
to the Islands. Having laid our perplexing circumstances before our
dear Lord Jesus, having “spread out” all the details in His sympathetic
presence, pleading that the Ship itself and the new Missionaries were
all His own, not mine, I told Him that this money was needed to do His
own blessed work.

On Friday morning, I consulted friends of the Mission, but no help
was visible. I tried to borrow, but found that the lender demanded
twenty per cent. for interest, besides the title deeds of the ship
for security. I applied for a loan from the agent of the London
Missionary Society (then agent for us too) on the credit of the
Reformed Presbyterian Church’s Foreign Committee, but he could not give
it without a written order from Scotland. There were some who seemed
rather to enjoy our perplexity!

Driven thus to the wall, I advertised for a meeting of Ministers and
other friends, next morning at 11 o’clock, to receive my report and to
consult _re_ the _Dayspring_. I related my journeyings since leaving
them, and the results, and then asked for advice about the ship.

“Sell her,” said some, “and have done with it.”

“What,” said others, “have the Sabbath Schools given you the
_Dayspring_, and can you not support her yourselves?”

I pointed out to them that the salary of each Missionary was only £120
per annum, that they gave their lives for the Heathen, and that surely
the Colonial Christians would undertake the up-keep of the Ship, which
was necessary to the very existence of the Mission. I appealed to them
that, as my own Church in Scotland had now one Missionary abroad for
every six Ministers at home, and the small Presbyterian Church of Nova
Scotia had actually three Missionaries now on our Islands, it would be
a blessed privilege for the Australian Churches and Sabbath Schools to
keep the _Dayspring_ afloat, without whose services the Missionaries
could not live nor the Islanders be evangelized.

Being Saturday, the morning Services for Sabbath were all arranged for,
or advertised; but Dr. McGibbon offered me a meeting for the evening,
and Dr. Steel an afternoon Service at three o’clock, combined with his
Sabbath School. Rev. Mr. Patterson, of Piermont, offered me a morning
Service; but, as his was only a Mission Church, he could not give me a
collection. These openings I accepted, as from the Lord, however much
they fell short of what I desired.

At the morning Service I informed the Congregation how we were
situated, and expressed the hope that under God and their devoted
pastor they would greatly prosper, and would yet be able to help in
supporting our Mission to their South Sea neighbours. Returning to the
vestry, a lady and gentleman waited to be introduced to me. They were
from Launceston, Tasmania.

“I am,” said he, “Captain and owner of that vessel lying at anchor
opposite the _Dayspring_. My wife and I, being too late to get on
shore to attend any Church in the city, heard this little Chapel bell
ringing, and followed, when we saw you going up the stairs. We have so
enjoyed the Service. We do heartily sympathize with you. This cheque
for £50 will be a beginning to help you out of your difficulties.”

The reader knows how warmly I would thank them; and how in my own heart
I knew _Who_ it was that made them arrive too late for _their_ plans,
but not for _His_, and guided them up that Chapel stair, and opened
their hearts. Jehovah-Jireh!

At three o’clock, Dr. Steel’s Church was filled with children and
others. I told them in my appeal what had happened in the Mission
Chapel, and how God had led Captain Frith and his wife, entire
strangers, to sound the first note of our deliverance. One man stood
up and said, “I will give £10.” Another, “I will give £5.” A third, “I
shall send you £20 to-morrow morning.” Several others followed their
example, and the general collection was greatly encouraging.

In the evening, I had a very large as well as sympathetic Congregation.
I fully explained the difficulty about the _Dayspring_, and told them
what God had already done for us, announcing an address to which
contributions might be sent. Almost every Mail brought me the free-will
offerings of God’s people; and on Wednesday, when the adjourned meeting
was held, the sum had reached in all £456. Believing that the Lord
thus intervened at a vital crisis in our Mission, I dwell on it to the
praise of His blessed Name. Trust in Him, obey Him, and He will not
suffer you to be put to shame.

At a public meeting, held immediately thereafter, an attempt was
made to organize the _first_ Australian Mission Auxiliary to the New
Hebrides; but it needed an enthusiastic secretary, and for lack thereof
came to nothing at that time. At another meeting, the first elements of
a brooding strife appeared. The then Agent of the noble and generous
London Missionary Society intimated that he had just issued Collecting
Cards for the _John Williams_, and that it would be unbrotherly to
urge collections for the _Dayspring_ at the same time throughout New
South Wales. He suggested that I should first visit Tasmania and South
Australia, and that, on our return, they would help us as we would
now help them. The most cordial feelings had always prevailed betwixt
the Societies, and we accepted the proposal, though our circumstances
were peculiarly trying, and I personally believed that no harm, but
good, would come from both of us doing everything possible to fan the
Missionary spirit.

Clearing out from her sister ships, then in harbour, the _John
Williams_ and the _John Wesley_, our little _Dayspring_ sailed for
Tasmania. At Hobart we were visited by thousands of children and
parents, and afterwards at Launceston, who were proud to see their own
ship, in which they were “shareholders” for Jesus. Daily, all over the
Colony, I preached in Churches and addressed public meetings, and got
collections, and gave out Collecting Cards to be returned within two
weeks. But here also the little rift began to show itself. At a public
meeting in Hobart, the Congregational Minister said,—

“We support the _John Williams_ for the London Missionary Society. Let
the Presbyterians do as much for the _Dayspring_!”

I replied, that I was there by special invitation from those who
had called the meeting, and that, rather than have any unseemly
wrangling, my friend, Dr. Nicolson, and I would quietly retire. But
the Chairman intervened, and insisted that the meeting should go
forward in a Christian spirit, and without any word of recrimination.
To find ourselves, even by a misunderstanding, regarded as inimical
to the London Missionary Society, one of the most Catholic-spirited
and Christlike Societies in the world, was peculiarly painful. Still
the little rift seemed to widen at every turn, and we found ourselves
thrown more and more exclusively on Presbyterians alone. But thus also
the hearts of _two_ great Communions were concentrated on Heathendom,
where one only or chiefly had been bearing the burden heretofore. And
the Lord hath need of all.

We received many tokens of interest and sympathy. The steam tug was
granted to us free, and the harbour dues were remitted. Many presents
were also sent on board the _Dayspring_. Still, after meeting all
necessary outlays, the trip to Tasmania gave us only £227 8_s._ 11_d._
clear for the Mission fund.

Sailing now for South Australia, we arrived at Adelaide. Many friends
there showed the deepest interest in our plans. Thousands of children
and parents came to visit their own Mission Ship by several special
trips. Daily and nightly I addressed meetings, and God’s people were
moved greatly in the cause. After meeting all expenses while in port,
there remained a sum of £634 9_s._ 2_d._ for the up-keep of the vessel.
The Honourable George Fife Angus gave me £241—a dear friend belonging
to the Baptist Church. But there was still a deficit of £400 before the
_Dayspring_ could sail free of debt, and my heart was sore as I cried
for it to the Lord.

Leaving the ship to sail direct for Sydney, I took steamer to
Melbourne; but, on arriving there, sickness and anxiety laid me aside
for three days. Under great weakness, I crept along to my dear friends
at the Scotch College, Dr. and Mrs. Morrison, and Miss Fraser, and
threw myself on their advice.

“Come along,” said the Doctor cheerily, “and I’ll introduce you to Mr.
Butchart and one or two friends in East Melbourne, and we’ll see what
can be done!”

I gave all information, being led on in conversation by the Doctor, and
tried to interest them in our work, but no subscriptions were asked or
received. Ere I sailed for Sydney, however, the whole deficiency was
sent to me. I received in all, on this tour, the sum of £1,726 9_s._
10_d._ Our _Dayspring_ once more sailed free, and our hearts overflowed
with gratitude to the Lord and to His stewards!

On my return to Sydney, and before sailing to the Islands, I called,
by advertisement, a public meeting of Ministers and other friends to
report success, and to take counsel for the future.

My report was received with hearty thanksgiving to Almighty God. And a
resolution was unanimously adopted, in view of all that had transpired,
urging that a scheme must be organized, whereby the Presbyterian
Churches and Sabbath Schools of Australia should be banded together for
the support of the _Dayspring_, and so prevent the necessity of such
spasmodic efforts for all future time.

From that day, practically, the _Dayspring_ was supported by the
Presbyterians alone. At the first, all helped in the original
purchase of the Mission Ship, and she was to do all needful work on
the Loyalty Islands for the London Society’s Missionaries, as well
as on the New Hebrides for us. This was the agreement; and, despite
little misunderstandings with the Agents, the _Dayspring_ was for some
years placed heartily at their service. When the _John Williams_
was wrecked, our ship, at great loss and expense, accompanied her to
Sydney, and spent four months of the following year for them entirely
amongst the Eastern Islands. The brethren on the Loyalty Islands sent
up their Mr. Macfarland to the Colonies to secure that the promised
support should be given by their friends to the _Dayspring_; but, this
failing, they in 1870 declined finally to have her doing their work,
when no longer paid for by their Churches. This little rift, however,
amongst the contributing Churches never affected us in the Mission
field; they and we have ever wrought together there in most perfect
cordiality of brotherhood.

Perhaps the true way to look upon the whole series of events is this:
the Australian Presbyterian Churches had been led to hear from God a
special call, and must necessarily organize themselves to answer it.
In this blessed work of converting the Heathen, we can all loyally
rejoice, whether the instruments in the Lord’s hand be Episcopal,
Presbyterian, or Congregational! I glory in the success of every
Protestant Mission, and daily pray for them all. It was God’s own wise
providence, and not my zeal, wise or intrusive, that matured these
arrangements, and gave the Australian Presbyterian Churches a Mission
Ship of their own, and a Mission field at their doors. The Ministers
and the Sabbath Schools felt constrained as by one impulse to undertake
this gracious work. The Presbyterian Churches in all these Colonies
received this duty as from God; and the organizing of Missionary
Societies in Congregations and Sabbath Schools, for the effective
accomplishment of the same, has been a principal means in the hands
of the Lord of promoting and uplifting the cause of Christ throughout
Australasia. It is worth while to re-travel that old road once again,
were it for no other purpose than to show how, despite apparent checks
and reverses, the mighty tide of Divine Love moves resistlessly onward,
covers up temporary obstructions, and claims everything for Jesus.




CHAPTER IV.

_CONCERNING FRIENDS AND FOES._

  First of Missionary Duties.—Maré and Noumea.—The French in
  the Pacific.—The _Curaçoa_ Affair.—The “Gospel and Gunpowder”
  Cry.—The Missionaries on their Defence.—The Mission Synod’s
  Report.—The Shelling of the Tannese Villages.—Public Meeting and
  Presbytery.—Fighting at Bay.—Federal Union in Missions.—A Fiery
  Furnace at Geelong.—Results of Australian Tour.—New Hebrides Mission
  Adopted by Colonies.


We went down to the Islands with the _Dayspring_ in 1865. The full
story of the years that had passed was laid before my Missionary
brethren at their Annual Synod. They resolved that permanent
arrangements must now be made for the Vessel’s support, and that I must
return to the Colonies and see these matured. This, meantime, appeared
to all of them the most clamant of all Missionary duties,—their very
lives, and the existence of the Mission itself, depending thereon. The
Lord seemed to leave me no alternative; and, with great reluctance, my
back was again turned away from the Islands. The _Dayspring_, doing
duty among the Loyalty Islands, left me, along with my dear wife, on
Maré, there to await an opportunity of getting to New Caledonia, and
thence to Sydney.

Detained there for some time, we saw the noble work done by Messrs.
Jones and Creagh, of the London Missionary Society, all being cruelly
undone by the tyranny and Popery of the French. One day, in an inland
walk, Mrs. Paton and I came on a large Conventicle in the bush.
They were teaching each other, and reading the Scriptures which the
Missionaries had translated into their own language, and which the
French had forbidden them to use. They cried to God for deliverance
from their oppressors! Missionaries were prohibited from teaching the
Gospel to the Natives without the permission of France; their books
were suppressed, and they themselves placed under military guard on
the island of Lifu. Even when, by Britain’s protest, the Missionaries
were allowed to resume their work, the French language was alone to
be used by them; and some, like Rev. J Jones (as far down as 1888),
were marched on board a Man-of-war, at half an hour’s notice, and,
without crime laid to their charge, forbidden ever to return to the
Islands. While, on the other hand, the French Popish Missionaries were
everywhere fostered and protected, presenting to the Natives as many
objects of idolatry as their own, and following, as is the custom
of the Romish Church in those Seas, in the wake of every Protestant
Mission, to pollute and to destroy.

Being detained also for two weeks on Noumea, we saw the state of
affairs under military rule. English Protestant residents, few in
number, appealed to me to conduct worship, but liberty could not be
obtained from the authorities, who hated everything English. But a
number of Protestant parents, some French, others English and German,
applied to me to baptize their children at their own houses. To have
asked permission would have been to court refusal, and to falsify my
position. I laid the matter before the Lord, and baptized them all.
Within two days the Private Secretary of the Governor arrived with an
interpreter, and began to inquire of me,—

“Is it true that you have been baptizing here?”

I replied quite frankly, “It is.”

“We are sent to demand on whose authority.”

“On the authority of my Great Master.”

“When did you get that authority?”

“When I was licensed and ordained to preach the Gospel, I got that
authority from my Great Master.”

Here a spirited conversation followed betwixt the two in French, and
they politely bowed, and left me.

Very shortly they returned, saying,—

“The Governor sends his compliments, and he wishes the honour of a
visit from you at Government House at three o’clock, if convenient for
you.”

I returned my greeting, and said that I would have pleasure in waiting
upon his Excellency at the appointed hour. I thought to myself that I
was in for it now, and I earnestly cried for Divine guidance.

He saluted me graciously as “de great Missionary of de New Hebrides.”
He conversed in a very friendly manner about the work there, and seemed
anxious to find any indication as to the English designs. I had to
deal very cautiously. He spoke chiefly through the interpreter; but,
sometimes dismissing him, he talked to me as good, if not better,
English himself. He was eager to get my opinions as to how Britain
got and retained her power over the Natives. After a very prolonged
interview, we parted without a single reference to the baptisms or to
religious services!

That evening the Secretary and interpreter waited upon us at our Inn,
saying,—

“The Governor will have pleasure in placing his yacht and crew at your
disposal to-morrow. Mrs. Paton and you can sail all round, and visit
the Convict island, and the Government gardens, where lunch will be
prepared for you.”

It was a great treat to us indeed. The crew were in prison garments,
but all so kind to us. By Convict labour all the public works seemed to
be carried on, and the Gardens were most beautiful. The carved work in
bone, ivory, cocoa-nuts, shells, etc., was indeed very wonderful. We
bought a few specimens, but the prices were beyond our purse. It was a
strange spectacle—these things of beauty and joy, and beside them the
chained gangs of fierce and savage Convicts, kept down only by bullet
and sword!

Thanking the Governor for his exceeding kindness, I referred to their
Man-of-war about to go to Sydney, and offered to pay full passage
money if they would take me, instead of leaving me to wait for a
“trader.” He at once granted my request, and arranged that we should
be charged only at the daily cost for the sailors. At his suggestion,
however, I took a number of things on board with me, and presented them
to be used at the Cabin table. We were most generously treated,—the
Captain giving up his own room to my wife and myself, as they had no
special accommodation for passengers.

Noumea appeared to me at that time to be wholly given over to
drunkenness and vice, supported as a great Convict settlement by
the Government of France, and showing every extreme of reckless,
worldly pleasure, and of cruel, slavish toil. When I saw it again,
three-and-twenty years thereafter, it showed no signs of progress for
the better. In his book on the French Colonies, J. Bonwick, F.R.G.S.,
says that even yet Noumea and its dependencies contain only 1,068
Colonists from France. If there be a God of justice and of love, His
blight cannot but rest on a nation whose pathway is stained with
corruption and steeped in blood, as is undeniably the case with France
in the Pacific Isles.

Arriving at Sydney, I was at once plunged into a whirlpool of horrors.
H.M.S. _Curaçoa_ had just returned from her official trip to the
Islands, in which the Commodore, Sir William Wiseman, had thought it
his duty to inflict punishment on the Natives for murder and robbery
of Traders and others. On these Islands, as in all similar cases,
the Missionaries had acted as interpreters, and of course always used
their influence on the side of mercy, and in the interests of peace.
But Sydney, and indeed Australia and the Christian World, were thrown
into a ferment just a few days before our arrival, by certain articles
in a leading publication there, and by the pictorial illustrations of
the same. They were professedly from an officer on board Her Majesty’s
ship, and the sensation was increased by their apparent truthfulness
and reality. Tanna was the scene of the first event, and a series was
to follow in succeeding numbers. The _Curaçoa_ was pictured lying off
the shore, having the _Dayspring_ in tow. The Tannese warriors were
being blown to pieces by shot and shell, and lay in heaps on the bloody
coast. And the Missionaries were represented as safe in the lee of the
Man-of-war, directing the onslaught, and gloating over the carnage.

Without a question being asked or a doubt suggested, without a voice
being raised in fierce denial that such men as these Missionaries were
known to be could be guilty of such conduct—men who had jeoparded their
lives for years on end rather than hurt one hair on a Native’s head—a
cry of execration, loud and deep and even savage, arose from the Press,
and was apparently joined in by the Church itself. The common witticism
about the “Gospel and Gunpowder” headed hundreds of bitter and scoffing
articles in the journals; and, as we afterwards learned, the shocking
news had been telegraphed to Britain and America, losing nothing in
force by the way, and while filling friends of Missions with dismay,
was dished up day after day with every imaginable enhancement of
horror for the readers of the secular and infidel Press. As I stepped
ashore at Sydney, I found myself probably the best-abused man in all
Australia, and the very name of the New Hebrides Mission stinking in
the nostrils of the People.

The gage of battle had been thrown and fell at my feet. Without one
moment’s delay, I lifted it in the name of my Lord and of my maligned
brethren. That evening my reply was in the hands of the editor, denying
that such battles ever took place, retailing the actual facts of which
I had been myself an eye-witness, and intimating legal prosecution
unless the most ample and unequivocal withdrawal and apology were
at once published. The Newspaper printed my rejoinder, and made
satisfactory amends for having been imposed upon and deceived. I waited
upon the Commodore, and appealed for his help in redressing this
terrible injury to our Mission. He informed me that he had already
called his officers to account, but that all denied any connection
with the articles or the pictures. He had little doubt, all the
same, that some one on board was the prompter, who gloried in the
evil that was being done to the cause of Christ. He offered every
possible assistance, by testimony or otherwise, to place all the facts
before the Christian public and to vindicate out Missionaries.

The outstanding facts are best presented in the following extract from
the official report of the Mission Synod:—

“When the New Hebrides Missionaries were assembled at their annual
meeting on Aneityum, H.M.S. _Curaçoa_, Sir Wm. Wiseman, Bart., C.B.,
arrived in the harbour to investigate many grievances of white men and
trading vessels among the Islands. A petition having been previously
presented to the Governor in Sydney, as drawn out by the Revs. Messrs.
Geddie and Copeland, after the murder of Mr. and Mrs. Gordon on
Erromanga, requesting an investigation into the sad event, and the
removal of a Sandal-wood trader, a British subject, who had excited the
Natives to it,—the Missionaries gave the Commodore a memorandum on the
loss of life and property that had been sustained by the Mission on
Tanna, Erromanga, and Efatè. He requested the Missionaries to supply
him with interpreters, and requested the _Dayspring_ to accompany him
with them. The request was at once acceded to. Mr. Paton was appointed
to act as interpreter for Tanna, Mr. Gordon for Erromanga, and Mr.
Morrison for Efatè.

“At each of these Islands, the Commodore summoned the principal Chiefs
near the harbours to appear before him, and explained to them that his
visit was to inquire into the complaints British subjects had made
against them, and to see if they had any against British subjects; and
when he had found out the truth he would punish those who had done
the wrong and protect those who had suffered wrong. The Queen did not
send him to compel them to become Christians, or to punish them for not
becoming Christians. She left them to do as they liked in this matter;
but she was very angry at them because they had encouraged her subjects
to live amongst them, sold them land and promised to protect them, and
afterwards murdered some of them and attempted to murder others, and
stolen and destroyed their property; that the inhabitants of these
islands were talked of over the whole world for their treachery,
cruelty, and murders; and that the Queen would no longer allow them to
murder or injure her subjects, who were living peaceably among them
either as Missionaries or Traders. She would send a ship of war every
year to inquire into their conduct, and if any white man injured any
Native they were to tell the captain of the Man-of-war, and the white
man would be punished as fast as the black man.”

After spending much time, and using peaceably every means in his power
in trying to get the guilty parties on Tanna, and not succeeding,
he shelled two villages,—having the day before informed the natives
that he would do so, and advising to have all women, children, and
sick removed, which in fact they did. He also sent a party on shore
to destroy canoes, houses, etc. The Tannese were astonished, beyond
all precedent, by the terrific display of destructive power that was
exhibited in the harbour. It was found impossible to reach the actual
murderers; in these circumstances the Commodore’s object was to save
life and limit himself to the destruction of property, and so impress
the Natives with some idea of those tremendous powers of destruction,
which lie slumbering in a Man-of-war, and which can be awakened and
brought into action at any moment.

On Erromanga no lives were lost. On Tanna one man was wounded; but, it
was reported, three persons were afterwards killed by the bursting of a
shell, when the natives were stripping off its lead to make balls. It
is matter of deep regret that one man of the party sent on shore was
shot by a Native concealed in a tree. Against orders he had wandered
from his party, and was in a plantation standing eating a stick of
sugar-cane when he was shot.

As I had orders to act as interpreter for the Commodore on Tanna, I
will relate what happened there. From day to day, for three continuous
days, he besought the Natives to comply with his wishes. He warned them
that if they did not, he would shell the two villages of the Chief who
murdered the last white man at Port Resolution, and destroy his canoes.
He also explained to them, that all who retired to a large bay in the
land of Nowar, the Christian Chief (if Christian he can be called),
would be safe, as he had protected white men from being murdered;
and now he would protect his property and all under his care on this
land. The whole of these inhabitants, young and old, went to Nowar’s
land and were safe, while they witnessed what a Man-of-war could do
in punishing murderers. But, before the hour approached, multitudes
of Tannese warriors had assembled on the beach, painted and armed and
determined to fight the Man-of-war! When the Commodore gave orders to
prepare for action, I approached him and said with tears,—

“O Commodore, surely you are not going to shell these poor and foolish
Tannese!” Sharply, but not unkindly, he replied,—

“You are here as interpreter, not as my adviser. I alone am
responsible. You see their defiant attitude. If I leave without
punishing them now, no vessel or white man will be safe at this
harbour. You can go on board your own ship, till I require your
services again.”

Indeed he had many counts against them, and his instructions were
explicit. Shortly before that, Nouka, the Chief of one of the villages,
had murdered a trader with a bar of iron, and another was murdered at
his instigation. Miaki, the Chief of another, had for many years been
ringleader of all mischief and murder on that side of the island. The
Chief of a village on the other side of the bay was at that moment
assembled with his men on the high ground within our view, and dancing
to a war song in defiance!

The Commodore caused a shell to strike the hill and explode with
terrific fury just underneath the dancers. The earth and the bush were
torn and thrown into the air above and around them; and next moment
the whole host were seen disappearing over the brow of the hill. Two
shots were sent over the heads of the warriors on the shore, with
terrific noise and uproar; in an instant, every man was making haste
for Nowar’s land, the place of refuge. The Commodore then shelled
the villages, and destroyed their property. Beyond what I have here
recorded, absolutely nothing was done.

We return then for a moment to Sydney. The public excitement made
it impossible to open my lips in the promotion of our Mission. The
Revs. Drs. Dunsmore Lang and Steel, along with Professor Smith of the
University, waited on the Commodore, and got an independent version
of the facts. They then called a meeting on the affair by public
advertisement. Without being made acquainted with the results of
their investigations, I was called upon to give my own account of the
_Curaçoa’s_ visit and of the connection of the Missionaries therewith.
They then submitted the Commodore’s statement, given by him in writing.
He exonerated the Missionaries from every shadow of blame and from all
responsibility. In the interests of mercy as well as justice, and to
save life, they had acted as his interpreters; and there all that they
had to do with the _Curaçoa_ began and ended. All this was published in
the Newspapers next day, along with the speeches of the three deputies.
The excitement began to subside. But the poison had been lodged in many
hearts, and the ejectment of it was a slow and difficult process.

The Presbytery of Sydney held a special meeting, and I was summoned
to appear before it. Dr. Geddie of Aneityum was also present, being
then in the Colonies. Whether the tide of abuse had turned my dear
fellow-Missionary’s head, I cannot tell; but, on being asked to make a
statement, he condemned the Missionaries for acting as interpreters,
and wound up with a dramatic exclamation that “rather than have had
anything to do with the _Curaçoa’s_ visit he would have had his hand
burned off in the fire.”

The Court applauded. The Moderator then said: “Mr. Paton has heard the
noble speech of Dr. Geddie. Let him now solemnly promise that, under no
circumstances, will he have anything to do with a Man-of-war. Then we
may see our way again to stand by him, and help him in his Mission.”
And in this spirit, he appealed to me.

On rising, I explained that I appeared before them only out of
brotherly courtesy, as their Presbytery had no jurisdiction over me,
and I spoke to the following effect:—

“I am indeed a Missionary to the Heathen, but also a British subject.
I have never requested redress from Man-of-war, or any civil power;
but, like Paul, I reserve my full rights, if need be, to appeal unto
Cæsar. If any member of this Presbytery has his house robbed, as a
good citizen he seeks redress and protection. But on Tanna I lost my
earthly all, and sought no redress from man. The Tannese Chiefs,
indeed, who were friendly, sent a Petition by me to the Governor of
Sydney; which, however, was never presented to him at all, fearing
that thereby indirectly I might bring punishment upon my poor deluded
Tannese. Others were more convinced as to the path of duty, or less
considerate of the Natives. Their Petition I now take from my pocket
and submit it to you. It was presented to the Governor, Sir John Young,
after the death of the Gordons, and prayed for a judicial investigation
as to their murders. As soon it was known of, a counter Petition in the
interests of the Traders was immediately got up and signed by many of
the great merchants of Sydney, protesting against any such visit to the
Islands by a Man-of-war. This Petition, then, the original and only one
ever presented in favour of a visit from Her Majesty’s Commodore, was
drawn up and is signed—by whom?”

On Dr. Geddie acknowledging that he had written and signed that
Petition, but that it prayed only for an _investigation_, I proceeded,—

“Surely a judicial investigation like this implied all the after
consequences, if once undertaken! At any rate, this is the _only_
Petition sent from the Missionaries, and it was sent unknown to me.
Finally, I must respectfully inform the Presbytery that I will never
make such a promise as the Moderator has indicated. I shall remain
free to act in humanity and in justice as God and conscience guide
me. I believe I saved both life and property by interpreting for the
Commodore, and making things mutually intelligible to him and to the
Natives. I have done as clear a Christian duty as I ever did in my
life. I am not ashamed. I offer no apology. I do not believe that in
the long run, when all facts are known, my conduct in this affair can
possibly injure either myself, or, what is more, the Name of my Lord.”

Perhaps my words were not too conciliatory. But excitement so blinded
many friends, that I had to fight as if at bay, or get no hearing and
no justice. The Presbytery hesitated, and closed without coming to
any resolution. All the members of it showed me thereafter the same
respect as ever before. It was gratifying to learn in due course that
all the Churches supporting our Mission, after having independently
investigated into the facts, justified the course adopted by us,—Nova
Scotia alone excepted. Yet two of her own Missionaries had also to
interpret for that Man-of-war, exactly as I had done, nor did I ever
hear that any rebuke was administered to them. Feeling absolutely
conscious that I had only done my Christian duty, I left all results in
the hands of my Lord Jesus, and pressed forward in His blessed work.

More than one dear personal friend had to be sacrificed over this
painful affair. A Presbyterian Minister, and a godly elder and his
wife, all most excellent and well-beloved, at whose houses I had been
received as a brother, intimated to me that owing to this case of the
_Curaçoa_ their friendship and mine must entirely cease in this world.
And it did cease; but my esteem never changed. I had learned not to
think unkindly of friends, even when they manifestly misunderstood my
actions. Nor would these things merit being recorded here, were it not
that they may be at once a beacon and a guide. God’s people are still
belied. And the multitude are still as ready as ever to cry, “Crucify!
Crucify!”

The scheme for meeting the yearly cost of the _Dayspring_, that had
already been tentatively set a-going, had now to be matured and
permanently organized. In this my dear friend Dr. J. Dunsmore Lang,
well acquainted with the resources of all the Churches, was our
judicious counsellor. We proposed that Victoria should raise £500; New
South Wales and New Zealand, £200 each; Tasmania, Queensland, and South
Australia, £100 each, and £250 each from Novia Scotia and Scotland.
Tasmania, South Australia, and Queensland fell a little short of their
proportion; Sydney, Scotland, and Novia Scotia met their claims; and
Victoria and New Zealand exceeded them, and made up for deficiency
in others. This has ever since been done in great measure, though
not exclusively, by the Sabbath Scholars of the Churches, through
their _Dayspring_ “Mission-boxes.” In organizing and maturing this
scheme, I visited and addressed almost every Presbyterian Congregation
and Sabbath School in New South Wales and Victoria, South Australia
and Tasmania; and Ministers and Superintendents, with scarcely an
exception, came to be bound together in a true federal union in support
of our Mission and our Ship.

For the first three years, when everything was new, the _Dayspring_
cost us about £1,400 per annum; but since then she has cost on an
average little short of £2,000 over all. There has too often been a
floating debt of £300 or more, which has given us great anxiety; but
the Lord has sent what was required, and enabled us to keep her sailing
with the Gospel and His servants amongst these Islands, free of any
actual burden,—His own pure messenger of Good Tidings, unstained with
the polluting and bloody associations of the foul-winged trading Ships!

Another fiery furnace awaited me on this tour, when I reached Geelong.
One of the prominent Ministers refused to shake hands. An agent of the
London Missionary Society had informed them “that the £3,000 paid for
the _Dayspring_ had been thrown away, that the Vessel was useless,
fitted only for carrying stores, and having no accommodation for
passengers; and that on her second trip to the Islands our Missionaries
had to wait and go down by the _John Williams_.” It was an abiding
sorrow to me, that local misrepresentations gave the Societies an
appearance of conflict, whereof the parent organizations knew nothing
whatever. But, for all the interests at stake, facts _had_ to be made
known. Several Congregations had resolved to withdraw from the support
of our Mission; and several Ministers at Ballarat, and elsewhere, were
by similar accounts prejudiced against us.

I demanded an opportunity of stating the facts, and vindicating myself
and others, in a public meeting duly called for the purpose. They at
once agreed. I wrote once and a second time to the Agent, but got no
answer, only an evasive note. I went by rail and saw him. He would give
no explanation, or authority for his statements, but practically put me
out, on a pretence of there being sickness at the house. Nevertheless,
in a spirit of determined brotherhood, I resolved only to explain facts
about the _Dayspring_, and not to drag in the name of that great sister
Society which he so poorly served.

There was a crowded meeting. The Minister who refused to shake hands
was voted to the chair. I was called upon to explain my position. By
this time I had communicated with the _Dayspring_ officials, and,
producing the log-book, I read from it, regarding the voyage referred
to, the following:—

“When the _Dayspring_ sailed from Sydney for the Islands, she had as
passengers on board, Rev. Mr. Paton, Mrs. Paton, and child, Rev. Mr.
McNair and Mrs. McNair, Rev. Mr. Niven and Mrs. Niven, Mrs. Ella and
child, of the London Missionary Society, Captain Fraser, Mrs. Fraser,
child, and servant, besides all the year’s Mission supplies for both
the New Hebrides and the Loyalty Islands. And on reaching these
Islands, as the French Government had ordered the removal of all the
Eastern Teachers of the London Missionary Society from that group,
the _Dayspring_ had to undertake an unexpected voyage of three months
from the Loyalties to Samoa, Rarotonga, etc., with Rev. Mr. and Mrs.
Sleigh of the London Missionary Society, and sixty-one of their Native
Teachers, who, along with their families, were all in health landed
safely on their respective islands, as passengers by the _Dayspring_.”

I also read a corroborative narrative from Captain Fraser, written from
memory, as he was at that time far inland in the country, and had not
access to the records of his vessel. And my statement closed to this
effect,—

“It must now be manifest to all, that the damaging reports circulated
in Geelong are more than replied to. By the Captain, and from the
log, they are proved to be false, both as to capacity for goods and
passengers. At present the _Dayspring_ is everything that could be
desired for the furtherance of our Mission. If _you_ are satisfied, I
wish to leave this painful subject, and proceed with my proper work.
But I am prepared to answer any question from the Chairman or the
meeting, and to give the fullest information.”

The round of applause that followed was my complete vindication. The
Chairman gave me his hand, and pledged his utmost support. He proposed
the following resolution, which was carried with acclamation,—

“That this meeting, having heard Mr. Paton with satisfaction, pledges
the Churches, Sabbath Schools, and friends in Geelong, henceforth to
support the _Dayspring_ and the New Hebrides Mission to the utmost of
their power, and to receive and encourage him as much as ever in his
work on behalf of the Mission.”

The special object of my visit was then explained, and several
Ministers and others spoke heartily in furtherance of the proposals for
the permanent support of the _Dayspring_ through the Sabbath Schools.

All battles through mere misunderstandings are painful, but especially
those amongst Christian brethren. Still they had to be fought, never
laying aside the weapons of the Cross; and God has overruled them for
the promotion of His Kingdom in a way which makes all Catholic-spirited
followers of the Lord Jesus equally rejoice.

On this tour, in Victoria alone, I spent 250 days and addressed 265
meetings, representing 180 Congregations and their Sabbath Schools. The
proportion was on the same scale in the other Colonies visited. And all
these arrangements I had to make for myself, by painful and laborious
correspondence night and day. But the Lord’s blessing was abundantly
vouchsafed. Victoria gave £1,954 19_s._ 3_d_; Tasmania, £76 12_s._
7_d._; South Australia, £222 16_s._; New South Wales, £249; being a
total of £2,503 7_s._ 10_d._, besides £220 in yearly donations of £5,
promised for the maintenance of the Native Teachers.

In 1862 I appealed to the Victorian General Assembly to take up the
New Hebrides Mission as their own. The appeal was followed by Rev.
J. Clark, Convener of Heathen Missions Committee in 1863, getting
the Assembly to accept the proposal. And in 1865 the Rev. Dr. A. J.
Campbell carried our scheme, and the Assembly pledged itself to give
£500 per annum for the support of the _Dayspring_, from the offerings
of the Sabbath Schools. New Zealand and other Colonies soon followed
Victoria’s example, until all were pledged to uphold the New Hebrides
Mission. For my dear friend and old College companion, Rev. Joseph
Copeland, had visited at the same time Queensland and New Zealand, and
had received from them respectively £101 2_s._ 4_d._ and £580; so that
all the Churches adopted our scheme for the permanent support of the
_Dayspring_; and the Mission fund had now a fair balance on the right
side.

At the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church of Victoria in
1866, I was adopted—being officially transferred from the Church in
Scotland—as the first Missionary from the Presbyterian Churches of
Australia to the New Hebrides. Dr. Geddie would also have been adopted
at the same time, but Novia Scotia could not agree to part with its
first and most highly-honoured Missionary. The Victorian Church
therefore engaged the Rev. James Cosh, M.A., on his way out from
Scotland, as its other agent, in the hope that we two might be able to
re-open and carry on the Tanna Mission. In their _Christian Review_ of
1867, they said:—

“The idea which we in Victoria had, when the Missionaries left us
in July last was, that Messrs. Paton and Cosh would be associated on
Tanna, and labour for its evangelization, under the special auspices
as well as at the cost of the Presbyterian Church of Victoria; but Mr.
Cosh, having chosen the station at Pango on Efatè, where the Natives
were more prepared for the Gospel, and where life and property were
safe, went to spend a year’s novitiateship with Mr. and Mrs. Morrison
on Efatè. Mr. Paton would have fain gone back to Tanna, but the
Missionaries generally feared that no one European life would have been
safe at the time on Tanna. They therefore, and no doubt wisely, sent
Mr. Paton to the small and less savage, but not less Heathen, Island of
Aniwa.”

It was indeed one of the bitterest trials of my life, not to be able to
return and settle down at once on dear old Tanna; but I could not go
alone, against the decided opposition of all the other Missionaries—Dr.
Inglis, however, at last sympathizing most strongly with my views. I
went, as will appear hereafter, to Aniwa, the nearest island to the
scene of my former woes and perils, in the hope that God would soon
open up my way and enable me to return to blood-stained Tanna.

My heart bleeds for the Heathen, and I long to see a Teacher for every
tribe and a Missionary for every island of the New Hebrides. The hope
still burns that I may witness it; and then I could gladly rest.




CHAPTER V.

_SETTLEMENT ON ANIWA._

  The _John Williams_ on the Reef.—A Native’s Soliloquy.—Nowar Pleading
  for Tanna.—The White Shells of Nowar.—The Island of Aniwa.—First
  Landing on Aniwa.—The Site of our New Home.—“Me no Steal!”—House
  Building for God.—Native Expectations.—Tafigeitu or Sorcery.—The
  Miracle of Speaking Wood.—Perils through Superstition.—The Mission
  Premises.—A City of God.—Builders and their Wages.—Great Swimming
  Feat.—Stronger than the “Gods” of Aniwa.


Everything being now arranged for in the Colonies, in connection with
the Mission and _Dayspring_, as far as could possibly be, we sailed
for the Islands on the 8th August, 1866. Besides my wife and child,
the following accompanied us to the field: Revs. Copeland, Cosh, and
McNair, along with their respective wives. On August 20th we reached
Aneityum; and, having landed some of our friends, we sailed Northwards,
as far as Efatè, to let the new Missionaries see all the Islands open
for occupation, and to bring all our Missionaries back to the annual
meeting, where the permanent settlements would be finally agreed upon.

On our return, we found that the beautiful new _John Williams_,
reaching Aneityum on 5th of September, had stuck fast on the coral
reef and swung there for three days. By the unceasing efforts of the
Natives, working in hundreds, she was saved, though badly damaged.
At a united meeting of all the Missionaries, representing the London
Missionary Society and our own, it was resolved that she must be taken
to Sydney for repairs. Twenty stout Aneityumese were placed on board
to keep her pumps going by day and night, and the _Dayspring_ was
sent to keep her company in case of any dire emergency. Missionaries
were waiting to be settled, and the season was stealing away. But the
cause of humanity and the claims of a sister Mission were paramount.
We remained at Aneityum for five weeks, and awaited the return of the
_Dayspring_.

At our annual Synod, after much prayerful deliberation and the careful
weighing of every vital circumstance, I was constrained by the united
voice of my brethren not to return to Tanna, but to settle on the
adjoining island of Aniwa (= A-neé-wa). It was even hoped that thereby
Tanna might eventually be the more surely reached and evangelized.

By the new Missionaries all the other old Stations were re-occupied
and some fresh Islands were entered upon in the name of Jesus. As we
moved about with our _Dayspring_, and planted the Missionaries here and
there, nothing could repress the wonder of Natives.

“How is this?” they cried; “we slew or drove them all away! We
plundered their houses and robbed them. Had we been so treated, nothing
would have made us return. But they come back with a beautiful new
ship, and with more and more Missionaries. And is it to trade and to
get money, like the other white men? No! no! But to tell us of their
Jehovah God and of His Son Jesus. If their God makes them do all that,
we may well worship Him too.”

In this way, island after island was opened up to receive the
Missionary, and their Chiefs bound themselves to protect and cherish
him, before they knew anything whatever of the Gospel, beyond what they
saw in the disposition and character of its Preachers or heard rumoured
regarding its fruits on other Islands. Even _Cannibals_ have sometimes
been found thus prepared to welcome the Missionary, and to make not
only his property but his life comparatively safe. The Isles “wait” for
Christ.

On our way to Aniwa, the _Dayspring_ had to call at Tanna. By stress of
weather we lay several days in Port Resolution. And there many memories
were again revived—wounds that after five-and-twenty years, when I now
write, still bleed afresh! Nowar, the old Chief, unstable but friendly,
was determined to keep us there by force or by fraud. The Captain told
him that the council of the Missionaries had forbidden him to land our
boxes at Tanna.

“Don’t land them,” said the wily Chief; “just throw them over; my men
and I will catch everything before it reaches the water, and carry them
all safely ashore!”

The Captain said he durst not. “Then,” persisted Nowar, “just point
them out to us; you will have no further trouble; we will manage
everything for Missi.”

They were in distress when he refused; and poor old Nowar tried another
tack. Suspecting that my dear wife was afraid of them, he got us on
shore to see his extensive plantations. Turning eagerly to her, he
said, leaving me to interpret,—

“Plenty of food! While I have a yam or a banana, you shall not want.”

She answered, “I fear not any lack of food.”

Pointing to his warriors, he cried, “We are many! We are strong! We can
always protect you.”

“I am not afraid,” she calmly replied.

He then led us to that fig-tree, in the branches of which I had sat
during a lonely and memorable night, when all hope had perished of any
earthly deliverance, and said to her with a manifest touch of genuine
emotion,—

“The God who protected Missi there will always protect you.”

She told him that she had no fear of that kind, but explained to him
that we must for the present go to Aniwa, but would return to Tanna, if
the Lord opened up our way. Nowar, Arkurat, and the rest, seemed to be
genuinely grieved, and it touched my soul to the quick.

A beautiful incident was the outcome, as we learned only in long after
years. There was at that time an Aniwan Chief on Tanna, visiting
friends. He was one of their great Sacred Men. He and his people had
been promised a passage home in the _Dayspring_, with their canoes in
tow. When old Nowar saw that he could not keep us with himself, he
went to this Aniwan Chief, and took the white shells, the insignia of
Chieftainship, from his own arm, and bound them on the Sacred Man,
saying,—

“By these you promise to protect my Missionary and his wife and child
on Aniwa. Let no evil befall them; or, by this pledge, I and my people
will revenge it.”

In a future crisis, this probably saved our lives, as shall be
afterwards related. After all, a bit of the Christ-Spirit had found its
way into that old Cannibal’s soul! And the same Christ-Spirit in me
yearned more strongly still, and made it a positive pain to pass on to
another Island, and leave him in that dim-groping twilight of the soul.

Aniwa became my Mission Home in November, 1866; and ever since, save
on my, alas! too frequent deputation pilgrimages among Churches in
Great Britain and in the Colonies, it has been the heart and centre of
my personal labours amongst the Heathen. God never guided me back to
Tanna; but others, my dear friends, have seen His Kingdom planted and
beginning to grow amongst that slowly relenting race. Aniwa was to be
the land wherein my past years of toil and patience and faith were to
see their fruits ripening at length. I claimed Aniwa for Jesus, and by
the Grace of God Aniwa now worships at the Saviour’s feet.

The Island of Aniwa is one of the smaller isles of the New Hebrides. It
measures about nine miles by three and a half, and is everywhere girt
round with a belt of coral reef. The sea breaks thereon heavily, with
thundering roar, and the white surf rolls in furious and far. But there
are days of calm, when all the sea is glass, and the spray on the reef
is only a fringe of silver.

The ledges of coral rock indicate that Aniwa has been heaved up from
its ocean bed, at three or four separate bursts of mighty volcanic
power. No stone or other rock anywhere appears, but only and always
the coral, in its beautiful and mysterious variety. The highest land
is less than three hundred feet above the level of the sea; and though
the soil is generally light, there are patches good and deep, mostly
towards the southern end of the island, and near the crater of an
extinct volcano, where excellent plantations are found, and which, if
carefully cultivated, might support ten times the present population.

Aniwa, having no hills to attract and condense the clouds, suffers
badly for lack of genial rains; and the heavy rains of hurricane and
tempest seem to disappear as if by magic through the light soil and
porous rock. The moist atmosphere and the heavy dews, however, keep the
Island covered with green, while large and fruitful trees draw wondrous
nourishment from their rocky beds. The Natives suffer from a species
of Elephantiasis, in all probability produced by their bad drinking
waters, and from the hot and humid climate of their isle.

Aniwa has no harbour, or safe anchorage of any kind for ships; though,
in certain winds, they have been seen at anchor on the outer edge of
the reef, always a perilous haven! There is one crack in the coral
belt, through which a boat can safely run to shore; but the little
wharf, built there of the largest coral blocks that could be rolled
together, has been once and again swept clean off by the hurricane,
leaving “not a wrack behind.”

I had had a glimpse of Aniwa before, in the _John Knox_, when Mr.
Johnston accompanied me; and again with my dear friend Gordon, who was
murdered on Erromanga; besides, I had seen Aniwans in their canoes at
Tanna in search of food. They had pleaded with us to remain amongst
them, arguing against there being two Missionaries on Tanna and none
on Aniwa. Their “orator,” a very subtle man, who spoke Tannese well,
informed us that the white Traders told them that if they killed or
drove away the Missionaries they would get plenty of ammunition and
tobacco. This was why our life had been so often attempted. Beyond this
all was strange. Everything had to be learned afresh on Aniwa, as on
Tanna.

[Illustration: “ALL THE NATIVES WITHIN REACH ASSEMBLED.”]

When we landed, the Natives received us kindly. They and the
Aneityumese Teachers led us to a temporary home, prepared for our
abode. It was a large Native Hut. Walls and roof consisted of
sugar-cane leaf and reeds, intertwisted on a strong wooden frame. It
had neither doors nor windows, but open spaces instead of these. The
earthen floor alone looked beautiful, covered thick with white coral
broken small. It had only one Apartment; and that, meantime, had to
serve also for Church and School and Public Hall. We screened off a
little portion, and behind that screen planted our bed, and stored our
valuables. All the Natives within reach assembled to watch us taking
our food! A box at first served for a chair, the lid of another box was
our table, our cooking was all done in the open air under a large tree,
and we got along with amazing comfort. But the house was under the
shelter of a coral rock, and we saw at a glance that at certain seasons
it would prove a very hotbed of fever and ague. We were, however,
only too thankful to enter it, till a better could be built, and on a
breezier site.

The Aniwans were not so violently dishonourable as the Tannese. But
they had the knack of asking in a rather menacing manner whatever they
coveted; and the tomahawk was sometimes swung to enforce an appeal. For
losses and annoyance, we had of course no redress. But we tried to
keep things well out of their way, knowing that the opportunity there,
as elsewhere, sometimes develops the thief. We strove to get along
quietly and kindly, in the hope that when we knew their language, and
could teach them the principles of Jesus, they would be saved, and life
and property would be secure. But the rumour of the _Curaçoa’s_ visit
and her punishment of murder and robbery did more, by God’s blessing,
to protect us during those Heathen days than all other influences
combined. The savage Cannibal was heard to whisper to his bloodthirsty
mates, “not to murder or to steal, for the Man-of-war that punished
Tanna would blow up their little Island!”

Sorrowful experience on Tanna had taught us to seek the site for
our Aniwan house on the highest ground, and away from the malarial
swamps near the shore. There was one charming mound, covered with
trees whose roots ran down into the crevices of coral, and from which
Tanna and Erromanga are clearly seen. But there the Natives for some
superstitious reason forbade us to build, and we were constrained to
take another rising-ground somewhat nearer the shore. In the end, this
turned out to be the very best site on the Island for us, central and
suitable every way. But we afterwards learned that perhaps superstition
also led them to sell us this site, in the malicious hope that it would
prove our ruin. The mounds on the top, which had to be cleared away,
contained the bones and refuse of their Cannibal feasts for ages.
None but their Sacred Men durst touch them; and the Natives watched
us hewing and digging, certain that their gods would strike us dead!
That failing, their thoughts may probably have been turned to reflect
that after all the Jehovah God was stronger than they. In levelling
the site, and gently sloping the sides of the ground for good drainage
purposes, I had gathered together two large baskets of human bones. I
said to a Chief in Tannese,—

“How do these bones come to be here?”

