Title: The Story of John G. Paton - Or Thirty Years Among South Sea Cannibals
Author: Paton, John Gibson, 1824-1907
Language: English
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THE STORY OF JOHN G. PATON

Or Thirty Years Among South Sea Cannibals

by

REV. JAMES PATON, B.A.

Illustrated



A. L. Burt Company,Publishers, New York



PREFACE.


EVER since the story of my brother's life first appeared (January 1889)
it has been constantly pressed upon me that a YOUNG FOLKS' EDITION would
be highly prized. The Autobiography has therefore been re-cast and
illustrated, in the hope and prayer that the Lord will use it to inspire
the Boys and Girls of Christendom with a wholehearted enthusiasm for the
Conversion of the Heathen World to Jesus Christ.

A few fresh incidents have been introduced; the whole contents have been
rearranged to suit a new class of readers; and the service of a gifted
Artist has been employed, to make the book every way attractive to the
young. For _full_ details as to the Missionary's work and life, the
COMPLETE EDITION must still of course be referred to.

JAMES PATON.
GLASGOW, _Sept,_ 1892.

CONTENTS.
CHAP.

 1. Our Cottage Home
 2. Our Forebears
 3. Consecrated Parents
 4. School Days
 5. Leaving the Old Home
 6. Early Struggles
 7. A City Missionary
 8. Glasgow Experiences
 9. A Foreign Missionary
10. To the New Hebrides
11. First Impressions of Heathendom
12. Breaking Ground on Tanna
13. Pioneers in the New Hebrides
14. The Great Bereavement
15. At Home with Cannibals
16. Superstitions and Cruelties
17. Streaks of Dawn amidst Deeds of Darkness
18. The Visit of H.M.S. "Cordelia"
19. "Noble Old Abraham"
20. A Typical South Sea Trader
21. Under Axe and Musket
22. A Native Saint and Martyr
23. Building and Printing for God
24. Heathen Dance and Sham Fight
25. Cannibals at Work
26. The Defying of Nahak
27. A Perilous Pilgrimage
28. The Plague of Measles
29. Attacked with Clubs
30. Kowia
31. The Martyrdom of the Gordons
32. Shadows Deepening on Tanna
33. The Visit of the Commodore
34. The War Chiefs in Council
35. Under Knife and Tomahawk
36. The Beginning of the End
37. Five Hours in a Canoe
38. A Race for Life
39. Faint yet Pursuing
40. Waiting at Kwamera
41. The Last Awful Night
42. "Sail O! Sail O!"
43. Farewell to Tanna
44. The Floating of the "Dayspring"
45. A Shipping Company for Jesus
46. Australian Incidents
47. Amongst Squatters and Diggers
48. John Gilpin in the Bush
49. The Aborigines of Australia
50. Nora
51. Back to Scotland
52. Tour through the Old Country
53. Marriage and Farewell
54. First Peep at the "Dayspring"
55. The French in the Pacific
56. The Gospel and Gunpowder
57. A Plea for Tanna
58. Our New Home on Aniwa
59. House-Building for God
60. A City of God
61. The Religion of Revenge
62. First Fruits on Aniwa
63. Traditions and Customs
64. Nelwang's Elopement
65. The Christ-Spirit at Work
66. The Sinking of the Well
67. Rain from Below
68. The Old Chief's Sermon
69. The First Book and the New Eyes
70. A Roof-Tree for Jesus
71. "Knock the Tevil out!"
72. The Conversion of Youwili
73. First Communion on Aniwa
74. The New Social Order
75. The Orphans and their Biscuits
76. The Finger-Posts of God
77. The Gospel in Living Capitals
78. The Death of Namakei
79. Christianity and Cocoa-Nuts
80. Nerwa's Beautiful Farewell
81. Ruwawa
82. Litsi
83. The Conversion of Nasi
84. The Appeal of Lamu
85. Wanted! A Steam Auxiliary
86. My Campaign in Ireland
87. Scotland's Free-will Offerings
88. England's Open Door
89. Farewell Scenes
90. Welcome to Victoria and Aniwa
91. Good News from Tanna, 1891



THE STORY OF JOHN G. PATON.



CHAPTER I.
OUR COTTAGE HOME.

MY early days were all spent in the beautiful county of Dumfries, which
Scotch folks call the Queen of the South. There, in a small cottage, on
the farm of Braehead, in the parish of Kirkmahoe, I was born on the 24th
May, 1824. My father, James Paton, was a stocking manufacturer in a
small way; and he and his young wife, Janet Jardine Rogerson, lived on
terms of warm personal friendship with the "gentleman farmer," so they
gave me his son's name, John _Gibson_; and the curly-haired child of the
cottage was soon able to toddle across to the mansion, and became a
great pet of the lady there. On my visit to Scotland in 1884 I drove out
to Braehead; but we found no cottage, nor trace of a cottage, and amused
ourselves by supposing that we could discover by the rising of the
grassy mound, the outline where the foundations once had been!

While yet a mere child, five years or so of age, my parents took me to a
new home in the ancient village of Torthorwald, about four and a quarter
miles from Dumfries, on the road to Lockerbie. At that time, say 1830,
Torthorwald was a busy and thriving village, and comparatively populous,
with its cottars and crofters, large farmers and small farmers, weavers
and shoemakers, doggers and coopers, blacksmiths and tailors. Fifty-five
years later, when I visited the scenes of my youth, the village proper
was extinct, except for five thatched cottages where the lingering
patriarchs were permitted to die slowly away,--soon they too would be
swept into the large farms, and their garden plots plowed over, like
sixty or seventy others that had been blotted out!

From the Bank Hill, close above our village, and accessible in a walk of
fifteen minutes, a view opens to the eye which, despite several easily
understood prejudices of mine that may discount any opinion that I
offer, still appears to me well worth seeing amongst all the beauties of
Scotland. At your feet lay a thriving village, every cottage sitting in
its own plot of garden, and sending up its blue cloud of "peat reek,"
which never somehow seemed to pollute the blessed air; and after all has
been said or sung, a beautifully situated village of healthy and happy
homes for God's children is surely the finest feature in every
landscape! Looking from the Bank Hill on a summer day, Dumfries with its
spires shone so conspicuous that you could have believed it not more
than two miles away; the splendid sweeping vale through which Nith rolls
to Solway, lay all before the naked eye, beautiful with village spires,
mansion houses, and white shining farms; the Galloway hills, gloomy and
far-tumbling, bounded the forward view, while to the left rose Criffel,
cloud-capped and majestic; then the white sands of Solway, with tides
swifter than horsemen; and finally the eye rested joyfully upon the
hills of Cumberland, and noticed with glee the blue curling smoke from
its villages on the southern Solway shores.

There, amid this wholesome and breezy village life, our dear parents
found their home for the long period of forty years. There too were born
to them eight additional children, making in all a family of five sons
and six daughters. Theirs was the first of the thatched cottages on the
left, past the "miller's house," going up the "village gate," with a
small garden in front of it, and a large garden across the road; and it
is one of the few still lingering to show to a new generation what the
homes of their fathers were. The architect who planned that cottage had
no ideas of art, but a fine eye for durability! It consists at present
of three, but originally of four, pairs of "oak couples" (Scottice
_kipples_) planted like solid trees in the ground at equal intervals,
and gently sloped inwards till they meet or are "coupled" at the ridge,
this coupling being managed not by rusty iron, but by great solid pins
of oak. A roof of oaken wattles was laid across these, till within
eleven or twelve feet of the ground, and from the ground upwards a stone
wall was raised, as perpendicular as was found practicable, towards
these overhang-wattles, this wall being roughly "pointed" with sand and
clay and lime. Now into and upon the roof was woven and intertwisted a
covering of thatch, that defied all winds and weathers, and that made
the cottage marvelously cozy,--being renewed year by year, and never
allowed to remain in disrepair at any season. But the beauty of the
construction was and is its durability, or rather the permanence of its
oaken ribs! There they stand, after probably not less than four
centuries, japanned with "peat reek" till they are literally shining, so
hard that no ordinary nail can be driven into them, and perfectly
capable of service for four centuries more on the same conditions. The
walls are quite modern, having all been rebuilt in my father's time,
except only the few great foundation boulders, piled around the oaken
couples; and parts of the roofing also may plead guilty to having found
its way thither only in recent days; but the architect's one idea
survives, baffling time and change--the ribs and rafters of oak.

Our home consisted of a "but" and a "ben" and a "mid room," or chamber,
called the "closet." The one end was my mother's domain, and served all
the purposes of dining-room and kitchen and parlor, besides containing
two large wooden erections, called by our Scotch peasantry "box beds";
not holes in the wall, as in cities, but grand, big, airy beds, adorned
with many-colored counterpanes, and hung with natty curtains, showing
the skill of the mistress of the house. The other end was my father's
workshop, filled with five or six "stocking-frames," whirring with the
constant action of five or six pairs of busy hands and feet, and
producing right genuine hosiery for the merchants at Hawick and
Dumfries. The "closet" was a very small apartment betwixt the other two,
having room only for a bed, a little table and a chair, with a
diminutive window shedding diminutive light on the scene. This was the
Sanctuary of that cottage home. Thither daily, and oftentimes a day,
generally after each meal, we saw our father retire, and "shut to the
door"; and we children got to understand by a sort of spiritual instinct
(for the thing was too sacred to be talked about) that prayers were
being poured out there for us, as of old by the High Priest within the
veil in the Most Holy Place. We occasionally heard the pathetic echoes
of a trembling voice pleading as if for life, and we learned to slip out
and in past that door on tiptoe, not to disturb the holy colloquy. The
outside world might not know, but we knew, whence came that happy light
as of a new-born smile that always was dawning on my father's face: it
was a reflection from the Divine Presence, in the consciousness of which
he lived. Never, in temple or cathedral, on mountain or in glen, can I
hope to feel that the Lord God is more near, more visibly walking and
talking with men, than under that humble cottage roof of thatch and
oaken wattles. Though everything else in religion were by some
unthinkable catastrophe to be swept out of memory, or blotted from my
understanding, my soul would wander back to those early scenes, and shut
itself up once again in that Sanctuary Closet, and, hearing still the
echoes of those cries to God, would hurl back all doubt with the
victorious appeal, "He walked with God, why may not I?"



CHAPTER II.
OUR FOREBEARS.

A FEW notes had better here be given as to our "Forebears," the kind of
stock from which my father and mother sprang. My father's mother, Janet
Murray, claimed to be descended from a Galloway family that fought and
suffered for Christ's Crown and Covenant in Scotland's "killing time,"
and was herself a woman of a pronouncedly religious development. Her
husband, our grandfather, William Paton, had passed through a roving and
romantic career, before he settled down to be a douce deacon of the
weavers of Dumfries, like his father before him.

Forced by a press-gang to serve on board a British man-of-war, he was
taken prisoner by the French, and thereafter placed under Paul Jones,
the pirate of the seas, and bore to his dying day the mark of a slash
from the captain's sword across his shoulder for some slight disrespect
or offense. Determining with two others to escape, the three were hotly
pursued by Paul Jones's men. One, who could swim but little, was shot,
and had to be cut adrift by the other two, who in the darkness swam into
a cave and managed to evade for two nights and a day the rage of their
pursuers. My grandfather, being young and gentle and yellow-haired,
persuaded some kind heart to rig him out in female attire, and in this
costume escaped the attentions of the press-gang more than once; till,
after many hardships, he bargained with the captain of a coal sloop to
stow him away amongst his black diamonds; and thus, in due time, he
found his way home to Dumfries, where he tackled bravely and wisely the
duties of husband, father, and citizen for the remainder of his days.
The smack of the sea about the stories of his youth gave zest to the
talks round their quiet fireside, and that, again, was seasoned by the
warm Evangelical spirit of his Covenanting wife, her lips "dropping
grace."

On the other side, my mother, Janet Rogerson, had for parents a father
and mother of the Annandale stock. William Rogerson, her father, was one
of many brothers, all men of uncommon strength and great force of
character, quite worthy of the Border Rievers of an earlier day. Indeed,
it was in some such way that he secured his wife, though the dear old
lady in after days was chary about telling the story. She was a girl of
good position, the ward of two unscrupulous uncles who had charge of her
small estate, near Langholm; and while attending some boarding school
she fell devotedly in love with the tall, fair-haired, gallant young
blacksmith, William Rogerson. Her guardians, doubtless very properly,
objected to the "connection"; but our young Lochinvar, with his six or
seven stalwart brothers and other trusty "lads," all mounted, and with
some ready tools in case of need, went boldly and claimed his bride, and
she, willingly mounting at his side, was borne off in the light of open
day, joyously married, and took possession of her "but and ben," as the
mistress of the blacksmith's castle.

Janet Jardine bowed her neck to the self-chosen yoke, with the light of
a supreme affection in her heart, and showed in her gentler ways, her
love of books, her fine accomplishments with the needle, and her general
air of ladyhood, that her lot had once been cast in easier, but not
necessarily happier, ways. Her blacksmith lover proved not unworthy of
his lady bride, and in old age found for her a quiet and modest home,
the fruit of years of toil and hopeful thrift, their own little
property, in which they rested and waited a happy end. Amongst those who
at last wept by her grave stood, amidst many sons and daughters, her son
the Rev. James J. Rogerson, clergyman of the Church of England, who, for
many years thereafter, and till quite recently, was spared to occupy a
distinguished position at ancient Shrewsbury and has left behind him
there an honored and beloved name.

From such a home came our mother, Janet Jardine Rogerson, a
bright-hearted, high-spirited, patient-toiling, and altogether heroic
little woman; who, for about forty-three years, made and kept such a
wholesome, independent, God-fearing, and self-reliant life for her
family of five sons and six daughters, as constrains me, when I look
back on it now, in the light of all I have since seen and known of
others far differently situated, almost to worship her memory. She had
gone with her high spirits and breezy disposition to gladden as their
companion, the quiet abode of some grand or great-grand-uncle and aunt,
familiarly named in all that Dalswinton neighborhood, "Old Adam and
Eve." Their house was on the outskirts of the moor, and life for the
young girl there had not probably too much excitement. But one thing had
arrested her attention. She had noticed that a young stocking-maker from
the "Brig End," James Paton, the son of William and Janet there, was in
the habit of stealing alone into the quiet wood, book in hand, day after
day, at certain hours, as if for private study and meditation. It was a
very excusable curiosity that led the young bright heart of the girl to
watch him devoutly reading and hear him reverently reciting (though she
knew not then, it was Ralph Erskine's _Gospel Sonnets_, which he could
say by heart sixty years afterwards, as he lay on his bed of death); and
finally that curiosity awed itself into a holy respect, when she saw him
lay aside his broad Scotch bonnet, kneel down under the sheltering wings
of some tree, and pour out all his soul in daily prayers to God. As yet
they had never spoken. What spirit moved her, let lovers tell--was it
all devotion, or was it a touch of unconscious love kindling in her
towards the yellow-haired and thoughtful youth? Or was there a stroke of
mischief, of that teasing, which so often opens up the door to the most
serious step in all our lives? Anyhow, one day she slipped in quietly,
stole away his bonnet, and hung it on a branch near by, while his trance
of devotion made him oblivious of all around; then, from a safe retreat,
she watched and enjoyed his perplexity in seeking for and finding it! A
second day this was repeated; but his manifest disturbance of mind, and
his long pondering with the bonnet in hand, as if almost alarmed, seemed
to touch another chord in her heart--that chord of pity which is so
often the prelude of love, that finer pity that grieves to wound
anything nobler or tenderer than ourselves. Next day, when he came to
his accustomed place of prayer, a little card was pinned against the
tree just where he knelt, and on it these words: "She who stole away
your bonnet is ashamed of what she did; she has a great respect for you,
and asks you to pray for her, that she may become as good a Christian as
you."

Staring long at that writing, he forgot Ralph Erskine for one day!
Taking down the card, and wondering who the writer could be, he was
abusing himself for his stupidity in not suspecting that some one had
discovered his retreat and removed his bonnet, instead of wondering
whether angels had been there during his prayer,--when, suddenly raising
his eyes, he saw in front of old Adam's cottage, though a lane amongst
the trees, the passing of another kind of angel, swinging a milk-pail in
her hand and merrily singing some snatch of old Scottish song. He knew,
in that moment, by a Divine instinct, as infallible as any voice that
ever came to seer of old, that she was the angel visitor that had stolen
in upon his retreat--that bright-faced, clever-witted niece of old Adam
and Eve, to whom he had never yet spoken, but whose praises he had often
heard said and sung--"Wee Jen." I am afraid he did pray "for her," in
more senses than one, that afternoon; at any rate, more than a Scotch
bonnet was very effectually stolen; a good heart and true was there
virtually bestowed, and the trust was never regretted on either side,
and never betrayed.

Often and often, in the genial and beautiful hours of the autumntide of
their long life, have I heard my dear father tease "Jen" about her
maidenly intentions in the stealing of that bonnet; and often have heard
her quick mother-wit in the happy retort, that had his motives for
coming to that retreat been altogether and exclusively pious, he would
probably have found his way to the other side of the wood, but that men
who prowled about the Garden of Eden ran the risk of meeting some day
with a daughter of Eve!



CHAPTER III.
CONSECRATED PARENTS.

SOMEWHERE in or about his seventeenth year, my father passed through a
crisis of religious experience; and from that day he openly and very
decidedly followed the Lord Jesus. His parents had belonged to one of
the older branches of what is now called the United Presbyterian Church;
but my father, having made an independent study of the Scotch Worthies,
the Cloud of Witnesses, the Testimonies, and the Confession of Faith,
resolved to cast in his lot with the oldest of all the Scotch Churches,
the Reformed Presbyterian, as most nearly representing the Covenanters
and the attainments of both the first and second Reformations in
Scotland. This choice he deliberately made, and sincerely and
intelligently adhered to; and was able at all times to give strong and
clear reasons from Bible and from history for the principles he upheld.

Besides this, there was one other mark and fruit of his early religious
decision, which looks even fairer through all these years. Family
Worship had heretofore been held only on Sabbath Day in his father's
house; but the young Christian, entering into conference with his
sympathizing mother, managed to get the household persuaded that there
ought to be daily morning and evening prayer and reading of the Bible
and holy singing. This the more readily, as he himself agreed to take
part regularly in the same, and so relieve the old warrior of what might
have proved for him too arduous spiritual toils! And so began in his
seventeenth year that blessed custom of Family Prayer, morning and
evening, which my father practised probably without one single avoidable
omission till he lay on his deathbed, seventy-seven years of age; when
ever to the last day of his life, a portion of Scripture was read, and
his voice was heard softly joining in the Psalm, and his lips breathed
the morning and evening Prayer,--falling in sweet benediction on the
heads of all his children, far away many of them over all the earth, but
all meeting him there at the Throne of Grace.

Our place of worship was the Reformed Presbyterian Church at Dumfries,
under the ministry, during most of these days, of Rev. John McDermid--a
genuine, solemn, lovable Covenanter, who cherished towards my father a
warm respect, that deepened into apostolic affection when the yellow
hair turned snow-white and both of them grew patriarchal in their years.
The Minister, indeed, was translated to a Glasgow charge; but that
rather exalted than suspended their mutual love. Dumfries was four miles
fully from our Torthorwald home; but the tradition is that during all
these forty years my father was only thrice prevented from attending the
worship of God--once by snow, so deep that he was baffled and had to
return; once by ice on the road, so dangerous that he was forced to
crawl back up the Roucan Brae on his hands and knees, after having
descended it so far with many falls; and once by the terrible outbreak
of cholera at Dumfries.

Each of us, from very early days, considered it no penalty, but a great
joy, to go with our father to the church; the four miles were a treat to
our young spirits, the company by the way was a fresh incitement, and
occasionally some of the wonders of city-life rewarded our eager eyes. A
few other pious men and women, of the best Evangelical type, went from
the same parish to one or other favorite Minister at Dumfries; and when
these God-fearing peasants "forgathered" in the way to or from the House
of God, we youngsters had sometimes rare glimpses of what Christian talk
may be and ought to be.