And he replied, with a shrug worthy of a cynical Frenchman,—

“Ah, we are not Tanna men! We don’t eat the bones!”

While I was away building the house, Mrs. Paton had one dreadful
fright. She generally remained about half a mile off, in charge of
the Native hut in which our property had been stored, with one or two
of the friendly Natives around her, though as yet she could not speak
their language. One day she sat alone, the baby playing at her feet.
A rustling commenced amongst the boxes behind the curtain. She had
been there all the morning, and no one had entered. Horror-smitten,
her eyes were fastened towards the noise. Suddenly, the blanket-screen
was thrown aside, and a black face, with blood-red eyes and milk-white
teeth peered out, and cried in broken English,—

“Me no steal! Me no steal!”

Then, with a bound like that of a deer, the man sprang out and ran
for the village. My dear wife, fearing his sudden return, snatched up
her child and rushed to the place where I was working, never feeling
the ground beneath her till she sank down almost fainting at my feet.
Thanking God for her escape, we thought it wiser to remain where we
were and finish our task for the day. We learned that, since we did
not return, his wrath had cooled down and he had withdrawn. This man
was a sort of wild beast in his passionate moods. His body became
convulsed and his muscles twitched with rage. He had lately murdered a
neighbour, a man of his own tribe, in his frenzy. We believe that the
Lord baffled his rage on that memorable day, and said to his tumultuous
soul,—“Peace! be still.”

The site being now cleared, we questioned whether to build only a
temporary home, hoping to return to dear old Tanna as soon as possible,
or, though the labour would be vastly greater, a substantial house—for
the comfort of our successors, if not of ourselves. We decided that,
as this was work for God, we would make it the very best we could. We
planned two central rooms, sixteen feet by sixteen, with a five-feet
wide lobby between, so that other rooms could be added when required.
About a quarter of a mile from the sea, and thirty-five feet above its
level, I laid the foundations of the house. Coral blocks raised the
wall about three feet high all round. Air passages carried sweeping
currents underneath each room, and greatly lessened the risk of fever
and ague. A wide trench was dug all round, and filled up as a drain
with broken coral. At back and front, the verandah stretched five
feet wide; and pantry, bath-room and tool-house were partitioned off
under the verandah behind. The windows sent to me had hinges; I added
two feet to each, with wood from Mission boxes, and made them French
door-windows, opening from each room to the verandah. And so we had, by
God’s blessing, a healthy spot to live in, if not exactly a thing of
beauty!

The Mission House, as ultimately finished, had six rooms, three on
each side of the lobby, and measured ninety feet in length, surrounded
by a verandah, one hundred feet by five, which kept everything shaded
and cool. Underneath two rooms, a cellar was dug eight feet deep, and
shelved all round for a store. In more than one terrific hurricane that
cellar saved our lives,—all crushing into it when trees and houses were
being tossed like feathers on the wings of the wind. Altogether, the
house at Aniwa has proved one of the healthiest and most commodious of
any that have been planted by Christian hands on the New Hebrides. In
selecting site and in building “the good hand of our God was upon us
for good.”

I built also two Orphanages, almost as inevitably necessary as the
Missionary’s own house. They stood on a line with the front of my
own dwelling, one for girls, the other for boys, and we had them
constantly under our own eyes. The Orphans were practically boarded at
the Mission premises, and adopted by the Missionaries. Their clothing
was a heavy drain upon our resources; and every odd and curious article
that came in any of the boxes or parcels was utilized. We trained these
young people for Jesus. And at this day many of the best of our Native
Teachers, and most devoted Christian helpers, are amongst those who
would probably have perished but for these Orphanages.

A grievous accident deprived me of special help in house-building.
I cut my ankle badly with an adze, as I had done before on Tanna,
through a knot in the tree. Binding my handkerchief tightly round it,
I appealed to the Natives to carry me back to our hut. They stipulated
for payment. My vest pocket being filled with fish-hooks, a current
coin on all these Islands, I got a fellow to understand the bribe.
He carried me a little, got some hooks, and then called another, who
did the same, and then called a third, and so on, each man earning
his hooks, and passing on the burden and the pay to another, while I
suffered terribly and bled profusely. Being my own doctor, I dressed
the wound for weeks, kept it constantly in cold water bandages, and by
the kindness of the Lord it recovered, though it left me lame for many
a day.

But the greatest sorrow was this: the good and kind Aneityumese, who
had been hired to come and help me with all the unskilled parts of the
labour, could do nothing without me, and when the _Dayspring_ came
round at the appointed time I had to pay them in full and let them
return, deprived of their valuable aid. Even to keep them in food would
have exhausted our limited stores, and some months must elapse before
our next supplies could arrive from Sydney.

The Aniwans themselves could scarcely be induced to work at all, even
for payment. Their personal wants were few, and were supplied by their
own plantations. They replied to my appeals with all the unction of
philosophers, and told me,—

“The conduct of the men of Aniwa is to stand by, or sit and look on,
while their women do the work!”

On Aniwa we soon found ourselves face to face with blank Heathenism.
The natives at first expected that the Missionary’s _Biritania
tavai_ (= British Medicine) would cure at once all their complaints.
Disappointment led to resentment in their ignorant and childish
minds. They also expected to get for the asking, or for any trifle,
an endless supply of knives, calico, fish-hooks, blankets, etc. Every
refusal irritated them. Again, our Medicines relieved or cured them,
so they blamed us also for their diseases,—all their Sacred Men not
only curing but also _causing_ sickness. Further, they generally came
to us only after exhausting every resource of their own witchcraft and
superstition, and when it was probably too late. I had often to taste
the Medicine in their sight before the sufferers would touch it; and if
one dose did not cure them, it was almost impossible to get them to
persevere. But time taught them its value, and the yearly expenditure
for Medicine soon became a very heavy tax on our modest salary.

Still we set our bell a-ringing every day after dinner—intimating
our readiness to give advice or medicine to all who were sick. We
spoke to them, so soon as we had learned, a few words about Jesus.
The weak received a cup of tea and a piece of bread. The demand was
sometimes great, especially when epidemics befell them. But some rather
fled from us as the cause of their sickness, and sought refuge from
our presence in remotest corners, or rushed off at our approach and
concealed themselves in the bush. They were but children, and full of
superstition; and we had to win them by kindly patience, never losing
faith in them and hope for them, any more than the Lord did with us!

As on Tanna, all sicknesses and deaths were supposed to be caused by
sorcery, there called _Nahak_, on Aniwa called _Tafigeitu_. Some Sacred
Man burned the remains of food such as the skin of a banana, or a hair
from the head, or something that the person had even touched, and he
was the disease-maker. Hence they were kept in a state of constant
terror, and breathed the very atmosphere of revenge. When one became
sick, all the people of his village met day after day, and made long
speeches and tried to find out the enemy who was causing it. Having
fixed on some one, they first sent presents of mats, baskets, and food
to the supposed disease-makers; if the person recovered, they took
credit for it; if the person died, his friends sought revenge on the
supposed murderers. And such revenge took a wide sweep, satisfying
itself with the suspected enemy, or any of his family, or of his
village, or even of his tribe. Thus endless bloodshed and unceasing
intertribal wars kept the people from one end of the Island to the
other in one long-drawn broil and turmoil.

Learning the language on Aniwa was marked by similar incidents to those
of Tanna, related in Part First; though a few of them could understand
my Tannese, and that greatly helped me. One day a man, after carefully
examining some article, turned to his neighbour and said,—

“Taha tinei?”

I inferred that he was asking, “What is this?”

Pointing to another article, I repeated their words; they smiled at
each other, and gave me its name. On another occasion, a man said to
his companion, looking towards me,—

“Taha neigo?”

Concluding that he was asking my name, I pointed towards him, and
repeated the words, and they at once gave me their names. Readers
would be surprised to discover how much you can readily learn of any
language, with these two short questions constantly on your lips,
and with people ready at every turn to answer—“What’s this?” “What’s
your name?” Every word was at once written down, spelled phonetically
and arranged in alphabetic order, and a note appended as to the
circumstances in which it was used. By frequent comparison of these
notes, and by careful daily and even hourly imitation of all their
sounds, we were able in a measure to understand each other before we
had gone far in the house-building operations, during which some of
them were constantly beside me.

One incident of that time was very memorable, and God turned it to
good account for higher ends. I often tell it as “the miracle of the
speaking bit of wood;” and it has happened to other Missionaries
exactly as to myself. While working at the house, I required some nails
and tools. Lifting a piece of planed wood, I pencilled a few words on
it, and requested our old Chief to carry it to Mrs. Paton, and she
would send what I wanted. In blank wonder, he innocently stared at me,
and said,—

“But what do you want?”

I replied, “The wood will tell her.” He looked rather angry, thinking
that I befooled him, and retorted,—

“Who ever heard of wood speaking?”

By hard pleading I succeeded in persuading him to go. He was amazed
to see her looking at the wood and then fetching the needed articles.
He brought back the bit of wood, and eagerly made signs for an
explanation. Chiefly in broken Tannese I read to him the words, and
informed him that in the same way God spoke to us through His Book.
The will of God was written there, and by-and-bye, when he learned to
read, he would hear God _speaking_ to him from its page, as Mrs. Paton
heard me from the bit of wood.

A great desire was thus awakened in the poor man’s soul to see the
very Word of God printed in his own language. He helped me to learn
words and master ideas with growing enthusiasm. And when my work of
translating portions of Holy Scripture began, his delight was unbounded
and his help invaluable. The miracle of a speaking page was not less
wonderful than that of speaking wood!

One day, while building the house, an old Inland Chief and his three
sons came to see us. Everything was to them full of wonder. After
returning home one of the sons fell sick, and the father at once blamed
us and the Worship, declaring that if the lad died we all should be
murdered in revenge. By God’s blessing, and by our careful nursing
and suitable medicine, he recovered and was spared. The old Chief
superstitiously wheeled round almost to another extreme. He became not
only friendly, but devoted to us. He attended the Sabbath Services, and
listened to the Aneityumese Teachers, and to my first attempts, partly
in Tannese, translated by the orator Taia or the chief Namakei, and
explained in our hearing to the people in their mother tongue.

But, on the heels of this, another calamity overtook us. So soon as two
rooms of the Mission House were roofed in, I hired the stoutest of the
young men to carry our boxes thither. Two of them started off with a
heavy box suspended on a pole from shoulder to shoulder, their usual
custom. They were shortly after attacked with vomiting of blood; and
one of them actually died, an Erromangan. The father of the other swore
that, if his son did not get better, every soul at the Mission House
should be slain in revenge. But God mercifully restored him.

As the boat-landing was nearly three-quarters of a mile distant, and
such a calamity recurring would be not only sorrowful in itself but
perilous in the extreme for us all, I steeped my wits, and, with such
crude materials as were at hand, I manufactured not only a hand-barrow,
but a wheel-barrow, for the pressing emergencies of the time. In due
course, I procured a more orthodox hand-cart from the Colonies, and
coaxed and bribed the Natives to assist me in making a road for it.
Perhaps the ghost of _Macadam_ would shudder at the appearance of that
road, but it has proved immensely useful ever since.

Our Mission House was once and again threatened with fire, and we
ourselves with musket, before its completion. The threats to set fire
to our premises stirred up Namakei, however, to befriend us; and we
learned that he and his people had us under a guard by night and by
day. But a savage Erromangan lurked about for ten days, watching for
us with tomahawk and musket, and we knew that our peril was extreme.
Looking up to God for protection, I went on with my daily toils,
having a small American tomahawk beside me, and showing no fear. The
main thing was to take every precaution against surprise, for these
murderers are all cowards, and will attempt nothing when observed. I
sent for the old Chief, whose guest the Erromangan was, and warned him
that God would hold him guilty too if our blood was shed.

“Missi,” he warmly replied, “I knew not, I knew not! But by the first
favourable wind he shall go, and you will see him no more.”

He kept his word, and we were rescued from the enemy and the avenger.

The site was excellent and very suitable for our Mission Station. The
ground sloped away nearly all round us, and the pathway up to it was
adorned on each side with beautiful crotons and island plants, and
behind these a row of orange trees. A cocoa-nut grove skirted the shore
for nearly three miles, and shaded the principal public road. Near
our premises were many leafy chestnuts and wide-spreading bread-fruit
trees. When, in the course of years, everything had been completed
to our taste, we lived practically in the midst of a beautiful
Village,—the Church, the School, the Orphanage, the Smithy and Joiner’s
Shop, the Printing Office, the Banana and Yam House, the Cook House,
etc.; all very humble indeed, but all standing sturdily up there among
the orange trees, and preaching the Gospel of a higher civilization and
of a better life for Aniwa. The little road leading to each door was
laid with the white coral broken small. The fence around all shone
fresh and clean with new paint. Order and taste were seen to be laws in
the white man’s New Life; and several of the Natives began diligently
to follow our example.

Many and strange were the arts which I had to try to practise, such as
handling the adze, the mysteries of tenon and mortise, and other feats
of skill. If a Native wanted a fish-hook, or a piece of red calico
to bind his long whip-cord hair, he would carry me a block of coral
or fetch me a beam; but continuous daily toil seemed to him a mean
existence. The women were tempted, by calico and beads for pay, to
assist in preparing the sugar-cane leaf for thatch, gathering it in the
plantations, and tying it over reeds four or six feet long with strips
of bark or pandanus leaf, leaving a long fringe hanging over on one
side. How differently they acted when the Gospel began to touch their
hearts! They built their Church and their School then, by their own
free toil, rejoicing to labour without money or price; and they have
ever since kept them in good repair, for the service of the Lord, by
their voluntary offerings of wood and sugar-cane leaf and coral-lime.

The roof was firmly tied on and nailed; thereon were laid the reeds,
fringed with sugar-cane leaf, row after row tied firmly to the wood;
the ridge was bound down by cocoa-nut leaves, dexterously plaited from
side to side and skewered to the ridge pole with hard wooden pins;
and over all, a fresh storm-roof was laid on yearly for the hurricane
months, composed of folded cocoa-nut leaves, held down with planks
of wood, and bound to the frame-work below,—which, however, had to be
removed again in April to save the sugar-cane leaf from rotting beneath
it. There you were snugly covered in, and your thatching good to last
from eight years to ten; that is, provided you were not caught in the
sweep of the hurricane, before which trees went flying like straws,
huts disappeared like autumn leaves, and your Mission House, if left
standing at all, was probably swept bare alike of roof and thatch at a
single stroke! Well for you at such times if you have a good barometer
indicating the approach of the storm; and better still, a large cellar
like ours, four-and-twenty feet by sixteen, built round with solid
coral blocks,—where goods may be stored, and whereinto also all your
household may creep for safety, while the tornado tosses your dwelling
about, and sets huge trees dancing around you!

We had also to invent a lime kiln, and this proved one of the hardest
nuts of all that had to be cracked. The kind of coral required could be
obtained only at one spot, about three miles distant. Lying at anchor
in my boat, the Natives dived into the sea, broke off with hammer and
crowbar piece after piece, and brought it up to me, till I had my load.
We then carried it ashore, and spread it out in the sun to be blistered
there for two weeks or so. Having thus secured twenty or thirty boat
loads, and had it duly conveyed round to the Mission Station, a huge
pit was dug in the ground, dry wood piled in below, and green wood
above to a height of several feet, and on the top of all the coral
blocks were orderly laid. When this pile had burned for seven or ten
days, the coral had been reduced to excellent lime, and the plaster
work made therefrom shone like marble.

On one of these trips the Natives performed an extraordinary feat. The
boat with full load was struck heavily by a wave, and the reef drove a
hole in her side. Quick as thought the crew were all in the sea, and,
to my amazement, bearing up the boat with their shoulder and one hand,
while swimming and guiding us ashore with the other! There on the land
we were hauled up, and four weary days were spent fetching and carrying
from the Mission Station every plank, tool, and nail, necessary for her
repair. Every boat for these seas ought to be built of cedar wood and
copper-fastened, which is by far the most economical in the end. And
all houses should be built of wood which is as full as possible of gum
or resin, since the large white ants devour not only all other soft
woods, but even Colonial blue gum trees, the hard cocoa-nut, and window
sashes, chairs, and tables!

Glancing back on all these toils, I rejoice that such exhausting
demands are no longer made on our newly arrived Missionaries. Houses,
all ready for being set up, are now brought down from the Colonies.
Zinc roofs and other improvements have been introduced. The Synod
appoints a deputation to accompany the young Missionary, and plant the
house along with himself at the Station committed to his care. Precious
strength is thus saved for higher uses; and not only property but life
itself is oftentimes preserved.

I will close this chapter with an incident which, though it came to our
knowledge only years afterwards, closely bears upon our Settlement on
Aniwa. At first we had no idea why they so determinedly refused us one
site, and fixed us to another of their own choice. But after the old
Chief, Namakei, became a Christian, he one day addressed the Aniwan
people in our hearing to this effect:—

“When Missi came we saw his boxes. We knew he had blankets and calico,
axes and knives, fish-hooks and all such things. We said, ‘Don’t drive
him off, else we will lose all these things. We will let him land.
But we will force him to live on the Sacred Plot. Our gods will kill
him, and we will divide all that he has amongst the men of Aniwa.’ But
Missi built his house on our most sacred spot. He and his people lived
there, and the gods did not strike. He planted bananas there, and we
said, ‘Now when they eat of these they will all drop down dead, as our
fathers assured us, if any one ate fruit from that ground, except only
our Sacred Men themselves.’ These bananas ripened. They did eat them.
We kept watching for days and days, but no one died! Therefore what we
say, and what our fathers have said, is not true. Our gods cannot kill
them. Their Jehovah God is stronger than the gods of Aniwa.”

I enforced old Namakei’s appeal, telling them that, though they knew
it not, it was the living and true and only God who had sent them
every blessing which they possessed, and had at last sent us to teach
them how to serve and love and please Him. In wonder and silence they
listened, while I tried to explain to them that Jesus, the Son of this
God, had lived and died and gone to the Father to save them, and that
He was now willing to take them by the hand and lead them through this
life to glory and immortality together with Himself.

The old Chief led them in prayer—a strange, dark, groping prayer, with
streaks of Heathenism colouring every thought and sentence; but still
a heart-breaking prayer, as the cry of a soul once Cannibal, but now
being thrilled through and through with the first conscious pulsations
of the Christ-Spirit, throbbing into the words: “Father, Father; our
Father.”

When these poor creatures began to wear a bit of calico or a kilt, it
was an outward sign of a change, though yet far from civilization. And
when they began to look up and pray to One whom they called “Father,
our Father,” though they might be far, very far, from the type of
Christian that dubs itself “respectable,” my heart broke over them in
tears of joy; and nothing will ever persuade me that there was not a
Divine Heart in the heavens rejoicing too.




CHAPTER VI.

_FACE TO FACE WITH HEATHENISM._

  Navalak and Nemeyan on Aniwa.—Taia the “Orator.”—The Two next
  Aneityumese Teachers.—In the Arms of Murderers.—Our First Aniwan
  Converts.—Litsi Soré.—Surrounded by Torches.—Traditions of Creation,
  Fall, and Deluge.— Infanticide and Wife-Murder.—Last Heathen
  Dance.—Nelwang’s Elopement.—Yakin’s Bridal Attire.—Christ-Spirit
  _versus_ War-Spirit.—Heathenism in Death-Grips.—A Great Aniwan
  Palaver.—The Sinking of the Well.—“Missi’s Head Gone Wrong.”—“Water!
  Living Water!”—Old Chief’s Sermon on “Rain from Below.”—The Idols
  Cast Away.—The New Social Order.—Back of Heathenism Broken.


On landing in November, 1866, we found the Natives of Aniwa, some very
shy and distrustful, and others forward and imperious. No clothing
was worn; but the wives and elder women had grass aprons or girdles
like our first Parents in Eden. The old Chief interested himself in
us and our work; but the greater number showed a far deeper interest
in the axes, knives, fish-hooks, stripes of red calico and blankets,
received in payment for work or for bananas. Even for payment they
would scarcely work at first, and they were most unreasonable, easily
offended, and started off in a moment at any imaginable slight.

For instance, a Chief once came for Medicine. I was so engaged that I
could not attend to him for a few minutes. So off he went, in a great
rage, threatening revenge, and muttering, “I must be attended to! I
won’t wait on _him_.” Such are the exactions of a naked Savage!

Shortly before our arrival, an Aneityumese Teacher was sacrificed on
Aniwa. The circumstances are illustrative of what may be almost called
their worship of revenge. Many long years ago, a party of Aniwans had
gone to Aneityum on a friendly visit; but the Aneityumese, then all
Savages, murdered and ate every man of them save one, who escaped
into the bush. Living on cocoa-nuts, he awaited a favourable wind,
and, launching his canoe by night, he arrived in safety. The bereaved
Aniwans, hearing his terrible story, were furious for revenge; but the
forty-five miles of sea between proving too hard an obstacle, they made
a deep cut in the earth and vowed to renew that cut from year to year
till the day of revenge came round. Thus the memory of the event was
kept alive for nearly eighty years.

At length the people of Aneityum came to the knowledge of Jesus
Christ. They strongly yearned to spread that saving Gospel to the
Heathen Islands all around. Amid prayers and strong cryings to God
they, like the Church at Antioch, designated two of their leading men
to go as Native Teachers and evangelize Aniwa, viz., Navalak and
Nemeyan; whilst others went forth to Fotuna, Tanna, and Erromanga, as
opportunity arose. Namakei, the principal Chief of Aniwa, had promised
to protect and be kind to them. But as time went on, it was discovered
that the Teachers belonged to the Tribe on Aneityum, and one of them
to the very land, where long ago the Aniwans had been murdered. The
Teachers had from the first known their danger, but were eager to make
known the Gospel to Aniwa. It was resolved that they should die. But
the Aniwans, having promised to protect them, shrank from doing it
themselves; so they hired two Tanna men and an Aniwan Chief, one of
whose parents had belonged to Tanna, to waylay and shoot the Teachers
as they returned from their tour of Evangelism among the villages on
Sabbath afternoon. Their muskets did not go off, but the murderers
rushed upon them with clubs and left them for dead.

Nemeyan was dead, and entered that day amongst the noble army of the
Martyrs. Poor Navalak was still breathing, and the Chief Namakei
carried him to his village and kindly nursed him. He pled with the
people that the claims of revenge had been satisfied, and that Navalak
should be cherished and sent home,—the Christ-Spirit beginning to work
in that darkened soul! Navalak was restored to his people, and is yet
living—a high-class Chief on Aneityum and an honour to the Church of
God, bearing on his body “the marks of the Lord Jesus.” And often
since has he visited Aniwa, in later years, and praised the Lord
amongst the very people who once thirsted for his blood and left him by
the wayside as good as dead!

For a time, Aniwa was left without any witness for Jesus,—the London
Missionary Society Teachers, having suffered dreadfully for lack of
food and from fever and ague, being also removed. But on a visit of a
Mission vessel, Namakei sent his orator Taia to Aneityum, to tell them
that now revenge was satisfied, the cut in the earth filled up, and a
cocoa-nut tree planted and flourishing where the blood of the Teachers
had been shed, and that no person from Aneityum would ever be injured
by Aniwans. Further, he was to plead for more Teachers, and to pledge
his Chief’s word that they would be kindly received and protected. They
knew not the Gospel, and had no desire for it; but they wanted friendly
intercourse with Aneityum, where trading vessels called, and whence
they might obtain mats, baskets, blankets, and iron tools. At length
two Aneityumese again volunteered to go, Kangaru and Nelmai, one from
each side of the Island, and were located by the Missionaries, along
with their families, on Aniwa, one with Namakei, and the other at the
south end, to lift up the Standard of a Christlike life among their
Heathen neighbours.

Taia, who went on the Mission to Aneityum, was a great speaker and
also a very cunning man. He was the old Chief’s appointed “Orator” on
all state occasions, being tall and stately in appearance, of great
bodily strength, and possessed of a winning manner. On the voyage to
Aneityum, he was constantly smoking and making things disagreeable to
all around him. Being advised not to smoke while on board, he pled
with the Missionary just to let him take a whiff now and again till
he finished the tobacco he had in his pipe, and then he would lay it
aside. But, like the widow’s meal, it lasted all the way to Aneityum,
and never appeared to get less—at which the innocent Taia expressed
much astonishment!

The two Teachers and their wives on Aniwa were little better than
slaves when we landed there, toiling in the service of their masters
and living in constant fear of being murdered. They conducted the
Worship in Aneityumese, while the Aniwans lay smoking and talking
all round till it was over. The language of Aniwa had never yet been
reduced to a written form, and consequently no book had been printed
in it. The Teachers and their wives were kept hard at work on Friday
and Saturday, cooking and preparing food for the Aniwans, who, after
the so-called Worship, feasted together and had a friendly talk. We
immediately put an end to this Sabbath feasting. That made them angry
and revengeful. They even demanded food, etc., in payment for coming to
the Worship, which we always resolutely refused. Doubtless, however,
the mighty contrast presented by the life, character, and disposition
of these godly Teachers was the sowing of the seed that bore fruit in
other days,—though as yet no single Aniwan had begun to wear clothing
out of respect to Civilization, much less been brought to know and love
the Saviour.

I could now speak a little to them in their own language; and so,
accompanied generally by my dear wife and by an Aneityumese Teacher,
and often by some friendly Native, I began to visit regularly at their
villages and to talk to them about Jesus and His love. We tried also
to get them to come to our Church under the shade of the banyan tree.
Nasi and some of the worst characters would sit scowling not far off,
or follow us with loaded muskets. Using every precaution, we still held
on doing our work; sometimes giving fish-hooks or beads to the boys and
girls, showing them that our objects were kind and not selfish. Such
visits gained their confidence.

And however our hearts sometimes trembled in the presence of imminent
death and sank within us, we stood fearless in their presence, and left
all results in the hands of Jesus. Often have I had to run into the
arms of some savage, when his club was swung or his musket levelled
at my head, and, praying to Jesus, so clung round him that he could
neither strike nor shoot me till his wrath cooled down and I managed
to slip away. Often have I seized the pointed barrel and directed it
upwards, or, pleading with my assailant, uncapped his musket in the
struggle. At other times, nothing could be said, nothing done, but
stand still in silent prayer, asking God to protect us or to prepare
us for going home to His Glory. He fulfilled His own promise,—“I will
not fail thee nor forsake thee.”

[Illustration: I WANT YOU TO TRAIN LITSI FOR JESUS.]

The first Aniwan that ever came to the knowledge and love of Jesus was
the old Chief Namakei. We came to live on his land, as it was near our
diminutive harbour; and upon the whole, he and his people were the most
friendly; though his only brother, the Sacred Man of the tribe, on two
occasions tried to shoot me. Namakei came a good deal about us at the
Mission House, and helped us to acquire the language. He discovered
that we took tea evening and morning. When we gave him a cup and a
piece of bread, he liked it well, and gave a sip to all around him. At
first he came for the tea, perhaps, and disappeared suspiciously soon
thereafter; but his interest manifestly grew, till he showed great
delight in helping us in every possible way. Along with him, and as his
associates, came also the Chief Naswai and his wife Katua. These three
grew into the knowledge of the Saviour together. From being savage
Cannibals they rose before our eyes, under the influence of the Gospel,
into noble and beloved characters; and they and we loved each other
exceedingly.

Namakei brought his little daughter, his only child, the Queen of her
race, called Litsi Soré (= Litsi the Great), and said,—

“I want to leave my Litsi with you. I want you to train her for Jesus.”

She was a very intelligent child, learned things like any white girl,
and soon became quite a help to Mrs. Paton. On seeing his niece dressed
and so smart-looking, the old Chief’s only brother, the Sacred Man
that had attempted to shoot me, also brought his child, Litsi Sisi (=
the Little) to be trained like her cousin. The mothers of both were
dead. The children reported all they saw, and all we taught them, and
so their fathers became more deeply interested in our work, and the
news of the Gospel spread far and wide. Soon we had all the Orphans
committed to us, whose guardians were willing to part with them, and
our Home became literally _the School of Christ_,—the boys growing up
to help all my plans, and the girls to help my wife and to be civilized
and trained by her, and many of them developing into devoted Teachers
and Evangelists.

Our earlier Sabbath Services were sad affairs. Every man came
armed—indeed, every man slept with his weapons of war at his side—and
bow and arrow, spear and tomahawk, club and musket, were always ready
for action. On fair days we assembled under the banyan tree, on rainy
days in a Native hut partly built for the purpose. One or two seemed
to listen, but the most lay about on their backs or sides, smoking,
talking, sleeping! When we stopped the feast at the close, for which
they were always ready, the audiences at first went down to two or
three; but these actually came to learn, and a better tone began
immediately to pervade the Service. We informed them that it was for
their good that we taught them, and that they would get no “pay” for
attending Church or School, and the greater number departed in high
dudgeon as very ill-used persons! Others of a more commercial turn came
offering to sell their “idols,” and when we would not purchase them but
urged them to give them up and cast them away for love to Jesus, they
carried them off saying they would have nothing to do with this new
Worship.

Amidst our frequent trials and dangers in those earlier times on Aniwa,
our little Orphans often warned us privately and saved our lives from
cruel plots. When, in baffled rage, our enemies demanded who had
revealed things to us, I always said, “It was a little bird from the
bush.” So, the dear children grew to have perfect confidence in us.
They knew we would not betray them; and they considered themselves the
guardians of our lives.

The excitement increased on both sides, when a few men openly gave up
their idols. Morning after morning, I noticed green cocoa-nut leaves
piled at the end of our house, and wondered if it were through some
Heathen superstition. But one night the old Chief knocked upon me and
said,—

“Rise, Missi, and help! The Heathen are trying to burn your house. All
night we have kept them off, but they are many and we are few. Rise
quickly, and light a lamp at every window. Let us pray to Jehovah, and
talk loud as if we were many. God will make us strong.”

I found that they had the buckets and pails from all my Premises full
of water,—that the surrounding bush was swarming with Savages, torch in
hand,—that the Teachers and other friendly Natives had been protecting
themselves from the dews under the large cocoa-nut leaves which I saw,
while they kept watch over us. After that I took my turn with them in
watching, each guard being changed after so many hours. But they held a
meeting and said amongst each other,—

“If our Missi is shot or killed in the dark, what will we have to watch
for then? We must compel Missi to remain indoors at night!”

I yielded so far to their counsel; but still went amongst them, watch
after watch, to encourage them.

What a suggestive tradition of the Fall came to me in one of those
early days on Aniwa! Upon our leaving the hut and removing to our new
house, it was seized upon by Tupa for his sleeping place; though still
continuing to be used by the Natives, as club-house, court of law,
etc. One morning at daylight this Tupa came running to us in great
excitement, wielding his club furiously, and crying,—

“Missi, I have killed the Tebil. I have killed Teapolo. He came to
catch me last night. I raised all the people, and we fought him round
the house with our clubs. At daybreak he came out and I killed him
dead. We will have no more bad conduct or trouble now. Teapolo is dead!”

I said, “What nonsense! Teapolo is a spirit, and cannot be seen.”

But in mad excitement he persisted that he had killed him. And at Mrs.
Paton’s advice, I went with the man, and he led me to a great Sacred
Rock of coral near our old hut, over which hung the dead body of a huge
and beautiful sea-serpent, and exclaimed,—

“There he lies! Truly I killed him.”

I protested: “That is not the Devil; it is only the body of a serpent.”

The man quickly answered, “Well, but it is all the same! He is Teapolo.
He makes us bad, and causes all our troubles.”

Following up this hint by many inquiries, then and afterwards, I found
that they clearly associated man’s troubles and sufferings somehow
with the serpent. They worshipped the Serpent, as a spirit of evil,
under the name of Matshiktshiki; that is to say, they lived in abject
terror of his influence, and all their worship was directed towards
propitiating his rage against men.

Their story of Creation, at least of the origin of their own Aniwa
and the adjacent Islands, is much more an outcome of the Native mind.
They say that Matshiktshiki fished up these lands out of the sea. And
they show the deep print of his foot on the coral rocks, opposite each
island, whereon he stood as he strained and lifted them up above the
waters. He then threw his great fishing-line round Fotuna, thirty-six
miles distant, to draw it close to Aniwa and make them one land; but,
as he pulled, the line broke and he fell into the sea,—so the Islands
remain separated unto this day.

Matshiktshiki placed men and women on Aniwa. On the southern end of
the Island, there was a beautiful spring and a freshwater river, with
rich lands all around for plantations. But the people would not do what
Matshiktshiki wanted them; so he got angry, and split off the richer
part of Aniwa, with the spring and river, and sailed thence across to
Aneityum,—leaving them where Dr. Inglis has since built his beautiful
Mission Station. To this day, the river there is called “the water of
Aniwa” by the inhabitants of both Islands; and it is the ambition of
all Aniwans to visit Aneityum and drink of that spring and river, as
they sigh to each other,—

“Alas, for the waters of Aniwa!”

Their picture of the Flood is equally grotesque. Far back, when the
volcano, now on Tanna, was part of Aniwa, the rain fell and fell from
day to day, and the sea rose till it threatened to cover everything.
All were drowned except the few who climbed up on the volcano mountain.
The sea had already put out the volcano at the southern end of Aniwa;
and Matshiktshiki, who dwelt in the greater volcano, becoming afraid
of the extinction of his big fire too, split it off from Aniwa with
all the land on the south-eastern side, and sailed it across to Tanna
on the top of the flood. There, by his mighty strength, he heaved
the volcano to the top of the highest mountain of Tanna, where it
remains to this day. For, on the subsiding of the sea, he was unable to
transfer his big fire to Aniwa; and so it was reduced to a very small
island, without a volcano, and without a river, for the sins of the
people long ago.

Even where there are no snakes they apply the superstitions about the
serpent to a large, black, poisonous lizard called _kekvau_. They call
it Teapolo’s; and women or children scream wildly at the sight of one.
The Natives of several of our Islands have the form of the lizard, as
also of the snake and the bird and the face of man, cut deep into the
flesh of their arms. When the cuts begin to heal, they tear open the
figures and press back the skin and force out the flesh, till the forms
stand out above the skin and abide there as a visible horror for all
their remaining days. When they become Christians and put on clothing,
they are very anxious to cover these reminders of Heathenism from
public view.

The darkest and most hideous blot on Heathenism is the practice of
Infanticide. Only three cases came to our knowledge on Aniwa; but we
publicly denounced them at all hazards, and awoke not only natural
feeling, but the selfish interests of the community for the protection
of the children. These three were the last that died there by parents’
hands. A young husband, who had been jealous of his wife, buried their
male child alive as soon as born. An old Tanna woman, who had no
children living, having at last a fine healthy boy born to her, threw
him into the sea before any one could interfere to save. And a Savage,
in anger with his wife, snatched her baby from her arms, hid himself in
the bush till night, and returned without the child, refusing to give
any explanation, except that he was dead and buried. Praise be to God,
these three murderers of their own children were by-and-bye touched
with the story of Jesus, became members of the Church, and each adopted
little orphan children, towards whom they continued to show the most
tender affection and care.

Wife murder was also considered quite legitimate. In one of our inland
villages dwelt a young couple, happy in every respect except that
they had no children. The man, being a Heathen, resolved to take home
another wife, a widow with two children. This was naturally opposed
by his young wife. And, without the slightest warning, while she sat
plaiting a basket, he discharged a ball into her from his loaded
musket. It crashed through her arm and lodged in her side. Everything
was done that was in my power to save her life; but on the tenth day
tetanus came on, and she soon after passed away. The man appeared very
attentive to her all the time; but, being a Heathen, he insisted that
she had no right to oppose his wishes! He was not in any way punished
or disrespected by the people of his village, but went out and in
amongst them as usual, and took home the other woman as his wife a few
weeks thereafter. His second wife began to attend Church and School
regularly with her children; and at last he also came along with them,
changing very manifestly from his sullen and savage former self. They
have a large family; they are avowedly trying to train them all for the
Lord Jesus; and they take their places meekly at the Lord’s Table.

It would give a wonderful shock, I suppose, to many namby-pamby
Christians, to whom the title “Mighty to Save” conveys no ideas of
reality, to be told that nine or ten converted murderers were partaking
with them the Holy Communion of Jesus! But the Lord who reads the
heart, and weighs every motive and circumstance, has perhaps much more
reason to be shocked by the presence of some of themselves. Penitence
opens all the Heart of God—“To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise.”

Amongst the heathen, a murderer was often honoured; and if he succeeded
in terrifying those who ought to take revenge, he was sometimes even
promoted to be a Chief. One who had thus risen to tyrannize over his
village was so feared and obeyed, that one of the lads there said to
me,—

“Missi, I wish I had lived long ago! I could have murdered some great
man, and come to honour. As Christians, we have no prospects; where are
your warriors? Are we always to remain common men?”

I told him of greatness in the service of Jesus, of glory and honour
with our Lord. That lad afterwards became a Native Teacher, first in
his own village, and then on a Heathen Island,—the Lord the Spirit
having opened up for his ambition the nobler path.

The last Heathen Dance on Aniwa was intended, strange to say, in honour
of our work. We had finished the burning of a large lime-kiln for our
buildings, and the event was regarded as worthy of a festival. To our
surprise, loud bursts of song were followed by the tramp, tramp of many
feet. Men and women and children poured past us, painted, decorated
with feathers and bush twigs, and dressed in their own wildest
form, though almost entirely nude so far as regards the clothing of
civilization. They marched into the village Public Ground, and with
song and shout and dance made the air hideous to me. They danced in
inner and outer circles, men with men and women with women; but I do
not know that the thing looked more irrational to an outsider than
do the balls at home. Our Islanders, on becoming followers of Jesus,
have always _voluntarily_ withdrawn from all these scenes, and regard
such dancings as inconsistent with the presence and fellowship of the
Saviour.

On calling one of their leading men and asking him what it all meant,
he said,—

“Missi, we are rejoicing for you, singing and dancing to our gods for
you and your works.”

I told him that my Jehovah God would be angry at His Church being so
associated with Heathen gods. The poor bewildered soul look grieved,
and asked,—

“Is it not good, Missi? Are we not helping you?”

I said, “No! It is not good. I am shocked to see you. I come here to
teach you to give up all these ways, and to please the Jehovah God.”

He went and called away his wife and all his friends, and told them
that the Missi was displeased. But the others held on for hours, and
were much disgusted that I would not make them a feast and pay them for
dancing! No other dance was ever held near our Station on Aniwa.

Some most absurd and preposterous experiences were forced upon us by
the habits and notions of the people. Amongst these I recall very
vividly the story of Nelwang’s elopement with his bride. I had begun,
in spare hours, to lay the foundation of two additional rooms for our
house, and felt rather uneasy to see a well-known Savage hanging around
every day with his tomahawk, and eagerly watching me at work. He had
killed a man, before our arrival on Aniwa; and it was he that startled
my wife by suddenly appearing from amongst the boxes, and causing her
to run for life. On seeing him hovering so alarmingly near, tomahawk in
hand, I saluted him,—

“Nelwang, do you want to speak to me?”

“Yes, Missi,” he replied, “if you will help me now, I will be your
friend for ever.”

I answered, “I am your friend. That brought me here and keeps me here.”

“Yes,” said he very earnestly, “but I want you to be strong as my
friend, and I will be strong for you!”

I replied, “Well, how can I help you?”

He quickly answered, “I want to get married, and I need your help.”

I protested: “Nelwang, you know that marriages here are all made
in infancy, by children being bought and betrothed to their future
husbands. How can I interfere? You don’t want to bring evil on me and
my wife and child? It might cost us our lives.”

“No! no! Missi,” earnestly retorted Nelwang. “No one hears of this,
or can hear. Only help me now. You tell me, if you were in my
circumstances, how would you act?”

“That’s surely very simple,” I answered. “Every man knows how to
go about that business, if he wants to be honest! Look out for
your intended, find out if she loves you, and the rest will follow
naturally,—you will marry her.”

“Yes,” argued Nelwang, “but just there my trouble comes in!”

“Do you know the woman you would like to get?” I asked, wishing to
bring him to some closer issue.

“Yes,” replied he very frankly, “I want to marry Yakin, the chief widow
up at the inland village, and that will break no infant betrothals.”

“But,” I persevered, “do you know if she loves you or would take you?”

“Yes,” replied Nelwang; “one day I met her on the path and told her I
would like to have her for my wife. She took out her ear-rings and gave
them to me, and I know thereby that she loves me. I was one of her late
husband’s men; and if she had loved any of them more than she did me,
she would have given them to another. With the ear-rings she gave me
her heart.”

“Then why,” I insisted, “don’t you go and marry her?”

“There,” said Nelwang gravely, “begins my difficulty. In her village
there are thirty young men for whom there are no wives. Each of them
wants her, but no one has the courage to take her, for the other
nine-and-twenty will shoot him!”

“And if you take her,” I suggested, “the disappointed thirty will shoot
you.”

“That’s exactly what I see, Missi,” continued Nelwang; “but I want you
just to think you are in my place, and tell me how you would carry her
off. You white men can always succeed. Missi, hear my plans, and advise
me.”

With as serious a face as I could command, I had to listen to Nelwang,
to enter into his love affair, and to make suggestions, with a view to
avoiding bloodshed and other miseries. The result of the deliberations
was that Nelwang was to secure the confidence of two friends, his
brother and the orator Taia, to place one at each end of the coral
rocks above the village as watchmen, to cut down with his American
tomahawk a passage through the fence at the back, and to carry off
his bride at dead of night into the seclusion and safety of the bush!
Nelwang’s eyes flashed as he struck his tomahawk into a tree, and
cried,—

“I see it now, Missi! I shall win her from them all. Yakin and I will
be strong for you all our days!”

Next morning Yakin’s house was found deserted. They sent to all the
villages around, but no one had seen her. The hole in the fence behind
was then discovered, and the thirty whispered to each other that Yakin
had been wooed and won by some daring lover. Messengers were despatched
to all the villages, and Nelwang was found to have disappeared on the
same night as the widow, and neither could anywhere be found.

The usual revenge was taken. The houses of the offenders burned,
their fences broken down, and all their property either destroyed
or distributed. Work was suspended, and the disappointed thirty
solaced themselves by feasting at Yakin’s expense. On the third day I
arrived at the scene. Seeing our old friend Naswai looking on at the
plunderers, I signalled him, and said innocently,—

“Naswai, what’s this your men are about? What’s all the uproar?”

The Chief replied, “Have you not heard, Missi?”

“Heard?” said I. “The whole island has heard your ongoings for three
days! I can get no peace to study, or carry on my work.”

“Missi,” said the Chief, “Nelwang has eloped with Yakin, the wealthy
widow, and all the young men are taking their revenge.”

“Oh,” replied I, “is that all? Call your men, and let us speak to them.”

The men were all assembled, and I said: “After all your kindness to
Yakin, and all your attention to her since her husband’s death, has
she really run away and left you all? Don’t you feel thankful that you
are free from such an ungrateful woman? Had one of you been married
to her, and she had afterwards run away with this man that she loved,
that would have been far worse! And are you really making all this
noise over such a person, and destroying so much useful food? Let these
two fools go their way, and if she be all that you now say, he will
have the worst of the bargain, and you will be sufficiently avenged.
I advise you to spare the fruit trees—go home quietly—leave them to
punish each other—and let me get on with my work!”

Naswai repeated my appeal.

“Missi’s word is good! Gather up the food. Wait till we see their
conduct, how it grows. She wasn’t worth all this bother and noise!”

Three weeks passed. The runaways were nowhere to be found. It was
generally believed that they had gone in a canoe to Tanna or Erromanga.
But one morning, as I began my work at my house alone, the brave
Nelwang appeared at my side!

“Hillo!” I said, “where have you come from? and where is Yakin?”

“I must not,” he replied, “tell you yet. We are hid. We have lived on
cocoa-nuts gathered at night. Yakin is well and happy. I come now to
fulfil my promise: I will help you, and Yakin will help Missi Paton the
woman, and we shall be your friends. I have ground to be built upon
and fenced, whenever we dare; but we will come and live with you, till
peace is secured. Will you let us come to-morrow morning?”

“All right!” I said. “Come to-morrow!” And, trembling with delight, he
disappeared into the bush.

Thus strangely God provided us with wonderful assistance. Yakin soon
learnt to wash and dress and clean everything, and Nelwang served me
like a faithful disciple. They clung by us like our very shadow, partly
through fear of attack, partly from affection; but as each of them
could handle freely both musket and tomahawk, which, though laid aside,
were never far away, it was not every enemy that cared to try issues
with Nelwang and his bride. After a few weeks had thus passed by, and
as both of them were really showing an interest in things pertaining
to Jesus and His Gospel, I urged them strongly to appear publicly at
the Church on Sabbath, to show that they were determined to stand their
ground together as true husband and wife, and that the others must
accept the position and become reconciled. Delay now could gain no
purpose, and I wished the strife and uncertainty to be put to an end.

Nelwang knew our customs. Every worshipper has to be seated, when our
little bell ceases ringing. Aniwans would be ashamed to enter after
the Service had actually begun. As the bell ceased, Nelwang, knowing
that he would have a clear course, marched in, dressed in shirt and
kilt, and grasping very determinedly his tomahawk! He sat down as
near to me as he could conveniently get, trying hard to conceal his
manifest agitation. Slightly smiling towards me, he then turned and
looked eagerly at the door through which the women entered and left the
Church, as if to say, “Yakin is coming!” But his tomahawk was poised
ominously on his shoulder, and his courage gave him a defiant and
almost impudent air. He was evidently quite ready to sell his life at a
high price, if any one was prepared to risk the consequences.

In a few seconds Yakin entered; and if Nelwang’s bearing and appearance
were rather inconsistent with the feeling of worship,—what on earth
was I to do when the figure and costume of Yakin began to reveal
itself marching in? The first visible difference betwixt a Heathen and
a Christian is,—that the Christian wears some clothing, the Heathen
wears none. Yakin determined to show the extent of her Christianity
by the amount of clothing she could carry upon her person. Being a
Chiefs widow before she became Nelwang’s bride, she had some idea of
state occasions, and appeared dressed in every article of European
apparel, mostly portions of male attire, that she could beg or borrow
from about the premises! Her bridal gown was a man’s drab-coloured
great-coat, put on above her Native grass skirts, and sweeping down to
her heels, buttoned tight. Over this she had hung on a vest, and above
that again, most amazing of all, she had superinduced a pair of men’s
trousers, drawing the body over her head, and leaving a leg dangling
gracefully over each of her shoulders and streaming down her back.
Fastened to the one shoulder also there was a red shirt, and to the
other a striped shirt, waving about her like wings as she sailed along.
Around her head a red shirt had been twisted like a turban, and her
notions of art demanded that a sleeve thereof should hang aloft over
each of her ears! She seemed to be a moving monster loaded with a mass
of rags. The day was excessively hot, and the perspiration poured over
her face in streams. She, too, sat as near to me as she could get on
the women’s side of the Church. Nelwang looked at me and then at her,
smiling quietly, as if to say,—

“You never saw, in all your white world, a bride so grandly dressed!”

I little thought what I was bringing on myself, when I urged them to
come to Church. The sight of that poor creature sweltering before me
constrained me for once to make the service very short—perhaps the
shortest I ever conducted in all my life! The day ended in peace. The
two souls were extremely happy; and I praised God that what might have
been a scene of bloodshed had closed thus, even though it were in a
kind of wild grotesquerie!

Henceforth I never lacked a body-guard, nor Mrs. Paton a helper. Yakin
learned to read and write, and became an excellent teacher in our
Sabbath school; she also learned to sing, and led the praise in Church,
when my wife was unable to be present. In fact, she could put her
hand to everything about the house or the Mission, and became a great
favourite amongst the people. Nelwang fulfilled his promise faithfully.
He was indeed my friend. Through all my inland tours, either he or
the Sacred Man, Kalangi (who first attempted twice to shoot me, and
then, after his conversion, acted as if God had entrusted him with
the keeping of my life), faithfully accompanied me. With tomahawk or
musket, or both in hand, they were always within reach, and instantly
started to the front wherever danger seemed to threaten us. These were
amongst our first and best Church members. Nelwang and the Sacred Man
have both gone to their rest. But Yakin of the many garments has also
had many husbands. She rejoices now in her _fourth_, and is still a
devoted Christian, and a most interesting character in many ways.