We had, too, special Bible Readings on the Lord's Day evening,--mother
and children and visitors reading in turns, with fresh and interesting
question, answer, and exposition, all tending to impress us with the
infinite grace of a God of love and mercy in the great gift of His dear
Son Jesus, our Saviour. The Shorter Catechism was gone through
regularly, each answering the question asked, till the whole had been
explained, and its foundation in Scripture shown by the proof-texts
adduced. It has been an amazing thing to me, occasionally to meet with
men who blamed this "catechizing" for giving them a distaste to
religion; every one in all our circle thinks and feels exactly the
opposite. It laid the solid rock-foundations of our religious life.
After-years have given to these questions and their answers a deeper or
a modified meaning, but none of us has ever once even dreamed of wishing
that we had been otherwise trained. Of course, if the parents are not
devout, sincere, and affectionate,--if the whole affair on both sides is
taskwork, or worse, hypocritical and false,--results must be very
different indeed!

Oh, I can remember those happy Sabbath evenings; no blinds down, and
shutters up, to keep out the sun from us, as some scandalously affirm;
but a holy, happy, entirely human day, for a Christian father, mother
and children to spend. Others must write and say what they will, and as
they feel; but so must I. There were eleven of us brought up in a home
like that; and never one of the eleven, boy or girl, man or woman, has
been heard, or ever will be heard, saying that Sabbath was dull and
wearisome for us, or suggesting that we have heard of or seen any way
more likely than that for making the Day of the Lord bright and blessed
alike for parents and for children. But God help the homes where these
things are done by force and not by love!

As I must, however, leave the story of my father's life--much more
worthy, in many ways, of being written than my own--I may here mention
that his long and upright life made him a great favorite in all
religious circles far and near within the neighborhood, that at
sick-beds and at funerals he was constantly sent for and much
appreciated, and that this appreciation greatly increased, instead of
diminishing, when years whitened his long, flowing locks, and gave him
an apostolic beauty; till finally, for the last twelve years or so of
his life, he became by appointment a sort of Rural Missionary for the
four nearest parishes, and spent his autumn in literally sowing the good
seed of the Kingdom as a Colporteur of the Tract and Book Society of
Scotland. His success in this work, for a rural locality, was beyond all
belief. Within a radius of five miles he was known in every home,
welcomed by the children, respected by the servants, longed for eagerly
by the sick and aged. He gloried in showing off the beautiful Bibles and
other precious books, which he sold in amazing numbers. He sang sweet
Psalms beside the sick, and prayed like the voice of God at their dying
beds. He went cheerily from farm to farm, from cot to cot; and when he
wearied on the moorland roads, he refreshed his soul by reciting aloud
one of Ralph Erskine's "Sonnets," or crooning to the birds one of
David's Psalms. His happy partner, our beloved mother, died in 1865, and
he himself in 1868, having reached his seventy-seventh year, an
altogether beautiful and noble episode of human existence having been
enacted, amid the humblest surroundings of a Scottish peasant's home,
through the influence of their united love by the grace of God; and in
this world, or in any world, all their children will rise up at mention
of their names and call them blessed!



CHAPTER IV.
SCHOOL DAYS.

IN my boyhood, Torthorwald had one of the grand old typical Parish
Schools of Scotland; where the rich and the poor met together in perfect
equality; where Bible and Catechism were taught as zealously as grammar
and geography; and where capable lads from the humblest of cottages were
prepared in Latin and Mathematics and Greek to go straight from their
Village class to the University bench. Besides, at that time, an
accomplished pedagogue of the name of Smith, a learned man of more than
local fame, had added a Boarding House to the ordinary School, and had
attracted some of the better class gentlemen and farmers' sons from the
surrounding country; so that Torthorwald, under his _régime_, reached
the zenith of its educational fame. In this School I was initiated into
the mystery of letters, and all my brothers and sisters after me, though
some of them under other masters than mine. My teacher punished
severely--rather, I should say, savagely--especially for lessons badly
prepared. Yet, that he was in some respects kindly and tender-hearted, I
had the best of reasons to know.

When still under twelve years of age, I started to learn my father's
trade, in which I made surprising progress. We wrought from six in the
morning till ten at night, with an hour at dinner-time and half an hour
at breakfast and again at supper. These spare moments every day I
devoutly spent on my books, chiefly in the rudiments of Latin and Greek;
for I had given my soul to God, and was resolved to aim at being a
Missionary of the Cross, or a Minister of the Gospel. Yet I gladly
testify that what I learned of the stocking frame was not thrown away;
the facility of using tools, and of watching and keeping the machinery
in order, came to be of great value to me in the Foreign Mission field.

One incident of this time I must record here, because of the lasting
impression made upon my religious life. Our family, like all others of
peasant rank in the land, were plunged into deep distress, and felt the
pinch severely, through the failure of the potato, the badness of other
crops, and the ransom-price of food. Our father had gone off with work
to Hawick, and would return next evening with money and supplies; but
meantime the meal barrel ran low, and our dear mother, too proud and too
sensitive to let any one know, or to ask aid from any quarter, coaxed us
all to rest, assuring us that she had told God everything, and that He
would send us plenty in the morning. Next day, with the carrier from
Lockerbie came a present from her father, who, knowing nothing of her
circumstances or of this special trial, had been moved of God to send at
that particular nick of time a love-offering to his daughter, such as
they still send to each other in those kindly Scottish shires--a bag of
new potatoes, a stone of the first ground meal or flour, or the earliest
homemade cheese of the season--which largely supplied all our need. My
mother, seeing our surprise at such an answer to her prayers, took us
around her knees, thanked God for His goodness, and said to us:

"O my children, love your Heavenly Father, tell Him in faith and prayer
all your needs, and He will supply your wants so far as it shall be for
your good and His glory."

Perhaps, amidst all their struggles in rearing a family of eleven, this
was the hardest time they ever had, and the only time they ever felt the
actual pinch of hunger; for the little that they had was marvelously
blessed of God, and was not less marvelously utilized by that noble
mother of ours, whose high spirit, side by side with her humble and
gracious piety, made us, under God, what we are to-day.

I saved as much at my trade as enabled me to go for six weeks to
Dumfries Academy; this awoke in me again the hunger for learning, and I
resolved to give up that trade and turn to something that might be made
helpful to the prosecution of my education. An engagement was secured
with the Sappers and Miners, who were mapping and measuring the county
of Dumfries in connection with the Ordnance Survey of Scotland. The
office hours were from 9 A. M. till 4 P. M.; and though my walk from
home was above four miles every morning, and the same by return in the
evening, I found much spare time for private study, both on the way to
and from my work and also after hours. Instead of spending the mid-day
hour with the rest, at football and other games, I stole away to a quiet
spot on the banks of the Nith, and there pored over my book, all alone.
Our lieutenant, unknown to me, had observed this from his house on the
other side of the stream, and after a time called me into his office and
inquired what I was studying. I told him the whole truth as to my
position and my desires. After conferring with some of the other
officials there, he summoned me again, and in their presence promised me
promotion in the service, and special training in Woolwich at the
Government's expense, on condition that I would sign an engagement for
seven years. Thanking him most gratefully for his kind offer, I agreed
to bind myself for three years or four, but not for seven.

Excitedly he said, "Why? Will you refuse an offer that many gentlemen's
sons would be proud of?"

I said, "My life is given to another Master, so I cannot engage for
seven years." He asked sharply, "To whom?" I replied, "To the Lord
Jesus; and I want to prepare as soon as possible for His service in the
proclaiming of the Gospel."

In great anger he sprang across the room, called the paymaster and
exclaimed, "Accept my offer, or you are dismissed on the spot!"

I answered, "I am extremely sorry if you do so, but to bind myself for
seven years would probably frustrate the purpose of my life; and though
I am greatly obliged to you, I cannot make such an engagement."

His anger made him unwilling or unable to comprehend my difficulty; the
drawing instruments were delivered up, I received my pay, and departed,
without further parley. Hearing how I had been treated, and why, Mr.
Maxwell, the Rector of Dumfries Academy, offered to let me attend all
classes there, free of charge so long as I cared to remain; but that, in
lack of means of support, was for the time impossible, as I would not
and could not be a burden on my dear father, but was determined rather
to help him in educating the rest. I went therefore to what was known as
the Lamb Fair at Lockerbie, and for the first time in my life took a
"fee" for the harvest. On arriving at the field when shearing and mowing
began, the farmer asked me to bind a sheaf; when I had done so, he
seized it by the band, and it fell to pieces! Instead of disheartening
me, however, he gave me a careful lesson how to bind; and the second
that I bound did not collapse when shaken, and the third he pitched
across the field, and on finding that it still remained firm, he cried
to me cheerily:

"Right now, my lad; go ahead!"

It was hard work for me at first, and my hands got very sore; but, being
willing and determined, I soon got into the way of it, and kept up with
the best of them. The male harvesters were told off to sleep in a large
hayloft, the beds being arranged all along the side, like barracks. Many
of the fellows were rough and boisterous; and I suppose my look showed
that I hesitated in mingling with them, for the quick eye and kind heart
of the farmer's wife prompted her to suggest that I, being so much
younger than the rest, might sleep with her son George in the house--an
offer, oh, how gratefully accepted! A beautiful new steading had
recently been built for them; and during certain days, or portions of
days, while waiting for the grain to ripen or to dry, I planned and laid
out an ornamental garden in front of it, which gave great
satisfaction--a taste inherited from my mother, with her joy in flowers
and garden plots. They gave me, on leaving, a handsome present, as well
as my fee, for I had got on very pleasantly with them all. This
experience, too, came to be valuable to me, when, in long-after days,
and far other lands, Mission buildings had to be erected, and garden and
field cropped and cultivated without the aid of a single European hand.



CHAPTER V.
LEAVING THE OLD HOME.

BEFORE going to my first harvesting, I had applied for a situation in
Glasgow, apparently exactly suited for my case; but I had little or no
hope of ever hearing of it further. An offer of £50 per annum was made
by the West Campbell Street Reformed Presbyterian Congregation, then
under the good and noble Dr. Bates, for a young man to act as district
visitor and tract distributor, especially amongst the absentees from the
Sabbath School; with the privilege of receiving one year's training at
the Free Church Normal Seminary, that he might qualify himself for
teaching, and thereby push forward to the Holy Ministry. The candidates,
along with their application and certificates, were to send an essay on
some subject, of their own composition, and in their own handwriting. I
sent in two long poems on the Covenanters, which must have exceedingly
amused them, as I had not learned to write even decent prose. But, much
to my surprise, immediately on the close of the harvesting experience, a
letter arrived, intimating that I, along with another young man, had
been put upon the short leet, and that both were requested to appear in
Glasgow on a given day and compete for the appointment.

Two days thereafter I started out from my quiet country home on the road
to Glasgow. Literally "on the road," for from Torthorwald to
Kilmarnock--about forty miles--had to be done on foot, and thence to
Glasgow by rail. Railways in those days were as yet few, and
coach-travelling was far beyond my purse. A small bundle contained my
Bible and all my personal belongings. Thus was I launched upon the ocean
of life. I thought on One who says, "I know thy poverty, but thou art
rich."

My dear father walked with me the first six miles of the way. His
counsels and tears and heavenly conversation on that parting journey are
fresh in my heart as if it had been but yesterday; and tears are on my
cheeks as freely now as then, whenever memory steals me away to the
scene. For the last half mile or so we walked on together in almost
unbroken silence,--my father, as was often his custom, carrying hat in
hand, while his long, flowing yellow hair (then yellow, but in later
years white as snow) streamed like a girl's down his shoulders. His lips
kept moving in silent prayers for me; and his tears fell fast when our
eyes met each other in looks of which all speech was vain! We halted on
reaching the appointed parting-place; he grasped my hand firmly for a
minute in silence, and then solemnly and affectionately said:

"God bless you, my son! Your father's God prosper you, and keep you from
all evil!"

Unable to say more, his lips kept moving in silent prayer; in tears we
embraced, and parted. I ran off as fast as I could; and, when about to
turn a corner in the road where he would lose sight of me, I looked back
and saw him still standing with head uncovered where I had left
him--gazing after me. Waving my hat in adieu, I was round the corner and
out of sight in an instant. But my heart was too full and sore to carry
me farther, so I darted into the side of the road and wept for a time.
Then, rising up cautiously, I climbed the dyke to see if he yet stood
where I had left him; and just at that moment I caught a glimpse of him
climbing the dyke and looking out for me! He did not see me, and after
he had gazed eagerly in my direction for a while he got down, set his
face towards home, and began to return--his head still uncovered, and
his heart, I felt sure, still rising in prayers for me. I watched
through blinding tears, till his form faded from my gaze; and then,
hastening on my way, vowed deeply and oft, by the help of God, to live
and act so as never to grieve or dishonor such a father and mother as He
had given me. The appearance of my father, when we parted,--his advice,
prayers, and tears--the road, the dyke, the climbing up on it and then
walking away, head uncovered--have often, often, all through life, risen
vividly before my mind, and do so now while I am writing, as if it had
been but an hour ago. In my earlier years particularly, when exposed to
many temptations, his parting form rose before me as that of a guardian
angel.



CHAPTER VI.
EARLY STRUGGLES.

I REACHED Glasgow on the third day, having slept one night at Thornhill,
and another at New Cumnock; and having needed, owing to the kindness of
acquaintances upon whom I called by the way, to spend only three
halfpence of my modest funds. Safely arrived, but weary, I secured a
humble room for my lodging, for which I had to pay one shilling and
sixpence per week. Buoyant and full of hope and looking up to God for
guidance, I appeared at the appointed hour before the examiners, as did
also the other candidate; and they having carefully gone through their
work, asked us to retire. When recalled, they informed us that they had
great difficulty in choosing, and suggested that the one of us might
withdraw in favor of the other, or that both might submit to a more
testing examination. Neither seemed inclined to give it up, both were
willing for a second examination; but the patrons made another
suggestion. They had only £50 per annum to give; but if we would agree
to divide it betwixt us, and go into one lodging, we might both be able
to struggle through, they would pay our entrance fees at the Free Normal
Seminary, and provide us with the books required; and perhaps they might
be able to add a little to the sum promised to each of us. By dividing
the mission work appointed, and each taking only the half, more time
also might be secured for our studies. Though the two candidates had
never seen each other before, we at once accepted this proposal, and got
on famously together, never having had a dispute on anything of common
interest throughout our whole career.

As our fellow-students at the Normal were all far advanced beyond us in
their education, we found it killing work, and had to grind away
incessantly, late and early. Both of us, before the year closed, broke
down in health; partly by hard study, but principally, perhaps, for lack
of nourishing diet. A severe cough seized upon me; I began spitting
blood, and a doctor ordered me at once home to the country and forbade
all attempts at study. My heart sank; it was a dreadful disappointment,
and to me a bitter trial. Soon after, my companion, though apparently
much stronger than I, was similarly seized. He, however, never entirely
recovered, though for some years he taught in a humble school; and long
ago he fell asleep in Jesus, a devoted and honored Christian man.

I, on the other hand, after a short rest, nourished by the hill air of
Torthorwald and by the new milk of our family cow, was ere long at work
again. Renting a house, I began to teach a small school at Girvan, and
gradually but completely recovered my health.

Having saved £10 by my teaching, I returned to Glasgow, and was enrolled
as a student at the College; but before the session was finished my
money was exhausted--I had lent some to a poor student, who failed to
repay me--and only nine shillings remained in my purse. There was no one
from whom to borrow, had I been willing; I had been disappointed in
attempting to secure private tuition; and no course seemed open for me,
except to pay what little I owed, give up my College career, and seek
for teaching or other work in the country. I wrote a letter to my father
and mother, informing them of my circumstances; that I was leaving
Glasgow in quest of work, and that they would, not hear from me again
till I had found a suitable situation. I told them that if otherwise
unsuccessful, I should fall back on my own trade, though I shrank from
that as not tending to advance my education; but that they might rest
assured I would do nothing to dishonor them or my own Christian
profession. Having read that letter over again through many tears, I
said,--I cannot send that, for it will grieve my darling parents; and
therefore, leaving it on the table, I locked my room door and ran out to
find a place where I might sell my precious books, and hold on a few
weeks longer. But, as I stood on the opposite side and wondered whether
these folks in a shop with the three golden balls would care to have a
poor student's books, and as I hesitated, knowing how much I needed them
for my studies, conscience smote me as if for doing a guilty thing; I
imagined that the people were watching me like one about to commit a
theft; and I made off from the scene at full speed, with a feeling of
intense shame at having dreamed of such a thing! Passing through one
short street into another, I marched on mechanically; but the Lord God
of my father was guiding my steps, all unknown to me.

A certain notice in a window, into which I had probably never in my life
looked before, here caught my eye, to this effect--"Teacher wanted,
Maryhill Free Church school; apply at the Manse." A coach or bus was
just passing, when I turned round; I leapt into it, saw the Minister,
arranged to undertake the School, returned to Glasgow, paid my
landlady's lodging score, tore up that letter to my parents and wrote
another full of cheer and hope; and early next morning entered the
School and began a tough and trying job. The Minister warned me that the
School was a wreck, and had been broken up chiefly by coarse and bad
characters from mills and coal-pits, who attended the evening classes.
They had abused several masters in succession; and, laying a thick and
heavy cane on the desk, he said:

"Use that freely, or you will never keep order here!"

I put it aside into the drawer of my desk, saying, "That will be my last
resource."

There were very few scholars for the first week--about eighteen in the
Day School and twenty in the Night School. The clerk of the mill, a good
young fellow, came to the evening classes, avowedly to learn
book-keeping, but privately he said he had come to save me from personal
injury.

The following week, a young man and a young woman began to attend the
Night School, who showed from the first moment that they were bent on
mischief. On my repeated appeals for quiet and order, they became the
more boisterous, and gave great merriment to a few of the scholars
present. I finally urged the young man, a tall, powerful fellow, to be
quiet or at once to leave, declaring that at all hazards I must and
would have perfect order; but he only mocked at me, and assumed a
fighting attitude. Quietly locking the door and putting the key in my
pocket, I turned to my desk, armed myself with the cane, and dared any
one at his peril to interfere betwixt us. It was a rough struggle--he
smashing at me clumsily with his fists, I with quick movements evading
and dealing him blow after blow with the heavy cane for several
rounds--till at length he crouched down at his desk, exhausted and
beaten, and I ordered him to turn to his book, which he did in sulky
silence. Going to my desk, I addressed them and asked them to inform all
who wished to come to the School,--That if they came for education,
everything would be heartily done that it was in my power to do; but
that any who wished for mischief had better stay away, as I was
determined to conquer, not to be conquered, and to secure order and
silence, whatever it might cost. Further, I assured them that that cane
would not again be lifted by me, if kindness and forbearance on my part
could possibly gain the day, as I wished to rule by love and not by
terror. But this young man knew he was in the wrong, and it was that
which had made him weak against me, though every way stronger far than
I. Yet I would be his friend and helper, if he was willing to be
friendly with me, the same as if this night had never been. At these
words a dead silence fell on the School: every one buried face
diligently in book; and the evening closed in uncommon quiet and order.

The attendance grew, till the School became crowded, both during the day
and at night. During the mid-day hour even, I had a large class of young
women who came to improve themselves in writing and arithmetic. By and
by the cane became a forgotten implement; the sorrow and pain which I
showed as to badly-done lessons, or anything blameworthy, proved the far
more effectual penalty.

The School Committee had promised me at least ten shillings per week,
and guaranteed to make up any deficit if the fees fell short of that
sum; but if the income from fees exceeded that sum, all was to be mine.
Affairs went on prosperously for a season; indeed, too much so for my
selfish interest. The Committee took advantage of the large attendance
and better repute of the School, to secure the services of a master of
the highest grade. The parents of many of the children offered to take
and seat a hall, if I would remain, but I knew too well that I had
neither education nor experience to compete with an accomplished
teacher. Their children, however, got up a testimonial and subscription,
which was presented to me on the day before I left and this I valued
chiefly because the presentation was made by the young fellows who at
first behaved so badly, but were now my devoted friends.

Once more I committed my future to the Lord God of my father, assured
that in my very heart I was willing and anxious to serve Him and to
follow the blessed Saviour, yet feeling keenly that intense darkness had
again enclosed my path.



CHAPTER VII.
A CITY MISSIONARY.

BEFORE undertaking the Maryhill School, I had applied to be taken on as
an agent in the Glasgow City Mission; and the night before I had to
leave Maryhill, I received a letter from Rev. Thomas Caie, the
superintendent of the said Mission, saying that the directors had kept
their eyes on me ever since my application, and requesting, as they
understood I was leaving the School, that I would appear before them the
next morning, and have my qualifications for becoming a Missionary
examined into. Praising God, I went off at once, passed the examination
successfully, and was appointed to spend two hours that afternoon and
the following Monday in visitation with two of the directors, calling at
every house in a low district of the town, and conversing with all the
characters encountered there as to their eternal welfare. I had also to
preach a "trial" discourse in a Mission meeting, where a deputation of
directors would be present, the following evening being Sunday; and on
Wednesday evening they met again to hear their report and to accept or
reject me.

All this had come upon me so unexpectedly, that I almost anticipated
failure; but looking up for help I went through with it, and on the
fifth day after leaving the School they called me before a meeting of
directors, and informed me that I had passed my trials most
successfully, and that the reports were so favorable that they had
unanimously resolved to receive me at once as one of their City
Missionaries. Deeply solemnized with the responsibilities of my new
office, I left that meeting praising God for all His undeserved mercies,
and seeing most clearly His gracious hand in all the way by which He had
led me, and the trials by which He had prepared me for this sphere of
service. Man proposes--God disposes.

I found the district a very degraded one. Many families said they had
never been visited by any Minister; and many were lapsed professors of
religion who had attended no church for ten, sixteen, or twenty years,
and said they had never been called upon by any Christian visitor. In it
were congregated many avowed infidels, Romanists, and drunkards,--living
together, and associated for evil, but apparently without any effective
counteracting influence. In many of its closes and courts sin and vice
walked about openly--naked and not ashamed.

After nearly a year's hard work, I had only six or seven
non-church-goers, who had been led to attend regularly there, besides
about the same number who met on a week evening in the ground-floor of a
house kindly granted for the purpose by a poor and industrious but
ill-used Irishwoman. She supported her family by keeping a little shop,
and selling coals. Her husband was a powerful man--a good worker, but a
hard drinker; and, like too many others addicted to intemperance, he
abused and beat her, and pawned and drank everything he could get hold
of. She, amid many prayers and tears, bore everything patiently, and
strove to bring up her only daughter in the fear of God. We exerted, by
God's blessing, a good influence upon him through our meetings. He
became a Total Abstainer, gave up his evil ways, and attended Church
regularly with his wife. As his interest increased, he tried to bring
others also to the meetings, and urged them to become Abstainers. His
wife became a center of help and of good influence in all the district,
as she kindly invited all and welcomed them to the meeting in her house,
and my work grew every day more hopeful.

By and by Meetings and Classes were both too large for any house that
was available for us in the whole of our district. We instituted a Bible
Class, a Singing Class, a Communicants' Class, and a Total Abstinence
Society; and, in addition to the usual meetings, we opened two
prayer-meetings specially for the Calton division of the Glasgow
Police--one at a suitable hour for the men on day duty, and another for
those on night duty. The men got up a Mutual Improvement Society and
Singing Class also amongst themselves, weekly, on another evening. My
work now occupied every evening in the week; and I had two meetings
every Sabbath. By God's blessing they all prospered, and gave evidence
of such fruits as showed that the Lord was working there for good by our
humble instrumentality.

The kind cowfeeder had to inform us--and he did it with much genuine
sorrow--that at a given date he would require the hay-loft, which was
our place of meeting; and as no other suitable house or hall could be
got, the poor people and I feared the extinction of our work. At that
very time however, a commodious block of buildings, that had been
Church, Schools, Manse, etc., came into the market. My great-hearted
friend, the late Thomas Binnie, persuaded Dr. Symingrton's congregation,
Great Hamilton Street, in connection with which my Mission was carried
on, to purchase the whole property. Its situation at the foot of Green
Street gave it a control of the district where my work lay; and so the
Church was given to me in which to conduct all my meetings, while the
other Halls were adapted as Schools for poor girls and boys, where they
were educated by a proper master, and were largely supplied with books,
clothing, and sometimes even food, by the ladies of the congregation.

Availing myself of the increased facilities, my work was all
reorganized. On Sabbath morning, at seven o'clock, I had one of the most
deeply interesting and fruitful of all my Classes for the study of the
Bible. It was attended by from seventy to a hundred of the very poorest
young women and grown-up lads of the whole district. They had nothing to
put on except their ordinary work-day clothes,--all without bonnets,
some without shoes. Beautiful was it to mark how the poorest began to
improve in personal appearance immediately after they came to our Class;
how they gradually got shoes and one bit of clothing after another, to
enable them to attend our other Meetings, and then to go to Church; and,
above all, how eagerly they sought to bring others with them, taking a
deep personal interest in all the work of the Mission. Long after they
themselves could appear in excellent dress, many of them still continued
to attend in their working clothes, and to bring other and poorer girls
with them to that Morning Class, and thereby helped to improve and
elevate their companions. My delight in that Bible Class was among the
purest joys in all my life, and the results were amongst the most
certain and precious of all my Ministry.

I had also a very large Bible Class--a sort of Bible-Reading--on Monday
night, attended by all, of both sexes and of any age, who cared to come
or had any interest in the Mission. Wednesday evening, again, was
devoted to a prayer-meeting for all; and the attendance often more than
half-filled the Church. There I usually took up some book of Holy
Scripture and read and lectured right through, practically expounding
and applying it. On Thursday I held a Communicants' Class, intended for
the more careful instruction of all who wished to become full members of
the Church. Our constant text-book was _Paterson on the Shorter
Catechism_ (Nelson and Sons), than which I have never seen a better
compendium of the doctrines of Holy Scripture. Each being thus trained
for a season, received from me, if found worthy, a letter to the
Minister of any Protestant Church which he or she felt inclined to join.
In this way great numbers became active and useful communicants in the
surrounding congregations; and eight young lads of humble circumstances
educated themselves for the Ministry of the Church--most of them getting
their first lessons in Latin and Greek from my very poor stock of the
same! Friday evening was occupied with a Singing Class, teaching Church
music, and practising for our Sabbath meetings. On Saturday evening we
held our Total Abstinence meeting, at which the members themselves took
a principal part, in readings, addresses, recitations, singing hymns,
etc.

Great good resulted from this Total Abstinence work. Many adults took
and kept the pledge, thereby greatly increasing the comfort and
happiness of their homes. Many were led to attend the Church on the
Lord's Day, who had formerly spent it in rioting and drinking. But,
above all, it trained the young to fear the very name of intoxicating
drink, and to hate and keep far away from everything that led to
intemperance.

I would add my testimony also against the use of tobacco, which injures
and leads many astray, especially lads and young men, and which never
can be required by any person in ordinary health. But I would not be
understood to regard the evils that flow from it as deserving to be
mentioned in comparison with the unutterable woes and miseries of
intemperance.

To be protected, however, from suspicion and from evil, all the
followers of our Lord Jesus should in self-denial (how small!) and in
consecration to His service, be pledged Abstainers from both of these
selfish indulgences, which are certainly injurious to many, which are no
ornament to any character, and which can be no help in well-doing.
Praise God for the many who are now so pledged!



CHAPTER VIII.
GLASGOW EXPERIENCES.

ON one occasion, it becoming known that we had arranged for a special
Saturday afternoon Temperance demonstration, a deputation of Publicans
complained beforehand to the Captain of the Police--that our meetings
were interfering with their legitimate trade. The Captain, a pious
Wesleyan, who was in full sympathy with us and our work, informed me of
the complaints made, and intimated that his men would be present; but I
was just to conduct the meeting as usual, and he would guarantee that
strict justice would be done. The Publicans having announced amongst
their sympathizers that the Police were to break up and prevent our
meeting and take the conductors in charge, a very large crowd assembled,
both friendly and unfriendly, for the Publicans and their hangers-on
were there "to see the fun," and to help in "baiting" the Missionary.
Punctually, I ascended the stone stair, accompanied by another
Missionary who was also to deliver an address, and announced our opening
hymn. As we sang, a company of Police appeared, and were quietly located
here and there among the crowd, the sergeant himself taking his post
close by the platform, whence the whole assembly could be scanned. Our
enemies were jubilant, and signals were passed betwixt them and their
friends, as if the time had come to provoke a row. Before the hymn was
finished, Captain Baker himself, to the infinite surprise of friend and
foe alike, joined us on the platform, devoutly listened to all that was
said, and waited till the close. The Publicans could not for very shame
leave, while he was there at their suggestion and request, though they
had wit enough to perceive that his presence had frustrated all their
sinister plans. They had to hear our addresses and prayers and hymns;
they had to listen to the intimation of our future meetings. When all
had quietly dispersed, the Captain warmly congratulated us on our large
and well-conducted congregation, and hoped that great good would result
from our efforts. This opposition also the Lord overruled to increase
our influence, and to give point and publicity to our assaults upon the
kingdom of Satan.

Though Intemperance was the main cause of poverty, suffering, misery,
and vice in that district of Glasgow, I had also considerable opposition
from Romanists and Infidels, many of whom met in clubs, where they drank
together, and gloried in their wickedness and in leading other young men
astray.

An Infidel, whose wife was a Roman Catholic, became unwell, and
gradually sank under great suffering and agony. His blasphemies against
God were known and shuddered at by all the neighbors. His wife pled with
me to visit him. She refused, at my suggestion, to call her own priest,
so I accompanied her at last. The man refused to hear one word about
spiritual things, and foamed with rage. He even spat at me, I mentioned
the name of Jesus. "The natural receiveth not the things of the Spirit
of God; for they are foolishness unto him!" There is a "wisdom" which is
at best earthly, and _at worst_ "sensual and devilish." I visited the
poor man daily, but his enmity to God and his sufferings together seemed
to drive him mad. Towards the end I pleaded with him even then to look
to the Lord Jesus, and asked if I might pray with him? With all his
remaining strength he shouted at me, "Pray for me to the devil!"

Reminding him how he had always denied that there was any devil, I
suggested that he must surely believe in one now, else he would scarcely
make such a request, even in mockery. In great rage he cried, "Tes, I
believe there is a devil, and a God, and a just God too; but I have
hated Him in life, and I hate Him in death!" With these awful words he
wriggled into Eternity; but his shocking death produced a very serious
impression for good, especially amongst young men, in the district where
his character was known.

How different was the case of that Doctor who also had been an
unbeliever as well as a drunkard! Highly educated, skilful, and gifted
above most in his profession, he was taken into consultation for
specially dangerous cases, whenever they could find him tolerably sober.
After one of his excessive "bouts" he had a dreadful attack of _delirium
tremens_. At one time wife and watchers had a fierce struggle to dash
from his lips a draught of prussic acid; at another, they detected the
silver-hafted lancet concealed in the band of his shirt, as he lay down,
to bleed himself to death. His aunt came and pleaded with me to visit
him. My heart bled for his poor young wife and two beautiful little
children. Visiting him twice daily, and sometimes even more frequently,
I found the way somehow into his heart, and he would do almost anything
for me and longed for my visits. When again the fit of self-destruction
seized him, they sent for me; he held out his hand eagerly, and grasping
mine said, "Put all these people out of the room, remain you with me; I
will be quiet, I will do everything you ask!"

I got them all to leave, but whispered to one in passing to "keep near
the door."

Alone I sat beside him, my hand in his, and kept up a quiet conversation
for several hours. After we had talked of everything that I could think
of, and it was now far into the morning, I said, "If you had a Bible
here, we might read a chapter, verse about."

He said dreamily, "There was once a Bible above yon press; if you can
get up to it, you might find it there yet."

Getting it, dusting it, and laying it on a small table which I drew near
to the sofa on which we sat, we read there and then a chapter together.
After this I said; "Now, shall we pray?"

He replied heartily, "Yes."

I having removed the little table, we kneeled down together at the sofa;
and after a solemn pause I whispered, "You pray first."

He replied, "I curse, I cannot pray; would you have me curse God to His
face?"

I answered, "You promised to do all that I asked; you must pray, or try
to pray, and let me hear that you cannot."

He said, "I cannot curse God on my knees; let me stand, and I will curse
Him; I cannot pray."

I gently held him on his knees, saying, "Just try to pray, and let me
hear you cannot."

Instantly he cried out, "O Lord, Thou knowest I cannot pray," and was
going to say something dreadful as he strove to rise up. But I took up
gently the words he had uttered as if they had been my own and continued
the prayer, pleading for him and his dear ones as we knelt there
together, till he showed that he was completely subdued and lying low at
the feet of God. On rising from our knees he was manifestly greatly
impressed, and I said, "Now, as I must be at College by daybreak and
must return to my lodging for my books and an hour's rest, will do you
one thing more for me before I go?"

"Yes," was his reply.

"Then," said I, "it is long since you had a refreshing sleep: now, will
you lie down, and I will sit by you till you fall asleep?"

He lay down, and was soon fast asleep. After commending him to the care
and blessing of the Lord, I quietly slipped out, and his wife returned
to watch by his side. When I came back later in the day, after my
Classes were over, he, on hearing my foot and voice, came to meet me,
and clasping me in his arms, cried, "Thank God, I can pray now! I rose
this morning refreshed from sleep, and prayed with my wife and children
for the first time in my life; and now I shall do so every day, and
serve God while I live, who hath dealt in so great mercy with me!"

After delightful conversation, he promised to go with me to Dr.
Symington's church on Sabbath Day; there he took sittings beside me; at
next half-yearly Communion he and his wife were received into
membership, and their children were baptized; and from that day till his
death he led a devoted and most useful Christian life. He now sleeps in
Jesus; and I do believe I shall meet him in Glory as a trophy of
redeeming grace and love!

In my Mission district I was the witness of many joyful departures to be
with Jesus,--I do not like to name them "deaths" at all. They left us
rejoicing in the bright assurance that nothing present or to come "could
ever separate them or us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus
our Lord." Many examples might be given; but I can find room for only
one. John Sim, a dear little boy, was carried away by consumption. His
child-heart seemed to be filled with joy about seeing Jesus. His simple
prattle, mingled with deep questionings, arrested not only his young
companions, but pierced the hearts of some careless sinners who heard
him, and greatly refreshed the faith of God's dear people. It was the
very pathos of song incarnated to hear the weak quaver of his dying
voice sing out--

"I lay my sins on Jesus, The spotless Lamb of God."

Shortly before his decease he said to his parents, "I am going soon to
be with Jesus; but I sometimes fear that I may not see you there."

"Why so, my child?" said his weeping mother.

"Because," he answered, "if you were set upon going to Heaven and seeing
Jesus there, you would pray about it, and sing about it; you would talk
about Jesus to others, and tell them of that happy meeting with Him in
Glory. All this my dear Sabbath School teacher taught me, and she will
meet me there. Now why did not you, my father and mother, tell me all
these things about Jesus, if you are going to meet Him too?" Their tears
fell fast over their dying child; and he little knew, in his unthinking
eighth year, what a message from God had pierced their souls through his
innocent words.

One day an aunt from the country visited his mother, and their talk had
run in channels for which the child no longer felt any interest. On my
sitting down beside him, he said, "Sit you down and talk with me about
Jesus; I am tired hearing so much talk about everything else but Jesus;
I am going soon to be with Him. Oh, do tell me everything you know or
have ever heard about Jesus, the spotless Lamb of God!"

At last the child literally longed to be away, not for rest, or freedom
from pain--for of that he had very little--but, as he himself always put
it, "to see Jesus." And, after all, that was the wisdom of the heart,
however he learned it. Eternal life, here or hereafter, is just the
vision of Jesus.



CHAPTER IX.
A FOREIGN MISSIONARY.

HAPPY in my work as I felt through these ten years, and successful by
the blessing of God, yet I continually heard, and chiefly during my last
years in the Divinity Hall, the wail of the perishing Heathen in the
South Seas; and I saw that few were caring for them, while I well knew
that many would be ready to take up my work in Calton, and carry it
forward perhaps with more efficiency than myself. Without revealing the
state of my mind to any person, this was the supreme subject of my daily
meditation and prayer; and this also led me to enter upon those medical
studies, in which I purposed taking the full course; but at the close of
my third year, an incident occurred, which led me at once to offer
myself for the Foreign Mission field.

The Reformed Presbyterian Church of Scotland, in which I had been
brought up, had been advertising for another Missionary to join the Rev.
John Inglis in his grand work on the New Hebrides. Dr. Bates, the
excellent convener of the Heathen Missions Committee, was deeply
grieved, because for two years their appeal had failed. At length, the
Synod, after much prayer and consultation, felt the claims of the
Heathen so gently pressed upon them by the Lord's repeated calls, that
they resolved to cast lots, to discover whether God would thus select
any Minister to be relieved from his home-charge, and designated as a
Missionary to the South Seas. Each member of Synod, as I was informed,
agreed to hand in, after solemn appeal to God, the names of the three
best qualified in his esteem for such a work, and he who had the clear
majority was to be loosed from his congregation, and to proceed to the
Mission field--or the first and second highest, if two could be secured.
Hearing this debate, and feeling an intense interest in these most
unusual proceedings, I remember yet the hushed solemnity of the prayer
before the names were handed in. I remember the strained silence that
held the Assembly while the scrutineers retired to examine the papers;
and I remember how tears blinded my eyes when they returned to announce
that the result was so indecisive, that it was clear that the Lord had
not in that way provided a Missionary. The cause was once again solemnly
laid before God in prayer, and a cloud of sadness appeared to fall over
all the Synod.

The Lord kept saying within me, "Since none better qualified can be got,
rise and offer yourself!" Almost overpowering was the impulse to answer
aloud, "Here am I, send me." But I was dreadfully afraid of mistaking my
mere human emotions for the will of God. So I resolved to make it a
subject of close deliberation and prayer for a few days longer, and to
look at the proposal from every possible aspect. Besides, I was keenly
solicitous about the effect upon the hundreds of young people and
others, now attached to all my Classes and Meetings; and yet I felt a
growing assurance that this was the call of God to His servant, and that
He who was willing to employ me in the work abroad, was both able and
willing to provide for the on-carrying of my work at home. My medical
studies, as well as my literary and divinity training, had specially
qualified me in some ways for the Foreign field, and from every aspect
at which I could look the whole facts in the face, the voice within me
sounded like a voice from God.

It was under good Dr. Bates of West Campbell Street that I had begun my
career in Glasgow--receiving £25 per annum for district visitation in
connection with his Congregation, along with instruction under Mr.
Hislop and his staff in the Free Church Normal Seminary--and oh, how Dr.
Bates did rejoice, and even weep for joy, when I called on him, and
offered myself for the New Hebrides Mission! I returned to my lodging
with a lighter heart than I had for sometime enjoyed, feeling that
nothing so clears the vision, and lifts up the life, as a decision to
move forward in what you know to be entirely the will of the Lord. I
said to my fellow-student, Joseph Copeland, who had chummed with me all
through our course at college, "I have been away signing my banishment"
(a rather trifling way of talk for such an occasion). "I have offered
myself as a Missionary for the New Hebrides."

After a long and silent meditation, in which he seemed lost in
far-wandering thoughts, his answer was, "If they will accept of me, I am
also resolved to go!"

I said, "Will you write the Convener to that effect, or let me do so?"

He replied, "You may."

A few minutes later his letter of offer was in the post-office. Next
morning Dr. Bates called upon us, early, and after a long conversation,
commended us and our future work to the Lord God in fervent prayer. At a
meeting of the Foreign Missions Committee, held immediately thereafter,
both were, after due deliberation, formally accepted, on condition that
we passed successfully the usual examinations required of candidates for
the Ministry. And for the next twelve months we were placed under a
special committee for advice as to medical experience, acquaintance with
the rudiments of trades, and anything else which might be thought useful
to us in the Foreign field.

When it became known that I was preparing to go abroad as Missionary,
nearly all were dead against the proposal, except Dr. Bates and my
fellows-student. My dear father and mother, however, when I consulted
them, characteristically replied, "that they had long since given me
away to the Lord, and in this matter also would leave me to God's
disposal." From other quarters we were besieged with the strongest
opposition on all sides. Even Dr. Symington, one of my professors in
divinity, and the beloved Minister in connection with whose congregation
I had wrought so long as a City Missionary, and in whose Kirk Session I
had for years sat as an Elder, repeatedly urged me to remain at home.

To his arguments I replied, "that my mind was finally resolved; that,
though I loved my work and my people, yet I felt that I could leave them
to the care of Jesus, who would soon provide them a better pastor than
I; and that, with regard to my life amongst the Cannibals, as I had only
once to die, I was content to leave the time and place and means in the
hand of God who had already marvelously preserved me when visiting
cholera patients and the fever-stricken poor; on that score I had
positively no further concern, having left it all absolutely to the
Lord, whom I sought to serve and honor, whether in life or by death."