The progress of God’s work was most conspicuous in relation to wars and
revenges among the Natives. The two high Chiefs, Namakei and Naswai,
frequently declared,—

“We are the men of Christ now. We must not fight. We must put down
murders and crimes among our people.”

Two young fools, returning from Tanna with muskets, attempted twice to
shoot a man in sheer wantonness and display of malice. The Islanders
met, and informed them that if man or woman was injured by them, the
other men would load their muskets and shoot them dead in public
council. This was a mighty step towards public order, and I greatly
rejoiced before the Lord. His Spirit, like leaven, was at work!

My constant custom was, in order to prevent war, to run right in
between the contending parties. My faith enabled me to grasp and
realize the promise, “Lo, I am with you always.” In Jesus I felt
invulnerable and immortal, so long as I was doing His work. And I can
truly say, that these were the moments when I felt my Saviour to be
most truly and sensibly present, inspiring and empowering me.

Another scheme had an excellent educative and religious influence.
I tried to interest all the villages, and to treat all the Chiefs
equally. In our early days, after getting into my two-roomed house, I
engaged the Chief, or representative man of each district, to put up
one or other of the many outhouses required at the Station. One, along
with his people, built the cook-house; another, the store; another,
the banana and yam-house; another, the washing-house; another, the
boys’ and girls’ house; the houses for servants and teachers, the
Schoolhouse, and the large shed, a kind of shelter where Natives sat
and talked when not at work about the Premises. Of course these all
were at first only Native huts, of larger or smaller dimensions. But
they were all built by contract for articles which they highly valued,
such as axes, knives, yards of prints and calico, strings of beads,
blankets, etc. They served our purpose for the time, and when another
party, by contract also, had fenced around our Premises, the Mission
Station was really a beautiful little lively and orderly Village, and
in itself no bad emblem of Christian and Civilized life. The payments,
made to all irrespectively, but only for work duly done and according
to reasonable bargain, distributed property and gifts amongst them on
wholesome principles, and encouraged a well-conditioned rivalry which
had many happy effects.

Heathenism made many desperate and some strange efforts to stamp out
our Cause on Aniwa, but the Lord held the helm. One old Chief, formerly
friendly, turned against us. He ostentatiously set himself to make
a canoe, working at it very openly and defiantly on Sabbaths. He,
becoming sick and dying, his brother started, on a Sabbath morning and
in contempt of the Worship, with an armed company to provoke our people
to war. They refused to fight; and one man, whom he struck with his
club, said,—

“I will leave my revenge to Jehovah.”

A few days thereafter, this brother also fell sick and suddenly died.
The Heathen party made much of these incidents, and some clamoured for
our death in revenge, but most feared to murder us; so they withdrew
and lived apart from our friends, as far away as they could get.
By-and-bye, however, they set fire to a large district belonging to our
supporters, burning cocoa-nut and bread-fruit trees and plantations.
Still our people refused to fight, and kept near to protect us. Then
all the leading men assembled to talk it over. Most were for peace, but
some insisted upon burning our house and driving us away or killing us,
that they might be left to live as they had hitherto done. At last a
Sacred Man, a Chief who had been on Tanna when the _Curaçoa_ punished
the murderers and robbers but protected the villages of the friendly
Natives there, stood up and spoke in our defence, and warned them what
might happen; and other three, who had been under my instruction on
Tanna, declared themselves to be the friends of Jehovah and of His
Missionary. Finally the Sacred Man rose again, and showed them rows of
beautiful white shells strung round his left arm, saying,—

“Nowar, the great Chief at Port Resolution on Tanna, when he saw that
Missi and his wife could not be kept there, took me to his heart, and
pledged me by these, the shells of his office as Chief, taken from his
own arms and bound on mine, to protect them from all harm. He told me
to declare to the men of Aniwa that if the Missi be injured or slain,
he and his warriors will come from Tanna and take the full revenge in
blood.” This turned the scale. The meeting closed in our favour.

Close on the heels of this, another and a rather perplexing incident
befell us. A party of Heathens assembled and made a great display of
fishing on the Lord’s Day, in contempt of the practice of the men on
Jehovah’s side, threatening also to waylay the Teachers and myself in
our village circuits. A meeting was held by the Christian party, at the
close of the Sabbath Services. All who wished to serve Jehovah were to
come to my house next morning, unarmed, and accompany me on a visit
to our enemies, that we might talk and reason together with them. By
daybreak, the Chiefs and nearly eighty men assembled at the Mission,
declaring that they were on Jehovah’s side, and wished to go with me.
But, alas! they refused to lay down their arms, or leave them behind;
nor would they either refrain from going or suffer me to go alone.
Pledging them to peace, I was reluctantly placed at their head, and we
marched off to the village of the unfriendly party.

The villagers were greatly alarmed. The Chief’s two sons came forth
with every available man to meet us. That whole day was consumed in
talking and speechifying, sometimes chanting their replies: the Natives
are all inveterate talkers! To me the day was utterly wearisome; but it
had one redeeming feature,—their rage found vent in hours of palaver,
instead of blows and blood. It ended in peace. The Heathen were amazed
at the number of Jehovah’s friends; and they pledged themselves
henceforth to leave the Worship alone, and that every one who pleased
might come to it unmolested. For this, worn out and weary, we returned,
praising the Lord.

But I must here record the story of the Sinking of the Well, which
broke the back of Heathenism on Aniwa. Being a flat coral island, with
no hills to attract the clouds, rain is scarce there as compared with
the adjoining mountainous islands; and even when it does fall heavily,
with tropical profusion, it disappears, as said before, through the
light soil and porous rock, and drains itself directly into the sea.
Hence, because of its greater dryness, Aniwa is more healthy than many
of the surrounding isles; though, probably for the same reason, its
Natives are subject to a form of Elephantiasis, known as the “Barbadoes
leg.” The Rainy Season is from December to April, and then the disease
most characteristic of all these regions is apt to prevail, viz., fever
and ague.

At certain seasons, the Natives drank very unwholesome water; and,
indeed, the best water they had at any time for drinking purposes was
from the precious cocoa-nut, a kind of Apple of Paradise for all these
Southern Isles! They also cultivate the sugar-cane very extensively,
and in great variety; and they chew it, when we would fly to water
for thirst, so it is to them both food and drink. The black fellow
carries with him to the field, when he goes off for a day’s work, four
or five sticks of sugar-cane, and puts in his time comfortably enough
on these. Besides, the sea being their universal bathingplace, in which
they swattle like fish, and little water, almost none, being required
for cooking purposes, and none whatever for washing clothes (!), the
lack of fresh springing water was not the dreadful trial to them that
it would be to us. Yet they appreciate and rejoice in it immensely
too; though the water of the green cocoa-nut is refreshing, and in
appearance, taste, and colour not unlike lemonade—one nut filling a
tumbler; and though, when mothers die they feed the babies on it and
on the soft white pith, and they flourish on the same; yet the Natives
themselves show their delight in preferring, when they can get it, the
milk from the goat and the water from the well.

My household felt sadly the want of fresh water. I prepared two large
casks, to be filled when the rain came. But when we attempted to do so
at the water-hole near the village, the Natives forbade us, fearing
that our large casks would carry all the water away, and leave none
for them with their so much smaller cocoa-nut bottles. This public
water-hole was on the ground of two Sacred Men, who claimed the power
of emptying and filling it by rain at will. The superstitious Natives
gave them presents to bring the rain. If it came soon, they took all
the credit for it. If not, they demanded larger gifts to satisfy their
gods. Even our Aneityumese Teachers said to me, when I protested that
surely they could not believe such things,—

“It is hard to know, Missi. The water does come and go quickly. If you
paid them well, they might bring the rain, and let us fill our casks!”

I told them that, as followers of Jehovah, we must despise all Heathen
mummeries, and trust in Him and in the laws of His Creation to help us.

Aniwa, having therefore no permanent supply of fresh water, in spring
or stream or lake, I resolved by the help of God to sink a well near
the Mission Premises, hoping that a wisdom higher than my own would
guide me to the source of some blessed spring. Of the scientific
conditions of such an experiment I was completely ignorant; but I
counted on having to dig through earth and coral above thirty feet,
and my constant fear was, that owing to our environment, the water, if
water I found, could only be salt water after all my toils! Still I
resolved to sink that shaft in hope, and in faith that the Son of God
would be glorified thereby.

One morning I said to the old Chief and his fellow-Chief, both now
earnestly inquiring about the religion of Jehovah and of Jesus,—

“I am going to sink a deep well down into the earth, to see if our God
will send us fresh water up from below.”

They looked at me with astonishment, and said in a tone of sympathy
approaching to pity,—

“O Missi! Wait till the rain comes down, and we will save all we
possibly can for you.”

I replied, “We may all die for lack of water. If no fresh water can be
got, we may be forced to leave you.”

The old Chief looked imploringly, and said: “O Missi! you must not
leave us for that. Rain comes only from above. How could you expect our
Island to send up showers of rain from below?”

I told him: “Fresh water does come up springing from the earth in my
Land at home, and I hope to see it here also.”

The old Chief grew more tender in his tones, and cried: “O Missi, your
head is going wrong; you are losing something, or you would not talk
wild like that! Don’t let our people hear you talking about going down
into the earth for rain, or they will never listen to your word or
believe you again.”

But I started upon my hazardous job, selecting a spot near the Mission
Station and close to the public path, that my prospective well might
be useful to all. I began to dig, with pick and spade and bucket at
hand, an American axe for a hammer and crowbar, and a ladder for
service by-and-bye. The good old Chief now told off his men in relays
to watch me, lest I should attempt to take my own life, or do anything
outrageous, saying,—

“Poor Missi! That’s the way with all who go mad. There’s no driving of
a notion out of their heads. We must just watch him now. He will find
it harder to work with pick and spade than with his pen, and when he’s
tired we’ll persuade him to give it up.”

I did get exhausted sooner than I expected, toiling under that tropical
sun; but we never own before the Natives that we are beaten, so I
went into the house and filled my vest pocket with large beautiful
English-made fish-hooks. These are very tempting to the young men,
as compared with their own,—skilfully made though _they_ be out of
shell, and serving their purposes wonderfully. Holding up a large hook,
I cried,—“One of these to every man who fills and turns over three
buckets out of this hole!”

A rush was made to get the first turn, and back again for another and
another. I kept those on one side who had got a turn, till all the
rest in order had a chance, and bucket after bucket was filled and
emptied rapidly. Still the shaft seemed to lower very slowly, while
my fish-hooks were disappearing very quickly. I was constantly there,
and took the heavy share of everything, and was thankful one evening
to find that we had cleared more than twelve feet deep,—when lo! next
morning, one side had rushed in, and our work was all undone.

The old Chief and his best men now came around me more earnestly than
ever. He remonstrated with me very gravely. He assured me for the
fiftieth time that rain would never be seen coming up through the earth
on Aniwa!

“Now,” said he, “had you been in that hole last night, you would have
been buried, and a Man-of-war would have come from Queen ’Toria to ask
for the Missi that lived here. We would say, ‘Down in that hole.’ The
Captain would ask, ‘Who killed him and put him down there?’ We would
have to say, ‘He went down there himself!’ The Captain would answer,
‘Nonsense! who ever heard of a white man going down into the earth to
bury himself? You killed him, you put him there; don’t hide your bad
conduct with lies!’ Then he would bring out his big guns and shoot
us, and destroy our Island in revenge. You are making your own grave,
Missi, and you will make ours too. Give up this mad freak, for no rain
will be found by going downwards on Aniwa. Besides, all your fish-hooks
cannot tempt my men again to enter that hole; they don’t want to be
buried with you. Will you not give it up now?”

I said all that I could to quiet his fears, explained to them that this
falling in had happened by my neglect of precautions, and finally made
known that by the help of my God, even without all other help, I meant
to persevere.

Steeping my poor brains over the problem, I became an extemporized
engineer. Two trees were searched for, with branches on opposite
sides, capable of sustaining a cross tree betwixt them. I sank them
on each side firmly into the ground, passed the beam across them over
the centre of the shaft, fastened thereon a rude home-made pulley and
block, passed a rope over the wheel, and swung my largest bucket to
the end of it. Thus equipped, I began once more sinking away at the
well, but at so wide an angle that the sides might not again fall
in. Not a Native, however, would enter that hole, and I had to pick
and dig away till I was utterly exhausted. But a Teacher, in whom I
had confidence, took charge above, managing to hire them with axes,
knives, etc., to seize the end of the rope and walk along the ground
pulling it till the bucket rose to the surface, and then he himself
swung it aside, emptied it, and lowered it down again. I rang a little
bell which I had with me, when the bucket was loaded, and that was the
signal for my brave helpers to pull their rope. And thus I toiled on
from day to day, my heart almost sinking sometimes with the sinking of
the well, till we reached a depth of about thirty feet. And the phrase,
“living water,” “living water,” kept chiming through my soul like music
from God, as I dug and hammered away!

At this depth the earth and coral began to be soaked with damp. I felt
that we were nearing water. My soul had a faith that God would open a
spring for us; but side by side with this faith was a strange terror
that the water would be salt. So perplexing and mixed are even the
highest experiences of the soul; the rose-flower of a perfect faith,
set round and round with prickly thorns. One evening I said to the old
Chief,—

“I think that Jehovah God will give us water to-morrow from that hole!”

The Chief said, “No, Missi; you will never see rain coming up from the
earth on this Island. We wonder what is to be the end of this mad work
of yours. We expect daily, if you reach water, to see you drop through
into the sea, and the sharks will eat you! That will be the end of it;
death to you, and danger to us all.”

I still answered, “Come to-morrow. I hope and believe that Jehovah God
will send you the rain water up through the earth.” At the moment I
knew I was risking much, and probably incurring sorrowful consequences,
had no water been given; but I had faith that the Lord was leading me
on, and I knew that I sought His glory, not my own.

Next morning, I went down again at daybreak and sank a narrow hole in
the centre about two feet deep. The perspiration broke over me with
uncontrollable excitement, and I trembled through every limb, when
the water rushed up and began to fill the hole. Muddy though it was,
I eagerly tasted it, and the little “tinny” dropped from my hand with
sheer joy, and I almost fell upon my knees in that muddy bottom to
praise the Lord. It was water! It was fresh water! It was living water
from Jehovah’s well! True, it was a little brackish, but nothing to
speak of; and no spring in the desert, cooling the parched lips of a
fevered pilgrim, ever appeared more worthy of being called a Well of
God than did that water to me!

The Chiefs had assembled with their men near by They waited on in
eager expectancy. It was a rehearsal, in a small way, of the Israelites
coming round, while Moses struck the rock and called for water.
By-and-bye, when I had praised the Lord, and my excitement was a little
calmed, the mud being also greatly settled, I filled a jug, which I had
taken down empty in the sight of them all, and ascending to the top
called for them to come and see the rain which Jehovah God had given us
through the well. They closed around me in haste, and gazed on it in
superstitious fear. The old Chief shook it to see if it would spill,
and then touched it to see if it felt like water. At last he tasted it,
and rolling it in his mouth with joy for a moment, he swallowed it, and
shouted, “Rain! Rain! Yes, it is Rain! But how did you get it?”

I repeated, “Jehovah my God gave it out of His own Earth in answer to
our labours and prayers. Go and see it springing up for yourselves!”

Now, though every man there could climb the highest tree as swiftly
and as fearlessly as a squirrel or an opossum, not one of them had
courage to walk to the side and gaze down into that well. To them this
was miraculous! But they were not without a resource that met the
emergency. They agreed to take firm hold of each other by the hand, to
place themselves in a long line, the foremost man to lean cautiously
forward, gaze into the well, and then pass to the rear, and so on till
all had seen “Jehovah’s rain” far below. It was somewhat comical, yet
far more pathetic, to stand by and watch their faces, as man after
man peered down into the mystery, and then looked up at me in blank
bewilderment! When all had seen it with their own very eyes, and were
“weak with wonder,” the old Chief exclaimed,—

“Missi, wonderful, wonderful is the work of your Jehovah God! No god of
Aniwa ever helped us in this way. But, Missi,” continued he, after a
pause that looked like silent worship, “will it always rain up through
the earth? or, will it come and go like the rain from the clouds?”

I told them that I believed it would always continue there for our use,
as a good gift from Jehovah.

“Well, but, Missi,” replied the Chief, some glimmering of self-interest
beginning to strike his brain, “will you or your family drink it all,
or shall we also have some?”

“You and all your people,” I answered, “and all the people of the
Island may come and drink and carry away as much of it as you wish.
I believe there will always be plenty for us all, and the more of it
we can use the fresher it will be. That is the way with many of our
Jehovah’s best gifts to men, and for it and for all we praise His Name!”

“Then, Missi,” said the Chief, “it will be our water, and we may all
use it as our very own.”

“Yes,” I answered, “whenever you wish it, and as much as you need, both
here and at your own houses, as far as it can possibly be made to go.”

The Chief looked at me eagerly, fully convinced at length that the
well contained a treasure, and exclaimed, “Missi, what can we do to
help you now?”

Oh, how like is human nature all the world over! When one toils and
struggles, when help is needed which many around could easily give and
be the better, not the worse, for giving it, they look on in silence,
or bless you with ungenerous criticism, or ban you with malicious
judgment. But let them get some peep of personal advantage by helping
you, or even of the empty bubble of praise for offering it, and how
they rush to your aid!

But I was thankful to accept of the Chief’s assistance, though rather
late in the day, and I said,—

“You have seen it fall in once already. If it falls again, it will
conceal the rain from below which our God has given us. In order to
preserve it for us and for our children in all time, we must build it
round and round with great coral blocks from the bottom to the very
top. I will now clear it out, and prepare the foundation for this wall
of coral. Let every man and woman carry from the shore the largest
blocks they can bring. It is well worth all the toil thus to preserve
our great Jehovah’s gift!”

Scarcely were my words repeated, when they rushed to the shore, with
shoutings and songs of gladness; and soon every one was seen struggling
under the biggest block of coral with which he dared to tackle. They
lay like limestone rocks, broken up by the hurricanes, and rolled
ashore in the arms of mighty billows; and in an incredibly short time
scores of them were tumbled down for my use at the mouth of the well.
Having prepared a foundation, I made ready a sort of box to which every
block was firmly tied and then let down to me by the pulley,—a Native
Teacher, a faithful fellow, cautiously guiding it. I received and
placed each stone in its position, doing my poor best to wedge them one
against the other, building circularly, and cutting them to the needed
shape with my American axe. The wall is about three feet thick, and
the masonry may be guaranteed to stand till the coral itself decays. I
wrought incessantly, for fear of any further collapse, till I had it
raised about twenty feet; and now, feeling secure, and my hands being
dreadfully cut up, I intimated that I would rest a week or two, and
finish the building then. But the Chief advanced and said,—

“Missi, you have been strong to work. Your strength has fled. But rest
here beside us; and just point out where each block is to be laid. We
will lay them there, we will build them solidly behind like you. And no
man will sleep till it is done.”

With all their will and heart they started on the job; some carrying,
some cutting and squaring the blocks, till the wall rose like magic,
and a row of the hugest rocks laid round the top bound all together,
and formed the mouth of the well. Women, boys, and all wished to have
a hand in building it, and it remains to this day, a solid wall of
masonry, the circle being thirty-four feet deep, eight feet wide at
the top, and six at the bottom. I floored it over with wood above all,
and fixed the windlass and bucket, and there it stands as one of the
greatest material blessings which the Lord has given to Aniwa. It rises
and falls with the tide, though a third of a mile distant from the sea;
and when, after using it, we tasted the pure fresh water on board the
_Dayspring_, it seemed so insipid that I had to slip a little salt into
my tea along with the sugar before I could enjoy it! All visitors are
taken to see the well, as one of the wonders of Aniwa; and an Elder of
the Church said to me lately,—

“But for that water, during the last two years of drought, we would all
have been dead!”

Very strangely, though the Natives themselves have since tried to sink
six or seven wells in the most likely places near their different
villages, they have either come to coral rock which they could not
pierce, or found only water that was salt. And they say amongst
themselves,—

“Missi not only used pick and spade, but he prayed and cried to his
God. We have learned to dig, but not how to pray, and therefore Jehovah
will not give us the rain from below!”

The well was now finished. The place was neatly fenced in. And the old
Chief said,—

“Missi, now that this is the water for all, we must take care and keep
it pure.”

I was so thankful that all were to use it. Had we alone drawn water
therefrom, they could so easily have poisoned it, as they do the
fish-pools, in caverns among the rocks by the shore, with their
nuts and runners, and killed us all. But there was no fear, if they
themselves were to use it daily. The Chief continued,—

“Missi, I think I could help you next Sabbath. Will you let me preach a
sermon on the well?”

“Yes,” I at once replied, “if you will try to bring all the people to
hear you.”

“Missi, I will try,” he eagerly promised. The news spread like wildfire
that the Chief Namakei was to be the Missionary on the next day for the
Worship, and the people, under great expectancy, urged each other to
come and hear what he had to say.

Sabbath came round. Aniwa assembled in what was for that island a great
crowd. Namakei appeared dressed in shirt and kilt. He was so excited,
and flourished his tomahawk about at such a rate, that it was rather
lively work to be near him. I conducted short opening devotions, and
then called upon Namakei. He rose at once, with eye flashing wildly,
and his limbs twitching with emotion. He spoke to the following effect,
swinging his tomahawk to enforce every eloquent gesticulation,—

“Friends of Namakei, men and women and children of Aniwa, listen to my
words! Since Missi came here he has talked many strange things we could
not understand—things all too wonderful; and we said regarding many of
them that they must be lies. White people might believe such nonsense,
but we said that the black fellow knew better than to receive it.
But of all his wonderful stories, we thought the strangest was about
sinking down through the earth to get rain! Then we said to each other,
The man’s head is turned; he’s gone mad. But the Missi prayed on and
wrought on, telling us that Jehovah God heard and saw, and that his God
would give him rain. Was he mad? Has he not got the rain deep down in
the earth? We mocked at him; but the water was there all the same. We
have laughed at other things which the Missi told us, because we could
not see them. But from this day I believe that all he tells us about
his Jehovah God is true. Some day our eyes will see it. For to-day we
have seen the rain from the earth.”

Then, rising to a climax, first the one foot and then the other making
the broken coral on the floor fly behind like a war-horse pawing the
ground, he cried with great eloquence,—

“My people, the people of Aniwa, the world is turned upside down
since the word of Jehovah came to this land! Who ever expected to see
rain coming up through the earth? It has always come from the clouds!
Wonderful is the work of this Jehovah God. No god of Aniwa ever
answered prayers as the Missi’s God has done. Friends of Namakei, all
the powers of the world could not have forced us to believe that rain
could be given from the depths of the earth, if we had not seen it
with our eyes, felt it and tasted it as we here do. Now, by the help
of Jehovah God the Missi brought that invisible rain to view, which we
never before heard of or saw, and,”—(beating his hand on his breast, he
exclaimed),—

“Something here in my heart tells me that the Jehovah God does exist,
the Invisible One, whom we never heard of nor saw till the Missi
brought Him to our knowledge. The coral has been removed, the land has
been cleared away, and lo! the water rises. Invisible till this day,
yet all the same it was there, though our eyes were too weak. So I,
your Chief, do now firmly believe that when I die, when the bits of
coral and the heaps of dust are removed which now blind my old eyes, I
shall then see the Invisible Jehovah God with my soul, as Missi tells
me, not less surely than I have seen the rain from the earth below.
From this day, my people, I must worship the God who has opened for
us the well, and who fills us with rain from below. The gods of Aniwa
cannot hear, cannot help us, like the God of Missi. Henceforth I am
a follower of Jehovah God. Let every man that thinks with me go now
and fetch the idols of Aniwa, the gods which our fathers feared, and
cast them down at Missi’s feet. Let us burn and bury and destroy these
things of wood and stone, and let us be taught by the Missi how to
serve the God who can hear, the Jehovah who gave us the well, and who
will give us every other blessing, for He sent His Son Jesus to die
for us and bring us to Heaven. This is what the Missi has been telling
us every day since he landed on Aniwa. We laughed at him, but now
we believe him. The Jehovah God has sent us rain from the earth. Why
should He not also send us His Son from Heaven? Namakei stands up for
Jehovah!”

This address, and the Sinking of the Well, broke, as I already said,
the back of Heathenism on Aniwa. That very afternoon, the old Chief
and several of his people brought their idols and cast them down at my
feet beside the door of our house. Oh, the intense excitement of the
weeks that followed! Company after company came to the spot, loaded
with their gods of wood and stone, and piled them up in heaps, amid
the tears and sobs of some, and the shoutings of others, in which was
heard the oft-repeated word, “Jehovah! Jehovah!” What could be burned,
we cast into the flames; others we buried in pits twelve or fifteen
feet deep; and some few, more likely than the rest to feed or awaken
superstition, we sank far out into the deep sea. Let no Heathen eyes
ever gaze on them again!

We do not mean to indicate that, in all cases, their motives were
either high or enlightened. There were not wanting some who wished to
make this new movement pay, and were much disgusted when we refused
to “buy” their gods! On being told that Jehovah would not be pleased
unless they gave them up of their own free will, and destroyed them
without pay or reward, some took them home again and held on by them
for a season, and others threw them away in contempt. Meetings
were held; speeches were delivered, for these New Hebrideans are
irrepressible orators, florid, and amazingly graphic; much talk
followed, and the destruction of idols went on apace. By-and-bye two
Sacred Men and some other selected persons were appointed a sort of
detective Committee, to search out and expose those who pretended to
give them all up, but were hiding certain idols in secret, and to
encourage waverers to come to a thorough decision for Jehovah. In these
intensely exciting days, we “stood still” and saw the salvation of the
Lord.

They flocked around us now at every meeting we held. They listened
eagerly to the story of the life and death of Jesus. They voluntarily
assumed one or other article of clothing. And everything transpiring
was fully and faithfully submitted to us for counsel or for
information. One of the very first things of a Christian discipline to
which they readily and almost unanimously took was the asking of God’s
blessing on every meal and praising the great Jehovah for their daily
bread. Whosoever did not do so was regarded as a Heathen. (Query: how
many _white_ Heathens are there?) The next step, and it was taken in
a manner as if by some common consent that was not less surprising
than joyful, was a form of Family Worship every morning and evening.
Doubtless the prayers were often very queer, and mixed up with many
remaining superstitions; but they were prayers to the great Jehovah,
the compassionate Father, the Invisible One—no longer to gods of stone!

Necessarily these were the conspicuous features of our life as
Christians in their midst—morning and evening Family Prayer, and
Grace at Meat; and hence, most naturally, their instinctive adoption
and imitation of the same as the first outward tokens of Christian
discipline. Every house in which there was not Prayer to God in the
family was known thereby to be Heathen. This was a direct and practical
evidence of the New Religion; and, so far as it goes (and that is very
far indeed, where there is any sincerity at all), the test was one
about which there could be no mistake on either side.

A third conspicuous feature stood out distinctly and at once,—the
change as to the Lord’s Day. Village after village followed in this
also the example of the Mission House. All ordinary occupations ceased.
Sabbath was spoken of as the Day for Jehovah. Saturday came to be
called “Cooking Day,” referring to the extra preparations for the day
of rest and worship. They believed that it was Jehovah’s will to keep
the first day holy. The reverse was a distinctive mark of Heathenism.

The first traces of a new Social Order began to rise visibly on the
delighted eye. The whole inhabitants, young and old, now attended
School,—three generations sometimes at the one copy or A B C book!
Thefts, quarrels, crimes, etc., were settled now, not by club law,
but by fine or bonds or lash, as agreed upon by the Chiefs and
their people. Everything was rapidly and surely becoming “new” under
the influence of the leaven of Jesus. Industry increased. Huts and
plantations were safe. Formerly every man, in travelling, carried with
him all his valuables; now they were secure, left at home.

Even a brood of fowls or a litter of pigs would be carried in bags
on their persons in Heathen days. Hence at Church we had sometimes
lively episodes, the chirruping of chicks, the squealing of piggies,
and the barking of puppies, one gaily responding to the other, as we
sang, or prayed, or preached the Gospel! Being glad to see the Natives
there, even with all their belongings, we carefully refrained from
finding fault; but the thread of devotion was sometimes apt to slip
through one’s fingers, especially when the conflict of the owner to
silence a baby-pig inspired the little wretch to drown everything in a
long-sustained and angry swinish scream.

The Natives, finding this state of matters troublesome to themselves
and disagreeable all round, called a General Assembly, unanimously
condemned dishonesty, agreed upon severe fines and punishments for
every act of theft, and covenanted to stand by each other in putting it
down. The Chiefs, however, found this a long and difficult task, but
they held at it under the inspiration of the Gospel and prevailed. Even
the trials and difficulties with which they met were overruled by God,
in assisting them to form by the light of their own experience a simple
code of Social Laws, fitted to repress the crimes there prevailing,
and to encourage the virtues specially needing to be cultivated there.
Heathen Worship was gradually extinguished; and, though no one was
compelled to come to Church, every person on Aniwa, without exception,
became an avowed worshipper of Jehovah God. Again, “O Galilean, Thou
hast conquered!”

Often since have I meditated on that old Cannibal Chief reasoning
himself and his people, from the sinking of the well and the bringing
of the invisible water to view, into a belief as to the existence
and power of the great Invisible God, the only Hearer and Answerer
of prayer. And the contrasted picture rises before my mind of the
multitudes in Britain, America, Germany, and our Colonies, all whose
wisdom, science, art, and wealth have only left them in spiritual
darkness—miserable doubters! In their pride of heart, they deny their
Creator and Redeemer, so gloriously revealed to them alike in Nature
and in Scripture, and are like a dog barking against the sun. They will
accept nothing but what their poorly-developed Science can demonstrate;
yet that Science, as compared with the All-Truth of the Universe, is
infinitely smaller than was the poor Chief Namakei’s knowledge as
compared with mine! They do certainly know that their very existence,
at every moment, depends on things that neither reason nor science can
fathom, any more than Namakei could understand the rain from below. For
every reason that he and his people had to believe in the Invisible
God, who brought the water to their view, these sons and daughters
of civilization, “the heirs of all the ages in the foremost files of
time,” have ten thousand more—from history, from science, from material
progress—yet in their pride of Intellect they refuse to acknowledge
and adore that Invisible and Inscrutable God, in whom every day they
live, and move, and have their being, and who has spoken to us by His
Son from Heaven. If their own sons, daughters, or servants, who are
infinitely less dependent on them than they are upon God, should treat
themselves as they are treating their Creator, what would they think?
How would they feel? I pity from the depth of my heart every human
being, who, from whatever cause, is a stranger to the most ennobling,
uplifting, and consoling experience that can come to the soul of
man—blessed communion with the Father of our Spirits, through gracious
union with the Lord Jesus Christ. “I thank Thee, O Father, Lord of
Heaven and Earth, because Thou hast hid these things from the wise and
prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes. Even so, Father: for so it
seemed good in Thy sight.... Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are
heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn
of Me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto
your souls. For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light” (Matt. xi.
25-30).




CHAPTER VII.

_THE LIGHT THAT SHINETH MORE AND MORE._

  My first Aniwan Book.—The Power of Music.—A Pair of Glass
  Eyes.—Church Building for Jesus.—The Hanging of the Bell.—Patesa
  and his Bride.—An Armed Embassage.—Youwili’s Taboo.—Youwili’s
  Conversion.—The Tobacco Idol.—First Communion on Aniwa.—Our
  Village Day Schools.—New Social Laws.—A Sabbath Day’s Work on
  Aniwa.—Our Week-day Life.—The Orphans and their Biscuits.—“The
  Wreck of the _Dayspring_.”—God’s Own Finger-Posts.—God’s Work our
  Guarantee.—Profane Swearers Rebuked.—A Heavenly Vision.—On Wing
  through New Zealand.—Our Second _Dayspring_.


The printing of my first Aniwan book was a great event, not so much for
the toil and worry which it cost me, though that was enough to have
broken the heart of many a compositor, as rather for the joy it gave to
the old Chief Namakei.

The break-up at Tanna had robbed me of my own neat little printing
press. I had since obtained at Aneityum the remains of one from
Erromanga, that had belonged to the murdered Gordon. But the supply of
letters, in some cases, was so deficient that I could print only four
pages at a time; and, besides, bits of the press were wanting, and I
had first to manufacture substitutes from scraps of iron and wood. I
managed, however, to make it go, and by-and-bye it did good service. By
it I printed our Aniwan Hymn-Book, a portion of Genesis in Aniwan, a
small book in Erromangan for the second Gordon, and other little things.

The old Chief had eagerly helped me in translating and preparing
this first book. He had a great desire “to hear it speak,” as he
graphically expressed it. It was made up chiefly of short passages from
the Scriptures, that might help me to introduce them to the treasures
of Divine truth and love. Namakei came to me, morning after morning,
saying,—

“Missi, is it done? Can it speak?”

At last I was able to answer, “Yes!”

The old Chief eagerly responded, “Does it speak my words?”

I said, “It does.”

With rising interest, Namakei exclaimed,—

“Make it speak to me, Missi! Let me hear it speak.”

I read to him a part of the book, and the old man fairly shouted in an
ecstasy of joy: “It does speak! It speaks my own language, too! Oh,
give it to me!”

He grasped it hurriedly, turned it all round every way, pressed it to
his bosom, and then, closing it with a look of great disappointment,
handed it back to me, saying, “Missi, I cannot make it speak! It will
never speak to me.”

“No,” said I; “you don’t know how to read it yet, how to make it speak
to you; but I will teach you to read, and then it will speak to you as
it does to me.”

“O Missi, dear Missi, show me how to make it speak!” persisted the
bewildered Chief. He was straining his eyes so, that I suspected they
were dim with age, and could not see the letters. I looked out for
him a pair of spectacles, and managed to fit him well. He was much
afraid of putting them on at first, manifestly in dread of some sort of
sorcery. At last when they were properly placed, he saw the letters and
everything so clearly that he exclaimed in great excitement and joy,—

“I see it all now! This is what you told us about Jesus. He opened the
eyes of a blind man. The word of Jesus has just come to Aniwa. He has
sent me these glass eyes. I have gotten back again the sight that I had
when a boy. O Missi, make the book speak to me now!”

I walked out with him to the public Village Ground. There I drew A B C
in large characters upon the dust, showed him the same letters in the
book, and left him to compare them, and find out how many occurred on
the first page. Fixing these in his mind, he came running to me, and
said,—

“I have lifted up A B C. They are here in my head, and I will hold them
fast. Give me other three.”

This was repeated time after time. He mastered the whole Alphabet, and
soon began to spell out the smaller words. Indeed, he came so often,
getting me to read it over and over, that before he himself could read
it freely he had it word for word committed to memory. When strangers
passed him, or young people came around, he would get out the little
book, and say,—

“Come, and I will let you hear how the book speaks our own Aniwan
words. You say, it is hard to learn to read and make it speak. But be
strong to try! If an old man like me has done it, it ought to be much
easier for you.”

One day I heard him read to a company with wonderful fluency. Taking
the book, I asked him to show me how he had done it so quickly.
Immediately I perceived that he could recite the whole from memory. He
became our right-hand helper in the Conversion of Aniwa.

Next after God’s own Word, perhaps the power of Music was most
amazingly blessed in opening up our way. Amongst many other
illustrations, I may mention how Namakei’s wife was won. The old lady
positively shuddered at coming near the Mission House, and dreaded
being taught anything. One day she was induced to draw near the door,
and fixing a hand on either post, and gazing inwards, she exclaimed,
“Awái, Missi! Kái, Missi!”—the Native cry for unspeakable wonder. Mrs.
Paton began to play on the harmonium, and sang a simple hymn in the old
woman’s language. Manifestly charmed, she drew nearer and nearer, and
drank in the music, as it were, at every pore of her being. At last
she ran off, and we thought it was with fright, but it was to call
together all the women and girls from her village “to hear the _bokis_
sing!” (Having no _x_, the word _box_ is pronounced thus.) She returned
with them all at her heels. They listened with dancing eyes. And ever
after the sound of a hymn, and the song of the _bokis_, made them flock
freely to class or meeting.

Being myself as nearly as possible destitute of the power of singing,
all my work would have been impaired and sadly hindered, and the
joyous side of the Worship and Service of Jehovah could not have been
presented to the Natives, but for the gift bestowed by the Lord on my
dear wife. She led our songs of praise, both in the family and in the
Church, and that was the first avenue by which the New Religion winged
its way into the heart of Cannibal and Savage.

The old Chief was particularly eager that this same aged lady, his wife
Yauwaki, should be taught to read. But her sight was far gone. So,
one day, he brought her to me, saying, “Missi, can you give my wife
also a pair of new glass eyes like mine? She tries to learn, but she
cannot see the letters. She tries to sew, but she pricks her finger,
and throws away the needle, saying, ‘The ways of the white people are
not good!’ If she could get a pair of glass eyes, she would be in a new
world like Namakei.” In my bundle I found a pair that suited her. She
was in positive terror about putting them on her face, but at last she
cried with delight,—

“Oh, my new eyes! my new eyes! I have the sight of a little girl. I
will learn hard now. I will make up for lost time.”

[Illustration: “OH, MY NEW EYES!”]

Her progress was never very great, but her influence for good on other
women and girls was immense.

In all my work amongst the Natives, I have striven to train them to be
self-supporting, and have never helped them where I could train them
to help themselves. In this respect I was exceedingly careful, when
the question arose of building their Churches, and Schools. At first
we moved about amongst them from village to village, acquired their
language, and taught them everywhere,—by the roadside, under the shade
of a tree, or on the public Village Ground. Our old Native Hut, when
we removed to the Mission House formerly referred to, was used for all
sorts of public meetings. Feeling by-and-bye that the time had come
to interest them in building a new Church, and that it would be every
way helpful, I laid the proposal before them, carefully explaining
that for this work no one would be paid, that the Church was for all
the Islanders and for the Worship alone, and that every one must build
purely for the love of Jesus.

I told them that God would be pleased with such materials as they had
to give, that they must not begin till they had divided the work and
counted the cost, and that for my part I would do all that I could to
direct and help, and would supply the sinnet (= cocoa-nut fibre rope)
which I had brought from Aneityum, and the nails brought from Sydney.

They held meeting after meeting throughout the Island. Chiefs made long
speeches; orators chanted their palavers; and warriors acted their part
by waving of club and tomahawk. An unprecedented friendliness sprang up
amongst them. They agreed to sink every quarrel, and unite in building
the first Church on Aniwa,—one Chief only holding back. Women and
children began to gather and prepare the sugar-cane leaf for thatch.
Men searched for and cut down suitable trees.

The Church measured sixty-two feet by twenty-four. The wall was
twelve feet high. The studs were of hard iron-wood, and were each by
tenon and mortise fastened into six iron-wood trees forming the upper
wall plates. All were not only nailed, but strongly tied together by
sinnet-rope, so as to resist the hurricanes. The roof was supported
by four huge iron-wood trees, and another of equally hard wood, sunk
about eight feet into the ground, surrounded by building at the base,
and forming massive pillars. There were two doorways and eight window
spaces; the floor was laid with white coral, broken small, and covered
with cocoa-nut tree leaf-mats, on which the people sat. I had a small
platform, floored and surrounded with reeds; and Mrs. Paton had a seat
enclosing the harmonium, also made of reeds, and in keeping. Great
harmony prevailed all the time, and no mishap marred the work. One
hearty fellow fell from the roof-tree to the ground, and was badly
stunned. But, jumping up, he shook himself, and saying,—“I was working
for Jehovah! He has saved me from being hurt,”—he mounted the roof
again and went on cheerily with his work.

Our pride in the New Church soon met with a dreadful blow. That very
season a terrific hurricane levelled it with the ground. After much
wailing, the principal Chief, in a great Assembly, said,—

“Let us not weep, like boys over their broken bows and arrows! Let us
be strong, and build a yet stronger Church for Jehovah.”

By our counsel, ten days were spent first in repairing houses and
fences, and saving food from the plantations, many of which had been
swept into utter ruin. Then they assembled on the appointed day. A hymn
was sung. God’s blessing was invoked, and all the work was dedicated
afresh to Him. Days were spent in taking the iron-wood roof to pieces,
and saving everything that could be saved. The work was allocated
equally amongst the villages, and a wholesome emulation was created.
One Chief still held back. After a while, I visited him and personally
invited his help,—telling him that it was God’s House, and for all the
people of Aniwa; and that if he and his people did not do their part,
the others would cast it in their teeth that they had no share in the
House of God. He yielded to my appeal, and entered vigorously upon the
work.

One large tree was still needed to complete the couples, and could
nowhere be found. The work was at a standstill; for, though the size
was now reduced to fifty feet by twenty-two, and the roof had been
lowered by four feet in order to give the windlass sufficient purchase,
there was plenty of smaller wood on Aniwa, but the larger trees were
apparently exhausted. One morning, however, we were awoke at early
daybreak by the shouting and singing of a company of men, carrying a
great black tree to the Church, with this same Chief dancing before
them, leading the singing, and beating time with the flourish of his
tomahawk. Determined not to be beaten, though late in the field, he
had lifted the roof-tree out of his own house, as black as soot could
make it, and was carrying it to complete the couplings. The rest of the
builders shouted against this. All the other wood of the Church was
white and clean, and they would not have this black tree, conspicuous
in the very centre of all. But I praised the old Chief for what he had
done, and hoped he and his people would come and worship Jehovah under
his own roof-tree. At this all were delighted; and the work went on
apace, with many songs and shoutings.

Whenever the Church was roofed in, we met in it for Public Worship.
Coral was being got and burned, and preparations made for plastering
the walls. The Natives were sharp enough to notice that I was not
putting up the bell; and suspicions arose that I kept it back in
order to take it with me when I returned to Tanna. It was a beautiful
Church bell, cast and sent out by our dear friend, James Taylor,
Esq., Engineer, Birkenhead. The Aniwans, therefore, gave me no rest
till I agreed to have it hung on their new Church. They found a large
iron-wood tree near the shore, cut a road for half a mile through the
bush, tied poles across it every few feet, and with shouts lifted
it bodily on their shoulders—six men or so at each pole—and never
set it down again till they reached the Church; for as one party got
exhausted, others were ready to rush in and relieve them at every
stage of the journey. The two old Chiefs, flourishing their tomahawks,
went capering in front of all the rest, and led the song to which they
marched, joyfully bearing their load. They dug a deep hole into which
to sink it; I squared the top and screwed on the bell; then we raised
the tree by ropes, letting it sink into the hole, built it round eight
feet deep with coral blocks and lime, and there from its top swings and
rings ever since the Church bell of Aniwa.

A fortnight’s cessation of labour at the Church now followed. Their
own plantations were attended to, and other needful duties performed.
Our resumption of operations at the Church gave the opportunity for a
deed of horrid cruelty. The Chiefs son, Patesa, had just been married
to a youthful widow, whom Nasi, a Tanna man living on Aniwa, had also
desired. The people of the young bridegroom’s village agreed to sleep
overnight near the Mission Premises, in order to be ready for the work
early next morning; and they deputed the young couple to return to the
village and sleep there, watching over their property. Nasi and his
half-brother Nouka, knowing they were alone, crept stealthily towards
their hut at earliest daybreak, and removed the door without awaking
either of the sleepers. Next moment a ball struck the young husband
dead. The wife sprang up and implored Nasi to spare her; but he sent a
ball through her heart, and she fell dead upon her dead spouse. Their
people, hearing the double shot, rushed to the scene, and found the hut
flowing with blood. Early that same forenoon the bride and bridegroom
were laid in the same grave, in the sleep of love and death.

For a week all our work was suspended. Men and boys went about fully
armed, and all their talk was for revenge. Nasi had a number of
desperate fellows at his back, all armed with muskets, and I feared the
loss of many lives. I implored them for once to leave the vengeance in
the hands of God, and to stand by each other in carrying forward the
work of Jehovah. But I solemnly forbade the murderers to come near the
Mission House, or to help us with the Church. My counsel was so far
accepted. But every man came to the work armed with musket, tomahawk,
spear, and club, and the boys with bows and arrows; and these were
piled up round the fence at hand, with watchmen stationed for alarm.
Thus, literally with sword in one hand and trowel in the other, the
House of the Lord was reared again on Aniwa.

Coral was secured, as described in a preceding chapter; lime was
prepared therefrom by burning it in extemporized kilns; and each
village vied with all the rest in plastering beautifully its own
allocated portion—the first job of the kind they had ever done. The
floor was covered with broken coral and mats, but the Natives are now
(1889) furnishing it with white men’s seats. Originally they had a
row of seats all round it inside, made of bamboo cane and reeds. The
women and girls enter by one door, and the men and boys by another; and
they sit on separate sides,—except at the Lord’s table, when all sit
together as one family. It was a Church perfectly suitable for their
circumstances, and it cost the Home Committees not a single penny. It
has withstood many a hurricane. A large number of the original builders
are gone to their rest; but their work abides, and witnesses for God
amongst their children. On its rude walls I could see the glorious
motto—“Jehovah Shammah.”

One of the last attempts ever made on my life resulted, by God’s
blessing, in great good to us all and to the work of the Lord. It was
when Nourai, one of Nasi’s men, struck at me again and again with the
barrel of his musket; but I evaded the blows, till rescued by the
women—the men looking on stupefied. After he escaped into the bush, I
assembled our people, and said,—

“If you do not now try to stop this bad conduct, I shall leave Aniwa,
and go to some island where my life will be protected.”

Next morning at daybreak, about one hundred men arrived at my house,
and in answer to my query why they came armed they replied,—“We
are now going to that village, where the men of wicked conduct are
gathered together. We will find out why they sought your life, and we
will rebuke their Sacred Man for pretending to cause hurricanes and
diseases. We cannot go unarmed. We will not suffer you to go alone. We
are your friends and the friends of the Worship. And we are resolved to
stand by you, and you must go at our head to-day!”

In great perplexity, yet believing that my presence might prevent
bloodshed, I allowed myself to be placed at their head. The old Chief
followed next, then a number of fiery young men; then all the rest,
single file, along the narrow path. At a sudden turn, as we neared
their village, Nourai, who had attacked me the Sabbath day before, and
his brother were seen lurking with their muskets; but our young men
made a rush in front, and they disappeared into the bush.

We took possession of the Village Public Ground; and the Chief, the
Sacred Man, and others soon assembled. A most characteristic Native
Palaver followed. Speeches, endless speeches, were fired by them at
each other. My friends declared, in every conceivable form of language
and of graphic illustration, that they were resolved at any cost to
defend me and the worship of Jehovah, and that they would as one man
punish every attempt to injure me or take my life. The orator, Taia,
exclaimed,—

“You think that Missi is here alone, and that you can do with him as
you please! No! We are now all Missi’s men. We will fight for him and
his rather than see him injured. Every one that attacks him attacks us.
That is finished to-day!”

[Illustration: “I’LL KNOCK THE TEVIL OUT OF HIM.”]

In the general scolding, the Sacred Man had special attention, for
pretending to cause hurricanes. One pointed out that he had himself a
stiff knee, and argued,—

“If he can make a hurricane, why can’t he restore the joint of his own
knee? It is surely easier to do the one than the other!”

The Natives laughed heartily, and taunted him. Meantime he sat looking
down to the earth in sullen silence; and a ludicrous episode ensued.
His wife, a big, strong woman, scolded him roundly for the trouble
he had brought them all into; and then, getting indignant as well as
angry, she seized a huge cocoa-nut leaf out of the bush, and with the
butt end thereof began thrashing his shoulders vigorously, as she
poured out the vials of her wrath in torrents of words, always winding
up with the cry,—

“I’ll knock the Tevil out of him! He’ll not try hurricanes again!”