The house connected with my Green Street Church was now offered to me
for a Manse, and any reasonable salary that I cared to ask (as against
the promised £120 per annum for the far-off and dangerous New Hebrides),
on condition that I would remain at home. I cannot honestly say that
such offers or opposing influences proved a heavy trial to me; they
rather tended to confirm my determination that the path of duty was to
go abroad.

Amongst many who sought to deter me, was one dear old Christian
gentleman, whose crowning argument always was, "The cannibals! you will
be eaten by cannibals!" At last I replied, "Mr. Dickson, you are
advanced in years now, and your own prospect is soon to be laid in the
grave, there to be eaten by worms, I confess to you, that if I can but
live and die serving and honoring the Lord Jesus, it will make no
difference to me whether I am eaten by cannibals or by worms; and in the
Great Day my resurrection body will arise as fair as yours in the
likeness of our risen Redeemer."

The old gentleman, raising his hands in a deprecating attitude, left the
room exclaiming, "After that I have nothing more to say!"

My dear Green Street people grieved excessively at the thought of my
leaving them, and daily pleaded with me to remain. Indeed, the
opposition was so strong from nearly all, and many of them warm
Christian friends, that I was sorely tempted to question whether I was
carrying out the Divine will, or only some headstrong wish of my own.
But conscience said louder and clearer every day, "Leave all these
results with Jesus your Lord, who said, 'Go ye into all the world,
preach the Gospel to every creature, and lo! I am with you alway.'"
These words kept ringing in my ears; these were our _marching orders_.

Some retorted upon me, "There are Heathen at home; let us seek and save,
first of all, the lost ones perishing at our doors." This I felt to be
most true, and an appalling fact; but I unfailingly observed that those
who made this retort neglected these Home Heathen themselves; and so the
objection, as from them, lost all its power.

On meeting, however, with so many obstructing influences, I again laid
the whole matter before my dear parents, and their reply was to this
effect:--"Heretofore we feared to bias you, but now we must tell you why
we praise God for the decision to which you have been led. Your father's
heart was set upon being a Minister, but other claims forced him to give
it up! When you were given to them, your father and mother laid you upon
the altar, their first-born, to be consecrated, if God saw fit, as a
Missionary of the Cross; and it has been their constant prayer that you
might be prepared, qualified, and led to this very decision; and we pray
with all our heart that the Lord may accept your offering, long spare
you, and give you many souls from the Heathen World for your hire." From
that moment, every doubt as to my path of duty forever vanished. I saw
the hand of God very visibly, not only preparing me for, but now leading
me to, the Foreign Mission field.

Well did I know that the sympathy and prayers of my dear parents were
warmly with me in all my studies and in all my Mission work; but for my
education they could of course, give me no money help. All through, on
the contrary, it was my pride and joy to help them, being the eldest in
a family of eleven; though I here most gladly and gratefully record that
all my brothers and sisters, as they grew up and began to earn a living,
took their full share in this same blessed privilege. For we stuck to
each other and to the old folks like burs, and had all things "in
common," as a family in Christ--and I knew that never again, howsoever
long they might be spared through the peaceful autumn of life, would the
dear old father and mother lack any joy or comfort that the willing
hands and loving hearts of all their children could singly or unitedly
provide. For all this I did praise the Lord! It consoled me beyond
description, in parting from them, probably forever, in this world at
least.



CHAPTER X.
TO THE NEW HEBRIDES.

ON the first of December 1857--being then in my thirty-third year--the
other Missionary-designate and I were "licensed" as preachers of the
Gospel. Thereafter we spent four months in visiting and addressing
nearly every Congregation and Sabbath School in the Reformed
Presbyterian Church of Scotland, that the people might see us and know
us, and thereby take a personal interest in our work. On the 23d March
1858, in Dr. Symington's church, Glasgow, in presence of a mighty crowd,
and after a magnificent sermon on "Come over and help us," we were
solemnly ordained as Ministers of the Gospel, and set apart as
Missionaries to the New Hebrides. On the 16th April of the same year, we
left the Tail of the Bank at Greenock, and set sail in the _Clutha_ for
the Foreign Mission field.

Our voyage to Melbourne was rather tedious, but ended prosperously,
under Captain Broadfoot, a kindly, brave-hearted Scot, who did
everything that was possible for our comfort. He himself led the singing
on board at Worship, which was always charming to me, and was always
regularly conducted--on deck when the weather was fair, below when it
was rough. I was also permitted to conduct Bible Classes amongst both
the crew and the passengers, at times and places approved of by the
Captain--in which there was great joy.

Arriving at Melbourne, we were welcomed by Rev. Mr. Moor, Mr. and Mrs.
Samuel Wilson, and Mr. Wright, all Reformed Presbyterians from Geelong.
Mr. Wilson's two children, Jessie and Donald, had been under our care
during the voyage; and my young wife and I went with them for a few days
on a visit to Geelong, while Mr. Copeland remained on board the _Clutha_
to look after our boxes and to watch for any opportunity of reaching our
destination on the Islands. He heard that an American ship, the _Frances
P. Sage_, was sailing from Melbourne to Penang; and the Captain agreed
to land us on Aneityum, New Hebrides, with our two boats and fifty
boxes, for £100. We got on board on the 12th August, but such a gale
blew that we did not sail till the 17th. On the _Clutha_ all was quiet,
and good order prevailed; in the _F. P. Sage_ all was noise and
profanity. The Captain said he kept his second mate for the purpose of
swearing at the men and knocking them about. The voyage was most
disagreeable to all of us, but fortunately it lasted only twelve days.
On the 29th we were close up to Aneityum; but the Captain refused to
land us, even in his boats; some of us suspecting that his men were so
badly used that had they got on shore they would never have returned to
him! In any case he had beforehand secured his £100.

He lay off the island till a trader's boat pulled across to see what we
wanted, and by it we sent a note to Dr. Geddie, one of the Missionaries
there. Early next horning, Monday, he arrived in his boat, accompanied
by Mr. Mathieson, a newly arrived Missionary from Nova Scotia; bringing
also Captain Andersen in the small Mission schooner, the _John Knox_,
and a large Mission boat called the _Columbia_, well manned with crews
of able and willing Natives. Our fifty boxes were soon on board the
_John Knox_, the _Columbia_, and our own boats--all being heavily loaded
and built up, except those that had to be used in pulling the others
ashore. Dr. Geddie, Mr. Mathieson, Mrs. Paton, and I were perched among
the boxes on the _John Knox_, and had to hold on as best we could. On
sheering off from the _F. P. Sage_, one of her davits caught and broke
the mainmast of the little _John Knox_ by the deck; and I saved my wife
from being crushed to death by its fall, through managing to swing her
instantaneously aside in an apparently impossible manner. It did graze
Mr. Mathieson, but he was not hurt. The _John Knox_, already overloaded,
was thus quite disabled; we were about ten miles at sea, and in imminent
danger; but the captain of the _F. P. Sage_ heartlessly sailed away, and
left us to struggle with our fate.

We drifted steadily in the direction of Tanna, an island of cannibals,
where our goods would have been plundered and all of us cooked and
eaten. Dr. Geddie's boat, and mine had the _John Knox_ in tow; and Mr.
Copeland, with a crew of Natives, was struggling hard with his boat to
pull the _Columbia_ and her load towards Aneityum. As God mercifully
ordered it, though we had a stiff trade wind to pull against, we had a
comparatively calm sea; yet we drifted still to leeward, till Dr. Inglis
going round to the harbor in his boat, as he had heard of our arrival,
saw us far at sea, and hastened to our rescue. All the boats now, with
their willing Native crews, got fastened to our schooner, and to our
great joy she began to move ahead. After pulling for hours and hours,
under the scorching rays of a tropical sun, we were all safely landed on
shore at Aneityum, about six o'clock in the evening of 30th August, just
four months and fourteen days since we sailed from Greenock. We got a
hearty welcome from the Missionaries' wives, Mrs. Geddie, Mrs. Inglis,
and Mrs. Mathieson, and from all our new friends the Christian Natives
of Aneityum; and the great danger in which both life and property had
been placed at the close of our voyage, made us praise God all the more
that He had brought us to this quiet resting-place, around which lay the
Islands of the New Hebrides, to which our eager hearts had looked
forward, and into which we entered now in the name of the Lord.

Mr. Copeland, Mrs. Paton, and I went round the island to Dr. Inglis's
Station, where we were most cordially received and entertained by his
dear lady, and by the Christian Natives there. As he was making several
additions to his house at that time, we received for the next few weeks
our first practical and valuable training in Mission house-building, as
well as in higher matters. Soon after, a meeting was called to consult
about our settlement, and, by the advice and with the concurrence of
all, Mr. and Mrs. Mathieson from Nova Scotia were located on the south
side of Tanna, at Umairarekar, and Mrs. Paton and I at Port Resolution,
on the same island. At first it was agreed that Mr. Copeland should be
placed along with us; but owing to the weakly state of Mrs. Mathieson's
health, it was afterwards resolved that, for a time at least, Mr.
Copeland should live at either Station as seem most suitable or most
requisite.

Dr. Inglis and a number of his most energetic Natives accompanied us to
Umairarekar Tanna. There we purchased a site for Mission House and
Church, and laid a stone foundation, and advanced as far as practicable
the erection of a dwelling for Mr. and Mrs. Mathieson. Thence we
proceeded to Port Resolution, Tanna, and similarly purchased a site, and
advanced, to a forward stage, the house which Mrs. Paton and I were to
occupy on our settlement there. Lime for plastering had to be burned in
kilns from the coral rocks; and thatch, for roofing with sugar-cane
leaf, had to be prepared by the Natives at both Stations before our
return; for which, as for all else, a price was duly agreed upon, and
was scrupulously paid. Unfortunately we learned, when too late, that
both houses were too near the shore, exposed to unwholesome miasma, and
productive of the dreaded fever and ague,--the most virulent and
insidious enemy to all Europeans in those Southern Seas.



CHAPTER XI.
FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF HEATHENDOM.

MY first impressions drove me, I must confess, to the verge of utter
dismay. On beholding these Natives in their paint and nakedness and
misery, my heart was as full of horror as of pity. Had I given up my
much-beloved work and my dear people in Glasgow, with so many delightful
associations, to consecrate my life to these degraded creatures? Was it
possible to teach them right and wrong, to Christianize, or even to
civilize them? But that was only a passing feeling; I soon got as deeply
interested in them, and in all that tended to advance them, and to lead
them to the knowledge and love of Jesus, as ever I had been in my work
at Glasgow. We were surprised and delighted at the remarkable change
produced on the Natives of Aneityum through the instrumentality of Drs.
Geddie and Inglis in so short a time; and we hoped, by prayerful
perseverance in the use of similar means, to see the same work of God
repeated on Tanna. Besides, the wonderful and blessed work done by Mrs.
Inglis and Mrs. Geddie, at their Stations, filled our wives with the
buoyant hope of being instruments in the hand of God to produce an
equally beneficent change amongst the savage women of Tanna. Mrs. Paton
had been left with Mrs. Inglis to learn all she could from her of
Mission work on the Islands, till I returned with Dr. Inglis from the
house-building operations on Tanna; during which period Mr. and Mrs.
Mathieson were also being instructed by Dr. and Mrs. Geddie.

To the Tannese, Dr. Inglis and I were objects of curiosity and fear;
they came crowding to gaze on our wooden and lime-plastered house; they
chattered incessantly with each other, and left the scene day after day
with undisguised and increasing wonderment. Possibly they thought us
rather mad than wise!

Party after party of armed men going and coming in a state of great
excitement, we were informed that war was on foot; but our Aneityumese
Teachers were told to assure us that the Harbor people would only act on
the defensive, and that no one would molest us at our work. One day two
hostile tribes met near our Station; high words arose, and old feuds
were revived. The Inland people withdrew; but the Harbor people, false
to their promises, flew to arms and rushed past us in pursuit of their
enemies. The discharge of muskets in the adjoining bush, and the horrid
yells of the savages, soon informed us that they were engaged in deadly
fights. Excitement and terror were on every countenance; armed men
rushed about in every direction, with feathers in their twisted
hair,--with faces painted red, black, and white, and some, one cheek
black, the other red, others, the brow white, the chin blue--in fact,
any color and on any part,--the more grotesque and savage-looking, the
higher the art! Some of the women ran with their children to places of
safety; but even then we saw other girls and women, on the shore close
by, chewing sugar-cane and chaffering and laughing, as if their fathers
and brothers had been engaged in a country dance, instead of a bloody
conflict.

In the afternoon, as the sounds of the muskets and the yelling of the
warriors came unpleasantly near to us, Dr. Inglis, leaning against a
post for a little while in silent prayer, looked on us and said, "The
walls of Jerusalem were built in troublous times, and why not the
Mission House on Tanna? But let us rest for this day, and pray for these
poor Heathen."

We retired to a Native house that had been temporarily granted to us for
rest, and there pled before God for them all. The noise and the
discharge of muskets gradually receded, as if the Inland people were
retiring; and towards evening the people around us returned to their
villages. We were afterwards informed that five or six men had been shot
dead; that their bodies had been carried by the conquerors from the
field of battle, and cooked and eaten that very night at a boiling
spring near the head of the bay, less than a mile from the spot where my
house was being built. We had also a more graphic illustration of the
surroundings into which we had come, through Dr. Inglis's Aneityum boy,
who accompanied us as cook. When our tea was wanted next morning, the
boy could not be found. After a while of great anxiety on our part, he
returned, saying, "Missi, this is a dark land. The people of this land
do dark works. At the boiling spring they have cooked and feasted upon
the slain. They have washed the blood into the water; they have bathed
there, polluting everything. I cannot get pure water to make your tea.
What shall I do?"

Dr. Inglis told him that he must try for water elsewhere, till the rains
came and cleansed away the pollution; and that meanwhile, instead of
tea, we would drink from the cocoa-nut, as they had often done before.
The lad was quite relieved. It not a little astonished us, however, to
see that his mind regarded their killing and eating each other as a
thing scarcely to be noticed, but that it was horrible that they should
spoil the water! How much are even our deepest instincts the creatures
of mere circumstances! I, if trained like him, would probably have felt
like him.

Next evening, as we sat talking about the people, and the dark scenes
around us, the quiet of the night was broken by a wild wailing cry from
the villages around, long-continued and unearthly. We were informed that
one of the wounded men, carried home from the battle, had just died; and
that they had strangled his widow to death, that her spirit might
accompany him to the other world, and be his servant there, as she had
been here. Now their dead bodies were laid side by side, ready to be
buried in the sea. Our hearts sank to think of all this happening within
ear-shot, and that we knew it not! Every new scene, every fresh
incident, set more clearly before us the benighted condition and
shocking cruelties of these Heathen people, and we longed to be able to
speak to them of Jesus and the love of God. We eagerly tried to pick up
every word of their language, that we might, in their own tongue, unfold
to them the knowledge of the true God and of salvation from all these
sins through Jesus Christ.



CHAPTER XII.
BREAKING GROUND ON TANNA.

OUR small Missionary schooner, the _John Knox_, having no accommodation
for lady passengers, and little for anybody else except the discomfort
of lying on deck, we took advantage of a trader to convey us from
Aneityum to Tanna. The Captain kindly offered to take us and about
thirty casks and boxes to Port Resolution for £5, which we gladly
accepted. After a few hours' sailing we were all safely landed on Tanna
on the 5th November, 1858. Dr. Geddie went for a fortnight to
Umairarekar, now known as Kwamera, on the south side of Tanna, to assist
in the settlement of Mr. and Mrs. Mathieson, and to help in making their
house habitable and comfortable. Mr. Copeland, Mrs. Paton, and I were
left at Port Resolution, to finish the building of our house there, and
work our way into the good will of the Natives as best we could.

On landing, we found the people to be literally naked and painted
Savages; they were at least as destitute of clothing as Adam and Eve
after the fall, when they sewed fig-leaves for a girdle, and even more
so, for the women wore only a tiny apron of grass, in some cases shaped
like a skirt or girdle, the men an indescribable affair like a pouch or
bag, and the children absolutely nothing whatever.

At first they came in crowds to look at us, and at everything we did or
had. We knew nothing of their language; we could not speak a single word
to them, nor they to us. We looked at them, they at us; we smiled and
nodded, and made signs to each other; this was our first meeting and
parting. One day I observed two men, the one lifting up one of our
articles to the other, and saying, "Nungsi nari enu?"

I concluded that he was asking, "What is this?" Instantly, lifting a
piece of wood, I said, "Nungsi nari enu?"

They smiled and spoke to each other. I understood them to be saying, "He
has got hold of our language now." Then they told me their name for the
thing which I had pointed to. I found that they understood my question,
What is this? or, What is that? and that I could now get from them the
name of every visible or tangible thing around us! We carefully noted
down every name they gave us, spelling all phonetically, and also every
strange sound we heard from them; thereafter, by painstaking comparison
of different circumstances, we tried to ascertain their meanings,
testing our own guess by again cross-questioning the Natives. One day I
saw two men approaching, when one, who was a stranger, pointed to me
with his finger, and said, "Se nangin?"

Concluding that he was asking my name, I pointed! to one of them with my
finger, and looking at the other, inquired, "Se nangin?"

They smiled, and gave me their names. We were now able to get the names
of persons and things, and so our ears got familiarized with the
distinctive sounds of their language; and being always keenly on the
alert, we made extraordinary progress in attempting bits of conversation
and in reducing their speech for the first time to a written form--for
the New Hebrideans had no literature, and not even the rudiments of an
alphabet. I used to hire some of the more intelligent lads and men to
sit and talk with us, and answer our questions about names and sounds;
but they so often deceived us, and we, doubtless, misunderstood them so
often, that this course was not satisfactory, till after we had gained
some knowledge of their language and its construction, and they
themselves had become interested in helping us. Amongst our most
interesting helpers, and most trustworthy, were two aged chiefs--Nowa
and Nouka--in many respects two of Nature's noblest gentlemen, kind at
heart to all, and distinguished by a certain native dignity of bearing.
But they were both under the leadership of the war-chief Miaki, a kind
of devil-king over many villages and tribes.

The Tannese had hosts of stone idols, charms, and sacred objects, which
they abjectly feared, and in which they devoutly believed. They were
given up to countless superstitions, and firmly glued to their dark
heathen practices. Their worship was entirely a service of fear, its aim
being to propitiate this or that Evil Spirit, to prevent calamity or to
secure revenge. They deified their chiefs, like the Romans of old, so
that almost every village or tribe had its own Sacred Man, and some of
them had many. They exercised an extraordinary influence for evil, these
village or tribal priests, and were believed to have the disposal of
life and death through their sacred ceremonies, not only in their own
tribe, but over all the Islands. Sacred men and women, wizards and
witches, received presents regularly to influence the gods, and to
remove sickness, or to cause it by the _Nahak, i. e._ incantation over
remains of food, or the skin of fruit, such as banana, which the person
has eaten on whom they wish to operate. They also worshiped the spirits
of departed ancestors and heroes, through their material idols of wood
and stone, but chiefly of stone. They feared these spirits and sought
their aid; especially seeking to propitiate those who presided over war
and peace, famine and plenty, health and sickness, destruction and
prosperity, life and death. Their whole worship was one of slavish fear;
and, so far as ever I could learn, they had no idea of a God of mercy or
grace.

But these very facts--that they did worship something, that they
believed in spirits of ancestors and heroes, and that they cherished
many legends regarding those whom they had never seen, and handed these
down to their children--and the fact that they had ideas about the
invisible world and its inhabitants, made it not so hard as some might
suppose to convey to their minds, once their language and modes of
thought were understood, some clear ideal of Jehovah God as the great
uncreated Spirit Father, who Himself created and sustains all that is.
It could not, however, be done offhand, or by a few airy lessons. The
whole heart and soul and life had to be put into the enterprise. But it
could be done--that we believed because they were men, not beasts; it
had been done--that we saw in the converts on Aneityum; and our hearts
rose to the task with quenchless hope!



CHAPTER XIII.
PIONEERS IN THE NEW HEBRIDES.