The woman was a Malay, as many of the Aniwans were. Had a Papuan woman
on Tanna or Erromanga dared such a thing, she would have been killed on
the spot. But even on Aniwa, the unwonted spectacle of a wife beating
her husband created uproarious amusement. At length I remonstrated,
saying,—

“You had better stop now! You don’t want to kill him, do you? You seem
to have knocked ‘the Tevil’ pretty well out of him now! You see how he
receives it all in silence, and repents of all his bad talk and bad
conduct.”

They exacted from him a solemn promise as to the making of no more
diseases or hurricanes, and that he would live at peace with his
neighbours. The offending villagers at length presented a large
quantity of sugar-cane and food to us as a peace-offering; and we
returned, praising God that the whole day’s scolding had ended in talk,
not blood. The result was every way most helpful. Our friends knew
their strength and took courage. Our enemies were disheartened and
afraid. We saw the balance growing heavier every day on the side of
Jesus; and our souls blessed the Lord.

These events suggest to me another incident of those days full at
once of trial and of joy. It pertains to the story of our young
Chief, Youwili. From the first, and for long, he was most audacious
and troublesome. Observing that for several days no Natives had come
near the Mission House, I asked the old Chief if he knew why, and he
answered,—

“Youwili has _tabooed_ the paths, and threatens death to any one who
breaks through it.”

I at once replied: “Then I conclude that you all agree with him, and
wish me to leave. We are here only to teach you and your people. If he
has power to prevent that, we shall leave with the _Dayspring_.”

The old Chief called the people together, and they came to me,
saying,—“Our anger is strong against Youwili. Go with us and break down
the _taboo_. We will assist and protect you.”

I went at their head and removed it. It consisted simply of reeds
stuck into the ground, with twigs and leaves and fibre tied to each in
a peculiar way, in a circle round the Mission House. The Natives had
an extraordinary dread of violating the _taboo_, and believed that it
meant death to the offender or to some one of his family. All present
entered into a bond to punish on the spot any man who attempted to
replace the _taboo_, or to revenge its removal. Thus a mortal blow was
publicly struck at this most miserable superstition, which had caused
bloodshed and misery untold.

One day, thereafter, I was engaged in clearing away the bush around
the Mission House, having purchased and paid for the land for the very
purpose of opening it up, when suddenly Youwili appeared and menacingly
forbade me to proceed. For the sake of peace I for the time desisted.
But he went straight to my fence, and with his tomahawk cut down the
portion in front of our house, also some bananas planted there,—their
usual declaration of war, intimating that he only awaited his
opportunity similarly to cut down me and mine. We saw the old Chief and
his men planting themselves here and there to guard us, and the Natives
prowling about armed and excited. On calling them, they explained the
meaning of what Youwili had done, and that they were determined to
protect us. I said,—

“This must not continue. Are you to permit one young fool to defy us
all, and break up the Lord’s work on Aniwa? If you cannot righteously
punish him, I will shut myself up in my House and withdraw from all
attempts to teach or help you, till the Vessel comes, and then I can
leave the Island.”

Now that they had begun really to love us, and to be anxious to learn
more, this was always my most powerful argument. We retired into the
Mission House. The people surrounded our doors and windows and pleaded
with us. After long silence, we replied,—

“You know our resolution. It is for you now to decide. Either you must
control that foolish young man, or we must go!”

Much speech-making, as usual, followed. The people resolved to seize
and punish Youwili; but he fled, and had hid himself in the bush.
Coming to me, the Chief said,—

“It is left to you to say what shall be Youwili’s punishment. Shall we
kill him?”

I replied firmly, “Certainly not! Only for murder can life be lawfully
taken away.”

“What then?” they continued. “Shall we burn his houses and destroy his
plantations?”

I answered, “No.”

“Shall we bind him and beat him?”

“No.”

“Shall we place him in a canoe, thrust him out to sea, and let him
drown or escape as he may?”

“No! by no means.”

“Then, Missi,” said they, “these are our ways of punishing. What other
punishment remains that Youwili cares for?”

I replied, “Make him with his own hands, and alone, put up a new fence,
and restore all that he has destroyed; and make him promise publicly
that he will cease all evil conduct towards us. That will satisfy me.”

This idea of punishment seemed to tickle them greatly. The Chiefs
reported our words to the Assembly; and the Natives laughed and
cheered, as if it were a capital joke! They cried aloud,—

“It is good! It is good! Obey the word of the Missi.”

After considerable hunting, the young Chief was found. They brought him
to the Assembly and scolded him severely and told him their sentence.
He was surprised by the nature of the punishment, and cowed by the
determination of the people.

“To-morrow,” said he, “I will fully repair the fence. Never again will
I oppose the Missi. His word is good.”

By daybreak next morning Youwili was diligently repairing what he had
broken down, and before evening he had everything made right, better
than it was before. While he toiled away, some fellows of his own rank
twitted him, saying,—

“Youwili, you found it easier to cut down Missi’s fence than to repair
it again. You will not repeat that in a hurry!”

But he heard all in silence. Others passed with averted heads, and he
knew they were laughing at him. He made everything tight, and then
left without uttering a single word. My heart yearned after the poor
fellow, but I thought it better to let his own mind work away, on its
new ideas as to punishment and revenge, for a little longer by itself
alone. I instinctively felt that Youwili was beginning to turn, that
the Christ-Spirit had touched his darkly-groping soul. My doors were
now thrown open, and every good work went on as before. We resolved to
leave Youwili entirely to Jesus, setting apart a portion of our prayer
every day for the enlightenment and conversion of the young Chief, on
whom all our means had been exhausted apparently in vain.

A considerable time elapsed. No sign came, and our prayers seemed to
fail. But one day, I was toiling between the shafts of a hand-cart,
assisted by two boys, drawing it along from the shore loaded with coral
blocks. Youwili came rushing from his house, three hundred yards or so
off the path, and said,—

“Missi, that is too hard work for you. Let me be your helper!”

Without waiting for a reply, he ordered the two boys to seize one rope,
while he grasped the other threw it over his shoulder and started
off, pulling with the strength of a horse. My heart rose in gratitude,
and I wept with joy as I followed him. I knew that that rope was but a
symbol of the yoke of Christ, which Youwili with his change of heart
was beginning to carry! Truly there is only one way of being born
again, regeneration by the power of the Spirit of God, the new heart;
but there are many ways of conversion, of outwardly turning to the
Lord, of taking the actual first step that shows on whose side we are.
Regeneration is the sole work of the Holy Spirit in the human heart
and soul, and is in every case one and the same. Conversion, on the
other hand, bringing into play the action also of the human will, is
never absolutely the same perhaps in even two souls,—as like and yet as
different as are the faces of men.

Like those of old praying for the deliverance of Peter, and who could
not believe their ears and eyes when Peter knocked and walked in
amongst them, so we could scarcely believe our eyes and ears when
Youwili became a disciple of Jesus, though we had been praying for his
conversion every day. His once sullen countenance became literally
bright with inner light. His wife came immediately for a book and a
dress, saying,—

“Youwili sent me. His opposition to the Worship is over now. I am to
attend Church and School. He is coming too. He wants to learn how to be
strong, like you, for Jehovah and for Jesus.”

Oh, Jesus! to Thee alone be all the glory. Thou hast the key to unlock
every heart that Thou hast created.

Youwili proved to be slow at learning to read, but he had perseverance,
and his wife greatly helped him. The two attended the Communicants’
Class together, and ultimately both sat down at the Lord’s Table. After
his first Communion, he waited for me under an orange-tree near the
Mission House, and said,—

“Missi, I’ve given up everything for Jesus, _except one_. I want to
know if it is bad, if it will make Jesus angry; for if so, I am willing
to give it up. I want to live so as to please Jesus now.”

We feared that it was some of their Heathenish immoralities, and were
in a measure greatly relieved when he proceeded,—

“Missi, I have not yet given up my pipe and tobacco! O Missi, I have
used it so long, and I do like it so well; but if you say that it makes
Jesus angry with me, I will smash my pipe now, and never smoke again!”

The man’s soul was aflame. He was in tremendous earnest, and would have
done anything for me. But I was more anxious to instruct his conscience
than to dominate it. I therefore replied in effect thus,—

“I rejoice, Youwili, that you are ready to give up anything to please
Jesus. He well deserves it, for He gave up His life for you. For my
part, you know that I do not smoke; and from my point of view I would
think it wrong in me to waste time and money and perhaps health in
blowing tobacco smoke into the air. It would do me no good. It could
not possibly help me to serve or please Jesus better. I think I am
happier and healthier without it. And I am certain that I can use the
time and money, spent on this selfish and rather filthy habit, far
more for God’s glory in many other ways. But I must be true to you,
Youwili, and admit that many of God’s dear people differ from me in
these opinions. They spend time and money, and sometimes injure health,
in smoking, besides setting a wasteful example to lads and young men,
and do not regard it as sinful. I will not therefore condemn these, our
fellow Christians, by calling smoking a _sin_ like drunkenness; but I
will say to you that I regard it as a foolish and wasteful indulgence,
a bad habit, and that though you may serve and please Jesus with it,
you might serve and please Jesus very much better without it.”

He looked very anxious, as if weighing his habit against his
resolution, and then said,—

“Missi, I give up everything else. If it won’t make Jesus angry, I will
keep the pipe. I have used it so long, and oh, I do like it!”

Renewing our advice and counsel, but leaving him free to do in
that matter so as to please Jesus according to his own best light,
Youwili departed with a conscience so far greatly relieved, and we
had many meditations upon the incident. Most of our Natives, on their
conversion, have voluntarily renounced the Tobacco Idol; but what
more could I say to Youwili, with thousands of white Christians at
my back burning incense to that same idol every day of their lives?
Marvellous to me, in this connection, has often been the working of
a tender conscience, asking itself how to serve and please Jesus, or
how to do more for Jesus. Some years ago, for instance, I met a State
School Teacher in Victoria, who had been lately brought under the power
of the Gospel. In his fresh love, he wanted to do something to show
his gratitude to Jesus. He had a young family, and the way was barred
to the Mission field. His dear wife and he calculated over all their
expenditure, to find out how much they could save to support the work
of Jesus at home and abroad. Little or nothing could be spared from
what appeared necessary claims. He fell upon his knees, and in tears
implored God to show him how he could do something more to save the
perishing. A voice came to him like a flash,—

“If you so care for Me and My work, you can easily sacrifice your pipe.”

He instantly took up his pipe, and laid it before the Lord, saying,—

“There it is, O my Lord, and whatsoever it may have cost me, shall now
from year to year be Thine!”

He was not what is called a heavy smoker,—anything under one shilling
per week being considered “moderate,” as I am informed. But he found
that he had been spending thirty-one shillings per annum on tobacco;
and every year since he has laid that money upon the altar to Jesus,
and prayed Him to use it in sending His Gospel to Heathen lands. I
wonder which soul is the richer at the end of a year—he who lays his
money, saved from a selfish indulgence, at the feet of Jesus, or he who
blows it away in filthy smoke?

And this leads me to relate the story of our First Communion on Aniwa.
It was Sabbath, 24th October, 1869; and surely the Angels of God and
the Church of the Redeemed in Glory were amongst the great cloud of
witnesses who eagerly “peered” down upon the scene,—when we sat around
the Lord’s Table and partook of His body and blood with those few souls
rescued out of the Heathen World. My Communicants’ Class had occupied
me now a considerable time. The conditions of attendance at this early
stage were explicit, and had to be made very severe, and only twenty
were admitted to the roll. At the final examination only twelve gave
evidence of understanding what they were doing, and of having given
their hearts to the service of the Lord Jesus. At their own urgent
desire, and after every care in examining and instructing, they were
solemnly dedicated in prayer to be baptized and admitted to the Holy
Table. On that Lord’s Day, after the usual opening Service, I gave a
short and careful exposition of the Ten Commandments and of the Way of
Salvation according to the Gospel. The twelve Candidates then stood
up before all the inhabitants there assembled; and, after a brief
exhortation to them as Converts, I put to them the two questions that
follow, and each gave an affirmative reply,—

“Do you, in accordance with your profession of the Christian Faith, and
your promises before God and the people, wish me now to baptize you?”

And,—“Will you live henceforth for Jesus only, hating all sin and
trying to love and serve your Saviour?”

Then, beginning with the old Chief, the twelve came forward, and I
baptized them one by one according to the Presbyterian usage. Two
of them had also little children, and they were at the same time
baptized, and received as the lambs of the flock. Solemn prayer was
then offered, and in the name of the Holy Trinity the Church of Christ
on Aniwa was formally constituted. I addressed them on the words of
the Holy Institution—I Corinthians xi. 23—and then, after the prayer
of Thanksgiving and Consecration, administered the Lord’s Supper,—the
first time since the Island of Aniwa was heaved out of its coral
depths! Mrs. McNair, my wife, and myself along with six Aneityumese
Teachers, communicated with the newly baptized twelve. And I think, if
ever in all my earthly experience, on that day I might truly add the
blessed words—Jesus “in the midst.”

The whole Service occupied nearly three hours. The Islanders looked
on with a wonder whose unwonted silence was almost painful to bear.
Many were led to inquire carefully about everything they saw, so new
and strange. For the first time the Dorcas Street Sabbath School
Teachers’ gift from South Melbourne Presbyterian Church was put to
use—a new Communion Service of silver. They gave it in faith that we
would require it, and in such we received it. And now the day had come
and gone! For three years we had toiled and prayed and taught for this.
At the moment when I put the bread and wine into those dark hands, once
stained with the blood of Cannibalism, now stretched out to receive and
partake the emblems and seals of the Redeemer’s love, I had a foretaste
of the joy of Glory that well nigh broke my heart to pieces. I shall
never taste a deeper bliss, till I gaze on the glorified face of Jesus
Himself.

On the afternoon of that Communion Day, an open-air Prayer Meeting was
held under the shade of the great banyan tree in front of our Church.
Seven of the new Church members there led the people in prayer to
Jesus, a hymn being sung betwixt each. My heart was so full of joy
that I could do little else but weep. Oh, I wonder, I _wonder_, when I
see so many good Ministers at home, crowding each other and treading
on each other’s heels, whether they would not part with all their
home privileges, and go out to the Heathen World and reap a joy like
this—“the joy of the Lord.”

Having now our little Aniwan book, we set about establishing Schools
at every village on the Island. Mrs. Paton and I had been diligently
instructing those around us, and had now a number prepared to act as
helpers. Experience has proved that, for the early stages their own
fellow-Islanders are the most successful instructors. Each village
built its own School, which on Sabbath served as a district Church.
For the two most advanced Schools I had our good Aneityumese Teachers,
and for the others I took the best readers that could be found. These
I changed frequently, returning them to our own School for a season,
which was held for them in the afternoon; and, to encourage them, a
small salary was granted to each of them yearly, drawn from what is
known throughout the Churches as the Native Teachers’ Fund.

These village Schools have all to be conducted at daybreak, while the
heavy dews still drench the bush; for, so soon as the dews are lifted
by the rising sun, the Natives are off to their plantations, on which
they depend for their food almost exclusively. I had a large School at
the Mission Station also at daybreak, besides the afternoon School at
three o’clock for the training of Teachers. At first they made very
little progress; but they began to form habits of attention; and they
learned the fruitful habit of acknowledging God always, for all our
Schools were opened and closed with prayer. As their knowledge and
faith increased, we saw their Heathen practices rapidly passing away,
and a new life shaping itself around us. Mrs. Paton taught a class of
about fifty women and girls. They became experts at sewing, singing,
plaiting hats, and reading. Nearly all the girls could at length cut
out and make their own dresses, as well as shirts or kilts for the men
and clothing for the children. Yet, three short years before, men and
women alike were running about naked and savage. The Christ-Spirit is
the true civilizing power.

The new Social Order, referred to already in its dim beginnings, rose
around us like a sweet-scented flower. I never interfered directly,
unless expressly called upon or appealed to. The two principal Chiefs
were impressed with the idea that there was but one law,—the Will of
God, and one rule for them and their people as Christians,—to please
the Lord Jesus. In every difficulty they consulted me. I explained
to them and read in their hearing the very words of Holy Scripture,
showing what appeared to me to be the will of God and what would
please the Saviour; and then sent them away to talk it over with their
people, and to apply these principles of the word of God as wisely as
they could according to their circumstances. Our own part of the work
went on very joyfully, notwithstanding occasional trying and painful
incidents. Individual cases of greed and selfishness and vice brought
us many a bitter pang. But the Lord never lost patience with us, and we
durst not therefore lose patience with them! We trained the Teachers,
we translated and printed and expounded the Scriptures, we ministered
to the sick and dying; we dispensed medicines every day, we taught them
the use of tools, we advised them as to laws and penalties; and the
New Society grew and developed, and bore amidst all its imperfections
some traces of the fair Kingdom of God amongst men.

Our life and work will reveal itself to the reader if I briefly outline
a Sabbath Day on Aniwa. Breakfast is partaken of immediately after
daylight. The Church bell then rings, and ere it stops every worshipper
is seated. The Natives are guided in starting by the sunrise, and are
forward from farthest corners at this early hour. The first Service is
over in about an hour; there is an interval of twenty minutes; the bell
is again rung, and the second Service begins. We follow the ordinary
Presbyterian ritual; but in every Service I call upon an Elder or a
Church Member to lead in one of the prayers, which they do with great
alacrity and with much benefit to all concerned.

As the last worshipper leaves, at close of second Service, the bell is
sounded twice very deliberately, and that is the signal for the opening
of my Communicants’ Class. I carefully expound the Church’s Shorter
Catechism, and show how its teachings are built upon Holy Scripture,
applying each truth to the conscience and the life. This Class is
conducted all the year round, and from it, step by step, our Church
Members are drawn as the Lord opens up their way, the most of them
attending two full years at least before being admitted to the Lord’s
Table. This discipline accounts for the fact that so very few of our
baptized converts have ever fallen away—as few in proportion, I verily
believe, as in Churches at home. Meantime, many of the Church members
have been holding a prayer meeting amongst themselves in the adjoining
School,—a thing started of their own free accord,—in which they invoke
God’s blessing on all the work and worship of the day.

Having snatched a brief meal of tea, or a cold dinner cooked on
Saturday, the bell rings within an hour, and our Sabbath School
assembles,—in which the whole inhabitants, young and old, take part,
myself superintending and giving the address, as well as questioning on
the lesson, Mrs. Paton teaching a large class of adult women, and the
Elders and best readers instructing the ordinary classes for about half
an hour or so.

About one o’clock the School is closed, and we then start off in our
village tours. An experienced Elder, with several Teachers, takes one
side of the Island this Sabbath, I with another company taking the
other side, and next Sabbath we reverse the order. A short Service is
conducted in the open air, or in Schoolrooms, at every village that can
be reached; and on their return they report to me cases of sickness, or
any signs of progress in the work of the Lord. The whole Island is thus
steadily and methodically evangelized.

As the sun is setting I am creeping home from my village tour; and
when darkness begins to approach, the canoe drum is beat at every
village, and the people assemble under the banyan-tree for evening
village prayers. The Elder or Teacher presides. Five or six hymns are
joyously sung, and five or six short prayers offered between, and thus
the evening hour passes happily in the fellowship of God. On a calm
evening, after Christianity had fairly taken hold of the people, and
they loved to sing over and over again their favourite hymns, these
village prayer-meetings formed a most blessed close to every day, and
set the far-distant bush echoing with the praises of God.

At the Mission House, before retiring to rest, we assembled all the
young people and any of our villagers who chose to join them. They sat
round the dining-room floor in rows, sang hymns, read verses of the
Bible, and asked and answered questions about the teaching of the day.
About nine o’clock we dismissed them, but they pled to remain and hear
our Family Worship in English:—

“Missi, we like the singing! We understand a little. And we like to be
where prayer is rising!”

Thus Sabbath after Sabbath flowed on in incessant service and
fellowship. I was often wearied enough, but it was not a “weary” day
to me, nor what some would call Puritanical and dull. Our hearts were
in it, and the people made it a weekly festival. They had few other
distractions; and amongst them “The Worship” was an unfailing sensation
and delight. As long as you gave them a chance to sing, they knew not
what weariness was. When I returned to so-called civilization, and saw
how the Lord’s Day was abused in _white_ Christendom, my soul longed
after the holy Sabbaths of Aniwa!

Nor is our week-day life less crowded or busy, though in different
ways. At grey dawn on Monday, and every morning, the _Tavaka_ (= the
canoe drum) is struck in every village on Aniwa. The whole inhabitants
turn in to the early School, which lasts about an hour and a half,
and then the Natives are off to their plantations. Having partaken my
breakfast, I then spend my forenoon in translating or printing, or
visiting the sick, or whatever else is most urgent. About two o’clock
the Natives return from their work, bathe in the sea, and dine off
cocoa-nut, bread-fruit, or anything else that comes handily in the
way. At three o’clock the bell rings, and the afternoon School for
the Teachers and the more advanced learners then occupies my wife and
myself for about an hour and a half. After this, the Natives spend
their time in fishing or lounging or preparing supper,—which is amongst
them always _the_ meal of the day. Towards sundown the _Tavaka_ sounds
again, and the day closes amid the echoes of village prayers from under
their several banyan trees.

Thus day after day and week after week passes over us on Aniwa; and
much the same on all the Islands where the Missionary has found a home.
In many respects it is a simple and happy and beautiful life; and the
man, whose heart is full of things that are dear to Jesus, feels no
desire to exchange it for the poor frivolities of what calls itself
“Society,” and seems to finds its life in pleasures that Christ cannot
be asked to share, and in which, therefore, Christians should have
neither lot nor part.

The habits of morning and evening family prayer and of grace at meat
took a very wonderful hold upon the people; and became, as I have shown
elsewhere, a distinctive badge of Christian _versus_ Heathen. This was
strikingly manifested during a time of bitter scarcity that befell us.
I heard a father, for instance, at his hut door, with his family around
him, reverently blessing God for the food provided for them, and for
all His mercies in Christ Jesus. Drawing near and conversing with them,
I found that their meal consisted of fig leaves which they had gathered
and cooked,—a poor enough dish; but hunger makes a happy appetite, and
contentment is a grateful relish.

During the same period of privation, my Orphans suffered badly also.
Once they came to me, saying,—

“Missi, we are very hungry.”

I replied,—“So am I, dear children, and we have no more white food till
the _Dayspring_ comes.”

They continued,—“Missi, you have two beautiful fig trees. Will you let
us take one feast of the young and tender leaves? We will not injure
branch or fruit.”

I answered,—“Gladly, my children, take your fill!”

In a twinkling each child was perched upon a branch; and they feasted
there happy as squirrels. Every night we prayed for the vessel, and
in the morning our Orphan boys rushed to the coral rocks and eagerly
scanned the sea for an answer. Day after day they returned with sad
faces, saying,—

“Missi, _Tavaka jimra_!” (= No vessel yet).

But at grey dawn of a certain day, we were awoke by the boys shouting
from the shore and running for the Mission House with the cry,—“_Tavaka
oa! Tavaka oa!_” (= The vessel, hurrah!)

We arose at once, and the boys exclaimed,—“Missi, she is not our own
vessel, but we think she carries her flag. She has three masts, and our
_Dayspring_ only two!”

I looked through my glass, and saw that they were discharging goods
into the vessel’s boats; and the children, when I told them that boxes
and bags and casks were being sent on shore, shouted and danced with
delight. As the first boat-load was discharged, the Orphans surrounded
me, saying,—

“Missi, here is a cask that rattles like biscuits! Will you let us take
it to the Mission House?”

“I told them to do so if they could; and in a moment it was turned into
the path, and the boys had it flying before them, some tumbling and
hurting their knees, but up and at it again, and never pausing till it
rolled up at the door of our Storehouse. On returning I found them all
around it, and they said,—

“Missi, have you forgotten what you promised us?”

I said,—“What did I promise you?”

They looked very disappointed and whispered to each other,—“Missi has
forgot!”

“Forgot what?” inquired I.

“Missi,” they answered, “you promised that when the vessel came you
would give each of us a biscuit.”

“Oh,” I replied, “I did not forget; I only wanted to see if you
remembered it!”

They laughed, saying,—“No fear of that, Missi! Will you soon open the
cask? We are dying for biscuits.”

At once I got hammer and tools, knocked off the hoops, took out the
end, and then gave girls and boys a biscuit each. To my surprise, they
all stood round biscuit in hand, but not one beginning to eat.

“What,” I exclaimed, “you are dying for biscuits! Why don’t you eat?
Are you expecting another?”

One of the eldest said,—“We will first thank God for sending us food,
and ask Him to bless it to us all.”

And this was done in their own simple and beautiful childlike way; and
then they _did_ eat, and enjoyed their food as a gift from the Heavenly
Father’s hand. (Is there any child reading this, or hearing it read,
who never thanks God or asks Him to bless daily bread? Then is that
child not a _white_ Heathen?) We ourselves at the Mission House could
very heartily rejoice with the dear Orphans. For some weeks past our
European food had been all exhausted, except a little tea, and the
cocoa-nut had been our chief support. It was beginning to tell against
us. Our souls rose in gratitude to the Lord, who had sent us these
fresh provisions that we might love Him better and serve Him more.

The children’s sharp eyes had read correctly. It was not the
_Dayspring_. Our brave little ship had gone to wreck on 6th January,
1873; and this vessel was the _Paragon_, chartered to bring down our
supplies. Alas! the wreck had gone by auction sale to a French slaving
company, who cut a passage through the coral reef, and had the vessel
again floating in the Bay,—elated at the prospect of employing our
Mission Ship in the blood-stained _Kanaka_-traffic (= a mere euphemism
for South Sea slavery)! Our souls sank in horror and concern. Many
Natives would unwittingly trust themselves to the _Dayspring_; and
revenge would be taken on us, as was done on noble Bishop Patteson,
when the deception was found out. What could be done? Nothing but cry
to God, which all the friends of our Mission did day and night, not
without tears, as we thought of the possible degradation of our noble
little Ship. Listen! The French Slavers, anchoring their prize in the
Bay, and greatly rejoicing, went ashore to celebrate the event. They
drank and feasted and revelled. But that night a mighty storm arose,
the old _Dayspring_ dragged her anchor, and at daybreak she was seen
again on the reef, but this time with her back broken in two and for
ever unfit for service, either fair or foul. Oh, white-winged Virgin of
the waves, better for thee, as for thy human sisters, to die and pass
away than to suffer pollution and live on in disgrace!

Dr. Steel had chartered the _Paragon_, a new three-masted schooner,
built at Balmain, Sydney, to come down with our provisions, letters,
etc.; and the owners had given a written agreement that if we could
purchase her within a year we would get her for £3,000. She proved in
every way a suitable vessel, and it became abundantly manifest that
in the interests of our Mission her services ought to be permanently
secured.

I had often said that I would not again leave my beloved work on the
Islands, unless compelled to do so either by the breakdown of health,
or by the loss of our Mission Ship and my services being required to
assist in providing another. Very strange, that in this one season
both of these events befell us. During the hurricanes, from January to
April, 1873, when the _Dayspring_ was wrecked, we lost a darling child
by death, my dear wife had a protracted illness, and I was brought very
low with severe rheumatic fever. I was reduced so far that I could not
speak, and was reported as dying. The Captain of a vessel, having seen
me, called at Tanna, and spoke of me as in all probability dead by that
time. Our unfailing and ever-beloved friends and fellow Missionaries,
Mr. and Mrs. Watt, at once started from Kwamera, Tanna, in their open
boat and rowed and sailed thirty miles to visit us. But a few days
before they arrived I had fallen into a long and sound sleep, out of
which, when I awoke, consciousness had again returned to me. I had
got the turn; there was no further relapse; but when I did regain a
little strength, my weakness was so great that I had to travel about on
crutches for many a day.

Being ordered to seek health by change and by higher medical aid,
and if possible in the cooler air of New Zealand, we took the first
opportunity and arrived at Sydney, anxious to start the new movement
to secure the _Paragon_ there, and then to go on to the Sister Colony.
Being scarcely able to walk without the crutches, we called privately
a preliminary meeting of friends for consultation and advice. The
conditions were laid before them and discussed. The Insurance Company
had paid £2,000 on the first _Dayspring_. Of that sum £1,000 had
been spent on chartering and maintaining the _Paragon_; so that we
required an additional £2,000 to purchase her, besides a large sum
for alterations and equipment for the Mission. The late Mr. Learmouth
looked across to Mr. Goodlet, and said,—

“If you’ll join me, we will at once secure this vessel for the
Missionaries, that God’s work may not suffer from the wreck of the
_Dayspring_.”

Those two servants of God, excellent Elders of the Presbyterian Church,
consulted together, and the vessel was purchased next day. How I
did praise God, and pray Him to bless them and theirs! The late Dr.
Fullarton, our dear friend, said to them,—“But what guarantee do you
ask from the Missionaries for your money?”

Mr. Learmouth’s noble reply was, and the other heartily re-echoed
it,—“God’s work is our guarantee! From them we will ask none. What
guarantee have they to give us, except their faith in God? That
guarantee is ours already.”

I answered,—“You take God and His work for your guarantee. Rest assured
that He will soon repay you, and you will lose nothing by this noble
service.”

Having secured St. Andrew’s Church for a public meeting, I advertised
it in all the papers. Ministers, Sabbath School Teachers, and other
friends came in great numbers. The scheme was fairly launched, and
Collecting Cards largely distributed. Some of our fellow-Missionaries
thought that the Colonial Churches should now do all these things
voluntarily, without our personal efforts. But in every great emergency
some one must take action and show the way, else golden opportunities
are apt to slip. Committees carried everything out into detail, and all
worked for the fund with great goodwill.

I then sailed from Sydney to Victoria, and addressed the General
Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in session at Melbourne. The work
was easily set agoing there, and willing workers fully and rapidly
organized it through Congregations and Sabbath Schools.

Under medical advice, I next sailed for New Zealand in the S.S. _Hero_,
Captain Logan. A large number of fast men and gamblers were on board,
returning from the Melbourne Races, and their language was extremely
profane. Having prayed over it, I said on the second day at the dinner
table,—

“Gentlemen, will you bear with me a moment? I am sure no man at this
table wishes to wound the feelings of another or to give needless pain.”

Every eye stared at me, and there was a general cry as to what I meant.
I continued,—

“Gentlemen, we are to be fellow-passengers for a week or more. Now I
am cut and wounded to my very heart to hear you cursing the name of my
Heavenly Father, and taking in vain the name of my blessed Saviour.
It is God in whom we live and move, it is Jesus who died to save us,
and I would rather ten times over you would wound and abuse me, which
no gentleman here would think of doing, than profanely use those Holy
Names so dear to me.”

There was a painful silence, and most faces grew crimson, some with
rage, some perhaps with shame. At last a banker, who was there, a man
dying of consumption, replied with a profane oath and with wrathful
words. Keeping perfectly calm, in sorrow and pity, I replied, looking
him kindly in the face,—

“Dear Sir, you and I are strangers. But I have pitied you very
tenderly, ever since I came on board, for your heavy trouble and
hacking cough. You ought to be the last to curse that blessed Name,
as you may soon have to appear in His presence. I return, however, no
railing word. If the Saviour was as dear to your heart as He is to
mine, you would better understand me.”

Little else was said during the remainder of that meal. But an hour
later Captain Logan sent for me to his room, and said,—

“Sir, I too am a Christian. I would not give my quiet hour in the Cabin
with this Bible for all the pleasures that the world can afford. You
did your duty to-day amongst these profane men. But leave them and
their consciences now in the hands of God, and take no further notice
during the voyage.”

I never heard another oath on board that ship. The banker met me in New
Zealand and warmly invited me to his house!

My health greatly improved during the voyage, but I was sorely
perplexed about this new undertaking. A sum of £2,800 must be raised,
else the vessel could not sail free for the New Hebrides. I trembled,
in my reduced state, at the task that seemed laid upon me again. One
night, after long praying, I fell into a deep sleep in my Cabin, and
God granted me a Heavenly Dream or Vision which greatly comforted me,
explain it how you will. Sweetest music, praising God, arrested me and
came nearer and nearer. I gazed towards it approaching, and seemed to
behold hosts of shining beings bursting into view. The brilliancy came
pouring all from one centre, and that was ablaze with insufferable
brightness. Blinded with excess of light, my eyes seemed yet to behold
in fair outline the form of the glorified Jesus; but as I lifted
them to gaze on His face, the joy deepened into pain, my hand rose
instinctively to shade my eyes, I cried with ecstasy, the music passed
farther and farther away, and I started up hearing a Voice saying, in
marvellous power and sweetness, “Who art thou, O great mountain? Before
Zerubbabel thou shalt become a plain.” At this some will only smile.
But to me it was a great and abiding consolation. And I kept repeating
to myself, “He is Lord, and they all are ministering Spirits; if He
cheers me thus in His own work, I take courage, I know I shall succeed.”

Reaching Auckland, I was in time to address the General Assembly of the
Church there also. They gave me cordial welcome, and every Congregation
and Sabbath School might be visited as far as I possibly could. The
ministers promoted the movement with hearty zeal. The Sabbath Scholars
took Collecting Cards for “shares” in the new Mission Ship. A meeting
was held every day, and three every Sabbath. Auckland, Nelson,
Wellington, Dunedin, and all towns and Churches within reach of these
were rapidly visited; and I never had greater joy or heartiness in
any of my tours than in this happy intercourse with the Ministers and
People of the Presbyterian Church in New Zealand.

I arrived back in Sydney about the end of March. My health was
wonderfully restored, and New Zealand had given me about £1,700 for the
new ship. With the £1,000 of insurance money, and about £700 from New
South Wales, and £400 from Victoria, besides the £500 for her support
also from Victoria, we were able to pay back the £3,000 of purchase
money, and about £800 for alterations and repairs, as well as equip and
provision her to sail for her next year’s work amongst the Islands free
of debt. I said to our two good friends at Sydney,—

“You took God and His work for your guarantee. He has soon relieved you
from all responsibility. You have suffered no loss, and you have had
the honour and privilege of serving your Lord. I envy you the joy you
must feel in so using your wealth, and I pray God’s double blessing on
all your store.”

Our agent, Dr. Steele, had applied to the Home authorities for power
to change the vessel’s name from _Paragon_ to _Dayspring_, so that the
old associations might not be broken. This was cordially granted. And
so our second _Dayspring_, owing no man anything, sailed on her annual
trip to the New Hebrides, and we returned with her, praising the Lord
and reinvigorated alike in spirit and in body.




CHAPTER VIII.

_PEN-PORTRAITS OF ANIWANS._

  The Gospel in Living Capitals.—“A Shower of Spears.”—The Tannese
  Refugees.—Pilgrimage and Death of Namakei.—The Character of
  Naswai.—Christianity and Cocoa-Nuts.—Nerwa the Agnostic.—Nerwa’s
  Beautiful Farewell.—The Story of Ruwawa.—Waiwai and his
  Wives.—Nelwang and Kalangi.—Mungaw and Litsi Soré.—The Maddening of
  Mungaw.—The Queen of Aniwa a Missionary.—The Surrender of Nasi to
  Jesus.—Day-Light Prayer Meeting on Aniwa.—Candidates for Baptism.—The
  Appeal and Testimony of Lamu.


In Heathendom every true Convert becomes at once a Missionary. The
changed life, shining out amid the surrounding darkness, is a Gospel
in largest Capitals which all can read. Our Islanders, especially,
having little to engage or otherwise distract attention, become intense
and devoted workers for the Lord Jesus, if once the Divine Passion
for souls stirs within them. Many a reader, not making due allowance
for these special circumstances, would therefore be tempted to think
our estimate of their enthusiasm for the Gospel was overdone; but
thoughtful men will easily perceive that Natives, touched with the
mighty impulses of Calvary, and undistracted by social pleasures or
politics, or literature, or business claims, would almost by a moral
necessity pour all the currents of their being into Religion, and
probably show an apostolic devotion and self-sacrifice too seldom seen,
alas, amid the thousand clamouring appeals of Civilization.

A Heathen has been all his days groping after peace of soul in dark
superstition and degrading rites. You pour into his soul the light of
Revelation. He learns that God is love, that God sent His Son to die
for him, and that he is the heir of Life Eternal in and through Jesus
Christ. By the blessed enlightenment of the Spirit of the Lord he
believes all this. He passes into a third heaven of joy, and he burns
to tell every one of this Glad Tidings. Others see the change in his
disposition, in his character, in his whole life and actions; and, amid
such surroundings, every Convert is a burning and a shining light. Even
whole populations are thus brought into the Outer Court of the Temple;
and Islands, still Heathen and Cannibal, are positively eager for the
Missionary to live amongst them and would guard his life and property
now in complete security, where a very few years ago everything would
have been instantly sacrificed on touching their shores! They are not
Christianized, neither are they Civilized, but the light has been
kindled all around them, and though still only shining afar, they
cannot but rejoice in its beams.

But even where the path is not so smooth, nor any welcome awaiting
them, Native Converts show amazing zeal. For instance, one of our
Chiefs, full of the Christ-kindled desire to seek and to save, sent
a message to an inland Chief, that he and four attendants would come
on Sabbath and tell them the Gospel of Jehovah God. The reply came
back sternly forbidding their visit, and threatening with death any
Christian that approached their village. Our Chief sent in response a
loving message, telling them that Jehovah had taught the Christians to
return good for evil, and that they would come unarmed to tell them
the story of how the Son of God came into the world and died in order
to bless and save His enemies. The Heathen Chief sent back a stern and
prompt reply once more:—“If you come, you will be killed.” On Sabbath
morning, the Christian Chief and his four companions were met outside
the village by the Heathen Chief, who implored and threatened them once
more. But the former said,—

“We come to you without weapons of war! We come only to tell you about
Jesus. We believe that He will protect us to-day.”

As they steadily pressed forward towards the village, spears began
to be thrown at them. Some they evaded, being all except one most
dexterous warriors; and others they literally received with their bare
hands, and turned them aside in an incredible manner. The Heathen,
apparently thunderstruck at these men thus approaching them without
weapons of war, and not even flinging back their own spears which they
had caught, after having thrown what the old Chief called “a shower of
spears,” desisted from mere surprise. Our Christian Chief called out,
as he and his companions drew up in the midst of them on the village
Public Ground,—

“Jehovah thus protects us. He has given us all your spears! Once we
would have thrown them back at you and killed you. But now we come not
to fight, but to tell you about Jesus. He has changed our dark hearts.
He asks you now to lay down all these your other weapons of war, and to
hear what we can tell you about the love of God, our great Father, the
only living God.”

The Heathen were perfectly over-awed. They manifestly looked upon these
Christians as protected by some Invisible One. They listened for the
first time to the story of the Gospel and of the Cross. We lived to see
that Chief and all his tribe sitting in the School of Christ. And there
is perhaps not an Island in these Southern Seas, amongst all those
won for Christ, where similar acts of heroism on the part of Converts
cannot be recited by every Missionary to the honour of our poor Natives
and to the glory of their Saviour.

Larger and harder tests were sometimes laid upon their new faith.
Once the war on Tanna drove about one hundred of them to seek refuge
on Aniwa. Not so many years before their lives would never have been
thus entrusted to the inhabitants of another Cannibal Island. But the
Christ-Spirit was abroad upon Aniwa. The refugees were kindly cared
for, and in process of time were restored to their own lands by our
Missionary ship the _Dayspring_. The Chiefs, however, and the Elders of
the Church laid the new laws before them very clearly and decidedly.
They would be helped and sheltered, but Aniwa was now under law to
Christ, and if any of the Tannese broke the public rules as to moral
conduct, or in any way disturbed the Worship of Jehovah, they would at
once be expelled from the Island and sent back to Tanna. In all this,
the Chief of the Tanna party, my old friend Nowar, strongly supported
our Christian Chiefs. The Tannese behaved well, and many of them wore
clothing and began to attend Church; and the heavy drain upon the poor
resources of Aniwa was borne with a noble and Christian spirit, which
greatly impressed the Tannese and commended the Gospel of Christ.

In claiming Aniwa for Christ, and winning it as a jewel for His
crown, we had the experience which has ever marked God’s path through
history,—He raised up around us and wonderfully endowed men to
carry forward His own blessed work. Among these must be specially
commemorated Namakei, the old Chief of Aniwa. Slowly, but very
steadily, the light of the Gospel broke in upon his soul, and he was
ever very eager to communicate to his people all that he learned. In
Heathen days he was a Cannibal and a great warrior; but from the
first, as shown in the preceding chapters, he took a warm interest in
us and our work,—a little selfish, no doubt, at the beginning, but soon
becoming purified as his eyes and heart were opened to the Gospel of
Jesus.

On the birth of a son to us on the Island, the old Chief was in
ecstasies. He claimed the child as his heir, his own son being dead,
and brought nearly the whole inhabitants in relays to see the _white_
Chief of Aniwa! He would have him called Namakei the Younger, an honour
which I fear we did not too highly appreciate. As the child grew, he
took his hand and walked about with him freely amongst the people,
learning to speak their language like a Native, and not only greatly
interesting them in himself, but even in us and in the work of the
Lord. This, too, was one of the bonds, however purely human, that drew
them all nearer and nearer to Jesus.

The death of Namakei had in it many streaks of Christian romance. He
had heard about the Missionaries annually meeting on one or other of
the Islands and consulting about the work of Jehovah. What ideas he had
formed of a Mission Synod one cannot easily imagine; but in his old
age, and when very frail, he formed an impassioned desire to attend
our next meeting on Aneityum, and see and hear all the Missionaries of
Jesus gathered together from the New Hebrides. Terrified that he would
die away from home, and that that might bring great reverses to the
good work on Aniwa, where he was truly beloved, I opposed his going
with all my might. But he and his relations and his people were all set
upon it, and I had at length to give way. His few little books were
then gathered together, his meagre wardrobe was made up, and a small
Native basket carried all his belongings. He assembled his people and
took an affectionate farewell, pleading with them to be “strong for
Jesus,” whether they ever saw him again or not, and to be loyal and
kind to Missi. The people wailed out, and many wept bitterly. Those on
board the _Dayspring_ were amazed to see how his people loved him. The
old Chief stood the voyage well. He went in and out to our meeting of
Synod, and was vastly pleased with the respect paid to him on Aneityum.
When he heard of the prosperity of the Lord’s work, and how Island
after Island was learning to sing the praises of Jesus, his heart
glowed, and he said,—

“Missi, I am lifting up my head like a tree. I am growing tall with
joy!”

On the fourth or fifth day, however, he sent for me out of the Synod,
and when I came to him, he said, eagerly,—

“Missi, I am near to die! I have asked you to come and say farewell.
Tell my daughter, my brother, and my people to go on pleasing Jesus,
and I will meet them again in the fair World.”

I tried to encourage him, saying that God might raise him up again and
restore him to his people; but he faintly whispered,—

“O Missi, death is already touching me! I feel my feet going away from
under me. Help me to lie down under the shade of that banyan tree.”

So saying, he seized my arm, we staggered near to the tree, and he lay
down under its cool shade. He whispered again,—

“I am going! O Missi, let me hear your words rising up in prayer, and
then my Soul will be strong to go.”

Amidst many choking sobs, I tried to pray. At last he took my hand,
pressed it to his heart, and said in a stronger and clearer tone,—

“O my Missi, my dear Missi, I go before you, but I will meet you again
in the Home of Jesus. Farewell!”

That was the last effort of dissolving strength; he immediately became
unconscious, and fell asleep. My heart felt like to break over him.
He was my first Aniwan Convert,—the first who ever on that Island of
love and tears opened his heart to Jesus; and as he lay there on the
leaves and grass, my soul soared upward after his, and all the harps
of God seemed to thrill with song as Jesus presented to the Father
this trophy of redeeming love. He had been our true and devoted friend
and fellow-helper in the Gospel, and next morning all the members of
our Synod followed his remains to the grave. There we stood, the white
Missionaries of the Cross from far distant lands, mingling our tears
with Christian Natives of Aneityum, and letting them fall over one who
only a few years before was a blood-stained Cannibal, and whom now we
mourned as a brother, a saint, an Apostle amongst his people. Ye ask an
explanation? The Christ entered into his heart, and Namakei became a
new Creature. “Behold, I make all things new.”

We were in positive distress about returning to Aniwa without the
Chief, and we greatly feared the consequences. To show our perfect
sympathy with them, we prepared a special and considerable present for
Litsi his daughter, for his brother, and for other near friends—a sort
of object lesson, that we had in every way been kind to old Namakei,
as we now wished to be to them. When our boat approached the landing,
nearly the whole population had assembled to meet us; and Litsi and his
brother were far out on the reef to salute us. Litsi’s keen eye had
missed old Namakei’s form; and far as words could carry I heard her
voice crying,—

“Missi, where is my father?”

I made as if I did not hear; the boat was drawing slowly near, and
again she cried aloud, “Missi, where is my father? Is Namakei dead!”

I replied,—“Yes. He died on Aneityum. He is now with Jesus in Glory.”

Then arose a wild, wailing cry, led by Litsi and taken up by all
around. It rose and fell like a chant or dirge, as one after another
wailed out praise and sorrow over the name of Namakei. We moved slowly
into the boat harbour. Litsi, the daughter, and Kalangi his brother,
shook hands, weeping sadly, and welcomed us back, assuring us that we
had nothing to fear. Amidst many sobs and wailings, Litsi told us that
they all dreaded he would never return, and explained to this effect:—

“We knew that he was dying, but we durst not tell you. When you agreed
to let him go, he went round and took farewell of all his friends, and
told them he was going to sleep at last on Aneityum, and that at the
Great Day he would rise to meet Jesus with the glorious company of the
Aneityumese Christians. He urged us all to obey you and be true to
Jesus. Truly, Missi, we will remember my dear father’s parting word,
and follow in his steps, and help you in the work of the Lord!”

The other Chief, Naswai, now accompanied us to the Mission House, and
all the people followed, wailing loudly for Namakei. On the following
Sabbath, I told the story of his conversion, life for Jesus, and death
on Aneityum; and God overruled this event, contrary to our fears, for
greatly increasing the interest of many in the Church and in the claims
of Jesus upon themselves.

Naswai, the friend and companion of Namakei, was an inland Chief. He
had, as his followers, by far the largest number of men in any village
on Aniwa. He had certainly a dignified bearing, and his wife Katua
was quite a lady in look and manner as compared with all around her.
She was the first woman on the Island that adopted the clothes of
civilization, and she showed considerable instinctive taste in the
way she dressed herself in these. Her example was a kind of Gospel in
its good influence on all the women; she was a real companion to her
husband, and went with him almost everywhere.

Naswai, after he became a Christian, had a touch of scorn in his
manner, and was particularly stern against every form of lying or
deceit. I used sometimes to let jobs to Naswai, such as fencing or
thatching, at a fixed price. He would come with a staff of men, say
thirty or forty, see the work thoroughly done, and then divide the
price generously in equal portions amongst the workers, seldom keeping
anything either in food or wages for himself. On one occasion, the
people of a distant village were working for me. Naswai assisted and
directed them. On paying them, one of the company said,—

“Missi, you have not paid Naswai. He worked as hard as any of us.”

Naswai turned upon him with the dignity of a prince, and said,—

“I did not work for pay! Would you make Missi pay more than he
promised? Your conduct is bad. I will be no party to your bad ways.”

And, with an indignant wave of his hand, he stalked away in great
disdain.

Naswai was younger and more intelligent than Namakei, and in
everything except in translating the Scriptures he was much more of a
fellow-helper in the work of the Lord. For many years it was Naswai’s
special delight to carry my pulpit Bible from the Mission House to the
Church every Sabbath morning, and to see that everything was in perfect
order before the Service began. He was also the Teacher in his own
village School, as well as an Elder in the Church. His preaching was
wonderfully happy in its graphic illustrations, and his prayers were
fervent and uplifting. Yet his people were the worst to manage on all
the Island, and the very last to embrace the Gospel.

He died when we were in the Colonies on furlough in 1875; and his wife
Katua very shortly pre-deceased him. His last counsels to his people
made a great impression on them. They told us how he pleaded with them
to love and serve the Lord Jesus, and how he assured them with his
dying breath that he had been “a new creature” since he gave his heart
to Christ, and that he was perfectly happy in going to be with his
Saviour.

I must here recall one memorable example of Naswai’s power and skill as
a preacher. On one occasion the _Dayspring_ brought a large deputation
from Fotuna to see for themselves the change which the Gospel had
produced on Aniwa. On Sabbath, after the Missionaries had conducted
the usual Public Worship, some of the leading Aniwans addressed the
Fotunese; and amongst others, Naswai spoke to the following effect:—

“Men of Fotuna, you come to see what the Gospel has done for Aniwa. It
is Jehovah the living God that has made all this change. As Heathens,
we quarrelled, killed and ate each other. We had no peace and no joy in
heart or house, in villages or in lands; but we now live as brethren
and have happiness in all these things. When you go back to Fotuna,
they will ask you, ‘What is Christianity?’ And you will have to reply,
‘It is that which has changed the people of Aniwa.’ But they will still
say, ‘What is it?’ And you will answer, ‘It is that which has given
them clothing and blankets, knives and axes, fish-hooks and many other
useful things; it is that which has led them to give up fighting, and
to live together as friends.’ But they will ask you, ‘What is it like?’
And you will have to tell them, alas, that you cannot explain it,
that you have only seen its workings, not itself, and that no one can
tell what Christianity is but the man that loves Jesus, the Invisible
Master, and walks with Him and tries to please Him. Now, you people of
Fotuna, you think that if you don’t dance and sing and pray to your
gods, you will have no crops. We once did so too, sacrificing and doing
much abomination to our gods for weeks before our planting season every
year. But we saw our Missi only praying to the Invisible Jehovah, and
planting his yams, and they grew fairer than ours. You are weak every
year before your hard work begins in the fields, with your wild and bad
conduct to please your gods. But we are strong for our work, for we
pray to Jehovah, and He gives quiet rest instead of wild dancing, and
makes us happy in our toils. Since we followed Missi’s example, Jehovah
has given us large and beautiful crops, and we now know that He gives
us all our blessings.”

Turning to me, he exclaimed, “Missi, have you the large yam we
presented to you? Would you not think it well to send it back with
these men of Fotuna, to let their people see the yams which Jehovah
grows for us in answer to prayer? Jehovah is the only God who can grow
yams like that!”

Then, after a pause, he proceeded,—“When you go back to Fotuna, and
they ask you, ‘What is Christianity?’ you will be like an inland Chief
of Erromanga, who once came down and saw a great feast on the shore.
When he saw so much food and so many different kinds of it, he asked,
‘What is this made of?’ and was answered, ‘Cocoa-nuts and yams.’ ‘And
this?’ ‘Cocoa-nuts and bananas.’ ‘And this?’ ‘Cocoa-nuts and taro.’
‘And this?’ ‘Cocoa-nuts and chestnuts,’ etc., etc. The Chief was
immensely astonished at the host of dishes that could be prepared from
the cocoa-nuts. On returning, he carried home a great load of them to
his people, that they might see and taste the excellent food of the
shore-people. One day, all being assembled, he told them the wonders
of that feast; and, having roasted the cocoa-nuts, he took out the
kernels, all charred and spoiled, and distributed them amongst his
people. They tasted the cocoa-nut, they began to chew it, and then
spat it out, crying, ‘Our own food is far better than that!’ The Chief
was confused and only got laughed at for all his trouble. Was the
fault in the cocoa-nuts? No; but they were spoiled in the cooking! So
your attempts to explain Christianity will only spoil it. Tell them
that a man must live as a Christian before he can show others what
Christianity is.”

On their return to Fotuna they exhibited Jehovah’s yam, given in answer
to prayer and labour; they told what Christianity had done for Aniwa;
but did not fail to qualify all their accounts with the story of the
Erromangan Chief and the cocoa-nuts, with its very practical lesson.

The two Chiefs of next importance on Aniwa were Nerwa and Ruwawa. Nerwa
was a keen debater; all his thoughts ran in the channels of logic. When
I could speak a little of their language, I visited and preached at his
village; but the moment he discovered that the teaching about Jehovah
was opposed to their Heathen customs, he sternly forbade us. One day,
during my address, he blossomed out into a full-fledged and pronounced
Agnostic (with as much reason at his back as the European type!) and
angrily interrupted me:—

“It’s all lies you come here to teach us, and you call it Worship! You
say your Jehovah God dwells in Heaven. Who ever went up there to hear
Him or see Him? You talk of Jehovah as if you had visited His Heaven.
Why, you cannot climb even to the top of one of our cocoa-nut trees,
though we can, and that with ease! In going up to the roof of your own
Mission House, you require the help of a ladder to carry you. And even
if you could make your ladder higher than our highest cocoa-nut tree,
on what would you lean its top? And when you get to its top, you can
only climb down the other side and end where you began! The thing is
impossible. You never saw that God; you never heard Him speak; don’t
come here with any of your white lies, or I’ll send my spear through
you.”

He drove us from his village, and furiously threatened murder, if we
ever dared to return. But very soon thereafter the Lord sent us a
little orphan girl from Nerwa’s village. She was very clever, and could
both read and write, and told over all that we taught her. Her visits
home, or at least amongst the villagers where her home had been, her
changed appearance and her childish talk, produced a very deep interest
in us and in our work.

An orphan boy next was sent from that village to be kept and trained at
the Mission House, and he too took back his little stories of how kind
and good to him were Missi the man and Missi the woman. By this time
Chief and people alike were taking a lively interest in all that was
transpiring. One day the Chief’s wife, a quiet and gentle woman, came
to the Worship and said,—

“Nerwa’s opposition dies fast. The story of the Orphans did it. He has
allowed me to attend the Church, and to get the Christian’s book.”

We gave her a book and a bit of clothing. She went home and told
everything. Woman after woman followed her from that same village,
and some of the men began to accompany them. The only thing in which
they showed a real interest was the children singing the little hymns
which I had translated into their own Aniwan tongue, and which my wife
had taught them to sing very sweetly and joyfully. Nerwa at last got
so interested that he came himself, and sat within earshot, and drank
in the joyful sound. In a short time he drew so near that he could
hear our preaching, and then began openly and regularly to attend the
Church. His keen reasoning faculty was constantly at work. He weighed
and compared everything he heard, and soon out-distanced nearly all
of them in his grasp of the ideas of the Gospel. He put on clothing,
joined our School, and professed himself a follower of the Lord Jesus.
He eagerly set himself, with all his power, to bring in a neighbouring
Chief and his people, and constituted himself at once an energetic and
very pronounced helper to the Missionary.

On the death of Naswai, Nerwa at once took his place in carrying my
Bible to the Church, and seeing that all the people were seated before
the stopping of the bell. I have seen him clasping the Bible like a
living thing to his breast, and heard him cry,—

“Oh, to have this treasure in my own words of Aniwa!”

When Matthew and Mark were at last printed in Aniwan, he studied them
incessantly, and soon could read them freely. He became the Teacher in
his own village School, and delighted in instructing others. He was
assisted by Ruwawa, whom he himself had drawn into the circle of Gospel
influence; and at our next election these two friends were appointed
Elders of the Church, and greatly sustained our hands in every good
work on Aniwa.

After years of happy and useful service, the time came for Nerwa to
die. He was then so greatly beloved that most of the inhabitants
visited him during his long illness. He read a bit of the Gospels
in his own Aniwan, and prayed with and for every visitor. He sang
beautifully, and scarcely allowed any one to leave his bedside without
having a verse of one or other of his favourite hymns, “Happy Land,”
and “Nearer, my God, to Thee.” On my last visit to Nerwa, his strength
had gone very low, but he drew me near his face, and whispered,—

“Missi, my Missi, I am glad to see you. You see that group of young
men? They came to sympathize with me; but they have never once spoken
the name of Jesus, though they have spoken about everything else! They
could not have weakened me so, if they had spoken about Jesus! Read me
the story of Jesus; pray for me to Jesus. No! stop, let us call them,
and let me speak with them before I go.”

I called them all around him, and he strained his dying strength, and
said, “After I am gone, let there be no bad talk, no Heathen ways.
Sing Jehovah’s songs, and pray to Jesus, and bury me as a Christian.
Take good care of my Missi, and help him all you can. I am dying happy
and going to be with Jesus, and it was Missi that showed me this way.
And who among you will take my place in the village School and in the
Church? Who amongst you all will stand up for Jesus?”

Many were shedding tears, but there was no reply; after which the dying
Chief proceeded,—

“Now let my last work on earth be this:—we will read a chapter of the
Book, verse about, and then I will pray for you all, and the Missi will
pray for me, and God will let me go while the song is still sounding in
my heart!”

At the close of this most touching exercise, we gathered the Christians
who were near-bye close around, and sang very softly in Aniwan, “There
is a Happy Land.” As they sang, the old man grasped my hand, and tried
hard to speak, but in vain. His head fell to one side, “the silver cord
was loosed, and the golden bowl was broken.”

Soon after his burial, the best and ablest man in the village, the
husband now of the orphan girl already referred to, came and offered
himself to take the Chiefs place as Teacher in the village School;
and in that post he was ably assisted by his wife, our “little maid,”
the first who carried the news of the Gospel life to her tribe, and
inclined their ears to listen to the message of Jesus.

His great friend, Ruwawa the Chief, had waited by Nerwa like a
brother till within a few days of the latter’s death, when he also
was smitten down apparently by the same disease. He was thought to be
dying, and he resigned himself calmly into the hands of Christ. One
Sabbath afternoon, sorely distressed for lack of air, he instructed
his people to carry him from the village to a rising ground on one of
his plantations. It was fallow; the fresh air would reach him; and all
his friends could sit around him. They extemporized a rest,—two posts
stuck into the ground, slanting, sticks tied across them, then dried
banana leaves spread on these and also as a cushion on the ground,—and
there sat Ruwawa, leaning back and breathing heavily. After the Church
Services, I visited him, and found half the people of that side of the
Island sitting round him, in silence, in the open air. Ruwawa beckoned
me, and I sat down before him. Though suffering sorely, his eye and
face had the look of ecstasy.

“Missi,” he said, “I could not breathe in my village; so I got them to
carry me here, where there is room for all. They are silent and they
weep, because they think I am dying. If it were God’s will, I would
like to live and to help you in His work. I am in the hands of our dear
Lord. If He takes me, it is good; if He spares me, it is good! Pray,
and tell our Saviour all about it.”

I explained to the people, that we would tell our Heavenly Father how
anxious we all were to see Ruwawa given back to us strong and well to
work for Jesus, and then leave all to His wise and holy disposal. I
prayed, and the place became a very Bochim. When I left him, Ruwawa
exclaimed,—

“Farewell, Missi; if I go first, I will welcome you to Glory; if I am
spared, I will work with you for Jesus; so all is well!”

One of the young Christians followed me and said,—“Missi, our hearts
are very sore! If Ruwawa dies, we have no Chief to take his place in
the Church, and it will be a heavy blow against Jehovah’s Worship on
Aniwa.”

I answered,—“Let us each tell our God and Father all that we feel and
all that we fear; and leave Ruwawa and our work in His holy hands.”

We did so, with earnest and unceasing cry. And when all hope had died
out of every heart, the Lord began to answer us; the disease began to
relax its hold, and the beloved Chief was restored to health. As soon
as he was able, though still needing help, he found his way back to the
Church, and we all offered special thanksgiving to God. He indicated
a desire to say a few words; and although still very weak, spoke with
great pathos thus:—

“Dear Friends, God has given me back to you all. I rejoice thus to come
here and praise the great Father, who made us all, and who knows how
to make and keep us well. I want you all to work hard for Jesus, and
to lose no opportunity of trying to do good and so to please Him. In
my deep journey away near to the grave, it was the memory of what I
had done in love to Jesus that made my heart sing. I am not afraid of
pain,—my dear Lord Jesus suffered far more for me and teaches me how to
bear it. I am not afraid of war or famine or death, or of the present
or of the future; my dear Lord Jesus died for me, and in dying I shall
live with Him in Glory. I fear and love my dear Lord Jesus, because He
loved me and gave Himself for me.”

Then he raised his right hand, and cried in a soft, full-hearted
voice,—“My own, my dear Lord Jesus!” and stood for a moment looking
joyfully upward, as if gazing into his Saviour’s face. When he sat
down, there was a long hush, broken here and there by a smothered sob;
and Ruwawa’s words produced an impression that is remembered to this
day.

In 1888, when I visited the Islands, Ruwawa was still devoting himself
heart and soul to the work of the Lord on Aniwa. Assisted by Koris,
a Teacher from Aneityum, and visited occasionally by our ever-dear
and faithful friends, Mr. and Mrs. Watt, from Tanna, the good Ruwawa
carries forward all the work of God on Aniwa, along with others, in
our absence as in our presence. The meetings, the Communicants’ Class,
the Schools, and the Church Services are all regularly conducted and
faithfully attended. “Bless the Lord, O my soul!”

I am now reminded of the story of Waiwai, both because it was
interesting for his own personality, and also as illustrating our
difficulties about the delicate question of many wives. He was a man
of great wisdom, and had in his early days displayed unwonted energy.
His assistance in finding exact and idiomatic equivalents for me, while
translating the Scriptures, was of the highest value.

He had been once at the head of a numerous people, but was now
literally a Chief without a tribe. His son and heir was smitten down
with sunstroke, while helping us to get the coral limestone, and
shortly thereafter died. His only daughter was married to a young
Chief. And at last, of all his seven wives only two remained alive.

He became a regular attender at Church, and when our first
Communicants’ Class was formed, Waiwai and his two wives were enrolled.
At Communion time, he was dreadfully disappointed when informed that
he could neither be baptized nor admitted to the Lord’s Table till he
had given up one of his wives, as God allowed no Christian to have more
than one wife at a time. They were advised to attend regularly, and
learn more and more of Christianity, till God opened up their way in
regard to this matter; that it might be done from conscience, under a
sense of duty to Christ, and if at all possible by peaceable and mutual
agreement.

Waiwai professed to be willing, but found it terribly hard to give
up either of his wives. They had houses far apart from each other,
for they quarrelled badly, as is usual in such cases. But both were
excellent workers, both were very attentive to the wants of Waiwai,
and he managed to keep on affectionate terms with both. After all the
other men on the Island had, under the influence of Christianity, given
up all their wives save one, Waiwai began to feel rather ashamed of
being the conspicuous exception, or thought it prudent to pretend to be
ashamed; and so he publicly scolded them both, ordering one or other to
go and leave him, that he might be enabled to join the Church and be a
Christian like the rest. But I learned privately that he did not wish
either to go, and that he would shoot the one that dared to leave him.
I remonstrated with him on his hypocrisy, warning him that God knew
his heart. At last he said, that since neither of them would depart,
he would leave them both and go to Tanna for a year, ordering one or
other of them to get married during his absence. He did go, but on his
return found both still awaiting him at their respective stations. He
pretended to scold them very vigorously _in public_; but his duplicity
was too open, and I again very solemnly rebuked him for double dealing,
showing him that not even men were deceived by him, much less the
all-seeing God. He frankly admitted his hypocrisy. He loved both; he
did not want to part with either; and both were excellent workers!

In process of time the younger of the two women bore him a beautiful
baby boy, about which he was immensely uplifted; and a short while
thereafter the elder woman died. At her grave the inveterate talking
instinct of these Islanders asserted itself, and Waiwai made a speech
to the assembled people in the following strain:—

“O ye people of Aniwa, I was not willing to give up either of my wives
for Jesus; but God has taken one from me and laid her there in the
grave; and now I am called to be baptized, and to follow Jesus.”

The two now regularly attended Church, and learned diligently at
the Communicants’ Class. Both seemed to be very sincere, and Waiwai
particularly showed a very gentle Christian spirit, and seemed to brood
much upon the loss of family and people and tribe that had befallen
him. His had been indeed a crushing discipline, and it was not yet
complete. For, shortly before the Communion at which they were to
be received into fellowship, his remaining wife became suddenly ill
and died also. At her grave the old man wept very bitterly, and made
another speech, but this time in tones of more intense reality than
before, as if the iron had entered his very soul:—

“Listen, all ye men of Aniwa, and take warning by Waiwai. I am now
old, and ready to drop into the grave alone. My wives kept me back
from Jesus, but now they are all taken, and I am left without one to
care for me or this little child. I tried to deceive the Missi, but I
could not deceive God. When I was left with only one wife, I said that
I would now be baptized and live as a Christian. But God has taken
her also. I pretended to serve the Lord, when I was only serving and
pleasing myself. God has now broken my heart all to pieces. I must
learn no longer to please myself, but to please my Lord. Oh, take
warning by me, all ye men of Aniwa! Lies cannot cheat the great Jehovah
God.”

Poor broken-hearted Waiwai had sorrow upon sorrow to the full. We
had agreed to baptize him and admit him to the Lord’s Table. But a
terrible form of cramp, sometimes met with on the Islands, overtook
him, shrinking up both his legs, and curving his feet up behind him. He
suffered great agony, and could neither walk nor sit without pain. In
spite of all efforts to relieve him, this condition became chronic; and
he died at last from the effects thereof during our absence on furlough.

His married daughter took charge of him and of the little boy; and so
long as I was on Aniwa during his illness, I visited and instructed
and ministered to him in every possible way. He prayed much, and asked
God’s blessing on all his meals; but all that I could say failed to
lead him into the sunshine of the Divine Love. And the poor soul often
revealed the shadow by which his heart was clouded by such cries as
these,—“I lied to Jehovah! It is He that punishes me! I lied to Jesus!”

Readers may perhaps think that this case of the two wives and our
treatment of it was too hard upon Waiwai; and those will be the most
ready to condemn us, who have never been on the spot, and who cannot
see all the facts as they lie under the eyes of the Missionary. How
could we ever have led Natives to see the difference betwixt admitting
a man to the Church who had two wives, and not permitting a member of
the Church to take two wives after his admission? Their moral sense is
blunted enough without our knocking their heads against a conundrum in
ethics! In our Church membership we have to draw the line as sharply
as God’s law will allow betwixt what is Heathen and what is Christian,
instead of minimising the difference.

Again, we found that the Heathen practices were apparently more
destructive to women than to men; so that in one Island, with a
population of only two hundred, I found that there were thirty adult
men over and above the number of women. As a rule, for every man that
has two or more wives, the same number of men have no wives and can
get none; and polygamy is therefore the prolific cause of hatreds and
murders innumerable.

Besides all this, to look at things in a purely practical light, as the
so-called “practical men” are our scornful censors in these affairs,
it is really no hardship for one woman, or any number of women, to
be given up when the man becomes a Christian and elects to have one
wife only; for every one so discarded is at once eagerly contended for
by the men who had no hope of ever being married, and her chances of
comfort and happiness are infinitely improved. We had one Chief who
gave up eleven wives on his being baptized. They were without a single
exception happily settled in other homes. And he became an earnest and
devoted Christian.

While they remain Heathen, and have many wives to manage, the condition
of most of the women is worse than slavery. On remonstrating with
a Chief, who was savagely beating one of his wives, he indignantly
assured me,—

“We must beat them, or they would never obey us. When they quarrel, and
become bad to manage, we have to kill one, and feast on her. Then all
the other wives of the whole tribe are quiet and obedient for a long
time to come.”

I knew one Chief, who had many wives, always jealous of each other and
violently quarrelling amongst themselves. When he was off at war, along
with his men, the favourite wife, a tall and powerful woman, armed
herself with an axe, and murdered all the others. On his return he made
peace with her, and, either in terror or for other motives, promised to
forego and protect her against all attempts at revenge. One has to live
amongst the Papuans, or the Malays, in order to understand how much
Woman is indebted to Christ!

The old Chiefs only brother was called Kalangi. Twice in Heathen days
he tried to shoot me. On the second occasion he heard me rebuking his
daughter for letting a child destroy a beautiful Island plant in front
of our house. He levelled his musket at me, but his daughter, whom we
were training at the Mission House, ran in front of it, and cried,—“O
father, don’t shoot Missi! He loves me. He gives us food and clothing.
He teaches us about Jehovah and Jesus!”

Then she pled with me to retire into the house, saying,—“He will not
shoot you for fear of shooting me. I will soothe him down. Leave him to
me, and flee for safety.”

Thus she probably saved my life. Time after time he heard from this
little daughter all that we taught her, and all she could remember
of our preaching. By-and-bye he showed a strong personal interest in
the things he heard about Jesus, and questioned deeply, and learned
diligently. When he became a Christian, he constituted himself, along
with Nelwang, my body-guard, and often marched near me, or within safe
distance of me, armed with tomahawk and musket, when I journeyed from
village to village in the pre-Christian days. Once, on approaching one
of our most distant villages, Nelwang sprang to my side, and warned me
of a man in the bush watching an opportunity to shoot me. I shouted to
the fellow,—

“What are you going to shoot there? This is the Lord’s own Day!”

He answered, “Only a bird.”

I replied, “Never mind it to-day. You can shoot it to-morrow. We are
going to your Village. Come on before us, and show us the way!”

Seeing how I was protected, he lowered his musket, and marched on
before us. Kalangi addressed the people, after I had spoken and prayed.
In course of time they became warm friends of the Worship; and that
very man and his wife, who once sought my life, sat with me at the
Lord’s Table on Aniwa. And the little girl, above referred to, is now
the wife of one of the Elders there, and the mother of three Christian
children,—both she and her husband being devoted workers in the Church
of God.

Litsi, the only daughter of Namakei, had, both in her own career and
in her connection with poor, dear Mungaw, an almost unparalleled
experience. She was entrusted to us when very young, and became a
bright, clever, and attractive Christian girl. Many sought her hand,
but she disdainfully replied,—

“I am Queen of my own Island, and when I like I will ask a husband in
marriage, as you told us that the great Queen Victoria did!”

Her first husband, however won, was undoubtedly the tallest and most
handsome man on Aniwa; but he was a giddy fool, and, on his early
death, she again returned to live with us at the Mission House. Her
second marriage had everything to commend it, but it resulted in
indescribable disaster. Mungaw, heir to a Chief, had been trained with
us, and gave every evidence of decided Christianity. They were married
in the Church, and lived in the greatest happiness. He was able and
eloquent, and was first chosen as a deacon, then as an Elder of the
Church, and finally as High Chief of one half of the Island. He showed
the finest Christian spirit under many trying circumstances. Once, when
working at the lime for the building of our Church, two bad men, armed
with muskets, sought his life for some revenge or another. Hearing of
the quarrel, I rushed to the scene, and heard him saying,—

“Don’t call me coward, or think me afraid to die. If I died now,
I would go to be with Jesus. But I am no longer a Heathen; I am a
Christian, and wish to treat you as a Christian should.”

Others now coming to the rescue, the men were disarmed; and, after much
talk, they professed themselves ashamed, and promised better conduct
for the future. Next day they sent a large present as a peace-offering
to me, but I refused to receive it till they should first of all make
peace with the young Chief. They sent a larger present to him, praying
him to receive it, and to forgive them. Mungaw brought a still larger
present in exchange, laid it down at their feet in the Public Ground,
shook hands with them graciously, and forgave them in presence of all
the people. His constant saying was,—

“I am a Christian, and I must do the conduct of a Christian.”

In one of my furloughs to Australia I took the young Chief with me,
in the hope of interesting the Sabbath Schools and Congregations by
his eloquent addresses and noble personality. The late Dr. Cameron, of
Melbourne, having heard him, as translated by me, publicly declared
that Mungaw’s appearance and speech in his Church did more to show
him the grand results of the Gospel amongst the Heathen than all the
Missionary addresses he ever listened to or read.

Our lodging was in St. Kilda. My dear wife was suddenly seized with a
dangerous illness on a visit to Taradale, and I was telegraphed for.
Finding that I must remain with her, I got Mungaw booked for Melbourne,
on the road for St. Kilda, in charge of a railway guard. Some white
wretches, in the guise of gentlemen, offered to see him to the St.
Kilda Station, assuring the guard that they were friends of mine,
and interested in our Mission. They took him, instead, to some den
of infamy in Melbourne. On refusing to drink with them, he said they
threw him down on a sofa, and poured drink or drugs into him till he
was nearly dead. Having taken all his money (he had only two or three
pounds, made up of little presents from various friends), they thrust
him out to the street, with only one penny in his pocket.

On becoming conscious, he applied to a policeman, who either did not
understand or would not interfere. Hearing an engine whistle, he
followed the sound, and found his way to Spencer Street Station. There
he stood for a whole day, offering his penny for a ticket by every
train, and was always refused. At last a sailor took pity on him, got
him some food, and led him to the St. Kilda Station. Again he proffered
his penny, only to meet with refusal after refusal, till he broke down,
and cried aloud in such English as desperation gave him,—

“If me savvy road, me go. Me no savvy road, and stop here me die. My
Missi Paton live at Kilda. Me want go Kilda. Me no more money. Bad
fellow took all! Send me Kilda.”

Some gentle Samaritan gave him a ticket, and he reached our house at
St. Kilda at last. There for above three weeks the poor creature lay
in a sort of stupid doze. Food he could scarcely be induced to taste,
and he only rose now and again for a drink of water. When my wife
was able to be removed thither also, we found dear Mungaw dreadfully
changed in appearance and in conduct. Twice thereafter I took him
with me on Mission work; but, on medical advice, preparations were
made for his immediate return to the Islands. I entrusted him to the
kind care of Captain Logan, who undertook to see him safely on board
the _Dayspring_, then lying at Auckland. Mungaw was delighted, and we
hoped everything from his return to his own land and people. After some
little trouble, he was landed safely home on Aniwa. But his malady
developed dangerous and violent symptoms, characterized by long periods
of quiet and sleep, and then sudden paroxysms, in which he destroyed
property, burned houses, and was a terror to all.

On our return he was greatly delighted; but he complained bitterly
that the white men “had spoiled his head,” and that when it “burned
hot” he did all these bad things, for which he was extremely sorry He
deliberately attempted my life, and most cruelly abused his dear and
gentle wife; and then, when the frenzy was over, he wept and lamented
over it. Many a time he marched round and round our House with loaded
musket and spear and tomahawk, while we had to keep doors and windows
locked and barricaded; then the paroxysm passed off, and he slept, long
and deep, like a child. When he came to himself, he wept and said,—

“The white men spoiled my head! I know not what I do. My head burns
hot, and I am driven.”

One day, in the Imrai, he leapt up with a loud-yelling war-cry, rushed
off to his own house, set fire to it, and danced around till everything
he possessed was burned to ashes. Nasi, a bad Tannese Chief living on
Aniwa, had a quarrel with Mungaw about a cask found at the shore, and
threatened to shoot him. Others encouraged him to do so, as Mungaw
was growing every day more and more destructive and violent. When a
person became outrageous or insane on Aniwa,—as they had neither asylum
nor prison, they first of all held him fast and discharged a musket
close to his ear; and then, if the shock did not bring him back to his
senses, they tied him up for two days or so; and finally, if that did
not restore him, they shot him dead. Thus the plan of Nasi was favoured
by their own customs. One night, after family worship,—for amidst all
his madness, when clear moments came, he poured out his soul in faith
and love to the Lord,—he said,—

“Litsi, I am melting! My head burns. Let us go out and get cooled in
the open air.”

She warned him not to go, as she heard voices whispering under the
verandah. He answered a little wildly,—

“I am not afraid to die. Life is a curse and burden. The white men
spoiled my head. If there is a hope of dying, let me go quickly and
die!”

As he crossed the door, a ball crashed through him, and he fell dead.
We got the mother and her children away to the Mission House; and next
morning they buried the remains of poor Mungaw under the floor of his
own hut, and enclosed the whole place with a fence. It was a sorrowful
close to so noble a career. I shed many a tear that I ever took him to
Australia. What will God have to say to those white fiends who poisoned
and maddened poor dear Mungaw?

After a while the good Queen Litsi was happily married again. She
became possessed with a great desire to go as a Missionary to the
people and tribe of Nasi, the very man who had murdered her husband.
She used to say,—

“Is there no Missionary to go and teach Nasi’s people? I weep and pray
for them, that they too may come to know and love Jesus.”

I answered,—“Litsi, if I had only wept and prayed for you, but stayed
at home in Scotland, would that have brought you to know and love Jesus
as you do?”

“Certainly not,” she replied.

“Now then,” I proceeded, “would it not please Jesus and be a grand and
holy revenge, if you, the Christians of Aniwa, could carry the Gospel
to the very people whose Chief murdered Mungaw?”

The idea took possession of her soul. She was never wearied talking
and praying over it. When at length a Missionary was got for Nasi’s
people, Litsi and her new husband placed themselves at the head of a
band of six or eight Aniwan Christians, and planted themselves there to
open up the way and assist as Native Teachers the Missionary and his
wife. There she and they have laboured ever since. They are “strong”
for the Worship. Her son is being trained up by his cousin, an Elder of
the Church, to be “the good Chief of Aniwa”; so she calls him in her
prayers, as she cries on God to bless and watch over him, while she is
serving the Lord in the Mission field. Many years have now passed; and
when lately I visited that part of Tanna, Litsi ran to me, clasped my
hand, kissed it with many sobs, and cried,—

“O my father! God has blessed me to see you again. Is my mother, your
dear wife, well? And your children, my brothers and sisters? My love to
them all! O my heart clings to you!”

We had sweet conversation, and then she said more calmly,—

“My days here are hard. I might be happy and wealthy as Queen on Aniwa.
But the Heathen here are beginning to listen. The Missi sees them
coming nearer to Jesus. And oh, what a reward when we shall hear them
sing and pray to our dear Saviour! The hope of that makes me strong for
anything.”

My heart often says within itself—When, _when_ will men’s eyes at
home be opened? When will the rich and the learned and the noble and
even the princes of the Earth renounce their shallow frivolities,
and go to live amongst the poor, the ignorant, the outcast, and the
lost, and write their eternal fame on the souls by them blessed and
brought to the Saviour? Those who have tasted this highest joy, “the
joy of the Lord,” will never again ask,—_Is Life worth living?_ Life,
any life, would be well spent, under any conceivable conditions, in
bringing one human soul to know and love and serve God and His Son, and
thereby securing for yourself at least one temple where your name and
memory would be held for ever and for ever in affectionate praise,—a
regenerated Heart in Heaven. That fame will prove _immortal_, when all
the poems and monuments and pyramids of Earth have gone into dust.

Nasi, the Tannaman, was a bad and dangerous character, though some
readers may condone his putting an end to Mungaw in the terrible
circumstances of our case. During a great illness that befell him, I
ministered to him regularly, but no kindness seemed to move him. When
about to leave Aniwa, I went specially to visit him. On parting I said,—

“Nasi, are you happy? Have you ever been happy?”

He answered gloomily,—“No! Never.”

I said,—“Would you like this dear little boy of yours to grow up like
yourself, and lead the life you have lived?”

“No!” he replied warmly; “I certainly would not.”

“Then,” I continued, “you must become a Christian, and give up all
your Heathen conduct, or he will just grow up to quarrel and fight and
murder as you have done; and, O Nasi, he will curse you through all
Eternity for leading him to such a life and to such a doom!”

He was very much impressed, but made no response. After we had sailed,
a band of our young Native Christians held a consultation over the case
of Nasi. They said,—

“We know the burden and terror that Nasi has been to our dear Missi. We
know that he has murdered several persons with his own hands, and has
taken part in the murder of others. Let us unite in daily prayer that
the Lord would open his heart and change his conduct, and teach him to
love and follow what is good, and let us set ourselves to win Nasi for
Christ, just as Missi tried to win us.”

So they began to show him every possible kindness, and one after
another helped him in his daily tasks, embracing every opportunity of
pleading with him to yield to Jesus and take the new path of life. At
first he repelled them, and sullenly held aloof. But their prayers
never ceased, and their patient affections continued to grow. At last,
after long waiting, Nasi broke down, and cried to one of the Teachers,—

“I can oppose your Jesus no longer. If He can make you treat me like
that, I yield myself to Him and to you. I want Him to change me too. I
want a heart like that of Jesus.”

He took the ugly paint patches from his face; he cut off his long
Heathen hair; he went to the sea and bathed, washing himself clean; and
then he came to the Christians and dressed himself in a shirt and a
kilt. The next step was to get a book,—his was the translation of the
Gospel according to St. John. He eagerly listened to every one that
would read bits of it aloud to him, and his soul seemed to drink in the
new ideas at every pore. He attended the Church and the School most
regularly, and could in a very short time read the Gospel for himself.
The Elders of the Church took special pains in instructing him, and
after due preparation he was admitted to the Lord’s Table—my brother
Missionary from Tanna baptizing and receiving him. Imagine my joy on
learning all this regarding one who had sullenly resisted my appeals
for many years, and how my soul praised the Lord who is “Mighty to
save!”

On my recent visit to Aniwa, in 1886, God’s almighty compassion was
further revealed to me, when I found that Nasi the murderer was now a
Scripture Reader, and able to comment in a wonderful and interesting
manner on what he reads to the people! When I arrived on a visit to
the Island, after my last tour in Great Britain in the interests of
our Mission, all the inhabitants of Aniwa seemed to be assembled at
the boat-landing to welcome me, except Nasi. He was away fishing at a
distance, and had been sent for, but had not yet arrived. On the way to
the Mission House, he came rushing to meet me. He grasped my hand, and
kissed it, and burst into tears. I said,—

“Nasi, do I now at last meet you as a Christian?”

He warmly answered, “Yes, Missi; I now worship and serve the only Lord
and Saviour Jesus Christ. Bless God, I am a Christian at last!”

My soul went out with the silent cry, “Oh, that the men at home who
discuss and doubt about conversion, and the new heart, and the power
of Jesus to change and save, could but look on Nasi, and spell out the
simple lesson,—He that created us at first by His power can create us
anew by His love!”

My first Sabbath on Aniwa, after the late tour in Great Britain and
the Colonies, gave me a blessed surprise. Before daybreak I lay awake
thinking of all my experiences on that Island, and wondering whether
the Church had fallen off in my four years’ absence, when suddenly the
voice of song broke on my ears! It was scarcely full dawn, yet I jumped
up and called to a man that was passing,—

“Have I slept in? Is it already Church-time? Or why are the people met
so early?”

He was one of their leaders, and gravely replied,—“Missi, since you
left, we have found it very hard to live near to God! So the Chief and
the Teachers and a few others meet when daylight comes in every Sabbath
morning, and spend the first hour of every Lord’s Day in prayer and
praise. They are met to pray for you now, that God may help you in your
preaching, and that all hearts may bear fruit to the glory of Jesus
this day.”

I returned to my room, and felt quite prepared myself. It would be an
easy and a blessed thing to lead such a Congregation into the presence
of the Lord! They were there already.

On that day every person on Aniwa seemed to be at Church, except the
bedridden and the sick. At the close of the Services, the Elders
informed me that they had kept up all the Meetings during my absence,
and had also conducted the Communicants’ Class, and they presented to
me a considerable number of candidates for membership. After careful
examination, I set apart nine boys and girls, about twelve or thirteen
years of age, and advised them to wait for at least another year or so,
that their knowledge and habits might be matured. They had answered
every question, indeed, and were eager to be baptized and admitted; but
I feared for their youth, lest they should fall away and bring disgrace
on the Church. One of them, with very earnest eyes, looked at me and
said,—

“We have been taught that whosoever believeth is to be baptized. We do
most heartily believe in Jesus, and try to please Jesus.”

I answered,—“Hold on for another year, and then our way will be clear.”

But he persisted,—“Some of us may not be living then; and you may not
be here. We long to be baptized by you, our own Missi, and to take our
place among the servants of Jesus.”

After much conversation I agreed to baptize them, and they agreed
to refrain from going to the Lord’s Table for a year; that all the
Church might by that time have knowledge and proof of their consistent
Christian life, though so young in years. This discipline, I thought,
would be good for them; and the Lord might use it as a precedent for
guidance in future days.

Of other ten adults at this time admitted, one was specially
noteworthy. She was about twenty-five, and the Elders objected because
her marriage had not been according to the Christian usage on Aniwa.
She left us weeping deeply. I was writing late at night in the cool
evening air, as was my wont in that oppressive tropical clime, and a
knock was heard at my door. I called out,—

“_Akai era?_” (= Who is there?)

A voice softly answered,—“Missi, it is Lamu. Oh, do speak with me!”

This was the rejected candidate, and I at once opened the door.

“Oh, Missi,” she began, “I cannot sleep, I cannot eat; my soul is in
pain. Am I to be shut out from Jesus? Some of those at the Lord’s Table
committed murder. They repented, and have been saved. My heart is very
bad; yet I never did any of those crimes of Heathenism; and I know that
it is my joy to try and please my Saviour Jesus. How is it that I only
am to be shut out from Jesus?”

I tried all I could to guide and console her, and she listened to all
very eagerly. Then she looked up at me and said,—

“Missi, you and the Elders may think it right to keep me back from
showing my love to Jesus at the Lord’s Table; but I know here in my
heart that Jesus has received me; and if I were dying now, I know that
Jesus would take me to Glory and present me to the Father.”

Her look and manner thrilled me. I promised to see the Elders and
submit her appeal. But Lamu appeared and pled her own cause before them
with convincing effect. She was baptized and admitted along with other
nine. And that Communion Day will be long remembered by many souls on
Aniwa.

It has often struck me, when relating these events, to press this
question on the many young people, the highly privileged white brothers
and sisters of Lamu, Did you ever lose one hour of sleep or a single
meal in thinking of your Soul, your God, the claims of Jesus, and your
Eternal Destiny?

And when I saw the diligence and fidelity of these poor Aniwan Elders,
teaching and ministering during all those years, my soul has cried
aloud to God, Oh, what could not the Church accomplish if the educated
and gifted Elders and others in Christian lands would set themselves
thus to work for Jesus, to teach the ignorant, to protect the tempted,
and to rescue the fallen!




CHAPTER IX.

_LETTERS FROM ANIWA._

  Editorial Preface.—_Letter for 1867._—Not Tanna but Aniwa.—“Missi
  Paton _versus_ Teapots.”—The Humour of Taia.—Evening
  Village-Prayers.—“Make him _Bokis_ Sing.”—My Sewing Class.—“That
  no Gammon.”—“Talk Biritania.”—The Marriage of Kahi.... _Letter
  for 1869._—First Communicants on Aniwa.—Mungaw and the Mission
  Boys.—The Blessing of the _Dayspring_.... _Letter for 1874._—Home
  to Aniwa.—“Taking Possession.”—“Another Soul Committed to our
  Care.”—Hutshi and her Lover.—Six Missionaries on Aniwa....
  _Letter for 1875._—Missi Paton and “Joseph” and the Tannese.—A
  Tropical Hurricane.—The Disgrace and Sale of Hutshi.—Taia Baited
  by Nalihi.—Earthquakes and Tidal Waves.—Farewells.... _Letter for
  1878._—A Madman at Large.—The Passing of Yawaci.—The Madness and
  Death of Mungaw.—Our Native Elders.—Music on the Waters.—A Wicked
  Vow.... _Letter for 1879._—New Year’s Day on Aniwa.—A Miserable
  Slaver.—Litsi Married Again.—Mission Synod on Erromanga.—Tragic and
  Holy Memories.—Day-Light on Tanna.—Pigs in Galore.—Arrowroot for
  Jehovah.


[The Editor takes upon himself the responsibility of presenting here a
picture of life among the New Hebrideans, as portrayed by the graphic
and gifted pen of Mrs. John G. Paton.

His only regret is that the exigencies of space compel him to give
mere _fragments_ of these Letters, instead of the full-flowing
descriptions, which have led him to regard them as amongst the most
charming pieces of Missionary literature with which he has become
acquainted.

He apologizes also to that dear lady herself for the liberty he is thus
taking with her “Family Epistles,”—written for the delight of her inner
circle of friends, and for their eyes alone. He is well aware that if
she were at his side, instead of being in the New Hebrides, while he is
sending these pages to press, nothing would probably induce her to give
her consent to this appearance in print. But he trusts that her wrath
will be assuaged, when she returns to the Colonies and learns how the
Christian Public approve in this respect of what her friend has done.

The Editor makes no apology to the reader for this break in the flow
of the story, or even for re-touching one or two scenes that are past,
for he already instinctively knows that even these fragments will be
appreciated, as a great enrichment to the Autobiography which he has
been privileged to introduce to them.]


(1867.)

TO REV. DR. MACDONALD, SOUTH MELBOURNE.

“... How much I enjoyed your kind letter which came by the _Dayspring_
last month! I was delighted indeed to hear that your Parish now extends
to the New Hebrides,—rather a scattered one certainly, nevertheless you
are bound to look after your flock, and we shall soon be expecting _a
pastoral visit_....

“You were, I dare say, surprised when you heard that we had been sent
to Aniwa instead of Tanna. It was a blow which Mr. Paton has hardly
got over yet; but all the brethren were decidedly opposed to us going
there alone, and we feel now that we have been Divinely led hither. Mr.
Inglis, in his last kind letter, said to Mr. Paton that he believed
he was doing more real work for Tanna, by bringing the Aniwans to a
knowledge of the truth and thus fitting them for by-and-bye spreading
the Gospel among the Tannese, than if he were now labouring alone
among that dense mass of people. We are encouraged, therefore, to hope
that there may be many ambassadors for Christ from this little Island,
for the Aniwans are a superior people, and the work has made steady
and rapid progress of late. I don’t mean that half the people are
converted,—very far from that! There is a great deal to be done, before
the soil is prepared even to receive the seed,—they cling so to their
old prejudices and superstitions. I believe, to many of them, it is
like taking a great leap into the dark to risk the anger of their gods
by coming to the Worship. For what proof have they at first that we are
leading them into the right way? True, they see we wish to be kind;
but the idea of any one coming among them simply for their good is a
doctrine they cannot understand.

“We are very thankful to have so many regularly at Church; and Mr.
Paton possessed a great advantage in being able to address them from
the first in Tannese, which some of them speak freely,—hence the double
hope of training them as helpers for Tanna. You would be surprised
to see with what propriety the Services are conducted. The Native
Teachers, two devoted men from Aneityum who have been here for years,
try to give short speeches. Then Mr. Paton usually invites one or
other of the more enlightened of the Aniwans to speak, which he does
by invariably pitching into his brethren in the most energetic terms,
comparing them to pigs, dogs, serpents, etc., the speaker not generally
including himself, and asking how long they mean to continue their
‘black-hearted conduct’?

“They are never at a loss for a text, and for a long time after we came
it sounded to me something like ‘Missi Paton and Teapots.’ I supposed
it to be, ‘Missi Paton _versus_ Teapots,’ but by-and-bye I discovered
that it was not Teapots, but Teapolo (= Devil), against which they
stormed. Lately they have been choosing more sacred subjects, generally
a repetition of what they have heard from Mr. Paton before, or been
helping him to translate during the week. Last Sabbath, we were much
struck with the gentle, persuasive tones of the old Chief who was
addressing them. Mr. Paton noted down two words he did not remember
having heard before, and asked for the translation after worship.
The man took him by the hand and said in Tannese, ‘Missi, I was only
telling them what you have been teaching us all this time about Jesus
pouring out His blood to wash away all our sins!’

“Taia, and Namakei the Chief, two of our firmest friends, give very
telling speeches sometimes. The former is a tall and powerful fellow,
quite a notoriety on account of his loquacious powers. He has a great
deal of ready wit too; and, though he does little else but talk, it
is wonderful what influence he exerts. Some time ago, he prevented a
violent quarrel ending in probable bloodshed. The party who thought
themselves insulted ran home, seized their arms, and were rushing
past Taia’s house, where he was lying outside, basking in the sun and
enjoying his pipe. He saw something was wrong, for they don’t continue
the habit of carrying their arms constantly now, and he called out to
them (of course in their own language), ‘Stop! stop! let me see what
you are carrying. Is it the book that Missi has been busy making?’
His sly hit set them all a-laughing, and they turned into his house;
there he had a long and serious talk with them, and got them to give up
the idea of fighting, at least for that day. The next being Sabbath,
he came to Mr. Paton before the Service to ask him to let him speak;
and, having both the offending parties present, he _did_ give it them,
finishing up by reminding them how difficult it had been to get a
Missionary, and how he, Taia, had gone to Aneityum to plead for more
Native Teachers after they had murdered Nemeyan and tried to kill
Navalak, and how he had always been careful to give them food to do
the work of Jehovah! In that part of the speech referring to his own
conduct, there were a few embellishments which in strict regard to
truth might have been omitted; but his advice seemed to do good, for we
heard no more of that quarrel.

“Taia, however, does not always do as he professes, and Mr. Paton
sometimes feels it incumbent on him to call Taia to account; but Taia’s
equanimity is never in the least ruffled. He sits listening with his
chin resting upon his knees, looking up now and again with a bland
smile, saying, ‘Ah, very good talk that, Missi! Very good talk that!’...

“Namakei never fails, when well, to take Mr. Paton’s Bible and lay it
on the desk every Sabbath and Wednesday before the Service, and to
get the people in the village assembled for worship, which we have
every evening under a large banyan tree in the Imrai (= the public
meeting-ground), the great place of general rendezvous, which is close
behind our house.

“I particularly enjoy this Evening Service, when all Nature is at rest
and looks so exquisitely beautiful, everything reflecting the gorgeous
sunsets and nothing heard but the soft rustle of the leaves and what
Longfellow calls ‘the symphony of Ocean’. I think the Natives, too,
are inspired with it, for none of us seem inclined to move off after
worship, and often, but especially on Sabbath evenings, we sit still
and sing over all our hymns. They never tire of this, being all of them
intensely fond of music...

“I was heartily amused, the first time I was called upon to perform on
Aniwa! We had just unpacked the harmonium, one day, about a fortnight
after our arrival. The news must have spread like wildfire; for,
towards evening, about forty or fifty people came marching towards the
Church (the house where we stayed till our new home was built), the
foremost shouting in broken English, ‘Missi, make him bokis (= box)
sing! Plenty man come hear you make him bokis sing!’

“I must not omit to tell you about my peculiar charge, and a very
pleasant one it is, I mean my own Sewing Class. Nearly fifty women
and girls attend pretty regularly every morning, except Wednesday and
Saturday, and we spend two hours (often more) together sewing and
singing. They are very tractable and willing to learn, having taken
a great fancy for sewing. I never dreamt it would be really such
delightful work teaching them, but my heart was drawn to them from the
first, and I will always feel grateful to them for the kindly way they
behaved to me when I landed amongst them, timid and rather frightened
at feeling myself the only white woman on these lonely shores....

“Mr. Paton took the matter much more coolly, seeming to take for
granted that they were all his ‘dear friends,’ though most of the men,
really fine fellows we have since found them, thought it advisable to
receive us with a good deal of impudence, trying how far we could be
imposed upon! Plenty of them talk a little English, and really it was
almost laughable to hear them telling the most monstrous lies with
such a long innocent face, that one would suppose they believed them
themselves, and then gravely adding, ‘That no gammon!’...

“I feel the sewing, however, to be only a stepping-stone to something
far more important. It brings me into contact with them so as to learn
their language. I so long to be able to talk freely to them; but it is
slow work with me! How the Apostles must have appreciated the gift of
Tongues on the day of Pentecost! I wonder if it was accorded to their
wives as well? It is so provoking, when you think you have mastered
enough to venture on a little conversation with them, to see them
looking at each other wonderingly. Some time ago, in talking to a girl,
I plunged a little deeper than usual, thinking to astonish her with my
wisdom, but she looked up innocently and told me she ‘did not savvy
talk Biritania!’ I must have made awful blunders at first. But some of
the women can talk Tannese as well as the men; and I got Mr. Paton’s
help in any great difficulty, though he did not at all times enjoy the
interruption, especially if the point in question turned out to be only
about a needle and a thread, while he had been called away when setting
up the type for our first Aniwan book!...