A GLANCE backwards over the story of the Gospel in the New Hebrides may
help to bring my readers into touch with the events that are to follow.
The ever-famous names of Williams and Harris are associated with the
earliest efforts to introduce Christianity amongst this group of islands
in the South Pacific Seas. John Williams and his young Missionary
companion Harris, under the auspices of the London Missionary Society,
landed on Erromanga on the 30th of November 1839. Alas, within a few
minutes of their touching land, both were clubbed to death; and the
savages proceeded to cook and feast upon their bodies. Thus were the New
Hebrides baptized with the blood of Martyrs; and Christ thereby told the
whole Christian world that He claimed these Islands as His own. His
cross must yet be lifted up, where the blood of His saints has been
poured forth in His name! The poor Heathen knew not that they had slain
their best friends; but tears and prayers ascended for them from all
Christian souls, wherever the story of the martyrdom on Erromanga was
read or heard.

Again, therefore, in 1842, the London Missionary Society sent out
Messrs. Turner and Nisbet to pierce this kingdom of Satan. They placed
their standard on our chosen island of Tanna, the nearest to Erromanga.
In less than seven months, however, their persecution by the savages
became so dreadful, that we see them in a boat trying to escape by night
with bare life. Out on that dangerous sea they would certainly have been
lost, but the Ever-Merciful drove them back to land, and sent next
morning a whaling vessel, which, contrary to custom, called there, and
just in the nick of time. They, with all goods that could be rescued,
were got safely on board, and sailed for Samoa. Say not their plans and
prayers were baffled; for God heard and abundantly blessed them there,
beyond all their dreams.

After these things, the London Missionary Society again and again placed
Samoan Native Teachers on one or other island of the New Hebrides; but
their unhealthiness, compared with the more wholesome Samoa or
Rarotonga, so afflicted them with the dreaded ague and fever, besides
what they endured from the inhospitable savages themselves, that no
effective Mission work had been accomplished there till at last the
Presbyterian Missionaries were led to enter upon the scene. Christianity
had no foothold anywhere on the New Hebrides, unless it were in the
memory and the blood of the Martyrs of Erromanga.

The Rev. John Geddie and his wife, from Nova Scotia, were landed on
Aneityum, the most southerly island of the New Hebrides, in 1848; and
the Rev. John Inglis and his wife, from Scotland, were landed on the
other side of the same island, in 1852. An agent for the London
Missionary Society, the Rev. T. Powell, accompanied Dr. Geddie for about
a year, to advise as to his settlement and to assist in opening up the
work. Marvelous as it may seem, the Natives on Aneityum, showed interest
in the Missionaries from the very first, and listened to their
teachings; so that in a few years Dr. Inglis and Dr. Geddie saw about
3500 savages throwing away their idols, renouncing their Heathen
customs, and avowing themselves to be worshipers of the true Jehovah
God. Slowly, yet progressively, they unlearned their Heathenism; surely
and hopefully they learned Christianity and civilization. When these
Missionaries "came to this Island, there were no Christians there; when
they left it, there were no Heathens."

Further, these poor Aneityumese, having glimpses of the Word of God,
determined to have a Holy Bible in their own mother tongue, wherein
before no book or page ever had been written in the history of their
race. The consecrated brain and hand of their Missionaries kept toiling
day and night in translating the book of God; and the willing hands and
feet of the Natives kept toiling through fifteen long but unwearying
years, planting and preparing arrowroot to pay the £1200 required to be
laid out in the printing and publishing of the book. Year after year the
arrowroot, too sacred to be used for their daily food, was set apart as
the Lord's portion; the Missionaries sent it to Australia and Scotland,
where it was sold by private friends, and the whole proceeds consecrated
to this purpose. On the completion of the great undertaking by the Bible
Society, it was found that the Natives had earned as much as to pay
every penny of the outlay; and their first Bibles went out to them,
purchased with the consecrated toils of fifteen years!

Let those who lightly esteem their Bibles think on those things. Eight
shillings for every leaf, or the labor and proceeds of fifteen years for
the Bible entire, did not appear to these poor converted savages too
much to pay for that Word of God, which had sent to them the
Missionaries, which had revealed to them the grace of God in Christ, and
which had opened their eyes to the wonders and glories of redeeming
love!



CHAPTER XIV.
THE GREAT BEREAVEMENT.

MY first house on Tanna was on the old site occupied by Turner and
Nisbet, near the shore, for obvious reasons, and only a few feet above
tide-mark. So was that of Mr. Mathieson, handy for materials as goods
being landed, and, as we imagined, close to the healthy breezes of the
sea. Alas! we had to learn by sad experience, like our brethren in all
untried Mission fields. The sites proved to be hot-beds for Fever and
Ague, mine especially; and much of this might have been escaped by
building on the higher ground, and in the sweep of the refreshing
trade-winds. For all this, however, no one was to blame; everything was
done for the best, according to the knowledge then possessed. Our house
was sheltered behind by an abrupt hill about two hundred feet high,
which gave the site a feeling of coziness. It was surrounded and much
shaded, by beautiful breadfruit trees, and very large cocoa-nut trees;
too largely beautiful, indeed, for they shut out many a healthy breeze
that we sorely needed! There was a long swamp at the head of the bay,
and, the ground at the other end on which our house stood being scarcely
raised perceptibly higher, the malaria almost constantly enveloped us.
Once, after a smart attack of the fever, an intelligent Chief said to
me, "Missi, if you stay here, you will soon die! No Tanna man sleeps so
low down as you do, in this damp weather, or he too would die. We sleep
on the high ground, and the trade-wind keeps us well. You must go and
sleep on the hill, and then you will have better health."

I at once resolved to remove my house to higher ground, at the earliest
practicable moment; heavy though the undertaking would necessarily be,
it seemed our only hope of being able to live on the island. Alas, for
one of us, it was already too late!

My dear young wife, Mary Ann Robson, landed with me on Tanna on the 5th
November 1858, in excellent health and full of all tender and holy
hopes. On the 12th February 1859 God sent to us our first-born son; for
two days or so both mother and child seemed to prosper, and our
island-exile thrilled with joy! But the greatest of sorrows was treading
hard upon the heels of that joy! My darling's strength showed no signs
of rallying. She had an attack of ague and fever a few days before; on
the third day or so thereafter, it returned, and attacked her every
second day with increasing severity for a fortnight. Diarrhea ensued,
and symptoms of pneumonia, with slight delirium at intervals; and then
in a moment, altogether unexpectedly, she died on the 3d March. To crown
my sorrows, and complete my loneliness, the dear baby-boy, whom we had
named after her father, Peter Robert Robson, was taken from me after one
week's sickness, on the 20th March. Let those who have ever passed
through any similar darkness as of midnight feel for me; as for all
others, it would be more than vain to try to paint my sorrows!

I knew then, when too late, that our work had been entered on too near
the beginning of the rainy season. We were both, however, healthy and
hearty; and I daily pushed on with the house, making things hourly more
comfortable, in the hope that long lives were before us both, to be
spent for Jesus in seeking the salvation of the perishing Heathen. In
our mutual inexperience, and with our hearts aglow for the work of our
lives, we incurred this risk which should never have been incurred; and
I only refer to the matter thus, in the hope that others may take
warning.

Stunned by that dreadful loss, in entering upon this field of labor to
which the Lord had Himself so evidently led me, my reason seemed for a
time almost to give way. Ague and fever, too, laid a depressing and
weakening hand upon me, continuously recurring, and reaching oftentimes
the very height of its worst burning stages. But I was never altogether
forsaken. The ever-merciful Lord sustained me, to lay the precious dust
of my beloved Ones in the same quiet grave, dug for them close by at the
end of the house; in all of which last offices my own hands, despite
breaking heart, had to take the principal share! I built the grave round
and round with coral blocks, and covered the top with beautiful white
coral, broken small as gravel; and that spot became my sacred and
much-frequented shrine, during all the following months and years when I
labored on for the salvation of these savage Islanders amidst
difficulties, dangers, and deaths. Whensoever Tanna turns to the Lord,
and is won for Christ, men in after-days will find the memory of that
spot still green,--where with ceaseless prayers and tears I claimed that
land for God in which I had "buried my dead" with faith and hope. But
for Jesus, and the fellowship He vouchsafed me there, I must have gone
mad and died beside that lonely grave!

Dr. Inglis, my brother Missionary on Aneityum, wrote to the Reformed
Presbyterian Magazine:--"I trust all those who shed tears of sorrow on
account of her early death will be enabled in the exercise of faith and
resignation to say, 'The Will of the Lord be done; the Lord gave and the
Lord hath taken away: blessed be the Name of the Lord!' I need not say
how deeply we sympathize with her bereaved parents, as well as with her
sorrowing husband. By her death the Mission has sustained a heavy loss.
We were greatly pleased with Mrs. Paton during the period of our short
intercourse with her. Her mind, naturally vigorous, had been cultivated
by a superior education. She was full of Missionary spirit, and took a
deep interest in the Native women. This was seen further, when she went
to Tanna, where, in less than three months, she had collected a class of
eight females, who came regularly to her to receive instruction. There
was about her a maturity of thought, a solidity of character, a
loftiness of aim and purpose, rarely found in one so young. Trained up
in the fear of the Lord from childhood, like another Mary she had
evidently chosen that good part, which is never taken away from those
possessed of it. When she left this island, she had to all human
appearance a long career of usefulness and happiness on Earth before
her, but the Lord has appointed otherwise. She has gone, as we trust, to
her rest and her reward. The Lord has said to her as He said to David,
'Thou didst well in that it was in thine heart to build a House for My
Name.' Let us watch and pray, for our Lord cometh as a thief in the
night."

Soon after her death, the good Bishop Selwyn called at Port Resolution,
Tanna, in his Mission Ship. He came on shore to visit me, accompanied by
the Rev. J. O. Patteson. They had met Mrs. Paton on Aneityum in the
previous year soon after our arrival, and, as she was then the picture
of perfect health, they also felt her loss very keenly. Standing with me
beside the grave of mother and child, I weeping aloud on his one hand,
and Patteson--afterward the Martyr Bishop of Kakupu--sobbing silently on
the other, the godly Bishop Selwyn poured out his heart to God amidst
sobs and tears, during which he laid his hands on my head, and invoked
Heaven's richest consolations and blessings on me and my trying labors.

Sorrow and love constrain me to linger over her last words. She cried,
"Oh, that my dear mother were here! She is a good woman, my mother, a
jewel of a woman."

Then, observing Mr. Copeland near by, she said, "Oh, Mr. Copeland, I did
not know you were there! You must not think that I regret coming here,
and leaving my mother. If I had the same thing to do over again, I would
do it with far more pleasure, yes, with all my heart. Oh no! I do not
regret leaving home and friends, though at the time I felt it keenly."

Soon after this, looking up and putting her hand in mine, she said--

"J. C. wrote to our Janet saying, that young Christians under their
first impressions thought they could do anything or make any sacrifice
for Jesus, and he asked if she believed it, for he did not think they
could, when tested; but Janet wrote back that she believed they could,
and (added she with great emphasis) _I believe it is true!_"

In a moment, altogether unexpectedly, she fell asleep in Jesus, with
these words on her lips. "Not lost, only gone before to be forever with
the Lord"--my heart keeps saying or singing to itself from that hour
till now.

It was very difficult to be resigned, left alone, and in sorrowful
circumstance; but feeling immovably assured that my God and Father was
too wise and loving to err in anything that He does or permits, I looked
up to the Lord for help, and struggled on in His work. I do not pretend
to see through the mystery of such visitations,--wherein God calls away
the young, the promising, and those sorely needed for His service here;
but this I do know and feel, that, in the light of such dispensations,
it becomes us all to love and serve our blessed Lord Jesus so that we
may be ready at His call for death and Eternity.



CHAPTER XV.
AT HOME WITH CANNIBALS.

IN the first letter, sent jointly by Mr. Copeland and myself from Tanna
to the Church at home, the following statements occur:--

"We found the Tannese to be painted Savages, enveloped in all the
superstition and wickedness of Heathenism. All the men and children go
in a state of nudity. The older women wear grass skirts, and the young
women and girls, grass or leaf aprons like Eve in Eden. They are
exceedingly ignorant, vicious, and bigoted, and almost void of natural
affection. Instead of the inhabitants of Port Resolution being improved
by coming in contact with white men they are rendered much worse; for
they have learned all their vices but none of their virtues,--if such
are possessed by the pioneer traders among such races! The Sandal-wood
Traders are as a class the most godless of men, whose cruelty and
wickedness make us ashamed to own them as our countrymen. By them the
poor defenseless Natives are oppressed and robbed on every hand; and if
they offer the slightest resistance, they are ruthlessly silenced by the
musket or revolver. Few months here pass without some of them being so
shot, and, instead of their murderers feeling ashamed, they boast of how
they despatch them. Such treatment keeps the Natives always burning
under a desire for revenge, so that it is a wonder any white man is
allowed to come among them. Indeed, all Traders here are able to
maintain their position only by revolvers and rifles; but we hope a
better state of affairs is at hand for Tanna."

The novelty of our being among them soon passed away, and they began to
show their avarice and deceitfulness in every possible way. The Chiefs
united and refused to give us the half of the small piece of land which
had been purchased, on which to build our Mission House, and when we
attempted to fence in the part they had left to us, they "tabooed" it,
_i. e._ threatened our Teachers and us with death if we proceeded
further with the work. This they did by placing certain reeds stuck into
the ground here and there around our house, which our Aneityumese
servants at once knew the meaning of, and warned us of our danger; so we
left off making the fence, that we might if possible evade all offense.
They then divided the few breadfruit and cocoa-nut trees on the ground
amongst themselves, or demanded such payment for these trees as we did
not possess, and threatened revenge on us if the trees were injured by
any person. They now became so unreasonable and offensive, and our
dangers so increased, as to make our residence amongst them extremely
trying. At this time a vessel called; I bought from the Captain the
things for payment which they demanded; on receiving it, they lifted the
Taboo, and for a little season appeared to be friendly again. This was
the third payment they had got for that site, and to yield was teaching
them a cruel lesson; all this we felt and clearly saw, but they had by
some means to be conciliated, if possible, and our lives had to be
saved, if that could be done without dishonor to the Christian name.

After these events, a few weeks of dry weather began to tell against the
growth of their yams and bananas. The drought was instantly ascribed to
us and our God. The Natives far and near were summoned to consider the
matter in public assembly. Next day, Nouka, the high chief, and Miaki,
the war-chief, his nephew, came to inform us that two powerful Chiefs
had openly declared in that assembly that if the Harbor people did not
at once kill us or compel us to leave the island they would, unless the
rain came plentifully in the meantime, summon all the Inland people and
murder both our Chiefs and us. The friendly Chiefs said, "Pray to your
Jehovah God for rain, and do not go far beyond your door for a time; we
are all in greatest danger, and if war breaks out we fear we cannot
protect you."

But this friendliness was all pretense; they themselves, being Sacred
Men, professed to have the power of sending or withholding rain, and
tried to fix the blame of their discomfiture on us. The rage of the poor
ignorant Heathen was thereby fed against us. The Ever-Merciful, however,
again interposed on our behalf. On the following Sabbath, just when we
were assembling for worship, rain began to fall, and in great abundance.
The whole inhabitants believed, apparently, that it was sent to save us
in answer to our prayers; so they met again, and resolved to allow us to
remain on Tanna. Alas! on the other hand, the continuous and heavy rains
brought much sickness and fever in their train, and again their Sacred
Men pointed to us as the cause. Hurricane winds also blew and injured
their fruits and fruit-trees,--another opportunity for our enemies to
lay the blame of everything upon the Missionaries and their Jehovah God!
The trial and the danger daily grew, of living among a people so
dreadfully benighted by superstition, and so easily swayed by prejudice
and passion.

The Natives of Tanna were well-nigh constantly at war amongst
themselves, every man doing that which was right in his own eyes, and
almost every quarrel ending in an appeal to arms. Besides many battles
far inland, one was fought beside our houses and several around the
Harbor. In these conflicts many men were bruised with clubs and wounded
with arrows, but few lives were lost, considering the savage uproar and
frenzy of the scene. In one case, of which we obtained certain
information, seven men were killed in an engagement; and, according to
Tannese custom, the warriors and their friends feasted on them at the
close of the fray, the widows of the slain being also strangled to
death, and similarly disposed of. Besides those who fell in war, the
Natives living in our quarter had killed and feasted on eight persons,
usually, in sacrificial rites.

It is said that the habitual Cannibal's desire for human flesh becomes
so horrible that he has been known to disinter and feast upon those
recently buried. Two cases of this revolting barbarism were reported as
having occurred amongst the villagers living near us. On another
occasion the great chief Nouka took seriously unwell, and his people
sacrificed three women for his recovery! All such cruel and horrifying
practises, however, they tried to conceal from us; and many must have
perished in this way of whom we, though living at their doors, were
never permitted to hear.

Amongst the Heathen, in the New Hebrides, and especially on Tanna,
_woman_ is the down-trodden slave of man. She is kept working hard, and
bears all the heavier burdens, while he walks by her side with musket,
club, or spear. If she offends him, he beats or abuses her at pleasure.
A savage gave his poor wife a severe beating in front of our house and
just before our eyes, while in vain we strove to prevent it. Such scenes
were so common that no one thought of interfering. Even if the woman
died in his hands, or immediately thereafter, neighbors, took little
notice, if any at all. And their children were so little cared for, that
my constant wonder was how any of them survived at all! As soon as they
are able to knock about, they are left practically to care for
themselves; hence the very small affection they show towards their
parents, which results in the aged who are unable to work being
neglected, starved to death, and sometimes even more directly and
violently destroyed.

A Heathen boy's education consists in being taught to aim skilfully with
the bow, throw the spear faultlessly at a mark, to wield powerfully the
club and tomahawk, and to shoot well with musket and revolver when these
can be obtained. He accompanies his father and brothers in all the wars
and preparations for war, and is diligently initiated into all their
cruelties and lusts, as the very prerequisite of his being regarded and
acknowledged to be a man and a warrior. The girls have, with their
mother and sisters, to toil and slave in the village plantations, to
prepare all the materials for fencing these around, to bear every
burden, and to be knocked about at will by the men and boys.

Oh, how sad and degraded is the position of Woman where the teaching of
Christ is unknown, or disregarded though known! It is the Christ of the
Bible, it is His Spirit entering into humanity, that has lifted Woman,
and made her the helpmate and the friend of Man, not his toy or his
slave.



CHAPTER XVI.
SUPERSTITIONS AND CRUELTIES.

ABOUT the time of my dear wife's death, our brother Missionary, Mr.
Mathieson, also became exceedingly unwell. His delicate frame fast gave
way, and brought with it weakness of the mind as well; and he was
removed to Aneityum apparently in a dying condition. These sad
visitations had a bad effect on the natives, owing to their wild
superstitions about the cause of death and sickness. We had reason to
fear that they would even interfere with the precious grave, over which
we kept careful watch for a season; but God mercifully restrained them.
Unfortunately, however, one of my Aneityumese Teachers who had gone
round to Mr. Mathieson's Station took ill and died there, and this
rekindled all their prejudices. He, poor fellow, before death said, "I
shall not again return to Port Resolution, or see my dear Missi; but
tell him that I die happy, for I love Jesus much, and I am going to
Jesus!"

Hearing these things, the natives insolently demanded me to tell them
the cause of his death, and of Mr. Mathieson's trouble, and of the other
deaths. Other reasoning or explanation being to them useless, I turned
the tables, and demanded them to tell me why all this trouble and death
had overtaken us in their land, and whether they themselves were not the
cause of it all? Strange to say, this simple question turned the whole
current of their speculations. They held meeting after meeting to
discuss it for several days, and returned the message, "We do not blame
you, and you must not blame us, for causing these troubles and deaths;
but we believe that a Bushman must have got hold of a portion of
something we had eaten, and must have thrown it to the great Evil Spirit
in the volcano, thereby bringing all these troubles and curses."

Another Chief vindicated himself and others thus:--"Karapanamun, the
Aurumanu or great Evil Spirit of Tanna, whom we all fear and worship, is
causing these troubles; for he knows that if we become worshipers of
your Jehovah God, we cannot continue to fear him, or present him with
the best of everything, as our forefathers have always done; he is angry
at you and at us all."

The fear of the deaths and troubles being ascribed to them silenced
their talk against us for a season; but very little made them either
friends or foes, as the next event will too painfully show.