“Before closing this long epistle, I want to tell you about our first
Christian marriage here, especially as the Bride was decked out from
your Emerald Hill box, last sent,—at least partly so. It was a deeply
interesting occasion. Kahi, the bride, was one of my scholars, a
pretty young widow of about seventeen; and Ropu, her lover, was such
a nice fellow, too, a great favourite of Mr. Paton’s. They seemed
really attached; but Kahi’s father-in-law demurred about giving her
away, as he considered her still his property, having given a high
price (present?) for her when he bought her for his son. One morning,
however, Ropu appeared with such a number of fat pigs, that they quite
took the old man’s heart by storm, and he declared that he might have
her that day, if the Missi thought it was right. The Missi did not
object, but advised them to get married in Church; and I determined
to give Kahi a nice present, in order to tempt her young companions
to follow her example; not a very high motive, to be sure, but if the
prospect of a good present will induce them to alter their habits in
regard to marriage, I have not the slightest objection that it should
be so. It’s about the highest motive some of them can yet appreciate,
and there is no vital principle, after all, at stake in the mere form.
We made the event as public as the time would permit, and there was
quite a little gathering to witness the ceremony. Poor Kahi was brought
to me in tears; but when we put on her nice skirt and jacket, and she
caught sight of the pretty hat which happened to be trimmed with orange
blossom, she seemed to think she had indulged long enough in sentiment
and dried her tears quite briskly, looking out from under her long
eyelashes from side to side with great admiration, and when at last I
put a glaring red handkerchief into her hand she fairly laughed aloud!
There was a little trouble with them in Church, as they would not come
near enough to join hands till they were pushed; and then the poor girl
got her marriage vows repeated to her on the deafest side of her head,
for, being too bashful or something of the sort to give the response,
it seemed to be the public opinion that Mr. Paton was letting her off
too easily, and the men taking up the question thundered it in such a
manner as to elicit a pretty quick reply!

  “... P.S.
  “6th _December_.

“Please send the _Dayspring_ quickly down this season; for I have found
this morning to my horror, that the whole stock of flour has gone
useless, and not a bit of bread shall we get till the Vessel returns!
I suppose we are indebted to the climate and the weevil together for
this. We have plenty of other food,—so no danger of starving.”


(1869.)

TO A LADY.

... “To spend such a day as we did a few Sabbaths ago when our little
Church of God on Aniwa was formally constituted, we felt to be worth
more than all the sacrifices connected with our isolated life. We had
a very good attendance, 180 being present, and an unusual solemnity
and interest pervaded the Church throughout the whole Services. The
Communicants, twelve in number, were arranged in rows from the platform
to my seat, so that they occupied the space in the centre; and, as
they stood up to answer the form of questions Mr. Paton put to them
before receiving Baptism, you could scarcely have conceived a more
interesting group. Vasi, our eldest member, must we think be near to
ninety; but, aged and infirm as he is, he came every day to School with
his spectacles on, and is one of Mr. Paton’s best writers as well as
readers. Our old chief, Namakei, was there, with his daughter Litsi.
She is his only child living, and is almost as great a comfort to me
as to her father. She was the first girl who came to live with us,
and, being the eldest on our Premises, she sets a good example to the
others. Her devotion to Mr. Paton amounts almost to idolatry. She seems
as if she never could be grateful enough to him for being the means
of her conversion. But the one I felt most interest in was Namakei’s
sister, a very gentle and delicate-looking woman. I knew what it had
cost her to profess her faith in Jesus, and how her husband and son
were even then jeering and laughing at her. If I had time, I could tell
you something interesting about each of them, for of course it was our
knowing all their little histories that made it so intensely gratifying
a sight to us. I can remember when one began to wear clothing, when
another cut off his long hair, and when one whom we had thought a
very hardened character came one day with the last of his idols,
saying,—‘Now, Missi, these are the very last. I have no more.’

“It was a beautiful sight to see these all standing up neatly clothed,
in the midst of their benighted brethren, to declare themselves on the
Lord’s side; and more than one could witness without deep emotion.
Never did I feel happier in any society on Earth, than when partaking
of our Saviour’s body and blood with these dark Sisters and Brothers,
now united with me in Jesus. It was a day long to be remembered. I
trust it will be so even in Eternity, with thanksgiving. Our dear
friend and sister Missionary, Mrs. McNair, was with us, paying a
long-promised visit; and I felt so glad she happened to be here at the
time, for she says she never witnessed a more beautiful and affecting
spectacle. We have every reason to hope that the true work of grace is
begun in their hearts. Mr. Paton had much satisfaction in them while
attending his Candidates’ Class; and their own earnest inquiries were
what delighted him most. How often have we had cause to set up our
Ebenezer since coming to this far-off land; and this is but a small
beginning, yet we have most emphatically reason to thank the Lord and
take courage....

“Mungaw was so disgusted at having to wear a kilt, that I did not dare
to mention about cutting his long hair; and Mr. Paton does not wish the
Natives to be forced to these things, for he always says that, when
their hearts are changed, they will be sure to give up these things of
their own accord. I know that this is very true; but as I don’t see
that there would be any harm in having the short hair first, I coaxed
Mungaw to cut his, and he looks very much more civilized.

“We have a gathering of boys now on the Premises; for Mungaw had not
been installed into his office two days, before a few others came and
asked quite humbly that they might be allowed to do something for the
Missi. We were truly amazed as well as gratified at this unexpected
proposal; for the boys here, as a rule, are the idlest and most
impudent set I ever saw. They seem to be the ‘masters’ too, for no one
thinks of contradicting a boy. Of course, Mr. Paton told them that he
was very glad to have them come, as he wanted to teach them a great
deal they ought to know. They are really doing tolerably well, and
I feel so thankful to have a man-cook, as there are so many things
connected therewith that men or boys require to do and that they will
not do to help a _woman_; for instance, chopping wood and black-leading
the stove....

“The _Dayspring_ is a great blessing to us all. There is little fear
of any Missionary now on the most savage Islands being ill-treated,
if they see that he is well looked after. Of course, I mean ‘humanly
speaking,’ the fear is _nil_; and if we be kept in safety, and our
work in the end begins to prosper, that dear little Vessel and her
supporters have more to do with it all than might by some be imagined.
Two of our Natives, one of them the wildest character on Aniwa, were
engaged by Captain Fraser to go as boat’s crew, the trip before last;
and they came back in ecstasies, declaring there was never such a
Captain as the one on board the _Dayspring_. He was so kind and good to
them, for when they came to any Island without a Missionary, he would
not let them go on shore for fear of being killed, and that would have
damaged our work on Aniwa. Then they counted on their finger ends, with
great glee, the things they had received in payment; and as these are
good and useful articles, it engenders a love for such things instead
of the paint and stuffs they get from the Traders, while their huge
ambition for sailing and sight-seeing is gratified.”


(1874.)

TO THE FAMILY CIRCLE

“MY DEAREST MOTHER, SISTERS, AND BROTHERS,— ... I must, however, arrive
at Aniwa more by degrees, as this is to be the journalistic Family
Epistle, and you have heard nothing of us since we left Sydney on
the 4th April, with dear Dr. Steele on board, who seemed like a link
between us and Civilization. I felt ‘strong to go,’ as our Natives
would express it, for I realized as I never before had done the ‘Lo,
I am with you,’ and some of God’s dear ones with whom we had had such
precious Christian fellowship were with us till the last....

“We had finished up at Fotuna soon after breakfast; and how intensely
delighted we were to hear the Captain’s cheery voice shouting out that
we would be able to have a drink of milk at Aniwa to-morrow morning,
as the wind was fair. We had all packed up in the afternoon, and the
first sight which greeted me, on looking out at my port-hole next
morning, was the trees and rocks of dear old Aniwa! The first boat was
sent ashore with eight or nine Fotunese and their cumbrous baggage,
who had insisted on coming to visit our Island, rather to the disgust
of the Captain. Meantime we were having our breakfast, and Mr. Arthur,
the mate, brought back word that our Natives were in a-state of great
delight and excitement,—dear Yawaci making the younger girls fly round
their work,—also that our six cows had increased to ten, and that our
goats no man could number! He had also heard that a number of our
Natives had died, and some had been taken away by Traders.

“When we neared the shore, we could see that the great majority of the
people had turned out, and even the very cattle and goats been brought
to meet us! There were my girls, standing in a group in bright pink
dresses, sewed and shaped by themselves, and turkey-red turbans, and in
short, by one and another of the Natives all the colours of the rainbow
were well represented. Not one person, I am thankful to say, was
_without clothing_. True, some of their garments were ragged and scanty
enough,—still they had them, and it was almost more than we expected
from some of them, after being away from them so long. They do _so_
love to run naked!

“What a shaking of hands, and ‘Alofa’-ing there was! Two or three
little groups were sitting apart sobbing for their dead; indeed, they
firmly believed that if we had been on the Island to attend to them
they would not have died. When we reached the house, everything looked
beautiful and the ground so well kept, new coral on the walks, a fine
new mat on the dining-room floor and another on the lobby, and last,
but not least in the estimation of weary sea-voyagers,—a great jug
of new goat’s milk! When Dr. Steele and Mr. Robertson made playful
speeches about our Home-coming before drinking it, I could most truly
say, even after all the enjoyment and kindness of the Colonies and
delightful Christian fellowship with kindred spirits there,—‘Home,
sweet Home, no place like Home.’...

“Amidst all my hurry, however, I had five minutes alone by my little
Lena’s grave. The beautiful white coral was blackened, but the grass
and shrubs had grown, and the lemon branches with their bright fruit
were bending over and shading it beautifully. How naturally one looks
_up_ to the blue sky above, and wonders where the spirit is, or if she
can see the mourning hearts below. She would have been running on her
own little feet now, had she been on Earth; but though my heart aches
for her still, I would not have it otherwise, for she was not sent in
vain, and oh, what a little _teacher_ she has been! When John took Dr.
Steele to see the grave, he said,—‘You have thus taken possession’; and
I felt we had taken possession of more through her than that little
spot of ground on Aniwa....

“Our visitors and Vessel left us in the afternoon, and on my return
from seeing them off (John was too exhausted to go), I met a very nice
man, one of the Church members, who stopped me and said,—‘Missi, I’ve
given my boy up to you and Missi the man, and you’re to feed and clothe
and teach him, as you do the other children.’ I could hardly believe my
ears, and you would need to know how boys are prized here to appreciate
as we did the sacrifice made,—at least as John did, for I must confess
that the thought of their bodily sustenance comes between me and the
fervent thanksgiving of my earnest little man for ‘another soul being
added to our care!’ We’ve got ten of these souls, with bodies attached,
at the present time, besides several outsiders who come during the day,
and it taxes all my ingenuity to keep them in work and ‘Kai-Kai,’—their
capacity for the latter being of no mean order. Their clothes are no
concern beyond the making of them, and that they soon learn to do for
themselves; for we have always been abundantly supplied from kind
Mission friends.... Although I _do_ sometimes think how nice it would
be to be in Civilization with a small house of our own and with the
care of only one or two servants at most, yet we are more than re-paid
for all our love to these dear Darkies. They are just like our very
children, and such we always call them, and they are so confiding and
loving with us and tell us everything, especially the elder girls, who
have lived with us now for more than five years.

“By the way, we have just had an _affaire de cœur_ amongst them, and
as Hutshi is the young lady, you will be interested to hear. You
know she was given away, when an infant, by her parents, to Nelwang,
another infant about the same age, but who is now one of the best and
most intelligent boys on the Island,—the only drawback being that his
limbs are rather diseased, and he is so fearfully timid that he won’t
let John apply anything to cure them. Well, when we were in Sydney, a
middle-aged man, a returned labourer, whose betrothed wife is yet a
baby, came trying to curry favour with Hutshi’s guardians (her parents
are dead long ago) by bringing them large presents, and finally got
them talked over to give him Hutshi when she returned with us,—so it
was settled, only awaiting her and our consent. Now, her guardian has
always been most honourable with us. He gave up Hutshi to us, when
she was of the greatest use in his village (but I took care to let
her go and help them pretty often), and when we asked if she might go
with us to the Colonies, he and his wife said,—‘She is more your child
than ours, Missi; do as you like.’ So, when they explained matters to
John one evening in the study, and said that both Hutshi and Nelwang
were agreeable to the change, he felt he could not interfere much, but
warned them not to be too rash and to ask God about it.

“Hutshi, the mischief, flirted with her new admirer when she could
get a chance, and I felt it would be a great relief to have her
married; but we could see, from Nelwang’s looks (he is one of our
boys), that there was a pain at his heart. I set him a piece of work
in the dining-room one day, and, sitting down to help him, got all
his confidence. The poor boy’s heart was breaking, and he wound up by
saying,—‘I can’t tell _them_ my heart, Missi, for they would but laugh,
and I am only one; but if my father had been alive, they would not have
_dared_ to give Hutshi away before my eyes.’ Seeing his lady-love,
however, who at that moment came in at the open window and evidently
comprehended matters, he tossed his head proudly and said,—‘It’s very
good that she takes him!’

“John and I espoused Nelwang’s cause from that moment, and he soon
found an opportunity for saying a word on his behalf. I also got Hutshi
alone, and told her what Nelwang had said. She replied that she did not
know what to do, as they were all urging her to take Sarra (the new
lover); but she said,—‘I would cry more to give up Nelwang than that
old fellow!’

“She came to me the other day, and said she had finally made up her
mind to keep by Nelwang. I answered,—‘But I thought, Hutshi, you seemed
for the while to prefer the other.’ ‘Yes, Missi,’ she replied, ‘when
everybody was praising him and telling me to take him, I thought it
would be nice; but Nelwang and I have had a talk. We told each other
what our dead parents said about our being married when we were big,
and then we both cried, and we are going to be true to each other!’ So,
you see, there is sentiment in blacks as well as whites!...

“Here I am at the end of my fourth sheet, and have not even begun to
tell you of the nice Ladies’ Meeting we had at Aniwa, or the lively
time we have had with visitors ever since the Vessel returned with the
Missionaries on board for the annual Synod....

“That was a refreshing visit on the return of the Vessel from the
Synod; and we had a cheery houseful, for in addition to our four
husbands, whom as canny Scots say, ‘we were _not sorry_’ to see after a
three weeks’ absence, Mr. and Mrs. Inglis and Dr. Steele (the latter to
remain with us) came and stayed from the Saturday till the Monday,—the
vessel going out to sea with the rest of the Missionaries, who declared
it would kill me outright to have any more! Those who came tried to
make me promise just to give them a pillow and a blanket on the floor,
but we got them snugly stowed away in beds and on sofas, and we so
enjoyed their society. It is especially delightful to hear their voices
mingling in the Psalm at Family Worship. It makes one think of the
great company of the redeemed, singing the ‘New Song.’

“The Sabbath was such a blessed day too, and it was quite an event in
the Church history of Aniwa to see six Missionaries on the platform,
and five ladies in the Missionary’s pew. Mr. Inglis preached at the
first service, Mr. Annand at the second (John of course translating),
good Gospel truth; and Dr. Steele gave us a _white_ sermon in
the evening in the drawing-room, upon the ‘Prayer of Jabez.’ The
language was very beautiful, and the Doctor suited himself to his
audience,—leaving out his appeal to _unconverted Sinners_!...

“Every one in the house is asleep, and my eyes will hardly keep open;
so I must say Good-night to you all, with heart’s love from your
ever-loving daughter and sister,

                                              “MAGGIE WHITECROSS PATON.”


(1875.)

TO THE FAMILY CIRCLE.

  “MY DEAREST SISTERS AND BROTHERS,—

“If I could only put one of the Earthquakes we’ve had into this journal
it would produce a sensation,—descriptions seem so very tame after one
has experienced the awful feelings they produce! But I must begin and
go forward as best I can, there being no possibility of gratifying you
in that direction.

“You know, it was not till very near the time of the Vessel’s sailing
that we decided last year to remain; and I sent my last ‘Journal’ on
board with an aching heart. We had been so nearly going to see our
precious boys, and till I saw the _Dayspring_ slowly disappear in the
distance I did not know how intensely my heart had been set upon seeing
them!...

“To crown all, John got very ill, and sunk so low we feared he might
not live to see the return of the _Dayspring_. But all the time I had
an inward conviction that God had not kept him on Aniwa just to die,
after giving us such encouragement to remain, and we had waited so
confidingly upon Him just to show us the way. And He did not keep us
long in suspense, for one event transpired after another to show how
wisely we had been guided.

“The first of these happened about a month after the vessel left, and
as John was slowly recovering from his illness. We heard, one lovely
day, as I was setting the copies for afternoon School (I managed to
keep it going all the time), a cry of ‘Sail O!’ which set us all into
a fine pitch of excitement. School was the last thing to be thought
of, and the Natives scampered off towards the other end of the Island,
where the vessel lay. John was unable to walk so far; but you may
be sure we were quite on the _qui vive_ for news, and I waylaid the
first returning Native, who shouted to me in Aniwan, ‘Missi, what _do_
you think has happened? A whole shipload of Tannese, men, women, and
children, have been driven off their own Island by war, and have come
over to live on this little Island, because the Worship is strong,
and they know they are safe. They are many in number for the people
of Aniwa; and where are we to get food for them, Missi? for they had
to escape at night with what little baggage they could bring in the
vessel.’

“Another Native soon arrived with letters from Mr. and Mrs. Neilson,
confirming the report, and we were rather dumbfounded at this turn of
events; but, like most of the other Missionaries, when they heard of
it, we were also deeply impressed with God’s mysterious ways. Tanna was
the Island upon which John’s whole heart was set; and it was one of the
bitterest disappointments of his life when the Mission Synod would not
allow him to return there, instead of coming to Aniwa nine years ago;
but we both felt we were following God here, and now He had brought
the Tannese to Aniwa; for those who had come were from around Port
Resolution, and some of them were John’s old friends!

“Some of the Islanders themselves were as much struck with the event
as we were. And at last Mission Synod, Mr. Neilson amused all the
Missionaries by giving the outline of a speech made upon the occasion
by one of the Aneityumese Teachers on Tanna, apt as all Natives are
in drawing illustrations from daily life to point their addresses on
Sabbath. He took the story of Joseph for his subject, and made out
‘Missi Paton’ to be Joseph driven from Tanna by his wicked brethren the
Tanna men, but that God had gone with him to Egypt, _alias_ Aniwa, and
prospered him and the land for his sake, and prepared it for them to go
and live upon, and thus save much people alive!...

“John immediately set to work revising his Tannese, which he had
well-nigh forgotten, so that when the Tanna gentry declined to come
to Church he was soon able to go to them and first read his addresses
and then preach to them in Tannese. How it did remind us of the early
Aniwan days, when our worthy parishioners used to enjoy a pipe or a
nap, as they lay on their backs listening to the sermon!...

“The Hurricane began in earnest about noon on January 14th, after a
heavy thunderstorm which had blackened the air all the morning. As we
sat at dinner the wind suddenly became furious; we had to jump up and
make preparations, as the house was shaking and creaking, the thatch
standing on end, and the rain pouring in. Immediately trees, fences,
etc., began to occupy a horizontal position; so the children and I took
refuge in the Study, which seemed to stand firmer than the rest of
the house, and from the windows watched the progress of the storm,—a
magnificent sight, tall trees bending and falling before the awful
force of the wind. John came in greatly dejected, saying that if it
continued much longer the Church would go, as it was already bending,
notwithstanding its being so strongly propped. There was a lull just
then in the storm, which cheered me; but his more experienced eye led
him to pronounce it the stillness that precedes a great storm, it
was still so black and ominous. And sure enough, just before dark, a
terrific blast sent us flying down to the Cellar, our usual place of
refuge.

“John and a couple of the girls made a final attempt to get into the
house for one or two loaves, and whatever else they could grab,—we
were now awfully hungry, having been so unceremoniously interrupted at
our dinner. My faithful little cook was precipitated into the Cellar
before a great blast, puffing and panting and holding on to a kettle of
boiling water, which was an unexpected luxury in the circumstances. So
we managed to make a very jolly meal off the top of a box; and all our
stores being in the Cellar, we got hold of a tin of salmon.—the girls
had thoughtfully brought a great basin of milk for the children,—and
when F. found we were all to eat the salmon out of one plate, his joy
knew no bounds, and he stuck his fork into the biggest bit in the dish,
which proved too large for his wee mouth, causing great merriment!

“The storm raged till midnight, when we were all thankful to get up to
our beds, and found our own room, fortunately, the only habitable part
of the house. But oh, what utter desolation the morning light revealed!
Our fine large Church a mass of ruins, with one great pillar standing
solitary and upright through the rubbish against the clear blue sky.
The School House in the same condition, at the other side of the
_Imrai_ (= public meeting ground). With the exception of our cook-house
and printing-office, not an outhouse was left standing on the Mission
Premises; but oh, how thankful we felt that our dwelling-house stood
secure, as John was in no condition to have attempted building another.
Not even a pane of glass was broken, though of course the roof could
not escape, and consequently everything was soaked. The day proved
fortunately very hot, and we got all the mats lifted, and mattresses,
blankets, etc., washed and dried. The pigs were in their glory, running
riot over all the plantations, and I am sure if they could have spoken
they would have said in Scotch, ‘It’s an ill wind that blaws naebody
guid!’

“Almost every Native on the Island was at work before daylight at his
fences; dwelling-houses—and there were not a dozen standing uninjured
on the Island—being left till the plantations were secured. School
duties were not even thought of. It was so sad to see the destruction
of food,—fine large breadfruit and cocoa-nut trees torn up by the
roots, and bananas with the fruit half formed lying useless on the
ground. But the greatest lamentation seemed to be about the _Tafari
Moré_ (= House of Worship), though the general Public were complacently
viewing it as a judgment from ‘_Teapolo_’ (= His Satanic Majesty,
in Aniwan), for their being ‘so strong for the Worship.’ This is a
popular error; and John guarded them against it next Sabbath, preaching
an impressive sermon from the text, ‘Labour not for the meat which
_perisheth_,’—rather _apropos_ to the occasion!...

“It was altogether a sad time, that, for we had been so tried with
Hutshi, the girl I had last time with us in Australia, and who turned
out a complete _vixen_; the first of my girls, I am thankful to say,
who has not turned out well. She was married to one of our best young
lads, and went quite gracefully through the whole affair—I think I
wrote you all about it before—but all the while she was dying for my
handsome young cook, who is engaged to the little table-maid. She
began, soon after the marriage, to persecute her husband and flirt
with the other, going from bad to worse, notwithstanding all we could
say to her; and one day she behaved so frightfully, that, when we
were told of her guilt, John and I sank down on the nearest seats,
perfectly overpowered with disappointment and horror. I could hardly
have believed that any woman, either black or white, could have so
deliberately planned to lead others so young and innocent into sin.

“The young Chief came to ask John how she ought to be punished, as
something would have to be done; but he hesitated to give advice, never
having been called upon to legislate in a similar case, being indeed
too vexed to collect his thoughts; only he strongly forbade them to
shoot her, as one or two of the enraged fathers proposed, and advised
them to be guided by the Aneityumese Teachers, two wise Christian men
from Mr. Inglis’s Station. They said that the punishment inflicted on
Aneityum by the Chiefs was to tie up the guilty parties, collect all
the goods of those most deeply involved, and distribute them among the
people at the other side of the Island, so as not to tempt those around
to bring false accusations against neighbours for the sake of their
property.

“This was accordingly done in the case of Hutshi; and we had an
invitation to be present at the ceremony, which we declined, as John
told them it was better he should not be too much mixed up in these
things. The only way in which he did interfere was to shorten the time
to _three_ hours, instead of the twenty-four they were determined to
keep her tied, and which, in my opinion, she richly deserved! Two
or three Tannese happened to arrive at her village before she was
unloosed, and expressed their disgust at the consequences entailed by
the Worship, saying they could have as much ‘fun’ on Tanna as they
liked without being punished for it. But one of our Aniwans answered,
with a sly wink at his neighbours, that bad as the Worship might be, it
had at least not driven them from their own land!...

“I wish I could say that was the last of the trouble we had with
Mistress Hutshi; for she professed great repentance, and sent one of
the girls, two or three weeks afterwards, to say she wanted to tell me
all her badness, as that would make her feel better. She had not been
allowed to come near the Mission Premises, nor had we since taken any
notice of her. We had very little faith in the young lady’s repentance,
but feared to crush any yearning after amendment, if it _did_ exist;
and I thought that God might give me a word for her. So we had a long
interview; but I felt all the time there was no change in her, as was
immediately proved, for she went back tossing her head and telling the
others they might talk as much as they liked, she didn’t care, for the
Missi was quite satisfied with her now!

“She did not improve, but the Church members round kept such a watch
upon her that she did not do anything very flagrant. She did, however,
lead her husband a miserable life; and I never believed that a Native
could have borne with patience what he did; at last, being able to
stand it no longer, he came to bid us Good-bye, saying he was going to
live about three miles distant (it was as far away almost as he could
get on Aniwa, either in one direction or the other, as his lady-love
lived close to us in the centre of the Island!) and that he freely
bestowed her upon any man who might be fool enough to take her, as
henceforth he would have nothing to do with her.

“She had, out of pure bravado, professed to elude their vigilance and
implicated a Tanna man, as well as Rangi (the wildest man on Aniwa),
who both proved their innocence. Perhaps Rangi agreed with me that he
had enough sins of his own to account for without being blamed for
what he really did not do; and being an out and out Savage in his
disposition, we feared trouble when he came with all the Tanna men at
his heels to inquire about it one morning after her husband had left
her. We little expected, however, the scene there really was enacted,
right outside our gate too, for it was there Rangi caught hold of her.
She gave one spring to John for protection, but the gate was between
them, and Rangi wrenched her from it, and the savage yells that got up
nearly sent me frantic with terror.

“John stood leaning carelessly against the gate, viewing it all—the
calmest person there! He felt that his presence would be a sufficient
check, though it would have been folly to interfere. My girls
were groaning and crying; and Yawaci (the girl I have here) was
unconsciously doing her best to wrench the handles off the dining-room
door in her despair, groaning out, “Missi, blood will be spilt!” while
I was on my knees in the middle of the floor calling upon God to
interfere. But my little F. stopped me, saying, “Mamma, Mamma, I don’t
like to see you look up and talk like that! Are you ill?” So I tried
to be myself again to the wee man, and felt comforted in having left
the case with the Lord. Only I _must_ see Rangi, though I had very
slender hope of influencing him; and I put my careful husband into a
fine consternation, as he would rather have seen an apparition than
me coming on such a scene. I had only a very dim notion, then, of his
gestures and entreaties, being deaf and blind to everything except
Rangi, who came nearest my idea of a _demon_ of anything I had ever
seen!

“The poor girl was tied, with her arms backward, to a cocoa-nut tree,
pale with terror, and a hundred muskets bristling round her. The
Tannese were in full Heathen costume, which means paint instead of
clothing; and the Church members stood calmly, like John, looking on,
except two or three of them, who kept guard around her with loaded
muskets for her defence from murder, if necessary. Her life was all
they or we wished to see spared, for she richly deserved any punishment
short of death. I caught Rangi’s eye at last. At a sign he came quietly
forward, and I began to tell him he should not dare to shoot my girl,
but being too excited I ended in sobs and was marched off,—but not
before Rangi earnestly assured me that he would not touch a hair of her
head, or let any one else do it, only, he said, she deserved to be tied
and ought to be well beaten for blackening his character! We could not
keep from smiling, even in the excitement, at Rangi’s care for _his_
reputation, which was truly as black as it well could be.

“Well, here was mistress Hutshi practically put up for public sale;
for, according to Native law, whoever dared to unloose her from that
tree had to take her for his wife, her husband having renounced all
claim to her. Rangi reminded them of this when he tied her up, saying
that the Missi only could alter that law if he wished. The Missi did
not feel inclined to do any such thing, having devoutly wished her at
Jericho ever since she commenced her pranks, as she was proving a curse
to the place, and now only hoped that the most tyrannical unmarried
man on the Island would take her off bodily as far away as the limited
circumference of Aniwa would permit (so did the Church members); but
for John to _say_ so would only be the beginning of mischief. He was so
anxious they would not appeal to him for advice, for we both felt that
for her Native law was the best. But though a score of young men would
have gone down on their knees for her before she was married, there she
stood for about three hours without a single bidder!

“John had got the whole crowd dispersed to go and cut wood for the lime
pits (you know he is of a rather practical turn of mind and likes to
utilize the most unlikely occasions), which they did with great energy,
having the steam up; so she was left alone, as the women had all to
run and cook food. I had a grand donation for the labourers besides
the tea, that day, as we had a calf killed the evening before, and I
was giving orders about it when I saw John waving me to the study with
such an amused face. It seems that Hutshi’s _old_ sweetheart had rushed
to him in eager haste, saying, ‘Missi, I never will have such a chance
for a wife! Will you marry me to Hutshi, if I untie her?’ John said he
certainly could not, and that if he took her it must be _à la Native_,
and that he would have to discontinue his attendance at the Candidates’
Class, of which he was a member. He explained, at the same time, that
it was not like running away with another man’s wife, as her behaviour
(which in Britain would have divorced her) had led her husband to give
her up; only that, for the sake of example, he could not countenance
such proceedings on the part of intending Communicants. Sarra said,
in that case he would have nothing to do with her. But, alas, female
influence prevailed, and he unloosed her an hour or two after, amid the
Hurrahs of the passers-by and our intense though secret delight; for
though Sarra is obliged to confess he has ‘caught a Tartar,’ yet he
manages to keep her in tolerable check, being a determined fellow.

“We heartily re-echoed the sentiments of one of our Church members,
when speaking of Hutshi, viz., ‘that it was awful what a _woman_ could
do, when she was bent upon mischief!’ Indeed, according to the Natives,
we have her, along with the two murderers, to thank for those awful
Earthquakes which nearly frightened us out of our senses, though on
Aniwa very little damage accrued from them.

“The first, at least the first to speak of, occurred near midnight on
the 28th March (the second anniversary of our Lena’s birth), and woke
us up with a vengeance, being the worst we ever had, the Earth heaving
so awfully that we expected every moment to be swallowed up, and were
almost paralyzed with terror, but M. and F. slept through it all. After
it, _a tremendous_ rush of the sea seemed to take place, from the noise
it made, and which we found next morning was the case, carrying our
boat from where it lay, high and dry about one hundred yards inland,
also canoes, two of which were smashed.

“I lay in awful terror after the Earthquake till three o’clock, and
was dropping off to sleep, when another terrible one sent us flying
out of the house in our night gowns, John dragging the children out of
their beds, and the girls rushing out of their house. There was not a
breath of wind, and it was awful to see in the bright moonlight the
great trunks of the trees swaying back and forward, and to feel the
ground going to and fro with such force. We had one or two slight ones
after that, and then just at daybreak an awful repetition,—every one
of us simultaneously rushing out of doors! This was number _five_; and
before breakfast we went to see the damage done to the boat (but it was
uninjured); and we had two more violent shocks ere we got home, making
_seven_ in all before breakfast, after which we had a commotion of
another kind.

“John felt so exhausted, and had just got fast asleep on the study sofa
(a most unusual occurrence with him), when I heard high words between
Taia, one of our Church members, and Nalihi, an Erromangan. I knew not
what to do, for Natives never waste time on high words—they at once
rush to arms; and I was unwilling to wake John to more excitement, as
it was exactly that day two years since he had been seized with that
awful fever, and I had been in fear of its return, as people predicted
it would, about the same time of the year. Well, I actually made up my
mind to show my wifely devotion,—and it was a good test for me, I beg
leave to say, I always had such a foolish terror of a loaded musket
anywhere, and infinitely more so in the hands of an enraged Savage,—by
going between the combatants myself. To make matters worse, all the
men about had gone that morning to bring lime-coral, and only a few
women had collected, and one or two timid fellows who stood at a safe
distance.

“Nalihi was flourishing his musket in Taia’s face, as an accompaniment
to an eloquent harangue he was delivering in Erromangan, not being able
to speak Aniwan; and Taia, who understood and could speak it perfectly,
seemed to be paying him back with interest. They subsided for a few
moments, when it was whispered the Missi was there; but on finding that
it was only the ‘Missi finé,’ they went at it with renewed vigour. I
took no notice of the Erromangan, knowing my only chance was with Taia;
so I went over to him, and implored him not to utter another word,
whatever provocation he might receive; and though reluctant at first,
he behaved nobly and stood what I think few white men would have done
in the circumstances. I kept close beside him all the time, and though
for three quarters of an hour that villain stood heaping insults upon
him, and at last, in his rage, cut down his bananas and fences before
his eyes, he never spoke, though his muscles twitched and he clutched
at his great club sometimes—one that I knew had done good (?) service
in Heathen days under the great brawny arms that wielded it; for Taia
is a perfect Hercules, and such a contrast to the little treacherous,
sharp-nosed Erromangan, who was dying for an excuse to get a shot at
him. When I thought Taia was going to give way, I put my cold white
paw (it _did_ feel so cold) on his black arm, and every time I did so
he turned and looked down at me with a grim smile, saying, ‘Don’t fear,
Missi, I’ll not speak.’

“Now I maintain, that though John sometimes fears Taia’s Christianity
is not of the highest type, yet he is undoubtedly a _perfect
gentleman_, or he would not have stood there, the greatest living
orator on Aniwa, silent at the bidding of any woman! When I saw the
good food being destroyed and so little left from the Hurricane,
indignation mastered every other feeling, and I felt it was high time
for John to interfere with Nalihi; as no one else dared to speak to
him, except master F., who had, by the way, found us out just then,
and proceeded without hesitation to deal with him in plain terms. His
little figure heaved with indignation, and he drew such a long breath
before calling out, ‘O you naughty, _naughty_ man! You’re a wicked man!
Jehovah, _so_ angry at you!’ Every one was so amused, and a general
titter went round, while Nalihi, with whom F. had been a favourite,
began vigorously to defend himself to the child in broken English, at
the same time wielding his axe to some purpose amongst Taia’s bananas.
So, feeling my own strength would not hold out much longer, I sped
off and brought John, who quietly went up to Nalihi and relieved him
of his musket and axe (Oh, I was glad to see that musket in dear old
John’s trusty fingers, for Nalihi held it in a horizontal position, and
it always _would_ point at me the whole time I stood there!) clapped
him on the shoulder and had him sobbing like a child in a minute and
offering payment to Taia for the damage done, which, however, Taia was
too seriously offended to receive, and I do not wonder at it.

“The crowd began to disperse, and John was taking Nalihi off for a
day’s work under his own eye, in case of his coming in contact with
Taia again, when I put a graceful finish to the proceedings by going
off into a fainting fit under the cocoa-nut trees! John said I managed
bravely, all except that; but I do think that after _seven_ Earthquakes
and such a scene, I had a good right to get up some demonstration, and
it was the first I ever perpetrated for the public benefit!

“We had three more Earthquakes that day, but slight, making _ten_ in
all; and I took care at night to provide for emergencies by putting a
supply of blankets on the verandah, as there is not a moment to snatch
clothes when they come, and we had felt chilly the night before. I
got laughed at for what was termed my needless precaution; but we had
hardly got into our first sleep, when another violent Earthquake turned
us out, and we were thankful for them. It was not so bad as some,
however, and we got a sleep till morning without further disturbance,
as the grand performance did not come off till next evening at nine
o’clock.

“John was busy in the bath-room, with the girls, damping paper for next
day’s printing, I was in the dining-room, jotting in my journal the
events of the day, when we all had to rush out with the most frightful
Earthquake that had yet taken place. The house danced, the windows
rattled awfully, and F. woke up with the first of it screaming in
terror, but M. took it more gently, telling him it was _nice_. It might
have been nice to feel ourselves rocked on the bosom of mother Earth
(we lay down on the ground at a safe distance from the house, which we
expected to fall every moment), could we have been sure she would not
open up and receive us into a closer embrace!

“The heaving must, I think, have continued nearly five minutes, and
we had just got into the house again, still trembling with agitation,
when a terrible gust of wind and roar of the sea half prepared us
for the shouting of the Natives, who called to us that the sea had
actually come close to our gate! We went out and found Natives up to
the waist in water, where it had been bush two or three minutes before.
We heard something flapping, and Yawaci picked up a large fish about
twelve feet from our gate; and as the tidal wave receded, they were
left in hundreds, which the Natives spent most of that night and next
day in gathering. An enormous turtle was found too among a lot of
_débris_,—‘Jehovah’s turtle,’ the Natives called it, owing to the way
in which it was found.

“No serious accident occurred from the wave on our Island, as in most
of the others, though some Natives fishing at Tiara were nearly carried
away, and our boat which lay at anchor there was lifted, anchor and
all, and carried a long way inland, but to a sandy place, where it got
no damage; yet not a canoe, if I remember rightly, was left whole.

“From that time we had a constant succession of Earthquakes, and were
kept in continual dread, though none of them so violent as those I have
mentioned. We had to sleep with our doors open, and at last John went
to bed in his clothes to be ready to run! I suppose you have heard
that the tidal wave swept right through Mr. Inglis’s, doing terrible
damage and half drowning them, and the Earthquakes kept knocking down
his walls and chimneys as fast as he could rebuild them. Dr. Geddie’s
fine Church, too, is all but destroyed. But I think the greatest damage
done is to the nerves of the poor Missionaries’ wives (the Missionaries
themselves would be indignant if you accused them of having any!) It is
such an awful sensation to feel the very Earth trembling and heaving
beneath one, and such an _eerie_ feeling comes on at night.

... “I must pass over everything else that happened until we turned up
in Civilization, and it is close upon Mail time. I would have liked to
tell you about our pretty new Church, with its snow white walls, which
was finished just before our beloved friends, Mr. and Mrs. Inglis, paid
us their farewell visit, which was like to break our hearts, for they
have been a father and mother to us and to the Mission. Our parting
too with our Darkies was intensely trying, as we are to be away from
them a longer visit than the last; but the society of our dear friends,
the Murrays, was an unexpected treat, and made the voyage so pleasant
notwithstanding the sea-sickness....

“The Home Mail closes in the morning; and I must close, with fervent
love, from your loving sister,

                                              “MAGGIE WHITECROSS PATON.”


(1878.)

TO THE FAMILY CIRCLE.

  “MY DEAREST SISTERS AND BROTHERS,—

“_Sons and daughter_, I should almost have added, as the biggest half
of our little flock are separated from Aniwa, and will as eagerly look
for the ‘family billet’ now as the rest of you....

“Now that I have sat down to write, so much comes crowding upon me
that I hardly know where to begin; but I cannot put down a word of
news before testifying of the Lord’s goodness to us, which has just
been vouchsafed during this last hot season. He has encompassed us
round as with a shield and preserved us safe and well, though from the
day after the _Dayspring_ left for the Colonies on the 14th November
last until the 30th March we have lived in daily—I might almost say
_hourly_—terror of our lives. We have seen—especially John has—the rage
of the Heathen, and passed through Earthquake and Hurricane; but all
seems as nothing compared with coming into constant contact with an
unrestrained _madman_, and this we have had to do with poor Mungaw....

“You must not think of us as pining in solitude, however. Indeed, poor
Mungaw took care to keep us all in lively exercise, and acted his first
scene the day after the _Dayspring_ left for Sydney with our mails. You
know that he married Litsi, one of my best girls (and how delighted we
were at the time that she was getting such a good young man!), who was
with me on my first visit to Australia from Aniwa, and you remember
how pleased you all were with her. Well, he spent the night beating
that gentle girl (who was near her confinement) and their little boy
about two years of age; and when John met him in the Imrai and quietly
remonstrated with him, he stalked off in high dudgeon; and in two
minutes more, a tremendous crackling and roar of fire made us rush to
the window, where we saw his nice house and all that was in it one mass
of flame. Not content with setting it on fire, he tore off Litsi’s
jacket and flung it in too. We quite expected that our own house would
go, as there were only two light fences betwixt some of our outhouses
and his, but providentially the wind carried everything the other way.

“He then took Litsi and Nomaki, their little boy, to a distant village;
and, oh! how we hoped he would remain, as Litsi had friends there,
but back he dragged them, terror-stricken and breathless from having
to keep pace with his tremendous strides. I sent Litsi an old jacket
(she begged me not to send a good one, as it might go the same way),
and a blanket to sleep or rather to roll herself in—for there was no
sleep for any one near that night. He had threatened to murder some of
the villagers, and was stalking round and round our Premises with his
loaded musket; but an Aneityumese Teacher kept watch over our house all
the night.

“It so happened that next day had been appointed for a ‘Members’
Meeting.’ These meetings are held monthly, for John to appoint them
their work, and change it from one to another, so that it might not
always devolve upon a few. You know there is no paid door-keeper,
or paid service of any kind connected with the Church, so the women
take it in turns, two by two, every Saturday morning, to clean the
Church and enclosure. One man is appointed bell-ringer, another to
take off and on the pulpit coverings and carry in the Bible, etc., two
to stand at the doors and see there are no loiterers outside, and so
forth. Cases of sickness or wickedness are also reported, and Church
matters generally talked over. At this meeting one woman was scored
off for absconding from her legal husband and living with another;
and Mungaw, who came in with the greatest blandness, as if nothing
had happened, got a thorough ‘talking to,’ and was suspended till it
should be proved whether he was more rogue or fool—for at that time
we could scarcely tell. That he had become decidedly cracked and his
mind to a certain extent unhinged, no one who saw and heard him could
doubt—especially knowing what a dear good fellow he was before; still
he seemed sane enough at times; and when he did break out, it was more
like being possessed with evil spirits. All his madness took the form
of wickedness, and when he saw people afraid of him he was the more
emboldened. It was very difficult to know how to treat him. He was
rather cowed at the meeting, though, and kept pretty quiet till the
full moon, while meantime we had peace to get all our machinery into
working order again....

“John has had great comfort with his big boys, however, especially
the one we were most averse to take in,—a great ugly-looking fellow
of about eighteen, couldn’t speak without a growl, and scowled
at everybody from under his black wool, which hung down over his
eyebrows. To crown all, he had been with the slavers—and that is no
recommendation!

“After keeping with our boys a day or two and coming to evening class,
on the third evening he sent in for a blanket, as he was ‘going to
stay.’ We looked aghast. John was for receiving him; but I was at the
crying point, and declared I could not feed more Natives or make food
go further than other people. John said, ‘Then am I to send him away?’
Well, no! I was hardly prepared to do that either; so, after talking
over it a few minutes, we felt sure the Lord had sent him; and though
I did not feel particularly grateful at the time, I have often thanked
Him since. We went to the blanket box, got a nice warm blanket (the
Natives feel chilly at night), called him in, and John had a talk with
him about certain rules, after which he took his gift with a very
pleasant grin. He looked like a different creature with his hair cut;
and a more faithful, helpful, warm-hearted Native lad we never had.
In times of danger from Mungaw, he stuck by John like his shadow—no
ostentation with it, but quietly getting some pretext for keeping close
to him when there was any fear. A capital worker too—for John does not
approve of keeping his boys idle, and they help him with whatever he is
at, fencing, roofing, gardening, house-building, etc.

“One day he and another big boy (a great wag—keeps the others in roars
of laughter, and himself the picture of solemnity) had been planing
wood very nicely, and John praised them, calling them his ‘Carpenter’
and ‘Joiner.’ In the afternoon a slate full of writing was sent in,
informing us that they wished from henceforth to drop their old names
and be called ‘Carpenter’ and ‘Joiner.’ Nor would they answer to any
other. We often forgot, at first, but were reminded by their paying
not the slightest attention, till we came out with the new name—when
they would instantly wheel round with a smile and be at our service!...

“One day, before John was quite recovered, Mungaw put a lot of
impudence on his copy for my special benefit. I took no notice—he
looked so wild—but pointed out a mis-spelt word, wrote a fresh line,
and telling him to follow it closely passed quickly on to the next
writer. I told John, when I went in, I was sure he would do some
mischief ere long; and just an evening or two after, we heard him
shouting and scolding from his house in an awful voice. John limped
off, in spite of my entreaties to let them fight it out, and found
Mungaw flourishing an axe over a poor woman, whose husband was from
home and who had been helping Litsi to cook his fish, but had been
unfortunate enough not to divine that on that particular evening he
wanted it wrapped in a different kind of leaf from what was usual.
He had brought the axe within a few inches of her shoulder, when two
or three Natives, attracted to the spot just before John, stayed his
arm and wrenched it from him. He got his musket next, but poor Sibo
and Litsi both ran to our house for protection, while John and the
Natives tried to calm him down. They got his musket from him, and I
saw a Teacher slip it behind a tree in our lawn; but Mungaw was sharp
enough to notice, and got it away again when the affray was over, and
ordered poor Litsi back to her cooking. Sibo went to a distant village
to be out of his way, declaring she was half dead with fright; and I
would very much have liked to get away from the Island altogether!
John’s spirit always rises equal to the emergency, but I get perfectly
faint with terror, and the longer the worse. This was merely a little
prelude, however, to what followed.

“Next morning he had the audacity to appear at one of the dining-room
windows, as the girls were clearing away the breakfast things; and
he demanded the keys from John, as he wanted to sharpen his axe at
the grindstone. John said, ‘No, Mungaw, you’ll learn to put your axe
to a better use first; and I want you to return the two you have of
mine.’ He looked the picture of innocent wonder, and replied, ‘What do
you mean, Missi?’ John replied, ‘I just mean that I want you to give
up your bad conduct.’ ‘My bad conduct! What have I done?’ protested
Mungaw. John said pointedly, ‘Do you not _know_, Mungaw?’ That was all
the provocation he got; but he went off for his musket, muttering,
‘I’ll let you know who you’re talking to.’

“When he was gone, John went out to his Printing Office for something,
and on leaving it saw Mungaw just inside our fence taking deliberate
aim at him with his musket. John turned round to lock the door, showing
no signs of fear, but feeling that all was over, and that he was to
be shot down so near us all and yet none near enough to save; but God
was watching! The next instant he heard a rush of feet, a scuffle,
and looked round to see the musket pointed high in the air, and four
strong arms grappling with the intended murderer. Two men had been
accidentally (!?) coming up the path, took in the scene at a glance,
and my husband was saved.

“I knew nothing of what was passing, but, feeling restless after
Mungaw’s parting look, went out to hurry John in for worship. I met
him coming in, and stopped short at sight of his pale face to ask
if he were ill, and he told me all. We had just begun to sing at
worship, when he re-appeared flourishing his musket, trying the doors
and windows (you may believe I had them securely fastened by this
time), and demanding entrance. We went on, taking no notice, but the
_celestial quaver_ was plentifully introduced into the music, and the
girls rushed into the dining-room in great fear. Meanwhile the news had
spread like wildfire, and the Church members near came running to order
him out of the Premises, which only made him wilder; so they seized
him, took him to the Imrai, and bound him hand and foot with ropes. It
was a terrible noise and scuffle, for he had the strength of ten men,
and yelled like a demon.

“Two of his brothers so-called (not real ones) arriving on the spot,
he thought to get up some sympathy, changed his voice to a whine, and
bewailed his hard fate,—‘bound and persecuted for doing nothing at
all!’ Litsi, gentle Litsi, took her boy in her arms, and walked up to
him before the crowd, saying in a loud voice, ‘Look at the marks of
your brutality on me and my helpless child, and say whether you deserve
to be tied or not!’ It was an imprudent speech for her to make, poor
girl, for which he did not forget to repay her. It was a terrible day
for us all—poor little F. white to the lips with fear, I lying in a
fainting state, and John walking up and down the room trying to keep up
our spirits, and wee J.—oh! how we envied him—running about, playing
‘Peep-bo’ in happy unconsciousness of all. The Church members feared
that some of the wilder young fellows, whom he had been favouring of
late, would come to his aid; but when it was known he had attacked the
Missi, not a finger was lifted in his defence.

“They did not know what to do with him, now they had him bound,—nothing
in the shape of a prison or secure place on all the Island! They
proposed our Cellar, but we didn’t want him quite so near as that; so
they let him off at the end of four hours, and Litsi and little Nomaki
took refuge with us. Mungaw got a little boy to tell him where they
hid his musket; and, once more possessed of it, he flew all round the
Island till towards sunset, when he divested himself entirely of his
clothing, stuck on paint, and with musket shouldered walked sentry
before our front gate for more than an hour. He seemed to be imitating
the sentinels he had seen before Government House in Melbourne—a slight
difference in the circumstances! But it was thought necessary to have a
counter-guard over our Premises that night. The only good thing he did
was to send his gracious permission to Litsi to stay in our house for
the night, which she thankfully accepted.

“Next morning (Sunday) he met her pleasantly, called her to speak to
him (our fence was between them), and threw a large stone at her head,
informing her that was the price of her yesterday’s speech. We bound
up the deep wound and advised her to lie quiet, but she preferred
going to Church with us as the safest plan, for he had been caught
several times during the night stealthily approaching our house to burn
it, as they thought. None of the villagers slept, two of their lives
being to danger. It was a most anxious Sabbath, and we had worship
under difficulties—guards being placed at our house and the principal
approaches to the Church. Oh, how regretfully I thought of the peaceful
Sabbaths and quiet walks to Church in Melbourne, none making us afraid!
But we tried to realize that the Lord Jesus was encompassing us around,
and that He stood between us and Mungaw. The people begged John to be
short, as they were in terror, so we had only one Service in Church,
and, instead of Sunday School, a prayer meeting on the Imrai. Mungaw
employed the time during Church service in ransacking the villagers’
boxes for ammunition, but they had it hid away; and at the prayer
meeting he was reclining, with folded arms, eyeing us from our back
verandah! After the prayer-meeting, John urged the different villagers
to take it in turns to sleep near Mungaw’s house for the protection of
Litsi who was being killed by inches, and at last they agreed; but as
soon as we were in the house, he went and patched up a sort of peace—a
sham to get the people away—and then abused the people near for tying
him, and dragged Litsi home. We were half the night praying for the
helpless girl, so completely at the mercy of that madman.

“Next morning, he came into the Imrai in grand style—musket in hand,
of course—and scolded the people, working himself up into a frenzy and
keeping us all on the rack, for _we_ could see from one of the Study
windows,—when, to our great joy, ‘Sail O’ rang out, and it was comical
to see how quickly he had to subside before this counter-excitement,
and slink away! We felt it was in answer to prayer, more especially
when a little afterwards he stood before our gate painted frightfully,
and told our herd-boys that he was going in the Vessel if she called
here. How earnestly we asked the Lord to let him go, if it were His
will, but prayed above all for submission to bear what was appointed
us, for we had the feeling he would stay. Poor fellow! he drove us
closer into the Saviour’s arms than all Dr. Somerville’s meetings in
Australia, for we had Him alone to look to. Natives were kind, but not
capable of giving much help—they rather look to us for it—and poor
things, we did pity them, when it was known that he had bought a large
stock of ammunition, including balls, and that he stayed behind!

“It turned out to be the schooner _Daphne_ for Fiji; and the Government
agent sent half a sovereign in a note, begging for opium, as he had
seventy-five people on board, and one case of ‘assured sickness.’ John,
of course, returned the money, but sent opium pills, laudanum, and
chlorodyne, having no opium. We were glad of the opportunity of sending
a few hurried notes, bearing a month’s later date than the _Dayspring_,
which left on the 14th November. This is the only other Vessel that has
called at our Island, since we returned, except the _Dayspring_....

“Christmas came next in order. The little stockings had been duly
filled the night before, as F. took care to have J.’s and his hung
up, with dim eyes at the thought of the other three which had been
filled the year before. It turned out to be a bright day; the bairns
were jubilant over their gifts; and there was a general rejoicing over
dear Litsi’s re-appearance at the Evening Class—her lord and master
having gone out in a canoe with some boys for a night’s fishing by
torch-light. Litsi’s face beamed at having an hour or two with us
all, for Mungaw did not allow her over her own fence, or any one to
go near her; and, as all the women were frightened, his commands were
obeyed to the letter, except by us, and for her sake even I had to go
stealthily with food (he starved her), as he beat her when he found it
out. Our girls did not require two biddings to put a plentiful supper
before her, and were cheering her under breath with the hope that his
canoe might turn bottom up and he get eaten with a shark, when the
most unearthly yell from the shore turned us all pale with terror, and
‘Mungaw!’ was gasped from every lip. Litsi flew home, in terror lest
he should find her _out_. The villagers seized their muskets and ran
to protect their boys, and John and I to our knees in the Study. But
the whole turned out to be a hoax! The boys’ canoe had upset among the
reefs, and though they could swim like corks, and were in no danger,
it was their pleasure thus to exercise their lungs while splashing
about....

“Mungaw made rather a sad New Year’s Day for us, though. While we were
at breakfast, more people assembled in the Imrai and high words ensued.
John went out to them, determined to sift the matter to the bottom;
and at last it came out that Mungaw had gone the day before to the
village of Towleka, and said that the people of Inahutshi were going to
shoot them on the morrow, and then he deliberately walked to Inahutshi
and told them the same thing about the people of Towleka. He was bent
upon war; wanted, in his own words, ‘to see blood run.’ Burning houses,
and he had burnt several, was becoming rather tame work; and he wanted
something more exciting. He boastfully acknowledged the part he had
acted the day before, declaring that if they had not _said_ they were
going to fight they _meant_ it, which was worse—better to have it out
and done with—why else were they carrying their muskets? This was a
little too much for their patience, and they did lay about him with
their tongues, saying it was he and he alone who had introduced this
carrying of muskets, by flying about with his own and threatening to
kill everybody. He then said, that if they were not going to fight they
ought to come out boldly for the Worship (he certainly did not approve
of doing things by halves), singling out by name those whom he knew to
have little differences with each other, and ordering them to shake
hands and exchange pigs there and then!

“When John thought they’d had enough of it, for Mungaw was getting
excited with his nonsense, he suggested that one of them should engage
in prayer and let them then get home. A fine old Chief stood up under
the banyan tree, and, waving his hand with a majesty a Native can
assume at times, offered a simple, earnest prayer, and the people
quietly dispersed. But Mungaw tried hard to get them together again,
and insisted upon everybody being converted on the spot. He kept on
this religious tack for about a fortnight, which was very pleasant, as
it allowed us to sit with open windows and doors, and get fresh air and
freedom.

“One day, when he was unusually gushing and had presented a pig and
food to the very men he had sought to murder,—his speech indicating
that the Millennial Reign was about to commence on Aniwa under his
auspices,—a Church member said, ‘I think, Mungaw, the people will
understand us better, if we burn our muskets and show that we’ll not
fight, whatever they may do; here goes mine!’ And suiting the action
to the word, he broke and flung his musket into the flames. Mungaw
immediately followed suit, with a grand flourish, to the intense relief
of all around, for he was a much less formidable personage without the
musket, though he still fancied himself a great king. He sent in for a
black suit, and permission to conduct the Worship next Sunday, which of
course he did not get.

“John sent for him and had long talks with him; but saw it was
little use,—he was so crazed, and thought every one in the wrong but
himself. His standing grievance against John was—that he kept all the
collections (!) taken at the close of Mission addresses (he insisted
they went into his private pocket), and did not halve them with him,
though he helped him to speak.

“He never forgot the scenes he saw in that den of iniquity to which
some wretches took him in Melbourne, under pretence of kindness, when
John was unable from my sudden illness in the country to take him home.
It bamboozled his then simple mind, how in a land of Gospel light such
appliances could be deliberately and systematically set on foot for
the on-carrying of evil. I do think, that for their light,—mind, I say
_for their light_—our black Christianity is superior to the white. The
Natives often said,—‘How is it, Missi, that he was so good and strong
for the Worship before he went to your good Land, and has been nothing
but a plague since he returned?’ John, of course, emphatically cleared
the ‘good Land’ from all blame, adding that he would take care not
to give any of the rest of them a chance of going daft by a trip to
Australia! They don’t pursue the argument after that, as all are eager
to go, and perfectly willing, they say, to accept the risk.

“It was a blessing the Natives were so kind, and oh, how we experienced
that ‘God stayeth His rough wind in the day of His east wind’; for
except the trouble with Mungaw, we had no other serious ones to contend
with, and He gave us to realize as I at least never did in the same
way how entirely the work was His. It looked so mysterious, that after
we had come down at such a sacrifice to health and family ties to
devote our whole time to the work, it should be so retarded by one
individual; for often, at his worst, only eight or ten had the courage
to come to School, and we could as well have taught fifty. But we could
leave it trustingly to the Lord, feeling that all we had to do was the
work He laid to our hands from day to day. What a restful feeling it
gives one to be ‘only an instrument in His hand.’...

“Litsi was the one most in danger, her house standing a little below
ours, and I having been roused at three o’clock to attend her only the
morning before, John was very averse to my going, in the circumstances;
and I fain would have contented myself with sending her comforts, but
I could not think to leave her with her mad husband, who had still
sternly refused to let any one go near her; so I hurriedly dressed,
roused the cook to boil the kettle, and took one of my girls with
a lamp. We found to my intense relief the baby already born, and
Mungaw so delighted at having another _son_ that he was inclined to
be tolerably kind. I took advantage of his mood—as it was through
him I could reach Litsi—praised him for being such a clever doctor,
and advised him to get her into the house out of the raw cold air,
and offered him the services of my girl to light a fire, which he
graciously condescended to accept! When I went back with some tea and
things for the baby, they looked much more comfortable, Litsi sitting
in the house by a bright fire, with the lamp beside her. Urging her to
lie down, I returned home and looked into the girls’ house to see how
it was faring with my other invalid,—for dear Yawaci had been carried
to us at her own request in a dying state.”...

“All that day was spent running betwixt the invalids. Dangerous
symptoms ensued with Litsi. Mungaw got fearfully excited at a lot of
women coming to see her, and stood over her with his loaded musket (he
had stolen another, as the pious fit did not last long), appealing to
me whether his word as Chief should be obeyed or not. I seconded his
efforts, as they were doing no good, and got them cleared to a little
distance—at hand if they were needed, and by deferential behaviour got
him to let me come and go with food, etc. He attributed her illness to
an absurd crotchet of his own, and held to it that she would be better
at sundown. Meanwhile, the time was being wasted, and we had so many
anxious thoughts. Was it right that her life should be sacrificed to
a madman’s freaks? Was it right to give in to him, or how far was it
right to risk his wrath? We took it all to our ever-present Counsellor;
and then John decided that if I found her no better he would go
himself, whatever the consequences.

“On my way I met Mungaw coming in at the gate with the empty dishes,
and he said quite humbly that he was wrong in his supposition, and
would like exceedingly if the Missi tané (= man Missi) would go and see
her, for he did not know what to do. John soon put matters all right,
telling them there was no cause for alarm,—gave directions about one
or two things that had been neglected, and ordered fomentations. She
had no more relapses, and he really seemed grateful the next morning
when he came for her breakfast, as I could not go to her very early on
account of the tidal wave.

“Poor Yawaci was our chief care after that. It seemed strange that
Litsi, who so longed for death, should survive so much ill usage,
for I could not pen a fiftieth part of the cruelty—the refinement of
cruelty—with which he treated her. One instance will suffice. We missed
him from Church one Sabbath, and found that he had spent the time
_skinning_ the lower part of her face and _pinching_ little bits of
flesh out of her chest from shoulder to shoulder, threatening her with
his club if she dared to cry out. You will wonder that the Natives did
not interfere. We began to lose all patience with them. I remember Mr.
Inglis once saying, ‘It was worth living twenty years on the Islands
just to know what we owed to Christianity,’ and how I thought they were
stupid who did not find out all that in six months or less! I myself
have had to live twelve years on Aniwa, however, to know what we owe to
Lunatic Asylums, and also to learn how _exclusively_ a man’s wife is
regarded as his own peculiar property—that is, to be used exactly as
he likes. They would as soon think of interfering with a man’s conduct
to his wife, as we would if in civilization a man chose to burn his
own carpet or smash his own timepiece. They would break out into the
most amused smile, when John was begging them to protect her, and
say, ‘But, Missi, it’s his own wife!’ Of course, they were mad enough
at him, Litsi being a general favourite, but could not well see their
right to interfere.

“Yawaci’s breathing was rather easier; and about eight o’clock, after
getting all she could want for the night, we were so thankful to see
her lie down for the first time, and fondly hoped she was beginning to
recover. She called the girls round her, telling them to sing; and,
after beginning the translation of ‘Nearer, my God, to Thee,’ I slipped
away leaving them singing it, and got to my bed thoroughly exhausted.
Through the night, her husband knocked at our bedroom window, saying
she was dying. John sprang up and went to her side, offering a short
prayer, but her spirit fled before he had done, and she was buried amid
heart-felt lamentations before Church Service on Sabbath, 3rd February.
Our hearts were like to break, for she had been a faithful attached
servant—_daughter_, rather—to us for ten years; a sweet little thing
about eight or nine when she first came, and every year we liked her
better. She had a great lump of _heart_, and I can never forget her
devoted care of us all at that time when we were both laid up and our
precious baby died. It was she I trusted to put the little form in
its last resting-place, myself too weak to move! It was so sad to see
her friends going about the next few days, their eyes red and swollen
with weeping. Weeks after, on putting her Photo. into the hands of one
of the sewing women, her head sank lower over it till the heavy sobs
welled up; and as it was passed from one to another, there was hardly a
dry eye—so generally was she beloved. You have all the same likeness,
a true one, taken in Melbourne. Mungaw’s was not so good—at least it
did not do him justice in his best days; but it is charming to what he
looked like in his last few months—his face was so wild and ghastly.

“Poor fellow, I would fain pass over his sad end; but I must hasten on
and have done with him, as I daresay you are as tired of the subject as
I. The last open break out with his wife was on the day that her baby
was three weeks old. He was in a very excited state in the morning,
threw off his clothing, stuck on paint (he supplied himself with balls
of blue from our washing-house!), and seizing his musket, said he was
going to shoot some one ere he returned. The alarm spread, and John
came to me at the sewing class to warn the women; but he soon came
back, and I dismissed the School, feeling anxious to get the children
into the house (John would not budge from his usual work, but he had
always Natives with him), and get doors and windows shut. They had
hardly gone when terrible screams came from his house, and I flew to
implore our cooks to protect Litsi. Just then John rushed past me,
telling me I must not hinder him, as he could not hear that poor girl
being killed. Our boys ran with him, and met Litsi running from her
house covered with blood streaming from the back of her head. John
caught her as she fell forward in a fainting fit, and a woman caught up
her baby; they were carried to the Imrai, where John bound up her head
and revived her with brandy and water. I sent her some fresh clothes,
as John would not let me see her till she was revived and doctored, and
I followed with some dinner. Her tormentor was coming too, but John
gave him a look which made him disappear into the bush in quick style.
He re-appeared with the utmost coolness in a nice clean shirt about
half an hour afterwards, and walked right into the Mission Premises,
helping about a score of men to carry a huge log of wood which John
had asked them to bring for some purpose.—I forget what. During the
afternoon School he sat eyeing Litsi and grinning from the opposite
side of the Imrai, and chatting with the passers-by, as if he had done
no wrong!

“Poor Litzi sat leaning against the Church fence, too weak to notice
anything, but thought she was safer there when John had to be in
School. He told the Natives that she must not be left to her husband’s
tender mercies any longer, but that they must take her to one of their
distant villages, and if need be protect her with their muskets. Our
house was too near; and besides, if he burnt it to get her it would
simply mean death to us all,—our food was in it, and neither of us
being extra strong, we could not exist on roots and leaves like
Natives,—whereas any of their houses could be replaced in a few days.
He said also that it would never do for him to use arms,—his work was
to teach, theirs to protect each other when necessary. They all saw
the force of his words and heartily agreed with him, but all managed to
back out of it, one after another, Litsi being too high-spirited to ask
protection from any of them.

“When we heard that she was left with only a few women we both felt it
our duty to shelter her, regardless of consequences, and ran out to
fetch her; but the poor girl had fled with her two little ones to hide
for the night in a plantation, one or two women keeping her company.

“Amid all her own danger, she was mindful of us, and sent a messenger
to warn us that Mungaw would be sure to burn the house that night if
he could. We had a few necessaries selected, a cask of flour, hops for
yeast, changes of clothing, etc., to put into the Printing Office,
which would not burn so easily with its zinc roof; but when our
Aneityumese Teacher came after dark for their quiet removal, Mungaw
accompanied him as far as the door! We all laughed. It was no use,
with such a vigilant spy upon all our movements. But we were specially
reminded of some One watching over us.

“It began to pour torrents of rain, as it so often did when there was
imminent danger, and I sent coverings for the wanderers, hot tea, etc.,
by a circuitous path, with orders to take them to another invalid
should Mungaw meet them. Our girls entered eagerly into it, and poor
Litsi was made tolerably comfortable in body for the night, there
being an old deserted hut in the plantation. Next morning, her cousin
whispered to me that two men had taken her under protection to Towleka,
a village a mile off, and that Mungaw had no idea of her whereabouts,
supposing her to be with us, as he had sent word the evening before
that he would kill her if she went anywhere else.

“He got fearfully roused at not finding her by the afternoon, and
sprang up after writing a line or two of his copy (he insisted on
attending School) to go in search, beginning at the nearest villages,
armed with club and killing-stone, and nearly frightening the life out
of a dumpy little virago, who was in the habit of hen-pecking her own
husband. It was capital to see her thoroughly cowed for once! His wrath
grew with his want of success; and, returning after school, he told our
boys in a tone of suppressed rage that he was now going to Towleka to
kill Litsi if he found her there. One of them flew through the bush to
warn her of his approach, and John and I went to the Study to commit
her to God. I think I would have gone mad myself, if we had not had our
never-failing Refuge in these troublous times!

“We heard after retiring for the night an infant’s piteous wail, and
found that, failing to get the mother (for the Natives would not let
him finish her quite, though he dragged her out of the house by her
hair, _wool_ rather), he had torn the baby from her and rushed home
with it, knowing that she would follow it at any risk. It was _awfully_
hard to keep John in the house, but I felt there was not the slightest
use in going. We heard other voices remonstrating, and the cries
ceasing we knew that Litsi had come. About midnight, what seemed to
be the death wail in Litsi’s voice made us think he had murdered the
baby. It continued for about three hours, and rose to a perfect agony
of distress before stopping. On inquiry at daybreak, for which we
anxiously waited, it turned out that he had tied her arms and legs in
the most savage manner, only loosing her when two or three Natives went
to the rescue. It was at the risk of their lives they did it, and all
warned us not to go to their house that morning, as he was raving mad
and would not hesitate to kill any one coming near.

“We just felt that poor Litsi had all the more right to our sympathy,
when no one else would go. They insisted that she was dead and the baby
too, there was such silence round all the place. John would not let
me go alone, and I would not let him go alone, so we compromised the
matter by going together, and took a plentiful breakfast as an excuse
for intruding on his lordship’s privacy, the Natives looking after
with wistful eyes, but not one offering to accompany us to the lion’s
den! I trembled violently, though I felt the Lord was with us, and
was almost relieved when we found the house deserted; but John called
aloud for Litsi several times, and at last she came staggering from an
enclosure opposite, from which the occupant had fled when Mungaw first
went mad. She was trembling with pain and weakness, and when we were
going over the stile, she looked back alarmed and said, ‘You’d better
not, Missi,’ so we spoke a few cheering words as we stood, and told her
again that our house was open to her, night or day, whenever she needed
shelter.

“Some of the Church members came to ask what was to be done with him.
Tieing only made him worse; confining or shooting were the only other
alternatives. To confine him was impossible. Were they to shoot him?
John, of course, would not hear of that, and they asked if there
was no sort of medicine to cure madness! A near friend got him away
to his village, where they had a long talk, and warned him of the
consequences. The moment he went, I ran off to sit awhile with Litsi.
We feared she would sink under her trials, and wished she had access to
the rich consolations with which we were upheld every day in our little
readings both of the Bible and other books. It seemed as if the Words
were printed for our express circumstances and comfort. My own morning
Reading was in the Psalms, and I never felt them so suitable. The very
ones I used to think David had written in a fit of indigestion were
fraught with the deepest comfort and meaning, and favourite passages
were more precious than ever. I never noticed before that the passage,
‘Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I,’ begins with ‘From _the end
of the Earth_ will I cry unto Thee,’—so applicable to us! John and I
have often remarked to each other that we had to come all the way to
the South Seas to understand some bits of the Bible; and I see Bowen in
his ‘Daily Meditations’ says the same in reference to India, where he
laboured so devotedly as a Missionary. We have another precious book
which we were reading aloud and enjoyed next to the Bible,—Boardman’s
‘In the Power of the Spirit,’ given us also before leaving Australia.

“How we wished poor Litsi could share all these privileges, and
wondered if her faith were keeping alive at all, but her spirit was
beautifully submissive. When I told her that, however difficult it
might be for her to believe it, her Saviour God was tenderly caring
for her every moment and would not let her have one more trial than
she could bear, and that it would relieve her to take all her sorrows
to Him, she replied, ‘Oh, I know it, Missi; my whole words now are
prayer; for I have no one else to speak to, and would have gone mad if
I could not have told my Saviour! I tell Him everything, and know that
it is all right even if Mungaw should kill me, for he can’t harm me
beyond the grave.’ I told her not a single night passed that we were
not engaging in prayer for her, and she said,—‘These prayers have been
answered; for he has had the wish to kill me and burn your house, and
he could easily have done both had not God prevented.’

“The whole provocation (I forgot to say) he had for laying her head
open at this time, was her saying, ‘Oh, don’t do that!’ when he got up
to burn the fine new house he had nearly completed. She learned never
again to contradict him, even when he made the wildest proposals. The
next house he burnt, a neighbour’s, he told her with a diabolical grin
(he had such a beautiful smile in his sane days!) of his purpose,
and she merely said, ‘Are you?’ and slipped round to take everything
valuable out of it, as the owners were living a week or two on a lonely
little islet adjoining this, where the Natives often go for change and
fishing. Of course, they said nothing about it on their return; no one
in the Island was prepared to tackle such a character, and he presumed
accordingly, turning his attentions more to the general public after
this, and dividing his favours pretty equally over the whole Island. He
plundered the plantations in rotation, and shot all the pigs which came
in his way, bringing Litsi part of the spoil; but she suddenly seemed
possessed of the spirit of half a dozen, sternly refusing to touch one
morsel of stolen food, and took their eldest little boy to the furthest
village, begging the people to keep him as he was too young to refuse
what was stolen. She then came to beg of me for a dose of poison—she
thought the stuff we killed the rats with would do—as he was too wicked
to live, and would bring a judgment on the whole Island. She had such a
chance through the night when he fell into a deep sleep (the first time
he was known to sleep for many weeks), and she had a great wish to take
his life, but was afraid God would not like it.

“I confirmed her fears and counselled patience a little longer, as the
Missi was getting the boat repaired to go to Tanna, and it was well
known Mungaw wanted to go there and stay a while. This was the last
hope of the whole Island, and all were eager to see the boat finished,
none more so than I, having an additional reason, viz., that it took
John away to a distance nearly the whole day, and though he always left
me with a body-guard he was not so careful of himself. I must say, the
Natives were very thoughtful about him, however, and would not let him
continue to take his nightly turns in watching our house. They begged
him to arm himself, but that, of course, he would not do. He and our
Aneityumese Teacher were the only ones who would not carry a weapon of
any kind, or give in to him when it was right to be firm, and they were
the only two Mungaw had the slightest fear of; but he kept prowling
about our Premises day and night, for what intent he best knew. When
he used to set off on his peregrinations, it was such a relief to
throw windows and doors open for air; but back he would come with the
rapidity of a race horse. Many a fainting fit he gave me; and F. used
to get white to the lips when he appeared. Even little J. began to
lisp,—‘I frightened Mungaw!’

“About the only time I was thankful to see him come was after he had
been tracking John’s footsteps closer than I liked. I was watching
him from our front verandah as he went off to his boat, the two lads
a little before, when Mungaw suddenly appeared close behind him—axe
in hand. I could see a long way, and when John stooped to examine a
bush or fern Mungaw stopped too, always keeping right at his back.
Visions of the murdered Gordons rose vividly before me, and I felt
distracted. I knew that John and the boys were on their guard, and
plenty of Natives were about, but a blow could be so easily struck!
I went in-doors and told my God and then our Aneityumese Teacher (we
showed as little fear as possible before our Natives), so that if he
thought there was real danger he would go to him. He looked anxious and
questioned me minutely, but went on quietly with his work, and I tried
to follow his example; but my feet _would_ carry me to the verandah,
till the welcome sight of that usually dreaded form, tossing his axe in
the air and catching it by the handle, allayed all fears, for I knew
that had he done any harm he would have rushed into hiding.

“His last days were spent pulling up the people’s bananas and
sugar-cane, destroying what he could not devour. He took our boys’
blankets and boxes, and walked off with the lookingglass from the
girls’ house. Just the Sunday morning before he was shot he turned out
all the girls’ boxes while we were at breakfast, and pranced up and
down our front verandah. We had just finished our own Family Worship,
and John was going off for a little quiet to his Study, when we heard
the Church bell being furiously rung a full hour before the time! The
Natives already gathered stood staring at each other in consternation,
others hurried forward, thinking they were late, and the usual
bell-ringer came panting to know why the work was so unceremoniously
taken out of his hands! The more they begged Mungaw to leave off the
quicker he rang, till John ran out and ordered him to stop instantly,
which he did.

“He did not trouble us another Sunday, poor fellow, but he gave me two
or three thorough frights through the week, once surprising me suddenly
on the verandah, when mounted on a high box, and oil-painting the
woodwork of the house. On the following Saturday morning, as we were in
the garden, Litsi passed the fence and I ran to her. She said, ‘When
will the boat be ready, Missi?’ I told her that there was just a little
paint to finish to-day, and it would sail on Monday, so she would have
only two days more of endurance. She jumped and clapped her hands,
saying, ‘My heart sings, for he’s sure to go!’

“But that same evening, as we sat at a late tea, our spirits brighter
than usual, feeling that relief was near (though it came not in the way
we expected), for the _Dayspring_ was to leave Sydney on Monday and
would be getting nearer us every day, we heard the fatal shot go off
close beside us! We have heard as loud reports and even nearer, when
they were killing flying foxes or birds, which caused us nothing more
than a start and a laugh; but there was something in that which made us
spring simultaneously from our seats and stand in awe. John said, ‘Some
one is shot! Either Mungaw, or some one by his hand.’ He had barely
uttered the words, when the awful death-wail in Litsi’s voice confirmed
our fears. Our girls rushed in from the bath-room, where they had
been filling baths and getting all ready for Sunday, and said, ‘That’s
Mungaw, Missi, for the Inahutshi people told us not to be alarmed if we
heard a shot after dark, as we would know it was Mungaw killed.’

“It had all been deliberately arranged, and we knew not a word about
it. John said, ‘Then I must run and see what I can do for the poor
fellow,’ and was off; but another loud report made me implore him to
come back, till we ascertained certainly what the matter was, as he
might be shot in the dark without any one meaning it, and F. decided
the matter by saying in a faint voice, ‘Papa, will you stay and take
care of us?’ His papa put his arm round him and said, ‘Yes, my boy,
I’ll not leave the room again.’

“Two or three Natives came to tell us that Mungaw was shot dead, and
that John’s going would be no use now. He engaged in prayer, and oh,
how our hearts bled for the poor fellow! Now that his sad end had
come, we could only think of him as he once was; as, for instance, we
saw him one evening years before stand calm and tranquil, with three
enraged men pointing their muskets at him for spoiling some Heathen
performance, and telling them he would not fight, and that the worst
they could do would only send him to Heaven. Or again, as he used to go
about pleading with the young boys (a mere boy himself) not to follow
the footsteps of their fathers, but come out decidedly for the Lord
Jesus. Or again, we thought of the time when he was John’s right hand
man, and would almost have laid down his life to serve him. His two
nearest friends, on coming to ask if they would bury him at once, laid
down their heads and sobbed aloud, though, like all the Aniwans, they
had wished for his death. It was a sad, sad night; the hurried and
midnight burial, the suppressed excitement, the fear and uncertainty
about the real murderers and what would follow next, and last of all
that young and once noble fellow cut down in the midst of his days.

“He had just left our Premises and gone home for supper, and then had
worship (!) with Litsi, after which she told him not to go outside, as
two or three men had been watching for three nights to get a good aim
at him. He courted death and _would_ go out, saying to Litsi, ‘You
come with me.’ She went out first and thought she saw a man standing;
but next moment the attention of both was suddenly directed to a meteor
in its transit, and while gazing at it the musket went off, going
through Mungaw’s body from arm to arm. He fell down by his own door,
crying, ‘_Awai!_’ (= Alas!), and died immediately, the murderers making
their escape as they shot the other musket into the air....

“You may be sure, after these trying times and seven months’ utter
silence regarding our absent ones, we were intensely delighted to
welcome the dear old _Dayspring_ once more. But strange as it may seem,
this is our most trying time; for all the anxiety of the past months
seems to accumulate into an agony of suspense, from the time her sails
are discerned till we have opened the most desired-for letters of our
mail and found all well. She arrived at Aniwa just two days after we
calculated upon seeing her, April 24th. The first announcement of her
approach came as we were assembled in Church at three o’clock for
the prayer-meeting; and I’m afraid the Services had not their usual
interest for me! How John could proceed quietly with his address, under
the excitement, was a puzzle; for I saw him start, and we exchanged
earnest looks, as the well-known cry greeted our ears, and then two
Natives came panting in with beaming faces, darting intelligent looks
all around.

“The Service _did_ come to an end at last, and then every one’s tongue
was loosed. It _was_ the _Dayspring_ without doubt; but was there
wind enough to bring her in that day? I made an agreement with the
herd who went for the goats to shout again if it were very near, and
soon a dozen voices yelled back the answer. I flew to give orders for
all sorts of preparations, but not a girl was to be found, all having
rushed up the hill to see for themselves; and when they came, they were
so mad with joyful excitement, that instead of their usual respectful
demeanour they tumbled heels over head on the verandah two or three
times, before they could compose themselves to work; and so many little
things waiting to be done!...

“We gathered round such a happy tea-table; for it is the most
exquisite treat to have intercourse with kindred spirits in our own
tongue, after jabbering so many months to the Darkies, and to get all
the news from the civilized world. Such a Mail too! Over one hundred
letters, and no end of papers. We simply looked at all your different
handwritings, but devoured our bairns’ monthly budgets that night after
our visitors had retired to their rooms....

“The second Communion since our return also took place at this time,
and was a season of great refreshing and comfort; but the sight of that
little group of Communicants is always too much for me, especially when
they stand up to sing so heartily! I could fain lay down my head and
sob, were it not that I have the harmonium to attend to and must crush
my heart down as best I can. All our trials and privations, looked at
in the light of that little _sable band_ (glancing back at what they
once were) now sitting at their Lord’s Table, seem as nothing—as less
than nothing.

“A stranger might simply have his _risibles_ excited by the somewhat
grotesque costume of the congregation. Indeed, I had to turn away my
own head, as our two worthy Elders came in for the ‘Elements’ before
the Service, with the most imposing gravity, with manifest devotion
in their looks, but in all the dignity of their office, and with
special hats to grace the occasion. The one had his white shirt done
up round his hat so as to represent a puggaree, and, as it hung a
long way behind, he had to keep his head well-balanced for fear of it
falling back. As for the other, who or what his hat had been originally
intended for, we were at a loss to divine! It has always been our
difficulty to get them large enough to include their _wool_; but this,
a light grey chimney-pot, overtopped wool and all till it rested on the
tip of his nose, which fortunately being a very large one prevented his
face from disappearing altogether!...

“The Captain’s plan was to land us on Sunday morning, lie off and
on till Monday to land our luggage and some wood John had bought on
Aneityum, and then return for the McDonalds at Port Resolution on his
way northward. Mrs. Milne and I lay pillowed on deck, enjoying the
moonlight till quite late, and having such a musical treat from Mr.
Michelsen, who sings and accompanies himself on the guitar with great
taste. He had been playing it on deck in the afternoon, and we begged
him to bring it up again after tea. The moon was brilliantly reflected
on the water, and the ship lying so still, when he began with the
exquisite guitar accompaniment to sing ‘Jesus, lover of my soul,’—the
Missionaries standing round and joining softly in parts, while we were
quietly crying. I have heard Oratorios in the old country rendered
so that they almost took one out of the body, but never anything
that went to my heart like this! You would need to take in the whole
circumstances to know how we felt it. The Vessel, with her little band
of Missionaries so far from kindred and country, and about to separate
for their lonely homes, and we knew not how much trial awaiting them!...

“We have already 600 lbs. of Arrowroot (to pay for the Gospel-books)
put up, mostly in 10 lb. bags. The Natives are still making more, and
the demands upon me for calico have been endless. After ransacking
boxes for every inch that could be got to dry it upon and to make bags,
I had to sacrifice all my common sheets and table-cloths; and, while
trying to bear up under this calamity with Christian fortitude, John
roused all the old Adam in me, by coolly bidding me be quick and get
out my _linen_ ones and best table-cloths, as it was a splendid day for
drying! I emphatically declared that my few best things should remain
untouched, though the Natives should never get their books; and, by a
little management in making the others do, I have kept to my _wicked_
vow....

“It is now the 1st of August, though I see that I began this on the 8th
of July, and I have not begun to write a single _private_ letter, and
so many to answer; and the huge piles, which made our eyes dance with
joy on receiving them, are regarded rather ruefully, now that we have
got to reply to them! I must leave out, therefore, all other items of
interest which I intended writing, as this is already far too long,—and
close with warmest love from

                                              “Your ever-loving Sister,
                                              “MAGGIE WHITECROSS PATON.”


(1879.)

TO THE FAMILY CIRCLE.

  “MY DEAREST SISTERS AND BROTHERS,—....

“Our next bit of excitement was on New Year’s Day, when the usual
shooting match came off, and prizes were awarded to the winners.
The most amusing part to us was the racing amongst younger boys and
girls. The Chief, whom John had placed in charge of the prizes, would
put a belt, necktie, or bit of red calico on a post at a certain
distance off, and then the word of command was given to the eager
little monkeys, and they made such a scramble as they neared it! The
grand entertainment, however,—the Magic Lantern, was reserved for the
evening, and was quite a success. Everybody on the island that was able
to crawl at all put in an appearance, including two old bed-ridden
women, who set out in the early morning and managed a journey of two
miles by the time it got dark! John had all Mr. Watt’s slides, as well
as his own, and the Natives were in perfect ecstasies of delight the
whole evening; but when he finished off with ‘the revolving light,’
they fairly yelled with delight and amazement, declaring it must be
‘Tetovas’ (= gods) who made that!...

“The Vessel turned out to be a _Slaver_, and sent in a boat with
Native crew and two white men in search of Natives. The boat kept in
deep water just outside the reef, and some Aniwans waded out and were
shouted to in ‘Sandal-wood English.’ They wanted men or boys, and
would give a musket for every one they got. Our Natives shouted back
that they were ‘Missi’s worshipping people,’ and did not want to go
with Traders. One of the white men stupidly (it must have been in fun)
levelled a musket at one of our Natives, when the cap snapped and set
the Natives in a great rage, believing that he tried to kill some of
them. The man levelled at, a fiery fellow, a returned labourer, flew
for his musket and would have made short work with the white man, had
not John and the Church members interfered,—John actually standing
right between him and the boat to prevent shots being fired. He waved
the boat off with his hat, pointing to the armed men, which they seemed
to comprehend, and after returning hats they made for the ship, which
soon disappeared in the horizon.

“I was annoyed enough at John exposing himself, not that a person
on Aniwa now would harm him, for I often wish that they loved their
Saviour as much as they do their Missionary, but it is seldom one’s
duty to stand in the way of loaded muskets! You would hardly believe,
though, the kind of thanks he got from the wretches he tried to save.
They went to Faté, wrote out a paper to the effect that ‘they had
called at Aniwa for labourers, but that the Missionary, Mr. Paton,
had come out to attack them at the head of an armed party. The man in
charge of the boat, however, had Mr. Paton covered with his rifle,
so that had a single shot been fired into it he would have fallen in
revenge.’ And the paper has been posted up on the door of the principal
store in Havannah Harbour! Those are the sort of men, authorized by
our British Government to scour these Islands. We were perfectly
thunderstruck when Mr. McDonald happened to mention it to John, after
he had decided to go North, in case he should see it himself. Mr.
McDonald sees enough of the Traders and their doings, and treated it
with amused contempt as it deserved.

“It is nearly as bad as the Nguna case, where the chief mate of the
_Jason_ swore in a Queensland law-court that the Rev. P. Milne caused
the Natives to fire into his boat. A Man-of-war was despatched to
inquire into the proceedings of this dreadful Missionary, and it was
proved that poor Mr. Milne was sound asleep in his bed (it was early
morning), and did not even know of the affray till months after it
happened. It was the two husbands of two Native women, that this honest
mate was trying to make off with (and did make off with), that owned
to having fired the shots! It is not the first time that John has
interfered to save the worthless lives of these Slavers; but the whole
fraternity may be riddled with bullets before I consent to his stirring
his finger again in their miserable quarrels....

“Litsi has since consoled herself with another husband,—related to
poor Mungaw, and a real love-match, as they both freely confessed.
Litsi was as playful and coy over it as a young lassie; though,
when she stood up for the ceremony, she whisperingly informed the
bystanders with a giggle that she didn’t want to get married! I suppose
she thought some appearance of an apology necessary for her third
presentation in that Church as a bride. We felt thankful when the
marriage was past, for there had been the usual scramble to get her and
consequent bitterness of feeling by the rejected ones, some of them
far handsomer and better men than the prize winner, but Noopooraw had
shown the depth of his affection by threatening _to kill her_ if she
did not have him, which according to Native is the strongest expression
of devotion, and is precisely the same as a wildly-enthusiastic admirer
at home threatening _to kill himself_ in similar circumstances. The
despairing lover in these Seas never dreams of taking away his own
life, but hers instead, finding that probably the more powerful
argument of the two!...

“It is getting very late and I must pass over all else and tell you
what a charming time we had at Erromanga, where the Mission Synod was
held this year. Mrs. McDonald and I were the only ladies to keep Mrs.
Robertson company; and I was complimented upon now being the “mother”
of the Mission, and carrying my honours quite becomingly—having become
plump and vigorous since the Hurricane.... It seemed like fairy
land to enter dear Mrs. Robertson’s pretty, shady, cool house after
enduring two days’ suffocation with the horrid bilge water on board the
_Dayspring_.... Every day brought us fresh pleasures, afternoon rambles
on the mountains and walks by the river course up that beautiful
valley, when ‘the brethren’ were at liberty to dance attendance on us,
having all their Synod business over before dinner.... How pleasantly
those days flew past, only they can understand who have been cut off
from kindred spirits as we are! We three ladies were, of course, all
that could be wished for (?); and every one of the Missionaries was
kinder than another. Even in Synod, where Ministers are apt to indulge
in the grace of _candour_ to an uncalled-for degree, there was not a
jarring word—owing, perhaps, to that bilge water having taken all the
bile out of them on the voyage!... The house is charmingly situated
on terraced ground at the foot of a high mountain, near the centre of
the Bay, with that lovely river to the right flowing past within a few
yards of the enclosure.... Our eyes were constantly wandering off to
the lovely scene before us,—and one with a history too! That very river
was once reddened with the blood of Williams and of Harris; and the
grass-covered mountain towering up from it was the scene of the Gordon
tragedy,—while their grave-stones gleam white through the greenery on
its opposite banks. Dear Mr. McNair’s grave is close beside them. All
looked so peaceful now, with the _Dayspring_ lying quietly at anchor in
the Bay, and canoes manned by _Christian_ Natives paddling about in its
blue waters!

“What a contrast to these former days of blood; and even a contrast,
as the Robertsons told us, to what they had to suffer only in January
last. The Heathen Chiefs were getting fierce at the rapid strides
Christianity was making all round the Island, and laid a deep plot to
take the Missionaries’ lives. They chose their time well, when nearly
all Mr. Robertson’s young men were away at Cook’s Bay; and you may
imagine his and Mrs. Robertson’s feelings, when the alarm got up one
night as they sat quietly reading. They went into their bedroom and
took their stand beside their three sleeping children. Escape by sea
was impossible, even could they get to their boat, the night being
stormy. Mrs. Robertson turned to her husband and said,—‘Do you think
they could touch those sleeping lambs?’ He smiled bitterly,—‘What do
they care for our sleeping lambs?’ Yomit, a devoted Erromangan Teacher,
came in to them, and she turned to him, saying,—‘O Yomit, do you think
they could have the heart to kill those little sleeping darlings?’ He
raised his arm and said,—‘Missi, they’ll have to cut this body of mine
in pieces ere ever they get near them!’ He started off and collected
all the available help necessary, sending secret messages overland
in different directions to their friends, so that before morning the
Mission House was surrounded by 200 warriors, ready to give their
lives in defence of their Missionary. And these were the very men
who murdered the Gordons;—explain the change! Jesus has been amongst
them!...

“Our visit there was all too short, as the Synod lasted only a week. We
commemorated the Lord’s Supper together, on the Sabbath evening before
we broke up. One evening too there was an interesting Bible Society
meeting, at which John was Chairman; and, in response to an urgent
appeal from London, Mr. Copeland proposed that Missionaries and seamen
should all add a day’s wages to their usual subscription—which was most
willingly agreed to....

“We tore across from Erromanga with a good wind, landing about sundown,
and got a warm welcome from our dear old Darkies, who had all turned
out in their best garments to meet us, though it was pouring rain.
John went on in the _Dayspring_ to be left on Tanna for a fortnight at
Kwamera, to make some small return for the Watts’ great kindness to our
Natives while we were in Melbourne.... He enjoyed his fortnight there
intensely. The Mission Premises were like a new pin, and the Tannese
longing for Mr. and Mrs. Watts’ return with their whole hearts. Their
little boys and girls at the Station attended to John so faithfully,
and continually followed him about, asking daily and often in a day the
same question,—‘When will our Missis be back?’ There are more than the
Tannese longing for their return, and it will be a glad day when we see
their dear faces again....

“John has decided not to make any change for another year, if at all
able to hold on. It is no use now for me to pretend I’m delicate, as
appearances so tell against me! But I insist that I’ve got _heart_
disease, and that only the sight of my bairns can cure it....

“It is only a week yesterday since John returned from Kwamera, and
was overwhelmed with such an ovation as he never yet got from our
Natives. They opened their hearts to the most unheard-of generosity,
and actually parted with their precious _pigs_ to show their love for
him, besides a great quantity of yam. They also gave a present about
half the size of ours to the Captain of the _Dayspring_,—pigs, yams,
cocoa-nuts, and bananas. His were laid on the centre patch of grass
before the house, and John’s to the side, in front of the Study door.
The pigs (thirteen in number!), all tied and laid out to be seen to
the best advantage (they were _heard_ too), so that when Captain and
Mrs. Braithwaite and John arrived they were greeted with—

    ‘Pigs to the right of them,
    Pigs to the left of them,
    Pigs in front of them,
          Guzzling and grunting.’

How they did grunt! The Captain growled out his thanks in sailor’s
phraseology, which having translated, John walked round to the side,
followed by his grinning Parishioners, and politely thanked them for
their kind gifts to us,—telling them that it was the feeling which
prompted it more than the gift itself which he valued! I felt that he
was telling the truth in all sincerity, for he hates the very sight of
pork, and whispered aside to me,—‘What on earth are we to do with all
these beasts?’...

“We expect the _Dayspring_ in about a fortnight to call for our mail,
and as I’ve a very large one to answer it is time it were begun, for
we’ll be very much interrupted by the arrowroot making. The whole of
the Natives are busy digging it up at present, and the Premises will be
like a beehive in a few days when they begin to grate it. We were so
pleased to be able to tell them that the last sold so very well through
the great kindness of Melbourne friends. The calico in the South Yarra
boxes—worth its weight in gold—is being sewed up into sheets and bags
for drying and packing it, as fast as ever we can; but we hardly expect
it to be ready to go till the December trip of the vessel. They are to
have _another book of the Bible_ printed in the Aniwan language.

                                    “Ever, with warmest love,
                                              “Your loving Sister,
                                           “MAGGIE WHITECROSS PATON.”




CHAPTER X.

_LAST VISIT TO BRITAIN._

  “Wanted a Steam Auxiliary.”—Commissioned Home to Britain.—English
  Presbyterian Synod.—United Presbyterian Synod.—The “Veto”
  from the Sydney Board.—Dr. J. Hood Wilson.—The Free Church
  Assembly.—Neutrality of Foreign Mission Committee.—The Church
  of Scotland.—At Holyrood and Alva House.—The Irish Presbyterian
  Assembly.—The Pan-Presbyterian Council.—My “Plan of Campaign.”— Old
  Ireland’s Response.—Operations in Scotland.—Seventy Letters in a
  Day.—Beautiful Type of Merchant.—My First 100 at Dundee.—Peculiar
  Gifts and Offerings.—Approach to London.—Mildmay’s Open Door.—Largest
  Single Donation.—Personal Memories of London.—Garden-Party
  at Mr. Spurgeon’s.—The Hon. Ion Keith-Falconer.—Three New
  Missionaries.—“Restitution-Money.”—The Farewell at Mildmay.—Welcome
  to Victoria.—The Dream of my Life.—The New Mission Ship
  Delayed.—Welcome back to Aniwa.—Parting Testimony.—Fare-thee-well.


In December 1883, I brought a pressing and vital matter before the
General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church of Victoria. It pertained
to the New Hebrides Mission, to the vastly increased requirements of
the Missionaries and their families there, and to the fact that the
_Dayspring_ was no longer capable of meeting the necessities of the
case,—thereby incurring loss of time, loss of property, and risk and
even loss of precious lives. The Missionaries on the spot had long felt
this, and had loudly and earnestly pled for a new and larger Vessel, or
a Vessel with Steam Auxiliary power, or some arrangement whereby the
work of God on these Islands might be overtaken, without unnecessary
exposure of life, and without the dreaded perils that accrue to a small
sailing Vessel such as the _Dayspring_, alike from deadly calms and
from treacherous gales.

The Victorian General Assembly, heartily at one with the Missionaries,
commissioned me to go home to Britain in 1884, making me at the same
time their Missionary delegate to the Pan-Presbyterian Council at
Belfast, and also their representative to the General Assemblies of
the several Presbyterian Churches in Great Britain and Ireland. And
they empowered and authorized me to lay our proposals about a new
Steam-Auxiliary Mission Ship before all these Churches, and to ask and
receive from God’s people whatever contributions they felt disposed to
give towards the sum of £6,000, without which this great undertaking
could not be faced.

At Suez, I forwarded a copy of my commissions from Victoria, from South
Australia, and from the Islands Synod, to the Clerks of the various
Church Courts, accompanied by a note specifying my home-address, and
expressing the hope that an opportunity would be given me of pleading
this special cause on behalf of our New Hebrides Mission. On reaching
my brother’s residence in Glasgow, I found to my deep amazement that
replies awaited me from all the Churches, except our own,—_i.e._, the
Free Church, which I call our own, as having taken over our South Seas
Mission when it entered into Union with the Reformed Presbyterian
Church, to which I originally belonged, though now I was supported
by the Church of Victoria. This fact pained me. It is noted here. An
explanation will come in due course.

A few days after my arrival, I was called upon to appear before the
Supreme Court of the English Presbyterian Church, then assembled at
Liverpool. While a hymn was being sung, I took my seat in the pulpit
under great depression. But light broke around, when my dear friend and
fellow-student, Dr. Oswald Dykes, came up from the body of the Church,
shook me warmly by the hand, whispered a few encouraging words in my
ear, and returned to his seat. God helped me to tell my story, and the
audience were manifestly interested. Again, however, another indication
of a rift somewhere, unknown to me, was consciously or otherwise
given, when both the Moderator and Professor Graham, in addressing the
Deputies and referring to their Churches and speeches individually,
conspicuously omitted all reference to the New Hebrides and the special
proposal which I had brought before them. Again I made a note, and my
wonder deepened.