Nowhat, an old Chief of the highest rank from Aneityum, who spoke
Tannese and was much respected by the natives all round the south side
of Tanna, came on a visit to our island. After returning home, he became
very ill and died in a few days. The deluded Tannese, hearing of his
death, ascribed it to me and the Worship, and resolved to burn our house
and property, and either murder the whole Mission party, or compel us to
leave the island. Nowhat's brother was sent from Aneityum to talk to the
Tannese and conciliate them, but unfortunately he could not speak the
language well; and the Aneityumese Teachers felt their lives to be at
this time in such danger that they durst not accompany him as
interpreters, while I, on the other hand, did not understand his
language, nor he, mine. Within two days after landing, he had a severe
attack of ague and fever; and, though the vessel he came in remained
eight days, he was prostrated all the time, so that his well-intentioned
visit did us much harm. The Tannese became furious. This was proof
positive that we were the cause of all their sickness and death! Inland
and all along the weather side of the island, when far enough away from
us, they said that the natives were enjoying excellent health. Meeting
after meeting was held; exciting speeches were delivered; and feasts
were given, for which it was said that several women were sacrificed,
cooked and eaten,--such being the bonds by which they entered into
covenant with each other for life or death.

The inhabitants for miles around united in seeking our destruction, but
God put it into even savage hearts to save us. Old Nowar, the Chief
under whom we lived, and the Chief next under him, Arkurat, set
themselves to rescue us. Along with Manuman and Sirawia they opposed
every plan in the public assembly for taking our lives. Some of their
people also remained friendly to us, and by the help of our Aneityumese
Teachers, warned us of danger and protected our lives. Determined not to
be baffled, a meeting of all our enemies on the island was summoned, and
it was publicly resolved that a band of men be selected and enjoined to
kill the whole of those friendly to the Mission, old Nowar among the
rest, and not only to murder the Mission party, but also a trader who
had lately landed to live there, that no one might be left to give
information to the white men or bring punishment on the Islanders.
Frenzy of excitement prevailed, and the blood-fiend seemed to override
the whole assembly; when, under an impulse that surely came from the
Lord of Pity, one great warrior Chief who had hitherto kept silent,
rose, swung aloft a mighty club, and smashing it earthwards, cried
aloud, "The man that kills Missi must first kill me,--the men that kill
the Mission Teachers must first kill me and my people,--for we shall
stand by them and defend them till death."

Instantaneously, another Chief thundered in with the same declaration;
and the great assembly broke up in dismay. All the more remarkable was
this deliverance, as these two Chiefs lived nearly four miles inland,
and, as reputed disease makers and Sacred Men, were regarded as amongst
our bitterest enemies. It had happened that, a brother of the former
Chief having been wounded in battle, I had dressed his wounds and he
recovered, for which perhaps he now favored us. But I do not put very
much value on that consideration; for too clearly did our dear Lord
Jesus interpose directly on our behalf that day. I and my defenseless
company had spent it in anxious prayers and tears; and our hearts
overflowed with gratitude to the Saviour who rescued us from the lions'
jaws.

Leaving all consequences to the disposal of my Lord, I determined to
make an unflinching stand against wife-beating and widow-strangling,
feeling confident that even their natural conscience would be on my
side, I accordingly pled with all who were in power to unite and put
down these shocking and disgraceful customs. At length ten Chiefs
entered into an agreement not to allow any more beating of wives or
strangling of widows, and to forbid all common labor on the Lord's day;
but alas, except for purposes of war or other wickedness, the influence
of the Chiefs on Tanna was comparatively small. One Chief boldly
declared, "If we did not beat our women, they would never work; they
would not fear and obey us; but when we have beaten, and killed, and
feasted on two or three, the rest are all very quiet and good for a long
time to come!"

I tried to show him how cruel it was, besides that it made them unable
for work, and that kindness would have a much better effect; but he
promptly assured me that Tannese women "could not understand kindness."
For the sake of teaching by example, my Aneityumese Teachers and I used
to go a mile or two inland on the principal pathway, along with the
Teachers' wives, and there cutting and carrying home a heavy load of
firewood for myself and each of the men, while we gave only a small
burden to each of the women. Meeting many Tanna-men by the way, I used
to explain to them that this was how Christians helped and treated their
wives and sisters, and then they loved their husbands and were strong to
work at home; and that as men were made stronger, they were intended to
bear the heavier burdens, and especially in all labors out of doors. Our
habits and practises had thus as much to do as, perhaps more than, all
our appeals, in leading them to glimpses of the life to which the Lord
Jesus was calling them.



CHAPTER XVII.
STREAKS OF DAWN AMIDST DEEDS OF DARKNESS.

ANOTHER war-burst, that caused immense consternation, passed over with
only two or three deaths; and I succeeded in obtaining the consent of
twenty Chiefs to fight no more except on the defensive,--a covenant to
which, for a considerable time, they strictly adhered, in the midst of
fierce provocations. But to gain any such end, the masses of the people
must be educated to the point of desiring it. The few cannot, in such
circumstances, act up to it, without laying themselves open to be
downtrodden and swept away by the savages around.

About this time, several men, afraid or ashamed by day, came to me
regularly by night for conversation and instruction. Having seen the
doors of the Mission House made fast and the windows blinded so that
they could not be observed, they continued with me for many hours,
asking all strange questions about the new Religion and its laws. I
remember one Chief particularly, who came often, saying to me, "I would
be an Awfuaki man (_i. e._ a Christian) were it not that all the rest
would laugh at me; that I could not stand!"

"Almost persuaded"--before you blame him, remember how many in Christian
lands and amid greater privileges live and die without ever passing
beyond that stage.

The wife of one of those Chiefs died, and he resolved to imitate a
Christian burial. Having purchased white calico from a Trader, he came
to me for some tape which the Trader could not supply, and told me that
he was going to dress the body as he had seen my dear wife's dressed,
and lay her also in a similar grave. He declined my offer to attend the
funeral and to pray with them, as in that case many of the villagers
would not attend. He wanted all the people to be present, to see and to
hear, as it was the first funeral of the kind ever celebrated among the
Tannese; and my friend Nowar the Chief had promised to conduct a Service
and offer prayer to Jehovah before all the Heathen. It moved me to many
strange emotions, this Christian burial, conducted by a Heathen and in
the presence of Heathens, with an appeal to the true and living God by a
man as yet darkly groping among idols and superstitions. Many were the
wondering questions from time to time addressed to me. The idea of a
resurrection from the dead was that which most keenly interested these
Natives, and called forth all their powers of inquiry and argument. Thus
the waves of hope and fear swept alternately across our lives; but we
embraced every possible opportunity of telling them the story of the
life and death of Jesus, in the strong hope that God would spare us yet
to bring the benighted Heathen to the knowledge of the true salvation,
and to love and serve the only Saviour.

Confessedly, however, it was uphill, weary, and trying work. For one
thing, these Tannese were terribly dishonest; and when there was any
special sickness, or excitement from any cause, their bad feeling
towards the Worship was displayed by the more insolent way in which they
carried off whatever they could seize. When I opposed them, the club or
tomahawk, the musket or _kawas_ (_i. e._ killing-stone), being instantly
raised, intimated that my life would be taken, if I resisted. Their
skill in stealing on the sly was phenomenal! If an article fell, or was
seen on the floor, a Tanna-man would neatly cover it with his foot,
while looking you frankly in the face, and, having fixed it by his toes
or by bending in his great toe like a thumb to hold it, would walk off
with it, assuming the most innocent look in the world. In this way, a
knife, a pair of scissors or any smaller article, would at once
disappear. Another fellow would deftly stick something out of sight
amongst the whipcord plaits of his hair, another would conceal it
underneath his naked arm, while yet another would shamelessly lift what
he coveted and openly carry it away.

With most of them, however, the shame was not in the theft, but in doing
it so clumsily that they were discovered! Once, after continuous rain
and a hot damp atmosphere, when the sun shone out I put my bedclothes on
a rope to dry. I stood at hand watching, as also the wives of two
Teachers, for things were mysteriously disappearing almost under our
very eyes. Suddenly, Miaki, who with his war-companions had been
watching us unobserved, came rushing to me breathless and alone, crying,
"Missi, come in, quick, quick! I want to tell you something and to get
your advice!"

He ran into my house, and I followed; but before he had got into his
story, we heard the two women crying out, "Missi, Missi, come quick!
Miaki's men are Stealing your sheets and blankets!"

I ran at once, but all were gone into the bush, and them my sheets and
blankets. Miaki for a moment looked abashed, as I charged him with
deceiving me just to give his men their opportunity. But he soon rose to
the occasion. He wrought himself into a towering rage at them,
flourished his huge club and smashed the bushes all around, shouting to
me, "Thus will I smash these fellows, and compel them to return your
clothes."

One dark night, I heard them amongst my fowls. These I had purchased
from them for knives and calico; and they now stole them all away, dead
or alive. Had I interfered, they would have gloried in the chance to
club or shoot me in the dark, when no one could exactly say who had done
the deed. Several of the few goats, which I had for milk, were also
killed or driven away; indeed, all the injury that was possible was done
to me, short of taking away my life, and that was now frequently
attempted. Having no fires or fireplaces in my Mission House, such being
not required there,--though sometimes a fire would have been invaluable
for drying our bedclothes in the rainy season,--we had a house near by
in which all our food was cooked, and there, under lock and key, we
secured all our cooking utensils, pots, dishes, etc. One night that too
was broken into, and everything was stolen. In consternation, I appealed
to the Chief, telling him what had been done. He also flew into a great
rage, and vowed vengeance on the thieves, saying that he would compel
them to return everything. But, of course, nothing was returned; the
thief could not be found! I, unable to live without something in which
to boil water, at length offered a blanket to any one that would bring
back my kettle. Miaki himself, after much professed difficulty, returned
it _minus_ the lid,--that, he said, probably fishing for a higher bribe,
could not be got at any price, being at the other side of the island in
a tribe over which he had no control! In the circumstances, I was glad
to get kettle _minus_ lid--realizing how life itself may depend on so
small a luxury!



CHAPTER XVIII.
THE VISIT OF H. M. S. "CORDELIA."

ONE morning, the Tannese, rushing towards me in great excitement, cried,
"Missi, Missi, there is a God, or a ship on fire, or something of fear,
coming over the sea! We see no flames, but it smokes like a volcano. Is
it a Spirit, a God, or a ship on fire? What is it? what is it?"

One party after another followed in quick succession, shouting the same
questions in great alarm, to which I replied, "I cannot go at once; I
must dress first in my best clothes; it will likely be one of Queen
Victoria's Men-of-war, coming to ask of me if your conduct is good or
bad, if you are stealing my property, or threatening my life, or how you
are using me?"

They pled with me to go and see it; but I made much fuss about dressing,
and getting ready to meet the great Chief on the vessel, and would not
go with them. The two principal Chiefs now came running and asked,
"Missi, will it be a ship of war?"

I called to them, "I think it will; but I have no time to speak to you
now, I must get on my best clothes!"

They said, "Missi, only tell us, will he ask you if we have been
stealing your things?"

I answered, "I expect he will."

They asked, "And will you tell him?"

I said, "I must tell him the truth; if he asks, I will tell him."

They then cried out, "Oh, Missi, tell him not! Everything shall be
brought back to you at once, and no one will be allowed again to steal
from you."

Then said I, "Be quick! Everything must be returned before he comes.
Away, away! and let me get ready to meet the great Chief on the
Man-of-war."

Hitherto, no thief could ever be found, and no Chief had power to cause
anything to be restored to me; but now, in an incredibly brief space of
time, one came running to the Mission House with a pot, another with a
pan, another with a blanket, others with knives, forks, plates, and all
sorts of stolen property. The Chiefs called me to receive these things,
but I replied, "Lay them all down at the door, bring everything together
quickly; I have no time to speak with you!"

I delayed my toilet, enjoying mischievously the magical effect of an
approaching vessel that might bring penalty to thieves. At last the
Chiefs, running in breathless haste, called out to me, "Missi, Missi, do
tell us, is the stolen property all here?"

Of course I could not tell, but, running out, I looked on the
promiscuous heap of my belongings, and said, "I don't see the lid of the
kettle there yet!"

One Chief said, "No, Missi, for it is on the other side of the island;
but tell him not, I have sent for it, and it will be here to-morrow."

I answered, "I am glad you have brought back so much; and now, if you
three Chiefs, Nauka, Miaki, and Nowar, do not run away when he comes, he
will not likely punish you; but, if you and your people run away, he
will ask me why you are afraid, and I will be forced to tell him! Keep
near me and you are all safe; only there must be no more stealing from
me."

They said, "We are in black fear, but we will keep near you, and our bad
conduct to you is done."

The charm and joy of that morning are fresh to me still, when H. M. S.
_Cordelia_, Captain Vernon, steamed into our lovely Harbor. The
Commander, having heard rumor of my dangers on Tanna, kindly came on
shore as soon as the ship cast anchor, with two boats, and a number of
his officers and men, so far armed. He was dressed in splendid uniform,
being a tall and handsome man, and he and his attendants made a grand
and imposing show. On seeing Captain Vernon's boat nearing the shore,
and the men glittering in gold lace and arms, Miaki the Chief left my
side on the beach and rushed towards his village. I concluded that he
had run for it through terror, but he had other and more civilized
intentions in his Heathen head! Having obtained, from some trader or
visitor in previous days, a soldier's old red coat, he had resolved to
rise to the occasion and appear in his best before the Captain and his
men. As I was shaking hands with them and welcoming them to Tanna, Miaki
returned with the short red coat on, buttoned tightly round his
otherwise naked body; and, surmounted by his ugly painted face and long
whipcords of twisted hair, it completely spoiled any appearance that he
might otherwise have had of savage freedom, and made him look a dirty
and insignificant creature.

The Captain was talking to me, his men stood in order near by--to my
eyes, oh how charming a glimpse of Home life!--when Miaki marched up and
took his place most consequentially at my side. He felt himself the most
important personage in the scene, and with an attempt at haughty dignity
he began to survey the visitors. All eyes were fixed on the impudent
little man, and the Captain asked, "What sort of a character is this?"

I replied, "This is Miaki, our great war Chief?"; and whispered to the
Captain to be on his guard, as this man knew a little English, and might
understand or misunderstand just enough to make it afterwards dangerous
to me.

The Captain only muttered, "The contemptible creature!" But such words
were far enough beyond Miaki's vocabulary, so he looked on and grinned
complacently.

At last he said, "Missi, this great Chief whom Queen Victoria has sent
to visit you in her Man-of-war, cannot go over the whole of this island
so as to be seen by all our people; and I wish you to ask him if he will
stand by a tree, and allow me to put a spear on the ground at his heel,
and we will make a nick in it at the top of his head, and the spear will
be sent round the island to let all the people see how tall this great
man is!" They were delighted at the good Captain agreeing to their
simple request; and that spear was exhibited to thousands, as the
vessel, her Commander, officers, and men, were afterwards talked of
round and round the island.

Captain Vernon was extremely kind, and offered to do anything in his
power for me, thus left alone on the island amongst such savages; but,
as my main difficulties were connected with my spiritual work amongst
them, rousing up their cruel prejudices, I did not see his kindness
could effectually interpose. At his suggestion, however, I sent a
general invitation to all the Chiefs within reach, to meet the Captain
next morning at my house. True to their instincts of suspicion and fear,
they despatched all their women and and children to the beach on the
opposite side of the island, beyond reach of danger, and next morning my
house was crowded with armed men, manifestly much afraid. Punctually at
the hour appointed, 10 A.M., the Captain came on shore; and soon
thereafter twenty Chiefs were seated with him in my house. He very
kindly spent about an hour, giving them wise counsels and warning them
against outrages on strangers, all calculated to secure our safety and
advance the interests of our Mission work. He then invited all the
Chiefs to go on board and see his vessel. They were taken to see the
Armory, and the sight of the big guns running so easily on rails vastly
astonished them. He then placed them round us on deck and showed them
two shells discharged towards the ocean, at which, as they burst and
fell far off, splash--splashing into the water, the terror of the
Natives visibly increased. But, when he sent a large ball crashing
through a cocoanut grove, breaking the trees like straws and cutting its
way clear and swift, they were quite dumfounded and pled to be again set
safely on shore. After receiving each some small gift, however, they
were reconciled to the situation, and returned immensely interested in
all that they had seen. Doubtless many a wild romance was spun by these
savage heads, in trying to describe and hand down to others the wonders
of the fire-god of the sea, and the Captain of the great white Queen.
How easily it all lends itself to the service of poetry and myth!



CHAPTER XIX.
"NOBLE OLD ABRAHAM."

FEVER and ague had now attacked me fourteen times severely, with
slighter recurring attacks almost continuously after my first three
months on the island, and I now felt the necessity of taking the hint of
the Tannese Chief before referred to--"Sleep on the higher ground."
Having also received medical counsel to the same effect, though indeed
experience was painfully sufficient testimony, I resolved to remove my
house, and began to look about for a suitable site. There rose behind my
present site, a hill about two hundred feet high, surrounded on all
sides by a valley, and swept by the breezes of the trade-winds, being
only separated from the ocean by a narrow neck of land. On this I had
set my heart; there was room for a Mission House and a Church, for which
indeed Nature seemed to have adapted it. I proceeded to buy up every
claim by the Natives to any portion of the hill, paying each publicly
and in turn, so that there might be no trouble afterwards. I then
purchased from a Trader the deck planks of a shipwrecked vessel, with
which to construct a house of two apartments, a bedroom and a small
store-room adjoining it, to which I purposed to transfer and add the old
house as soon as I was able.

Just at this juncture, the fever smote me again more severely than ever;
my weakness after this attack was so great, that I felt as if I never
could rally again. With the help of my faithful Aneityumese Teacher,
Abraham, and his wife, however, I made what appeared my last effort to
creep--I could not climb--up the hill to get a breath of wholesome air.
When about two-thirds up the hill, I became so faint that I concluded I
was dying. Lying down on the ground, sloped against the root of a tree
to keep me from rolling to the bottom, I took farewell of old Abraham,
of my Mission work, and of everything around! In this weak state I lay,
watched over by my faithful companion, and fell into a quiet sleep. When
consciousness returned, I felt a little stronger, and a faint gleam of
hope and life came back to my soul.

Abraham and his devoted wife Nafatu lifted me and carried me to the top
of the hill. There they laid me on cocoanut leaves on the ground, and
erected over me a shade or screen of the same; and there the two
faithful souls, inspired surely by something diviner even than mere
human pity, gave me the cocoanut juice to drink and fed me with native
food and kept me living--I know not for how long. Consciousness did,
however, fully return. The trade-wind refreshed me day by day. The
Tannese seemed to have given me up for dead; and providentially none of
them looked near us for many days. Amazingly my strength returned, and I
began planning about my new house on the hill. Afraid again to sleep at
the old site, I slept under the tree, and sheltered by the cocoanut leaf
screen, while preparing my new bedroom.

Here again, but for these faithful souls, the Aneityumese Teacher and
his wife, I must have been baffled, and would have died in the effort.
The planks of the wreck, and all other articles required, they fetched
and carried; and it taxed my utmost strength to get them in some way
planted together. But life depended on it. It was at length
accomplished; and after that time I suffered comparatively little from
anything like continuous attacks of fever and ague. That noble old soul,
Abraham, stood by me as an angel of God in sickness and in danger; he
went at my side wherever I had to go; he helped me willingly to the last
inch of strength in all that I had to do; and it was perfectly manifest
that he was doing all this not from mere human love, but for the sake of
Jesus. That man had been a Cannibal in his Heathen days, but by the
grace of God there he stood verily a new creature in Christ Jesus. Any
trust, however sacred or valuable, could be absolutely reposed in him;
and in trial or danger I was often refreshed by that old Teacher's
prayers, as I used to be by the prayers of my saintly father in my
childhood's home. No white man could have been more valuable helper to
me in my perilous circumstances; and no person, white or black, could
have shown more fearless and chivalrous devotion.

When I have read or heard the shallow objections of irreligious
scribblers and talkers, hinting that there was no reality in
conversions, and that Mission effort was but waste, oh, how my heart has
yearned to plant them just one week on Tanna, with the "natural" man all
around in the person of Cannibal and Heathen, and only the one
"spiritual" man in the person of the converted Abraham, nursing them,
feeding them, saving them "for the love of Jesus"--that I might just
learn how many hours it took to convince them that Christ in man was a
reality after all! All the skepticism of Europe would hide its head in
foolish shame; and all its doubts would dissolve under one glance of the
new light that Jesus, and Jesus alone, pours from the converted
Cannibal's eye.