Next, by kind invitation I visited and addressed the United
Presbyterian Synod of Scotland, assembled in Edinburgh. My reception
there was not only cordial,—it was enthusiastic. Though as a Church
they had no denominational interest in our Mission, the Moderator,
amidst the cheers of all the Ministers and Elders, recommended that I
should have free access to every Congregation and Sabbath School which
I found it possible to visit, and hoped that their generous-hearted
people would contribute freely to so needful and noble a cause. My soul
rose in praise; and I may here say, in passing, that every Minister of
that Church whom I wrote to or visited treated me in the same spirit
through all my tour.

Having been invited by Mr. Dickson, an Elder of the Free Church, to
address a mid-day meeting of children in the Free Assembly Hall,—and
the Saturday before the Meeting of Assembly having now arrived without
bringing any reply to my note to be received and heard, I determined
to call at the Free Church Offices, and make inquiries at least. They
treated me with all possible kindness and sympathy, but explained to
me the strange perplexity that had been introduced into my case. A
letter had been forwarded to them from the _Dayspring_ Board at Sydney,
intimating that the Victorian Church had no right to commission me to
raise a new Steam-Auxiliary Ship without consulting them, and that they
placed their direct veto upon the Free Church Authorities in any way
sanctioning that proposal or authorizing me to raise the money. Here,
then, was the rift; and many things that had recently perplexed me
were explained thereby.

Here is not the place to discuss our differences, nor shall I
take advantage of my book to criticize those who have no similar
opportunity of answering me. But the facts I must relate, and exactly
as they occurred, to show how the Lord over-ruled everything for the
accomplishment of His own blessed purposes. Doubtless the friends at
Sydney had their own way of looking at and explaining everything; and
the best of friends must sometimes differ, even in the Mission field,
and yet learn to respect each other and work so far as they can agree
towards common ends in the service of the Divine Lord and Master.

My commission was publicly intimated. Communication had also been
made to the Church of New South Wales as to appointing me their
second representative to the Pan-Presbyterian Council, in connection
with my mission to Britain, but they replied that one would serve
their purpose. And South Australia and Tasmania were both written to
regarding the object of my visit to the home countries. But no note of
dissent, no hint of disapproval from any quarter, was intimated to the
Victorian Church, or in any sense, directly or indirectly, reached me
till I heard of that so-called _veto_ in the Free Church Offices at
Edinburgh.

This intimation, just as I was entering the Assembly Hall to address a
great congregation of children and their friends, staggered me beyond
all description. The Free Church alone, in Scotland, now supported our
New Hebrides Mission. From it I expected the principal contributions
for the sorely-needed new Mission Ship. And now, by the action of
the _Dayspring_ Board at Sydney, the Free Church was debarred from
acknowledging my three-fold commission or in any direct way sanctioning
my appeals. No sorer wound had ever been inflicted on me; and when I
sat down on the platform beside Mr. Dickson, my head swam for several
minutes, and faintishness almost overpowered me. But, by the time my
name was called, the Lord my Helper enabled me to pull myself together;
I committed this cause also with unfailing assurance to Him; and by all
appearances I was able greatly to interest and impress the Children. At
the close, my dear and noble friend, Professor Cairns, warmly welcomed
and cheered me, and that counted for much amid the depressions of the
day. But when all were gone and we two were left, Mr. Dickson under
deep emotion said,—

“Mr. Paton, that veto has spoiled your mission home. The Free Church
cannot take you by the hand in face of the _veto_ from Sydney!”

Having letters from Andrew Scott, Esquire, Carrugal, my very dear
friend and helper in Australia, to Dr. J. Hood Wilson, Barclay Free
Church, Edinburgh, I resolved to deliver them that evening; and I
prayed the Lord to open up all my path, as I was thus thrown solely on
Him for guidance and bereft of the aid of man. Dr. Wilson and his lady,
neither of whom I had ever seen before, received me as kindly as if I
had been an old friend. He read my letters of introduction, conversed
with me as to plans and wishes (chiefly through Mrs. Wilson, for he was
suffering from sore throat), and then he said with great warmth and
kindliness,—

“God has surely sent you here to-night! I feel myself unable to preach
to-morrow. Occupy my pulpit in the forenoon and address my Sabbath
School, and you shall have a collection for your Ship.”

Thereafter, I was with equal kindness received by Mr. Balfour, having
a letter of introduction from his brother, and he offered me his
pulpit for the evening of the day. I lay down blessing and praising
Him, the Angel of whose Presence was thus going before me and opening
up my way. That Lord’s Day I had great blessing and joy; there was an
extraordinary response financially to my appeals; and my proposal was
thus fairly launched in the Metropolis of our Scottish Church life. I
remembered an old saying, Difficulties are made just to be vanquished.
And I thought in my deeper soul,—Thus our God throws us back upon
Himself; and if these £6,000 ever come to me, to the Lord God alone,
and not to man, shall be all the glory!

On the Monday following, after a long conversation and every possible
explanation, Colonel Young, of the Free Church Foreign Missions
Committee, said,—

“We must have you to address the Assembly on the evening devoted to
Missions.”

But the rest insisted that, to keep straight with the Board at Sydney,
no formal approval should be given of my proposals. This I agreed to,
on condition that the Committee did not publish the Sydney veto, but
allowed it simply to lie on their table or in their minutes. Thus I had
the pleasure and honour of addressing that great Assembly; and though
no notice was taken of my proposals in any “finding” of the Court,
yet many were thereby interested deeply in our work, and requests now
poured in upon me from every quarter to occupy pulpits and receive
collections for the new Ship.

Still I had occasional trouble and misunderstanding through that veto
during all my tour in Britain and Ireland. It prevented me particularly
from getting access to the Free Church Foreign Missions Committee,
or addressing them on one single occasion, though I pled hard to be
allowed to do so and to explain my position. This I felt all the more
keenly, as I laboured freely and for weeks, along with their noble
Missionaries then at home on furlough, in addressing meetings in
Glasgow, Aberdeen, Greenock, etc., chiefly for Sabbath Scholars, but
from which I received no help directly in the matter of the Mission
Ship. Doubtless they were trying to do their duty, and refusing to take
either side; and that they thought they had succeeded appears from the
following fact. When rumour reached Australia that my Mission home
had been under God a great success, a letter came to them from their
Committee’s agent in Sydney as to the “application” of the sum that had
been raised by me, to which they replied,—

“The Foreign Missions’ Committee of the Free Church of Scotland, in
accordance with the action of the _Dayspring_ Committee at Sydney, have
from the first abstained from assisting Mr. Paton in this movement,
believing that the question is one entirely for the Australian
Churches.”

At the meeting in the Assembly Hall of the Church of Scotland, which,
along with others, I was cordially invited to address, the good and
noble Lord Polwarth occupied the chair. That was the beginning of a
friendship in Christ which will last and deepen as long as we live.
From that night he took the warmest personal interest, not only
by generously contributing to my fund, but by organizing meetings
at his own Mansion House, and introducing me to a wide circle of
influential friends. Every member of his family took “shares” in the
new Steam-Auxiliary Mission Ship, and by Collecting Cards and otherwise
most liberally aided me; and that not at the start only, but to the day
of my departure,—one of the last things put into my hand on leaving
Britain being a most handsome donation from Lord and Lady Polwarth
to our Mission Fund,—“a thankoffering to the Lord Jesus for precious
health restored in answer to the prayer of faith.”

Nor, whilst the pen leads on my mind to recall these Border memories,
must I fail to record how John Scott Dudgeon, Esq., Longnewton, a
greatly esteemed Elder of the Church, went from town to town in all
that region, and from Minister to Minister arranging for me a series of
happy meetings. I shared also the hospitality of his beautiful Home,
and added himself and his much-beloved wife to the precious roll of
those who are dear for the Gospel’s sake and for their own.

Her Majesty’s Commissioner to the General Assembly for the year
was that distinguished Christian as well as nobleman, the Earl of
Aberdeen. He graciously invited me to meet the Countess and himself at
ancient Holyrood. After dinner he withdrew himself for a lengthened
time from the general company and entered into a close and interested
conversation about our Mission, and especially about the threatened
annexation of the New Hebrides by the French.

There also I had the memorable pleasure of meeting, and for a long
while conversing with, that truly noble and large-hearted lady, his
mother, the much-beloved Dowager Countess, well known for her life-long
devotion to so many schemes of Christian philanthropy. At her own home,
Alva House, she afterwards arranged meetings for me, as well as in
Halls and Churches in the immediately surrounding district; and not
only contributed most generously of her own means, but interested many
besides and incited them to vie with each other in helping on our
cause. I was her guest during those days, and never either in high
or in humble station felt the ties of true fellowship in Christ more
closely drawn. Despite frost and snow, she accompanied me to almost
every meeting; and her letters of interest in the work, of sympathy,
and of helpfulness, from time to time received, were amongst the
sustaining forces of my spiritual life. When one sees noble rank thus
consecrating itself in humble and faithful service to Jesus, there
dawns upon the mind a glimpse of what the prophet means, and of what
the world will be like, when it can be said regarding the Church of God
on Earth,—“Kings _have become_ thy nursing fathers, and their Queens
thy nursing mothers.”

My steps were next directed towards Ireland, immediately after the
Church meetings at Edinburgh; first to ’Derry, where the Presbyterian
Assembly was met in annual conclave, and thereafter to Belfast, where
the Pan-Presbyterian Council was shortly to sit. The eloquent fervour
of the Brethren at ’Derry was like a refreshing breeze to my spirit;
I never met Ministers anywhere, in all my travels, who seemed more
whole-hearted in their devotion to the work which the Lord had given
them to do.

But the excitement over the Organ and Hymn question was too intense
for me; the debate threatened to degenerate into a wrangle, and
the marvellous way in which a stick or an umbrella was flourished
occasionally by an impulsive speaker, to give action to his eloquence,
was not a little suggestive of blows and broken heads. All ended
quietly, however, and the decision, though not final, gave hope of an
early settlement, which will secure alike the liberty and the peace of
the Church. A trip to the South Seas, and a revelation of how God used
the Harmonium and the Hymn, as wings on which the Gospel was borne into
the homes and hearts of Cannibals, would have opened the eyes of many
dear fathers and brethren, as it had opened mine! No one was once more
opposed, especially to instrumental music in the worship of God, than
I had been; but the Lord who made us, and who knows the nature He has
given us, had long ago taught me otherwise.

I addressed the Assembly at ’Derry and also the Council at Belfast.
The memory of seeing all those great and learned and famous men—for
many of the leaders were literally such—so deeply interested in the
work of God, and particularly in the Evangelizing of the Heathen World
and bringing thereto the knowledge of Jesus, was to me, so long exiled
from all such influences, one of the great inspirations of my life. I
listened with humble thankfulness, and blessed the Lord who had brought
me to sit at their feet.

On the rising of the Council, I entered upon a tour of six weeks among
the Presbyterian Congregations and Sabbath Schools of Ireland. It
had often been said to me, after my addresses in the Assemblies and
elsewhere,—

“How do you ever expect to raise £6,000? It can never be accomplished,
unless you call upon the rich individually, and get their larger
subscriptions. Our ordinary Church people have more than enough to do
with themselves. Trade is dull,” etc.

I explained to them, and also announced publicly, that in all similar
efforts I had never called on or solicited any one privately, and that
I would not do so now. I would make my appeal, but leave everything
else to be settled betwixt the individual conscience and the Saviour,—I
gladly receiving whatsoever was given or sent, acknowledging it by
letter, and duly forwarding it to my own Church in Victoria. Again and
again did generous souls offer to go with me, introduce me, and give me
opportunity of soliciting subscriptions; but I steadily refused,—going,
indeed, wherever an occasion was afforded me of telling my story and
setting forth the claims of the Mission, but asking no one personally
for anything, having fixed my soul in the conviction that one part of
the work was laid upon me, but that the other lay betwixt the Master
and His servants exclusively.

“On what then do you really rely, looking at it from a business point
of view?”—they would somewhat appealingly ask me.

I answered,—“I will tell my story; I will set forth the claims of the
Lord Jesus on the people; I will expect the surplus collection, or a
retiring collection, on Sabbaths; I will ask the whole collection,
less expenses, at week night meetings; I will issue Collecting Cards
for Sabbath Scholars; I will make known my Home-Address, to which
everything may be forwarded, either from Congregations or from private
donors; and I will go on, to my utmost strength, in the faith that
the Lord will send me the £6,000 required. If He does not so send it,
then I shall expect that He will send me grace to be reconciled to the
disappointment, and I shall go back to my work without the Ship.”

This, in substance, I had to repeat hundreds of times; and as often had
I to witness the half-pitying or incredulous smile with which it was
received, or to hear the blunt and emphatic retort,—

“You’ll never succeed! Money cannot be got in that unbusiness-like way.”

I generally added nothing further to such conversations; but a Voice,
deep, sweet, and clear, kept sounding through my soul,—“The silver and
the gold are Mine.”

During the year 1884, as is well known, Ireland was the scene of many
commotions and of great distress. Yet at the end of my little tour,
amongst the Presbyterian people of the North principally, though not
exclusively, a sum of more than £600 had been contributed to our
Mission Fund. And there was not, so far as my knowledge went, one
single large subscription; there were, of course, many bits of gold
from those well-to-do, but the ordinary collection was made up of the
shillings and pence of the masses of the people. Nor had I ever in
all my travels a warmer response, nor ever mingled with any Ministers
more earnestly devoted to their Congregations or more generally and
deservedly beloved.

No man, however dissevered from the party politics of the day, can
see and live amongst the Irish of the North, without having forced on
his soul the conviction that the Protestant faith and life, with its
grit and backbone and self-dependence, has made them what they are.
Romanism, on the other hand, with its blind faith and its peculiar
type of life, has been at least _one_, if not the main, degrading
influence amongst the Irish of the South and West, who are naturally
a warm-hearted and generous and gifted people. And let Christian
Churches, and our Statesmen who love Christ, remember—that no mere
outward changes of Government or Order, however good and defensible
in themselves, can ever heal the miseries of the people, without a
change of Religion. Ireland needs the pure and true Gospel, proclaimed,
taught, and received, in the South as it now is in the North; and no
other gift, that Britain ever can bestow, will make up for the lack of
Christ’s Evangel. Jesus holds the Key to all problems, in this as in
every land.

Returning to Scotland, I settled down at my headquarters, the house
of my brother James in Glasgow; and thence began to open up the main
line of my operations, as the Lord day by day guided me. Having the
aid of no Committee, I cast myself on Minister after Minister and
Church after Church, calling here, writing there, and arranging for
three meetings every Sabbath, and one, if possible, every week-day,
and drawing-room meetings wherever practicable in the afternoons. My
correspondence grew to oppressive proportions, and kept me toiling at
it every spare moment from early morn till bedtime. Indeed, I never
could have overtaken it, had not my brother devoted many days and hours
of precious time, answering letters regarding arrangements, issuing the
“Share” receipts for all moneys the moment they arrived, managing all
my transactions through the bank, and generally tackling and reducing
the heap of communications and preventing me falling into hopeless
arrears.

I represented a Church in which all Presbyterians are happily united;
and so, wherever possible, I occupied on the same Sabbath day, an
Established Church pulpit in the morning, a Free Church in the
afternoon, and a United Presbyterian Church in the evening, or in
any order in which the thing could be arranged to suit the exigences
of every town or village that was visited. In all my addresses, for
I nowhere attempted ordinary sermonizing, I strove to combine the
Evangelist with the Missionary, applying every incident in my story to
the conscience of the hearer, and seeking to win the sinner to Christ,
and the believer to a more consecrated life. For I knew that if I
succeeded in these higher aims, their money would be freely laid upon
the altar too.

I printed, and circulated by post and otherwise, ten thousand copies
of a booklet, “Statement and Appeal,”—containing, besides my Victorian
Commission and my Glasgow address, a condensed epitome of the results
of the New Hebrides Mission and of the reasons for asking a new Steam
Auxiliary Ship. To this chiefly is due the fact (as well as to my
refusing to call for subscriptions), that the far greater portion of
all the money came to me by letter. On one day, though no doubt a
little exceptional, as many as seventy communications reached me by
post; and every one of these contained something for our fund,—ranging
from “a few stamps” and “the widow’s mite,” through every variety
of figure up to the wealthy man’s fifty or hundred pounds. I was
particularly struck with the number of times that I received £1, with
such a note as, “From a servant-girl that loves the Lord Jesus”; or
“From a servant-girl that prays for the conversion of the Heathen.”
Again and again I received sums of five and ten shillings, with
notes such as,—“From a working-man who loves his Bible”; or “From a
working-man who prays for God’s blessing on you and work like yours,
every day in Family Worship.” I sometimes regret that the graphic,
varied, and intensely interesting notes and letters were not preserved;
for by the close of my tour they would have formed a wonderful volume
of leaves from the human heart.

I also addressed every Religious Convention to which I was invited, or
to which I could secure access. The Perth Conference was made memorable
to me by my receiving the first large subscription for our Ship, and by
my making the acquaintance of a beautiful type of Christian merchant.
At the close of the meeting, at which I had the privilege of speaking,
an American gentleman introduced himself to me. We talked and entered
into each other’s confidence, as brothers in the Lord’s service. He had
made a competency for himself and his family, though only in the prime
of life; and he still carried on a large and flourishing business—but
why? to devote _the whole profits_, year after year, to the direct
service of God and His cause among men! He gave me a cheque for the
largest single contribution with which the Lord had yet cheered me.
God, who knows me, sees that I have never coveted money for myself or
my family; but I did envy that Christian merchant the joy that he had
in having money, and having the heart to use it as a steward of the
Lord Jesus! Oh, when will men of wealth learn this blessed secret, and,
instead of hoarding up gold till death forces it from their clutches,
put it out to usury now in the service of their Master, and see the
fruits and share the joy thereof, before they go hence to give in
their account to God? One of the most appalling features in the modern
Christian World, considering the needs of men and the claims of Jesus,
is this same practice of either spending all for self, or hoarding all
for self, alone or chiefly. Christians who do so seem to stand in need
of a great deal of converting still!

Thereafter I was invited to the annual Christian Conference at Dundee.
A most peculiar experience befell me there. Being asked to close the
forenoon meeting with prayer and the benediction, I offered prayer,
and then began—“May the love of God the Father——” but not another
word would come in English; everything was blank except the words in
Aniwan, for I had long begun to _think_ in the Native tongue, and
after a dead pause, and a painful silence, I had to wind up with a
simple “Amen!” I sat down wet with perspiration. It might have been
wiser, as the Chairman afterwards suggested, to have given them the
blessing in Aniwan, but I feared to set them a-laughing by so strange
a manifestation of the “tongues.” Worst of all, it had been announced
that I was to address them in the afternoon; but who would come to
hear a Missionary that stuck in the benediction? The event had its
semi-comical aspect, but it sent me to my knees during the interval in
a very fever of prayerful anxiety. A vast audience assembled, and if
the Lord ever manifestly used me in interesting His people in Missions,
it was certainly then and there. As I sat down, a devoted Free Church
Elder from Glasgow handed me his card, with “I.O.U. £100.” This was my
first donation of a hundred pounds, and my heart was greatly cheered.
I praised the Lord, and warmly thanked His servant. A Something
kept sounding these words in my ears, “My thoughts are not as your
thoughts;” and also, “Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He will
sustain thee.”

During my address at that meeting three coloured girls, not unlike our
Island girls, sat near the platform, and eagerly listened to me. At
the close, the youngest, apparently about twelve years of age, rose,
salaamed to me in Indian fashion, took four silver bangles from her
arm, and presented them to me, saying,—

“Padre, I want to take shares in your Mission Ship by these bangles,
for I have no money, and may the Lord ever bless you!”

I replied,—“Thank you, my dear child; I will not take your bangles, but
Jesus will accept your offering, and bless and reward you all the same.”

As she still held them up to me, saying, “Padre, do receive them from
me, and may God ever bless you!” a lady, who had been seated beside
her, came up to me, and said,—

“Please, do take them, or the dear girl will break her heart. She has
offered them up to Jesus for your Mission Ship.”

I afterwards learned that the girls were orphans, whose parents died in
the famine; that the lady and her sister, daughters of a Missionary,
had adopted them to be trained as Zenana Missionaries, and that they
intended to return with them, and live and die to aid them in that
blessed work amongst the daughters of India. Oh, what a reward and joy
might many a lady who reads this page easily reap for herself in Time
and Eternity by a similar simple yet far-reaching service! Take action
when and where God points the way; wait for no one’s guidance.

The most amazing variety characterized the gifts and the givers. In
Glasgow a lady sent me an anonymous note to this effect:—

“I have been curtailing my expenses. The first £5 saved I enclose, that
you may invest it for me in the Bank of Jesus. I am sure He gives the
best interest, and the most certain returns.”

From Edinburgh a lawyer wrote, saying,—“I herewith send you £5. Take
out for me two hundred shares in the Mission Ship. I never made any
investment with more genuine satisfaction in all my life.”

A gentleman, whose children had zealously collected a considerable sum
for me by the Cards, at length sent me his own subscription, saying,—“I
enclose you £25, because you have so interested my children in Missions
to the Heathen.” The same friend, after hearing me plead the cause in
Free St. George’s, Edinburgh, sent me a most encouraging letter, and
another contribution of £100.

In Glasgow a lady called at my brother’s house, saying,—“Is the
Missionary at home? Can I see him alone? If not, I will call again.”
Being asked into my room, she declined to be seated, but said,—“I heard
you tell the story of your Mission in the City Hall, and I have been
praying for you ever since. I have called to give you my mite, but
not my name. God bless you. We shall meet in Heaven!” She handed me an
envelope, and was off almost before I could thank her. It was £49 in
bank notes.

Another dear Christian lady came to see me, and at the close of a
delightful conversation, said: “I have been thinking much about you
since I heard you in the Clark Hall, Paisley. I have come to give
a little bit of dirty paper for your Ship. God sent it to me, and
I return it to God through you with great pleasure.” I thanked her
warmly, thinking it a pound, or five at the most; on opening it, after
she was gone, it turned out to be £100. I felt bowed down in humble
thankfulness, and pressed forward in the service of the Lord.

Another lady, who sent for me to call, said to me:—“I have heard of the
sufferings and losses of the Missionaries on your Islands through the
smallness of the Sailing Vessel. I am glad to have the opportunity of
giving you £50 to assist in getting a Steam Auxiliary.”

Many articles of jewellery, silver and gold ornaments, rings and
chains, were also sent to me, or dropped into the Collecting plate.
With the assistance of Christian gentlemen, and by the kindness of a
merchant at once interested in our work and in the gold and silver
trade, these were turned into cash on the most advantageous possible
terms, and added to the Mission Fund.

Having an introduction to a London lady, then living in Edinburgh, I
called and was most kindly received because of our dear mutual friend
Mrs. Cameron, of St. Kilda. After delightful Christian conversation,
she retired for a minute, and returned, saying,—“I have kept this for
twelve months, asking the Lord to direct me as to its disposal. God
claims it now for the Mission Ship, and I have great joy in handing it
to you.” It was another £100. I had been praying all that afternoon for
some token of encouragement, especially as I went to that lady’s house,
and God’s extraordinary answer, even while the prayer was still being
uttered, struck me so forcibly that I could not speak. I received her
gift in tears, and my soul looked up to the Giver of all.

The time now arrived for my attempting something amongst the
Presbyterians of England. But my heart sank within me; I was a stranger
to all except Dr. Dykes, and the New Hebrides Mission had no special
claims on them. Casting myself upon the Lord, I wrote to all the
Presbyterian Ministers in and around London, enclosing my “Statement
and Appeal,” and asking a Service, with a retiring collection, or the
surplus above the usual collection on behalf of our Mission Ship. All
declined, except two. I learned that the London Presbytery had resolved
that no claim beyond their own Church was to be admitted into any
of its pulpits for a period of months, under some special financial
emergency. My dear friend, Dr. J. Hood Wilson, kindly wrote also to a
number of them on my behalf, but with nearly similar result; though at
last other two Services were arranged for with a collection, and one
without. Being required at London, in any case, in connection with the
threatened Annexation of the New Hebrides by the French, I resolved
to take these five Services by the way, and immediately return to
Scotland, where engagements and opportunities were now pressed upon me,
far more than I could overtake. But the Lord Himself opened before me a
larger door, and more effectual, than any that I had tried in vain to
open up for myself.

The Churches to which I had access did nobly indeed, and the Ministers
treated me as a very brother. Dr. Dykes most affectionately supported
my Appeal, and made himself recipient of donations that might be
sent for our Mission Ship. Dr. Donald Fraser, and Messrs. Taylor and
Mathieson, with their Congregations, generously contributed to the
fund. And so did the Mission Church in Drury Lane—the excellent and
consecrated Rev. W. B. Alexander, the pastor thereof, and his wife,
becoming my devoted personal friends, and continuing to remember in
their work-parties every year since the needs of the Natives on the
New Hebrides. Others also, whom I cannot wait to specify, showed a
warm interest in us and in our department of the Lord’s work. But my
heart had been foolishly set upon adding a large sum to the fund for
the Mission Ship, and when only about £150 came from all the Churches
in London to which I could get access, no doubt I was sensible of
cherishing a little guilty disappointment. That was very unworthy in
me, considering all my previous experiences, and God deserved to be
trusted by me far differently, as the sequel will immediately show.

That widely-known and deeply-beloved servant of God, J. E. Mathieson,
Esq., of the Mildmay Conference Hall, had invited me to address one of
their annual meetings on behalf of Foreign Missions, and also to be
his guest while the Conference lasted. Thereby I met and heard many
godly and noble disciples of the Lord, whom I could not otherwise have
reached though every Church I had asked in London had been freely
opened to me. These devout and faithful and generous people, belonging
to every branch of the Church of Christ, and drawn from every rank and
class in Society, from the humblest to the highest, were certainly
amongst the most open-hearted and the most responsive of all whom I
ever had the privilege to address. One felt there, in a higher degree
than almost anywhere else, that every soul was on fire with love to
Jesus and with genuine devotion to His Cause in every corner of the
Earth. There it was a privilege and a gladness to speak; and though
no collection was asked or could be expected, my heart was uplifted
and strengthened by these happy meetings and by all that Heavenly
intercourse.

But see how the Lord leads us by a way we know not! Next morning
after my address, a gentleman who had heard me handed me a cheque
for £300, by far the largest single donation towards our Mission
Ship; and immediately thereafter I received, from one of the Mildmay
lady-Missionaries £50, from a venerable friend of the founder £20, from
“Friends at Mildmay” £30; and through my dear friend and brother, J. E.
Mathieson, many other donations were in due course forwarded to me.

My introduction, however, to the Conference at Mildmay did far more
for me than even this; it opened up for me a series of drawing-room
meetings in and around London, where I told the story of our Mission
and preached the Gospel to many in the higher walks of life, and
received most liberal support for the Mission Ship. It also brought me
invitations from many quarters of England, to Churches, to Halls, and
to County Houses and Mansions.

Lord Radstock got up a special meeting, inviting by private card a
large number of his most influential friends; and there I met for the
first time one whom I have since learned to regard as a very precious
personal friend, Rev. Sholto D. C. Douglas, clergyman of the Church of
England, who then, and afterwards at his seat in Scotland, not only
most liberally supported our fund, but took me by the hand as a brother
and promoted my work by every means in his power.

The Earl and Countess of Tankerville also invited me to Chillingham
Castle, and gave me an opportunity of addressing a great assembly
there, then gathered together from all parts of the County. The
British and Foreign Bible Society received me in a special meeting of
the Directors; and I was able to tell them how all we the Missionaries
of these Islands, whose language had never before been reduced to
writing, looked to them and leant upon them and prayed for them and
their work—without whom our Native Bibles never could have been
published. After the meeting, the Chairman gave me £5, and one of the
Directors a cheque for £25 for our Mission Ship.

I was also invited to Leicester, and made the acquaintanceship of a
godly and gifted servant of the Lord Jesus, the Rev. F. B. Meyer, B.A.
(now of London), whose books and booklets on the higher aspects of the
Christian Life are read by tens of thousands, and have been fruitful
of blessing. There I addressed great meetings of devoted workers in
the vineyard; and the dear friend who was my host on that occasion, a
Christian merchant, has since contributed £10 per annum for the support
of a Native Teacher on the New Hebrides.

It was my privilege also to visit and address the Müller Orphanages at
Bristol, and to see that saintly man of faith and prayer moving about
as a wise and loving father amongst the hundreds, even thousands, that
look to him for their daily bread and for the bread of Life Eternal. At
the close of my address, the venerable founder thanked me warmly and
said,—

“Here are £50, which God has sent to me for your Mission.”

I replied, saying,—“Dear friend, how can I take it? If I could, I would
rather give you £500 for your Orphans, for I am sure you need it all!”

He replied, with sweetness and great dignity,—“God provides for His own
Orphans. This money cannot be used for them. I must send it after you
by letter. It is the Lord’s gift.”

Often, as I have looked at the doings of men and Churches, and tried to
bring all to the test as if in Christ’s very presence,—it has appeared
to me that such work as Müller’s, and Barnardo’s, and that of my own
fellow-countryman, William Quarrier, must be peculiarly dear to the
heart of our blessed Lord. And were He to visit this world again, and
seek a place where His very Spirit had most fully wrought itself out
into deeds, I fear that many of our so-called Churches would deserve to
be passed by, and that His holy, tender, helpful, divinely-human love
would find its most perfect reflex in these Orphan Homes. Still and for
ever, amidst all changes of creed and of climate, this, _this_ is “pure
and undefiled Religion” before God and the Father!

Upper Norwood, London, is ever fresh in my memory, in connection
with my first and subsequent visits, chiefly because of the faithful
guidance and help amidst all the perplexities of that Great Babylon,
so ungrudgingly bestowed upon me by my old Australian friends, then
resident there, William Storrie, Esq., and his most excellent wife,
both devoted workers in the cause of Missions abroad and at home. Great
kindness was shown to me also by their Minister there; and by T. W.
Stoughton, Esq., at whose Mission Hall there was a memorable and joyful
meeting; and, amongst many others whom I cannot here name, by Messrs.
Morgan & Scott, of the _Christian_,—all of whom I rejoiced to find
actively engaged in personal service to the Lord Jesus.

But in this connection I must not omit to mention that the noble and
world-famous servant of God, the Minister of the Tabernacle, invited
me to a garden-party at his home, and asked me to address his students
and other Christian workers. When I arrived I found a goodly company
assembled under the shade of lovely trees, and felt the touch of that
genial humour, so mighty a gift when sanctified, which has so often
given wings to Mr. Spurgeon’s words, when he introduced me to the
audience as “the King of the Cannibals!” On my leaving, Mrs. Spurgeon
presented me with her husband’s “Treasury of David,” and also “£5
from the Lord’s cows,” which I learned was part of the profits from
certain cows kept by the good lady, and that everything produced
thereby was dedicated to the work of the Lord. I praised God that He
had privileged me to meet this extraordinarily endowed man, to whom the
whole Christian World is so specially indebted, and who has consecrated
all his gifts and opportunities to the proclamation of the pure and
precious Gospel.

But of all my London associations, the deepest and the most
imperishable is that which weaves itself around the Honourable Ion
Keith-Falconer, who has already passed to what may truly be called a
Martyr’s crown. At that time I met him at his father-in-law’s house at
Trent; and on another occasion spent a whole day with him at the house
of his noble mother, the Countess-Dowager of Kintore. His soul was then
full of his projected Mission to the Arabs, being himself one of the
most distinguished Orientalists of the day; and as we talked together,
and exchanged experiences, I felt that never before had I visibly
marked the fire of God, the holy passion to seek and to save the lost,
burning more steadily or brightly on the altar of any human heart. The
heroic founding of the Mission at Aden is already one of the precious
annals of the Church of Christ. His young and devoted wife survives,
to mourn indeed, but also to cherish his noble memory; and, with the
aid of others, and under the banner of the Free Church of Scotland,
to see the “Keith-Falconer Mission” rising up amidst the darkness of
blood-stained Africa, as at once a harbour of refuge for the slave,
and a beacon-light to those who are without God and without hope. The
servant does his day’s work, and passes on through the gates of sleep
to the Happy Dawn; but the Divine Master lives and works and reigns,
and by our death, as surely as by our life, His holy purposes shall be
fulfilled.

On returning to Scotland, every day was crowded with engagements for
the weeks that remained, and almost every mail brought me contributions
from all conceivable corners of the land. My heart was set upon taking
out two or three Missionaries with me to claim more and still more of
the Islands for Christ; and with that view I had addressed Divinity
Students at Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Aberdeen. Again and again, by
conversation and correspondence, consecrated young men were just on the
point of volunteering; but again and again the larger and better known
fields of labour turned the scale, and they finally decided for China
or Africa or India. Deeply disappointed at this, and thinking that God
directed us to look to our own Australia alone for Missionaries for the
New Hebrides, I resolved to return, and took steps towards securing
a passage by the Orient Line to Melbourne. But just then two able
and devoted students, Messrs. Morton and Leggatt, offered themselves
as Missionaries for our Islands; and shortly thereafter a third, Mr.
Landells, also an excellent man; and all, being on the eve of their
Licence, were approved of, accepted, and set to special preparations
for the Mission field, particularly in acquiring practical medical
knowledge.

On this turn of affairs, I managed to have my passage delayed for six
weeks, and resolved to cast myself on the Lord that He might enable
me in that time to raise at least £500, in order to furnish the
necessary outfit and equipment for three new Mission Stations, and to
pay the passage money of the Missionaries and their wives, that there
might be no difficulty on this score amongst the Foreign Missions
Committees on the other side. And then the idea came forcibly, and for
a little unmanned me, that it was wrong in me to speak of these limits
as to time and money in my prayers to God. But I reflected, again,
how it was for the Lord’s own glory alone in the salvation of the
Heathen, and for no personal aims of mine; and so I fell back on His
promise,—“Whatsoever ye shall ask in My Name,”—and believingly asked it
in His Name, and for His praise and service alone. I think it due to
my Lord, and for the encouragement of all His servants, that I should
briefly outline what occurred in answer to these prayers.

Having gone to the centre of one of the great ship-building districts
of Scotland, and held a series of meetings, and raised a sum of about
£55 only after nine services and many Sabbath School collecting cards,
my heart was beginning to sink, as I did not think my health would
stand another six weeks of incessant strain; when at the close of my
last meeting in a Free Church, an Elder and his wife entered the vestry
and said,—

“We are deeply interested in you and in all your work and plans. You
say that you have asked £500 more. We gave you the first £100 at the
Dundee Conference; and it is a joy to us to give you this £100 too,
towards the making up of your final sum. We pray that you may speedily
realize your wish, and that God’s richest blessing may ever rest upon
your head.”

Glasgow readers will at once recognise the generous giver, J. Campbell
White, Esq., who rejoices, along with his dear wife, to regard himself
as a steward of the Lord Jesus. My prayer is that they, and all such,
may feel more and more “blessed in their deeds.”

Another week passed by, and at the close of it a lady called upon me,
and, after delightful conversation about the Mission, said,—

“How near are you to the sum required?” I explained to her what is
recorded above, and she continued, “I gave you one little piece of
paper, at the beginning of your efforts. I have prayed for you every
day since. God has prospered me, and this is one of the happiest
moments of my life, when I am now able to give you another little bit
of paper.”

So saying, she put into my hand £100. I protested,—“You are surely too
generous. Can you afford a second £100?”

She replied to this effect, and very joyfully, as one who had genuine
gladness in the deed,—“My Lord has been very kind to me, in my health
and in my business. My wants are simple and are safe in His hands. I
wait not till death forces me, but give back whatever I am able to the
Lord now, and hope to live to see much blessing thereby through you in
the conversion of the Heathen.”

The name of that dear friend from Paisley rises often in my prayers and
meditations before God. “Verily I say unto you, the Father that seeth
in secret shall reward openly.”

My last week had come, and I was in the midst of preparations for
departure, when amongst the letters delivered to me was one to this
effect,—

“Restitution money which never now can be returned to its owner. Since
my Conversion I have laboured hard to save it. I now make my only
possible amends by returning it to God through you. Pray for me and
mine, and may God bless you in your work!” I rather startled my brother
and his wife at our breakfast table by shouting out in unwontedly
excited tones,—“Hallelujah! The Lord has done it! Hallelujah!” But my
tones softened down into intense reverence, and my words broke at last
into tears, when I found that this, the second largest subscription
ever received by me, came from a converted tradesman, who had now
consecrated his all to the Lord Jesus, and whose whole leisure was now
centred upon seeking to bless and save those of his own rank and class,
amongst whom he had spent his early and unconverted days. Jesus saith
unto him, “Go home to thy friends, and tell them how great things the
Lord hath done for thee, and hath had compassion on thee.”

Bidding farewell to dear old Glasgow, so closely intertwined with all
my earlier and later experiences I started for London, accompanied by
my brother James. We were sitting at breakfast at Mrs. Mathieson’s
table, Mildmay, when a telegram was put into my hands announcing the
“thank-offering” from Lord and Lady Polwarth, received since our
departure from Glasgow, and referred to on an earlier page. The Lord
had now literally exceeded my prayers. With other gifts, repeated again
by friends at Mildmay, the special fund for outfit and travelling
expenses for new Missionaries had risen above the £500, and now
approached £650.

In a Farewell Meeting at Mildmay the Lord’s servants assembled in great
numbers from all quarters of London, dedicated me and my work very
solemnly to God, amid songs of praise and many prayers and touching
“last” words. And when at length Mr. Mathieson, intimating that I must
go, as another company of Christian workers were elsewhere waiting also
to say Goodbye, suggested that the whole audience should stand up, and,
instead of hand shaking, quietly breathe their benedictory Farewell as
I passed from the platform down through their great Hall, a perfect
flood of emotion overwhelmed me. I never felt a humbler man, nor
more anxious to hide my head in the dust, than when all these noble,
gifted, and beloved followers of Jesus Christ and consecrated workers
in His service, stood up and with one heart said, “God speed” and “God
bless you,” as I passed on through the Hall. To one who had striven
and suffered less, or who less appreciated how little we can do for
others compared with what Jesus had done for us, this scene might have
ministered to spiritual pride; but long ere I reached the door of that
Hall, my soul was already prostrated at the feet of my Lord in sorrow
and in shame that I had done so little for Him, and I bowed my head and
could have gladly bowed my knees to cry, “Not unto us, Lord, not unto
us!”

On the 28th October, 1885, I sailed for Melbourne, and in due course
safely arrived there by the goodness of God. The Church and people
of my own beloved Victoria gave me a right joyful welcome, and in
public assembly presented me with a testimonial, which I shrank from
receiving, but which all the same was the highly-prized expression of
their confidence and esteem.

In my absence at the Islands, they thereafter elected me Moderator of
their Supreme Court, and called me back to fill that highest Chair of
honour in the Presbyterian Church. God is my witness how very little
any or all of these things in themselves ever have been coveted by me;
but how, when they have come in my way, I have embraced them with a
single desire thereby to promote the Church’s interest in that Cause
to which my whole life and all my opportunities are consecrated,—the
Conversion of the Heathen World.

My Mission to Britain was to raise £6,000, in order to enable the
Australian Churches to provide a Steam Auxiliary Mission Ship, for the
enlarged and constantly enlarging requirements of the New Hebrides.
I spent exactly eighteen months at home; and when I returned, I was
enabled to hand over to the Church that had commissioned and authorized
me no less a sum than £9,000. And all this had been forwarded to me,
as the free-will offerings of the Lord’s stewards, in the manner
illustrated by the preceding pages. “Behold! what God hath wrought!”

Of this sum £6,000 are set apart to build or acquire the new Mission
Ship. The remainder is added to what we call our Number II. Fund, for
the maintenance and equipment of additional Missionaries. It has been
the dream of my life to see one Missionary at least planted on every
Island of the New Hebrides, and then I could lie down and whisper
gladly, “Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace!”

As to the new Mission Ship, delay has arisen—owing to a difference of
opinion about the best way of carrying out the proposal. Negotiations
are progressing betwixt New South Wales and Victoria and the other
Colonies as to the additional annual expenditure for the maintenance
of a Steam-Auxiliary, and how the same is to be allocated. Also, an
element of doubt and perplexity has been introduced into the scheme
by the possibility of the Government running Mails regularly from
Australia to Fiji, and calling at one or other of the New Hebrides
harbours,—in which case some think the Missionaries would need only an
_inter-island_ Steamer, of a comparatively moderate tonnage. Meantime,
let all friends who are interested in us and our work understand—that
the money so generously entrusted to me has been safely handed over to
my Victorian Church, and has been deposited by them at good interest in
the bank, pending the settlement of these business details.

To me personally, this delay is confessedly a keen and deep
disappointment,—feeling strongly as I do, and seeing more clearly every
day, the waste and suffering caused to our beloved Missionaries and
their families, by the uncertainties of a Sailing Ship, and by the
utter inability of our present _Dayspring_ to overtake all that is now
required. But this is not the place to discuss that matter in detail.
The work laid upon me has been accomplished. The Colonial Churches have
all the responsibility of the further steps. In this, as in many a
harder trouble of my chequered life, I calmly roll all my burden upon
the Lord. I await with quietness and confidence His wise disposal of
events. His hand is on the helm; and whither He steers us, all shall be
well.

But let me not close this chapter, till I have struck another and a
Diviner note. I have been to the Islands again, since my return from
Britain. The whole inhabitants of Aniwa were there to welcome me, and
my procession to the old Mission House was more like the triumphal
march of a Conqueror than that of a humble Missionary. Everything was
kept in beautiful and perfect order. Every Service of the Church, as
previously described in this book, was fully sustained by the Native
Teachers, the Elders, and the occasional visit, once or twice a year,
of the ordained white Missionary from one of the other Islands. Aniwa,
like Aneityum, is a _Christian_ land. Jesus has taken possession, never
again to quit those shores. Glory, _glory_ to His blessed Name!

       *       *       *       *       *

When pleading the cause of the Heathen and the claims of Jesus on His
followers, I have often been taunted with being “a man of one idea.”
Sometimes I have thought that this came from the lips of those who had
not even one idea!—unless it were how to kill time or to save their own
skin. But seriously speaking, is it not better to have one good idea
and to live for that and succeed in it, than to scatter one’s life away
on many things and leave a mark on none?

And, besides, you cannot live for one good idea supremely without
thereby helping forward many other collateral causes. My life has
been dominated by one sacred purpose; but in pursuing it the Lord has
enabled me to be Evangelist as well as Missionary, and whilst seeking
for needed money to seek for and save and bless many souls,—has enabled
me to defend the Holy Sabbath in many lands, as the God-given and
precious birthright of the toiling millions, to be bartered away for
no price or bribe that men can offer,—has enabled me to maintain the
right of every child in Christian lands, or in Heathen, to be taught to
read the blessed Bible and to understand it, as the Divine foundation
of all Social Order and the sole guarantee of individual freedom as
well as of national greatness,—and has enabled me also to do battle
against the infernal _Kanaka_ or Labour Traffic, one of the most cruel
and blood-stained forms of slavery on the face of the Earth, and to
rouse the holy passion of Human Brotherhood in the Colonies and at Home
against those who trafficked in the bodies and souls of men.

In these, as well as in my own direct labours as a Missionary, I
probably have had my full share of “abuse” from the enemies of the
Cross, and a not inconsiderable burden of trials and afflictions in
the service of my Lord; yet here, as I lay down my pen, let me record
my immovable conviction that this is the noblest service in which any
human being can spend or be spent; and that, if God gave me back my
life to be lived over again, I would without one quiver of hesitation
lay it on the altar to Christ, that He might use it as before in
similar ministries of love, especially amongst those who have never yet
heard the Name of Jesus. Nothing that has been endured, and nothing
that can now befall me, makes me tremble—on the contrary, I deeply
rejoice—when I breathe the prayer that it may please the blessed Lord
to turn the hearts of all my children to the Mission field; and that He
may open up their way and make it their pride and joy to live and die
in carrying Jesus and His Gospel into the heart of the Heathen World!
God gave His best, His Son, to me; and I give back my best, my All, to
Him.

Reader, Fare-thee-well! Thou hast companied with me,—not without
some little profit, I trust; and not without noting many things that
led thee to bless the Lord God, in whose honour these pages have
been written. In your life and in mine, there is at least one _last_
Chapter, one final Scene, awaiting us,—God our Father knows where and
how! By His grace, I will live out that Chapter, I will pass through
that Scene, in the faith and in the hope of Jesus, who has sustained
me from childhood till now. As you close this book, go before your
Saviour, and pledge yourself upon your knees by His help and sympathy
to do the same. And let me meet you, and let us commune with each other
again, in the presence and glory of the Redeemer. Fare-thee-well!


FOOTNOTES:

[1] See the whole context in “Sermons on National Subjects,”
(_Macmillan & Co._, 1880) pp. 414 to 417, where it is numbered as
Sermon XLI.; particularly this regulative declaration regarding “what
Original Sin may bring man to”:—“What is to my mind the most awful part
of the matter remains to be told—that man may actually fall by Original
Sin too low to receive the Gospel of Jesus Christ and to be recovered
again by it.”—(_Editor_).




  TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

  Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
  corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
  the text and consultation of external sources.

  Some hyphens in words have been silently removed, some added,
  when a predominant preference was found in the original book.

  Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text, and
  inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. All place names and
  proper nouns have been retained as spelled in the original publication.

  Page iv. “Ariwan” replaced by “Aniwan”.
  Page xvii. “LISTI” replaced by “LITSI”.
  Page 1. “Brutal Captain” replaced by “Brutal Captain.”.
  Page 67. “now see them” replaced by “now see them.”.
  Page 116. “accomodation” replaced by “accommodation”.
  Page 119. “Rev. J” replaced by “Rev. J.”.
  Page 132. “not of ourselves” replaced by “not of ourselves.”.
  Page 158. “inhabit ants” replaced by “inhabitants”.
  Page 160. “dead and buried” replaced by “dead and buried.”.
  Page 169. “tomakawk” replaced by “tomahawk”.
  Page 171. “among the Natives” replaced by “among the Natives.”.
  Page 178. “‘It is” replaced by ““It is”.
  Page 183. “through the earth.” replaced by “through the earth.””.
  Page 222. “baptize you?” replaced by “baptize you?””.
  Page 230. ““Society,’” replaced by ““Society,””.
  Page 230. “your fill!’” replaced by “your fill!””.
  Page 230. “happy as squirrels” replaced by “happy as squirrels.”.
  Page 254. “this?’ Cocoa-nuts” replaced by “this?’ ‘Cocoa-nuts”.
  Page 273. “home on Aniwa” replaced by “home on Aniwa.”.
  Page 289. “symphony of Ocean” replaced by “symphony of Ocean’”.
  Page 304. “She had, out” replaced by ““She had, out”.
  Page 305. “spilt!’” replaced by “spilt!””.
  Page 305. “you ill?’” replaced by “you ill?””.
  Page 309. “broken Eglish” replaced by “broken English”.
  Page 311. “eel the very” replaced by “feel the very”.
  Page 314. “any other” replaced by “any other.”.
  Page 321. “he returned?” replaced by “he returned?’”.
  Page 329. “to Tanna.” replaced by “to Tanna,”.
  Page 332. ““That’s Mungaw” replaced by “‘That’s Mungaw”.
  Page 338. “But Noopooraw” replaced by “but Noopooraw”.
  Page 339. “O Yomit” replaced by “‘O Yomit”.
  Page 343. “acrue” replaced by “accrue”.
  Page 343. “treacherous gales” replaced by “treacherous gales.”.
  Page 363. “Steam Auxiliary.” replaced by “Steam Auxiliary.””.
  Page 369. “‘God provides for” replaced by ““God provides for”.
  Page 376. “accompained” replaced by “accompanied”.



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