CHAPTER XX.
A TYPICAL SOUTH SEA TRADER.

THE prejudices and persecutions of Heathens were a sore enough trial,
but sorer and more hopeless was the wicked and contaminating influence
of, alas, my fellow-countrymen. One, for instance, a Captain Winchester,
living with a native woman at the head of the bay as a Trader, a
dissipated wretch, though a well-educated man, was angry forsooth at
this state of peace! Apparently there was not the usual demand for
barter for the fowls, pigs, etc., in which he traded. He developed at
once a wonderful interest in their affairs, presented all the Chiefs
around with powder, caps, and balls, and lent among them a number of
flash-muskets. He urged them not to be afraid of war, as he would supply
any amount of ammunition. I remonstrated, but he flatly told me that
peace did not suit his purposes. Incited and encouraged thus, these poor
Heathen people were goaded into a most unjust war on neighboring tribes.
The Trader immediately demanded a high price for the weapons he had
lent; the price of powder, caps, and balls rose exorbitantly with every
fresh demand; his yards were crowded with poultry and pigs, which he
readily disposed of to passing vessels; and he might have amassed great
sums of money but for his vile dissipations. Captain Winchester, now
glorying in the war, charged a large hog for a wine-glass full of
powder, or three or four balls, or ten gun-caps; he was boastful of his
"good luck" in getting rid of all his old muskets and filling his yards
with pigs and fowls. Such is the infernal depth to which we can sink,
when the misery and the ruin of many are thought to be more than atoned
for by the wealth and prosperity of a few who trade in their doom!

Miaki the war Chief had a young brother, Rarip by name, about eighteen
years of age. When this war began he came to live with me at the Mission
House. After it had raged some time, Miaki forced him to join the
fighting men; but he escaped through the bush, and returned to me,
saying, "Missi, I hate this fighting; it is not good to kill men; I will
live with you!"

Again the war Chief came, and forced my dear young Rarip to join the
hosts. Of course, I could only plead; I could not prevent him. This
time, he placed him at his own side in the midst of his warriors. On
coming in sight of the enemy, and hearing their first yells as they
rushed from the bush, a bullet pierced young Rarip's breast, and he fell
dead into the arms of Miaki. The body was carried home to his brother's
village, with much wailing, and a messenger ran to tell me that Rarip
was dead. On hasting thither, I found him quite dead, and the center of
a tragic ceremonial. Around him, some sitting, others lying on the
ground, were assembled all the women and girls, tearing their hair,
wounding themselves with split bamboos and broken bottles, dashing
themselves headlong to the earth, painting all black their faces,
breasts, and arms, and wailing with loud lamentations! Men were also
there, knocking their heads against the trees, gashing their bodies with
knives till they ran with streaks of blood, and indulging in every kind
of savage symbol of grief and anguish. My heart broke to see them, and
to think that they knew not to look to our dear Lord Jesus for
consolation.

I returned to the Mission House, and brought a white sheet and some
tape, in which the body of dear young Rarip was wrapped and prepared for
the grave. The Natives appeared to be gratified at this mark of respect;
and all agreed that Rarip should have, under my direction, a Christian
burial. The men prepared the grave in a spot selected near to his own
house; I read the Word of God, and offered prayer to Jehovah, with a
psalm of praise, amidst a scene of weeping and lamentation never to be
forgotten; and the thought burned through my very soul--oh, when, when
will the Tannese realize what I am now thinking and praying about, the
life and immortality brought to light through Jesus?

As the war still raged on, and many more were killed, vengeance
threatened the miserable Trader. Miaki attacked him thus, "You led us
into this war. You deceived us, and we began it. Rarip is dead, and many
others. Your life shall yet go for his."

Captain Winchester, heartless as a dog so long as pigs and fowls came to
the yard at whatever cost to others' lives, now trembled like a coward
for himself. He implored me to let him and his Mare wife sleep at my
house for safety; but I refused to allow my Mission to be in any way
identified with his crimes. The Natives from other islands, whom he kept
and wrought like slaves, he now armed with muskets for his defence; but,
having no faith in their protecting or even warning him, he implored me
to send one of my Teachers, to assist his wife in watching till he
snatched a few hours of sleep every day, and, if awake, he would sell
his life as dearly as he could by aid of musket and revolver. The
Teachers were both afraid and disinclined to go; and I could not
honestly ask them to do so. His peril and terror became so real that by
night he slept in his boat anchored out in the center of the bay, with
his arms beside him, and a crew ready to start off at the approach of
danger and lose everything; while by day he kept watch on shore, armed,
and also ready to fly. Thus his miserable existence dragged on, keeping
watch alternatively with his wife, till a trading vessel called and
carried him off with all that he had rescued--for which deliverance we
were unfeignedly thankful! The war, which he had wickedly instigated,
lingered on for three months; and then, by a present given secretly to
two leading Chiefs, I managed to bring it to a close. But feelings of
revenge for the slain burned fiercely in many breasts; and young men had
old feuds handed on to them by the recital of their fathers' deeds of
blood.



CHAPTER XXI.
UNDER AX AND MUSKET.

ABOUT this time, our Sabbath audiences at the Mission numbered forty or
so. Nowar and three or four more, and only they, seemed to love and
serve Jesus. They were, however, changeable and doubtful, though they
exerted a good influence on their villages, and were generally friendly
to us and to the Worship.

One morning at daybreak I found my house surrounded by armed men, and a
Chief intimated that they had assembled to take my life. Seeing that I
was entirely in their hands, I knelt down and gave myself away body and
soul to the Lord Jesus, for what seemed the last time on earth. Rising,
I went out to them, and began calmly talking about their unkind
treatment of me and contrasting it with all my conduct towards them. I
also plainly showed them what would be the sad consequences, if they
carried out their cruel purpose. At last some of the chiefs, who had
attended the Worship, rose and said, "Our conduct has been bad; but now
we will fight for you, and kill all those who hate you."

Grasping hold of their leader, I held him fast till he promised never to
kill any one on my account, for Jesus taught us to love our enemies and
always to return good for evil! During this scene, many of the armed
slunk away into the bush, and those who remained entered into a bond to
be friendly and to protect us. But again their Public Assembly resolved
that we should be killed, because, as they said, they hated Jehovah and
the Worship; for it made them afraid to do as they had always done. If I
would give up visiting the villages, and praying and talking with them
about Jehovah, they intimated that they would like me to stay and trade
with them, as they liked the Traders but hated the Missionaries! I told
them that the hope of being able to teach them the Worship of Jehovah
alone kept me living amongst them; that I was there, not for gain or
pleasure, but because I loved them, and pitied their estate, and sought
their good continually by leading them to know and serve the only true
God.

But my enemies seldom slackened their hateful designs against my life,
however calmed or baffled for the moment. Within a few days of the above
events, when Natives in large numbers were assembled at my house, a man
furiously rushed on me with his ax; but a Kaserumini Chief snatched a
spade with which I had been working, and dexterously defended me from
instant death. Life in such circumstances led me to cling very near to
the Lord Jesus; I knew not, for one brief hour, when or how attack might
be made; and yet, with my trembling hand clasped in the Hand once nailed
on Calvary, and now swaying the scepter of the Universe, calmness and
peace and resignation abode in my soul.

Next day, a wild Chief followed me about for four hours with his loaded
musket, and, though often directed towards me, God restrained his hand.
I spoke kindly to him, and attended to my work as if he had not been
there, fully persuaded that my God had placed me there, and would
protect me till my allotted task was finished. Looking up in unceasing
prayer to our dear Lord Jesus, I left all in His hands, and felt
immortal till my work was done. Trials and hairbreadth escapes
strengthened my faith, and seemed only to nerve me for more to follow;
and they did tread swiftly upon each other's heels. Without that abiding
consciousness of the presence and power of my dear Lord and Saviour,
nothing else in all the world could have preserved me from losing my
reason and perishing miserably. His words, "Lo, I am with you alway,
even unto the end of the world," became to me so real that it would not
have startled me to behold Him, as Stephen did, gazing down upon the
scene. I felt His supporting power, as did St. Paul, when he cried, "I
can do all things through Christ which strengthened me." It is the sober
truth, and it comes back to me sweetly after twenty years, that I had my
nearest and dearest glimpses of the face and smile of my blessed Lord in
those dread moments when musket, club, or spear was being leveled at my
life. Oh the bliss of living and enduring, as seeing "Him who is
invisible!" One evening, I awoke three times to hear a Chief and his men
trying to force the door of my house. Though armed with muskets, they
had some sense of doing wrong, and were wholesomely afraid of a little
retriever dog which had often stood betwixt me and death. God restrained
them again; and next morning the report went all round the Harbor that
those who tried to shoot me were "smitten weak with fear," and that
shooting would not do. A plan was therefore deliberately set on foot to
fire the premises, and club us if we attempted to escape. But our
Aneityumese Teacher heard of it, and God helped us to frustrate their
designs. When they knew their plots were revealed to us, they seemed to
lose faith in themselves, and cast about to circumvent us in some more
secret way, Their evil was overruled for good.



CHAPTER XXII.
A NATIVE SAINT AND MARTYR.

NAMUEI, one of my Aneityumese Teachers, was placed at our nearest
village. There he had built a house for himself and his wife, and there
he led amongst the Heathen a pure and humble Christian life. Almost
every morning he came and reported on the state of affairs to me.
Without books or a school, he yet instructed the Natives in Divine
things, conducted the worship, and taught them much by his good example.
His influence was increasing, when one morning a Sacred Man threw at him
the _kawas_ or killing-stone, a deadly weapon like a scythe stone in
shape and thickness, usually round but sometimes angular, and from
eighteen to twenty inches long. They throw it from a great distance and
with fatal precision. The Teacher, with great agility, warded his head
and received the deep cut from it in his left hand, reserving his right
hand to guard against the club that was certain to follow swiftly. The
Priest sprang upon him with his club and with savage yells. He evaded,
yet also received, many blows; and, rushing out of their hands, actually
reached the Mission House, bleeding, fainting, and pursued by howling
murderers. I had been anxiously expecting him, and hearing the noise I
ran out with all possible speed.

On seeing me, he sank down by a tree, and cried, "Missi, Missi, quick!
and escape for your life! They are coming to kill you; they say they
must kill us all to-day, and they have begun with me; for they hate
Jehovah and the Worship!"

I hastened to the good Teacher where he lay; I bound up, washed, and
dressed his wounds; and God, by the mystery of His own working, kept the
infuriated Tannese watching at bay. Gradually they began to disappear
into the bush, and we conveyed the dear Teacher to the Mission House. In
three or four weeks, he so far recovered by careful nursing that he was
able to walk about again. Some petitioned for him to return to the
village; but I insisted, as a preliminary, that the Harbor Chiefs should
unitedly punish him who had abused the Teacher; and this to test them,
for he had only carried out their own wishes,--Nowar excepted, and
perhaps one or two others. They made a pretense of atoning by presenting
the Teacher with a pig and some yams as a peace-offering; but I said,
"No! Such bad conduct must be punished, or we would leave their island
by the first opportunity."

Now that Sacred Man, a Chief too, had gone on fighting with other
tribes, till his followers had all died or been slain; and, after three
weeks' palaver, the other Chiefs seized him, tied him with a rope, and
sent me word to come and see him punished, as they did not want us after
all to leave the island. I had to go, for fear of more bloody work, and
after talk with them, followed by many fair promises, he was loosed.

All appearing friendly for some time, and willing to listen and learn,
the Teacher earnestly desired to return to his post. I pled with him to
remain at the Mission House till we felt more assured, but he replied,
"Missi, when I see them thirsting for my blood, I just see myself when
the Missionary first came to my island. I desired to murder him, as they
now desire to kill me. Had he stayed away for such danger, I would have
remained Heathen; but he came, and continued coming to teach us, till,
by the grace of God, I was changed to what I am. Now the same God that
changed me to this can change these poor Tannese to love and serve Him.
I cannot stay away from them; but I will sleep at the Mission House, and
do all I can by day to bring them to Jesus."

It was not in me to keep such a man, under such motives, from what he
felt to be his post of duty. He returned to his village work, and for
several weeks things appeared most encouraging. The inhabitants showed
growing interest in us and our work, and less fear of the pretensions of
their Heathen Priest, which, alas! fed his jealousy and anger. One
morning during worship, when the good Teacher knelt in prayer, the same
savage Priest sprang upon him with his great club and left him for dead,
wounded and bleeding and unconscious. The people fled and left him in
his blood, afraid of being mixed up with the murder. The Teacher,
recovering a little, crawled to the Mission House, and reached it about
midday in a dying condition. On seeing him, I ran to meet him, but he
fell near the Teacher's house, saying, "Missi, I am dying! They will
kill you also. Escape for your life."

Trying to console him, I sat down beside him, dressing his wounds and
nursing him. He was quite resigned; he was looking up to Jesus, and
rejoicing that he would soon be with Him in Glory. His pain and
suffering were great but he bore all very quietly, as he said and kept
saying, "For the sake of Jesus! For Jesu's sake!" He was constantly
praying for his persecutors, "O Lord Jesus, forgive them, for they know
not what they are doing. Oh, take not away all Thy servants from Tanna!
Take not away Thy Worship from this dark island! O God, bring all the
Tannese to love and follow Jesus!"

To him, Jesus was all and in all; and there were no bands in his death.
He passed from us, in the assured hope of entering into the Glory of his
Lord. Humble though he may appear in the world's esteem, I knew that a
great man had fallen there in the service of Christ, and that he would
take rank in the glorious Army of the Martyrs. I made for him a coffin,
and dug his grave near the Mission House. With prayers, and many tears,
we consigned his remains to the dust in the certainty of a happy
resurrection. Even one such convert was surely a triumphant reward for
the Missionaries, whom God had honored in bringing him to Jesus. May
they have many like Namuri for their crown of joy and rejoicing in the
great day!



CHAPTER XXIII.
BUILDING AND PRINTING FOR GOD.

FOR fully three months, all our available time, with all the native help
which I could hire, was spent in erecting a building to serve for Church
and School. It was fifty feet long, by twenty-one feet six inches broad.
The studs were three feet apart, and all fixed by tenon and mortise into
upper and lower wall plates. The beautiful roof of iron-wood and
sugar-cane leaf was supported by three massive pillars of wood, sunk
deeply into the ground. The roof extended about three feet over the wall
plates, both to form a verandah and to carry the raindrops free beyond
the walls. It was made of sugar-cane leaf and cocoanut leaves all
around. The floor was laid with white coral, broken small, and covered
with cocoanut leaf mats, such as those on which the Natives sat. Indeed,
it was as comfortable a House of Prayer as any man need wish for in the
tropics, though having only open spaces for doors and windows! I bought
the heavy wood for it on Aneityum--price, fifty pairs of trousers for
Natives; and these again were the gift of my Bible Class in Glasgow, all
cut and sewed by their own hands. I gave also one hundred and thirty
yards of cloth, along with other things, for other needful wood.

As we were preparing a foundation for the Church, a huge and
singular-looking round stone was dug up, at sight of which the Tannese
stood aghast. The eldest Chief said, "Missi, that stone was either
brought there by Karapanamun (the Evil Spirit), or hid there by our
great Chief who is dead. That is the Stone God to which our forefathers
offered human sacrifices; these holes held the blood of the victim till
drunk up by the Spirit. The Spirit of that stone eats up men and women
and drinks their blood, as our fathers taught us. We are in greatest
fear!"

A Sacred Man claimed possession, and was exceedingly desirous to carry
it off; but I managed to keep it, and did everything in my power to show
them the absurdity of these foolish notions. Idolatry had not indeed yet
fallen throughout Tanna; but one cruel idol, at least, had to give way
for the erection of God's House on that benighted land.

An ever-memorable event was the printing of my first book in Tannese.
Thomas Binnie, Jun., Glasgow, gave me a printing-press and a font of
type. Printing was one of the things I had never tried, but having now
prepared a booklet in Tannese, I got my printing press into order, and
began fingering the type. But book-printing turned out to be for me a
much more difficult affair than house-building had been. Yet by dogged
perseverance I succeeded at last. My biggest difficulty was how to
arrange the pages properly! After many failures, I folded a piece of
paper into the number of leaves wanted, cut the corners, folding them
back, and numbering as they would be when correctly placed in the book;
then folding all back without cutting up the sheet, I found now by these
numbers how to arrange the pages in the frame or case for printing, as
indicated on each side. And do you think me foolish, when I confess that
I shouted in an ecstasy of joy when the first sheet came from the press
all correct? It was about one o'clock in the morning. I was the only
white man then on the island, and all the Natives had been fast asleep
for hours! Yet I literally pitched my hat into the air, and danced like
a schoolboy round and round that printing-press; till I began to think,
Am I losing my reason? Would it not be like a Missionary to be upon my
knees, adoring God for this first portion of His blessed Word ever
printed in this new language? Friend, bear with me, and believe me--that
was as true worship as ever was David's dancing before the Ark of his
God! Nor think that I did not, over that first sheet of God's Word ever
printed in the Tannese tongue, go upon my knees too, and then, and every
day since, plead with the mighty Lord to carry the light and joy of His
own Holy Bible into every dark heart and benighted home on Tanna!

Yet dangers darkened round me. One day, while toiling away at my house,
the war Chief and his brother, and a large party of armed men,
surrounded the plot where I was working. They all had muskets, besides
their own native weapons. They watched me for some time in silence, and
then every man leveled a musket straight at my head. Escape was
impossible. Speech would only have increased my danger. My eyesight came
and went for a few moments. I prayed to my Lord Jesus, either Himself to
protect me or to take me home to His Glory. I tried to keep working on
at my task, as if no one was near me. In that moment, as never before,
the words came to me--"Whatsoever ye shall ask in My name, I will do
it;" and I knew that I was safe. Retiring a little from their first
position, no word having been spoken, they took up the same attitude
somewhat farther off, and seemed to be urging one another to fire the
first shot. But my dear Lord restrained them once again, and they
withdrew, leaving me with a new reason for trusting Him with all that
concerned me for Time and Eternity.



CHAPTER XXIV.
HEATHEN DANCE AND SHAM FIGHT.

THE Chief, Nowar Noukamara, usually known as Nowar, was my best and
most-to-be-trusted friend. He influenced the Harbor Chiefs and their
people for eight or ten miles around to get up a great feast in favor of
the Worship of Jehovah. All were personally and specially invited, and
it was the largest Assembly of any kind that I ever witnessed on the
Islands.

When all was ready, Nowar sent a party of Chiefs to escort me and my
Aneityumese Teachers to the feast. Fourteen Chiefs, in turn, made
speeches to the assembled multitude; the drift of all being, that war
and fighting be given up on Tanna,--that no more people be killed by
Nahak, for witchcraft and sorcery were lies,--that Sacred Men no longer
profess to make wind and rain, famine and plenty, disease and
death,--that the dark Heathen talk of Tanna should cease,--that all here
present should adopt the Worship of Jehovah as taught to them by the
Missionary and the Aneityumese,--and that all the banished Tribes should
be invited to their own lands to live in peace! These strange speeches
did not draw forth a single opposing voice. The Tannese are born
talkers, and can and will speechify on all occasions; but most of it
means nothing, bears no fruit.

After these speeches, a scene followed which gradually assumed shape as
an idolatrous ceremonial and greatly horrified me. It was in connection
with the immense quantity of food that had been prepared for the feast,
especially pigs and fowls. A great heap had been piled up for each Tribe
represented, and a handsome portion also set apart for the Missionary
and his Teachers. The ceremony was this, as nearly as I could follow it.
One hundred or so of the leading men marched into the large clear space
in the center of the assembled multitudes, and stood there facing each
other in equal lines, with a man at either end closing up the passage
between. At the middle they stood eight or ten feet apart, gradually
nearing till they almost met at either end. Amid tremendous silence for
a few moments, all stood hushed; then every man kneeled on his right
knee, extended his right hand, and bent forward till his face nearly
touched the ground. Thereon the man at the one end began muttering
something, his voice rising ever louder as he rose to his feet, when it
ended in a fearful yell as he stood erect. Next the two long lines of
men, all in a body, went through the same ceremonial, rising gradually
to their feet, with mutterings deepening into a howl, and heightening
into a yell stood erect. Finally, the man at the other end went through
the same hideous forms. All this was thrice deliberately repeated, each
time with growing frenzy. And then, all standing on their feet, they
united as with one voice in what sounded like music running mad up and
down the scale--closing with a long, deep-toned, hollow howl as of souls
in pain. With smiles of joy, the men then all shook hands with each
other. Nowar and another Chief briefly spoke; and the food was then
divided and exchanged, a principal man of each Tribe standing by to
receive and watch his portion.

At this stage, Nowar and Nerwangi, as leaders, addressed the Teachers
and the Missionary to this effect; "This feast is held to move all the
Chiefs and People here to give up fighting, to become friends, and to
worship your Jehovah God. We wish you to remain, and to teach us all
good conduct. As an evidence of our sincerity, and of our love, we have
prepared this pile of food for you."

In reply, I addressed the whole multitude, saying how pleased I was with
their speeches and with the resolutions and promises which they all had
made. I further urged them to stick fast by these, and that grand fruits
would arise to their island, to themselves, and to their children.

Having finished a brief address, I then walked forward to the very
middle of the circle, and laid down before them a bundle of stripes of
red calico and pieces of white calico, a number of fish-hooks, knives,
etc., etc., requesting the two Chiefs to divide my offering of goodwill
among the Tribes assembled, and also the pile of food presented to us,
as a token of my love and friendship to them all.

Not without some doubt, and under considerable trial, did I take this
apparently unfriendly attitude of refusing to take their food. But I
feared to seem even to approve of any act of devil-worship, or to
confirm them in it, being there to discourage all such scenes, and to
lead them to acknowledge only the true God. Yet all the time I felt this
qualm,--that it might have been better to eat food with men who
acknowledged some God and asked his blessing, than with those white
Heathens at home, who asked the blessing of no God, nor thanked Him--in
this worse than the dog which licks the hand that feeds it! Nowar and
Nerwangi explained in great orations what I meant, and how I wished all
to be divided amongst the assembled Tribes to show my love. With this,
all seemed highly satisfied.

Heathen dances were now entered upon, their paint and feathers and
ornaments adding to the wildness of the scene. The men seemed to dance
in an inside ring, and the women in an outside ring, at a considerable
distance from each other. Music was supplied by singing and clapping of
hands. The order was perfect, and the figures highly intricate. But I
have never been able to associate dancing with things lovely and of good
report! After the dancing, all retired to the bush; and a kind of sham
fight then followed on the public cleared ground. A host of painted
savages rushed in and took possession with songs and shoutings. From the
bush, on the opposite side, the chanting of women was heard in the
distance, louder and louder as they approached. Snatching from a burning
fire flaming sticks, they rushed on the men with these, beating them and
throwing burning pieces of wood among them, till with deafening yells
amongst themselves and amidst shouts of laughter from the crowd, they
drove them from the space, and danced thereon and sang a song of
victory. The dancing and fighting, the naked painted figures, and the
constant yells and shoutings gave one a weird sensation, and suggested
strange ideas of Hell broken loose.

The final scene approached, when the men assisted their women to fill
all the allotted food into baskets to be carried home and eaten there;
for the different Tribes do not sit down together and eat together as we
would do; their coming together is for the purpose of exchanging and
dividing the food presented. And now they broke into friendly confusion,
and freely walked about mingling with each other; and a kind of savage
rehearsal of Jonathan and David took place. They stripped themselves of
their fantastic dresses, their handsomely woven and twisted grass
skirts, leaf skirts, grass and leaf aprons; they gave away or exchanged
all these, and their ornaments and bows and arrows, besides their less
romantic calico and print dresses more recently acquired. The effusion
and ceremonial of the gifts and exchanges seem to betoken a loving
people; and so they were for the feast--but that laid not aside a single
deadly feud, and streams of blood and cries of hate would soon efface
all traces of this day.



CHAPTER XXV.
CANNIBALS AT WORK.

EARLY one morning, the savage yells of warring Tribes woke me from
sleep. They had broken into a quarrel about a woman, and were fiercely
engaged with their clubs. According to my custom, I rushed in amongst
them, and, not without much difficulty, was blessed in separating them
before deadly wounds had been given or received. On this occasion, the
Chiefs of both Tribes, being very friendly to me, drove their people
back from each other at my earnest appeals. Sitting down at length
within earshot, they had it out in a wild scolding match, a contest of
lung and tongue. Meanwhile I rested on a canoe midway betwixt them, in
the hope of averting a renewal of hostilities. By and by an old Sacred
Man, a Chief, called Sapa, with some touch of savage comedy in his
breast, volunteered an episode which restored good humor to the scene.
Leaping up, he came dancing and singing towards me, and there, to the
amusement of all, reenacted the quarrel, and mimicked rather cleverly my
attempt at separating the combatants. Smashing at the canoe with his
club, he yelled and knocked down imaginary enemies; then, rushing first
at one party and then at the other, he represented me as appealing and
gesticulating and pushing them afar from each other, till he became
quite exhausted. Thereon he came and planted himself in great glee
beside me, and looked around as if to say, "You must laugh, for I have
played." At this very juncture, a loud cry of "Sail O" broke upon our
ears, and all parties leapt to their feet, and prepared for a new
sensation; for in those climes, everything--war itself--is a smaller
interest than a vessel from the Great Unknown Beyond sailing into your
Harbor.

Not many days thereafter, a very horrible transaction occurred. Before
daybreak, I heard shot after shot quickly discharged in the Harbor. One
of my Teachers came running, and cried, "Missi, six or seven men have
been shot dead this morning for a great feast. It is to reconcile Tribes
that have been at war, and to allow a banished Tribe to return in
peace."

I learned that the leading men had in council agreed upon this
sacrifice, but the name of each victim was kept a secret till the last
moment. The torture of suspense and uncertainty seemed to be borne by
all as part of their appointed lot; nor did they prepare as if
suspecting any dread assault. Before daylight, the Sacred Men allocated
a murderer to the door of each house where a victim slept. A signal shot
was fired; all rushed to their doors, and the doomed ones were shot and
clubbed to death, as they attempted to escape. Their bodies were then
borne to a sacred tree, and hung up there by the hands for a time as an
offering to the gods. Being taken down, they were carried ceremoniously
and laid out on the shore near my house, placed under a special guard.

Information had reached me that my Teachers and I were also destined
victims for this same feast; and sure enough we espied a band of armed
men, the killers, despatched towards our premises. Instantaneously I had
the Teachers and their wives and myself securely locked into the Mission
House; and, cut off from all human hope, we set ourselves to pray to our
dear Lord Jesus, either Himself to protect us or to take us to His
glory. All through that morning and forenoon we heard them
tramp-tramping round our house, whispering to each other, and hovering
near window and door. They knew that there were a double-barreled
fowling-piece and a revolver on the premises, though they never had seen
me use them, and that may, under God, have held them back in dread. But
the thought of using them did not enter our souls even in that awful
time. I had gone to save, and not to destroy. It would be easier for me
at any time to die, than to kill one of them. Our safety lay in our
appeal to that blessed Lord who had placed us there, and to whom all
power had been given in Heaven and on Earth. He that was with us was
more than all that could be against us. This is strength;--this is
peace:--to feel, in entering on every day, that all its duties and
trials have been committed to the Lord Jesus,--that, come what may, He
will use us for His glory and our own real good!

All through that dreadful morning, and far into the afternoon, we thus
abode together, feeling conscious that we were united to this dear Lord
Jesus; and we had sweet communion with Him, meditating on the wonders of
His person and the hopes and glories of His kingdom. Oh, that all my
readers may learn something of this in their own experience of the Lord!
I can wish them nothing more precious. Towards sundown, constrained by
the Invisible One, they withdrew from our Mission House, and left us
once more in peace. They bore away the slain to be cooked, and
distributed amongst the Tribes, and eaten in their feast of
reconciliation; a covenant sealed in blood, and soon, alas, to be buried
in blood again! For many days thereafter we had to take unusual care,
and not unduly expose ourselves to danger; for dark characters were seen
prowling about in the bush near at hand, and we knew that our life was
the prize. We took what care we could, and God the Lord did the rest; or
rather He did all--for His wisdom guided us, and His power baffled them.



CHAPTER XXVI.
THE DEFYING OF NAHAK.

SHORTLY thereafter war was again declared, by the Inland people
attacking our Harbor people. It was an old quarrel; and the war was
renewed and continued, long after the cause thereof had passed away.
Going amongst them every day, I did my utmost to stop hostilities,
setting the evils of war before them, and pleading with the leading men
to renounce it. Thereon arose a characteristic incident of Island and
Heathen life. One day I held a Service in the village where morning
after morning their Tribes assembled, and declared that if they would
believe in and follow the Jehovah God, He would deliver them from all
their enemies and lead them into a happy life. There were present three
Sacred Men, Chiefs, of whom the whole population lived in
terror--brothers or cousins, heroes of traditional feats, professors of
sorcery, and claiming the power of life and death, health and sickness,
rain and drought, according to their will. On hearing me, these three
stood up and declared they did not believe in Jehovah, nor did they need
His help; for they had the power to kill my life by Nahak (_i.e._
sorcery or witchcraft), if only they could get possession of any piece
of the fruit or food that I had eaten. This was an essential condition
of their black art; hence the peel of a banana or an orange, and every
broken scrap of food, is gathered up by the Natives, lest it should fall
into the hands of the Sacred Men, and be used for Nahak. This
superstition was the cause of most of the bloodshed and terror upon
Tanna; and being thus challenged, I asked God's help, and determined to
strike a blow against it.

A woman was standing near with a bunch of native fruit in her hand, like
our plums, called quonquore. I asked her to be pleased to give me some;
and she, holding out a bunch, said, "Take freely what you will!"

Calling the attention of all the Assembly to what I was doing, I took
three fruits from the bunch, and taking a bite out of each, I gave them
one after another to the three Sacred Men, and deliberately said in the
hearing of all, "You have seen me eat of this fruit, you have seen me
give the remainder to your Sacred Men; they have said they can kill me
by Nahak, but I challenge them to do it if they can, without arrow or
spear, club or musket; for I deny that they have any power against me,
or against any one, by their Sorcery."

The challenge was accepted; the Natives looked terror-struck at the
position in which I was placed! The ceremony of Nahak was usually
performed in secret,--the Tannese fleeing in dread, as Europeans would
from the touch of the plague; but I lingered and eagerly watched their
ritual. As the three Chiefs arose, and drew near to one of the Sacred
Trees, to begin their ceremonial, the Natives fled in terror, crying,
"Missi, Iawé? Alas, Missi!"

But I held on at my post of observation. Amidst wavings and
incantations, they rolled up the pieces of the fruit from which I had
eaten, in certain leaves of this Sacred Tree, into a shape like a waxen
candle; then they kindled a sacred fire near the root, and continued
their mutterings, gradually burning a little more and a little more of
the candle-shaped things, wheeling them round their heads, blowing upon
them with their breaths, waving them in the air, and glancing wildly at
me as if expecting my sudden destruction. Wondering whether after all
they did not believe their own lie, for they seemed to be in dead
earnest, I, more eager than ever to break the chains of such vile
superstition, urged them again and again, crying, "Be quick! Stir up
your gods to help you! I am not killed yet; I am perfectly well!"

At last they stood up and said, "We must delay till we have called all
our Sacred Men. We will kill Missi before his next Sabbath comes round.
Let all watch, for he will soon die and that without fail."

I replied, "Very good! I challenge all your Priests to unite and kill me
by Sorcery or Nahak. If on Sabbath next I come again to your village in
health, you will all admit that your gods have no power over me, and
that I am protected by the true and living Jehovah God!"

Every day throughout the remainder of that week the Conchs were sounded;
and over that side of the island all their Sacred Men were at work
trying to kill me by their arts. Now and again messengers arrived from
every quarter of the island, inquiring anxiously after my health, and
wondering if I was not feeling sick, and great excitement prevailed
amongst the poor deluded idolaters.

Sabbath dawned upon me peacefully, and I went to that village in more
than my usual health and strength. Large numbers assembled, and when I
appeared they looked at each other in terror, as if it could not really
be I myself still spared and well. Entering into the public ground, I
saluted them to this effect, "My love to you all, my friends! I have
come again to talk to you about the Jehovah God and His Worship."

The three Sacred Men, on being asked, admitted that they had tried to
kill me by Nahak, but had failed; and on being questioned, why they had
failed; they gave the acute and subtle reply, that I also was myself a
Sacred Man, and that my God being the stronger had protected me from
their gods. Addressing the multitude, I answered thus, "Yea, truly; my
Jehovah God is stronger than your gods. He protected me, and helped me;
for He is the only living and true God, the only God that can hear or
answer any prayer from the children of men. Your gods cannot hear
prayer, but my God can and will hear and answer you, if you will give
heart and life to Him, and love and serve Him only. This is my God, and
He is also your friend if you will hear and follow His voice."

Having said this, I sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree, and
addressed them, "Come and sit down all around me, and I will talk to you
about the love and mercy of my God, and teach you how to worship and
please Him."

Two of the Sacred Men then sat down, and all the people gathered round
and seated themselves very quietly. I tried to present to them ideas of
sin, and of salvation through Jesus Christ, as revealed to us in the
Holy Scriptures.

The third Sacred Man, the highest in rank, a man of great stature and
uncommon strength, had meantime gone off for his warrior's spear, and
returned brandishing it in the air and poising it at me. I said to the
people, "Of course he can kill me with his spear, but he undertook to
kill me by Nahak or Sorcery, and promised not to use against me any
weapons of war; and if you let him kill me now, you will kill your
friend, one who lives among you and only tries to do you good, as you
all know so well. I know that if you kill me thus, my God will be angry
and will punish you."

Thereon I seated myself calmly in the midst of the crowd, while he
leaped about in rage, scolding his brothers and all who were present for
listening to me. The other Sacred Men, however, took my side, and, as
many of the people also were friendly to me and stood closely packed
around me, he did not throw his spear. To allay the tumult and obviate
further bloodshed, I offered to leave with my Teachers at once, and, in
doing so, I ardently pled with them to live at peace. Though we got
safely home, that old Sacred Man seemed still to hunger after my blood.
For weeks thereafter, go where I would, he would suddenly appear on the
path behind me, poising in his right hand that same Goliath spear. God
only kept it from being thrown, and I, using every lawful precaution,
had all the same to attend to my work, as if no enemy were there,
leaving all other results in the hands of Jesus. This whole incident
did, doubtless, shake the prejudices of many as to Sorcery; but few even
of converted Natives ever get entirely clear of the dread of Nahak.



CHAPTER XXVII.
A PERILOUS PILGRIMAGE.

THE other Mission Station, on the southwest side of Tanna, had to be
visited by me from time to time. Mr. and Mrs. Mathieson, there, were
both in a weak state of health, having a tendency to consumption. On
this account they visited Aneityum several times. They were earnestly
devoted to their work, and were successful as far as health and the time
allowed to them permitted. At this juncture, a message reached me that
they were without European food, and a request to send them a little
flour if possible. The war made the journey overland impossible. A
strong wind and a high sea round the coast rendered it impracticable for
my boat to go. The danger to life from the enemy was so great that I
could not hire a crew. I pled therefore with Nowar and Manuman, and a
few leading men, to take one of their best canoes, and themselves to
accompany me. I had a large flat-bottomed pot with a close fitting lid,
and that I pressed full of flour; and, tying the lid firmly down, I
fastened it right in the center of the canoe, and as far above
water-mark as possible. All else that was required we tied around our
own persons. Sea and land being as they were, it was a perilous
undertaking, which only dire necessity could have justified. They were
all swimmers, but as I could not swim, the strongest man was placed
behind me, to seize me and swim ashore, if a crash came.

Creeping round near the shore all the way, we had to keep just outside
the great breakers on the coral reef, and were all drenched through and
through with the foam of an angry surf. We arrived, however, in safety
within two miles of our destination, where lived the friends of my
canoe's company, but where a very dangerous sea was breaking on the
reef. Here they all gave in, and protested that no further could they
go; and truly their toil all the way with the paddles had been severe. I
appealed to them, that the canoe would for certain be smashed if they
tried to get on shore, that the provisions would be lost, and some of us
probably drowned. But they turned to the shore, and remained for some
time thus, watching the sea. At last their Captain cried, "Missi, hold
on! There's a smaller wave coming; we'll ride in now."

My heart rose to the Lord in trembling prayer! The wave came rolling on;
every paddle with all their united strength struck into the sea; and
next moment our canoe was flying like a sea-gull on the crest of the
wave towards the shore. Another instant, and the wave had broken on the
reef with a mighty roar, and rushed passed us hissing in clouds of foam.
My company were next seen swimming wildly about in the sea, Manuman the
one-eyed Sacred Man alone holding on by the canoe, nearly full of water,
with me still clinging to the seat of it, and the very next wave likely
to devour us. In desperation, I sprang for the reef, and ran for a man
half-wading, half-swimming to reach us; and God so ordered it, that just
as the next wave broke against the silvery rock of coral, the man caught
me and partly swam with me through its surf, partly carried me till I
was set safely ashore. Praising God, I looked up and saw all the others
as safe as myself, except Manuman, my friend, who was still holding on
by the canoe in the face of wind and sea, and bringing it with him.
Others ran and swam to his help. The paddles were picked up amid the
surf. A powerful fellow came towards me with the pot of flour on his
head, uninjured by water! The Chief who held on by the canoe got
severely cut about the feet, and had been badly bruised and knocked
about; but all the rest escaped without further harm, and everything
that we had was saved. Amongst friends at last, they resolved to await a
favorable wind and tide to return to their own homes. Singing in my
heart unto God, I hired a man to carry the pot of flour, and soon
arrived at the Mission Station.

Supplying the wants of our dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. Mathieson, whom we
found as well as could be expected, we had to prepare, after a few hours
of rest, to return to our own Station by walking overland through the
night. I durst not remain longer away, lest my own house should be
plundered and broken into. Though weak in health, my fellow-Missionaries
were both full of hope, and zealous in their work, and this somewhat
strange visit was a pleasant blink amidst our darkness. Before I had
gone far on my return journey, the sun went down, and no Native could be
hired to accompany me. They all told me that I would for certain be
killed by the way. But I knew that it would be quite dark before I
reached the hostile districts, and that the Heathen are great cowards in
the dark and never leave their villages at night in the darkness, except
in companies for fishing and suchlike tasks. I skirted along the
sea-shore as fast as I could, walking and running alternately; and, when
I got within hearing of voices, I slunk back into the bush till they had
safely passed, and then groped my way back near the shore, that being my
only guide to find a path.

Having made half the journey, I came to a dangerous path, almost
perpendicular, up a great rock round the base of which the sea roared
deep. With my heart lifted up to Jesus, I succeeded in climbing it,
cautiously grasping roots, and resting by bushes, till I safely reached
the top. There, to avoid a village, I had to keep crawling slowly along
the brush near the sea, on the top of that great ledge of rock--a feat I
could never have accomplished even in daylight without the excitement;
but I felt that I was supported and guided in all that life-or-death
journey by my dear Lord Jesus. I had to leave the shore, and follow up
the bank of a very deep ravine to a place shallow enough for one to
cross, and then through the bush away for the shore again. By holding
too much to the right, I missed the point where I had intended to reach
it. Small fires were now visible through the bush; I heard the voices of
the people talking in one of our most Heathen villages.

Quietly drawing back, I now knew where I was, and easily found my way
towards the shore; but on reaching the Great Rock, I could not in the
darkness find the path down again. I groped about till I was tired. I
feared that I might stumble over and be killed; or, if I delayed till
daylight, that the savages would kill me. I knew that one part of the
rock was steep-sloping, with little growth or none thereon, and I
searched about to find it, resolved to commend myself to Jesus and slide
down thereby, that I might again reach the shore and escape for my life.
Thinking I had found this spot, I hurled down several stones and
listened for their splash that I might judge whether it would be safe.
But the distance was too far for me to hear or judge. At high tide the
sea there was deep; but at low tide I could wade out of it and be safe.
The darkness made it impossible for me to see anything. I let go my
umbrella, shoving it down with considerable force, but neither did it
send me back any news.

Feeling sure, however, that this was the place I sought, and knowing
that to await the daylight would be certain death, I prayed to my Lord
Jesus for help and protection, and resolved to let myself go. First, I
fastened all my clothes as tightly as I could, so as not to catch on
anything; then I lay down at the top on my back, feet foremost, holding
my head downwards on my breast to keep it from striking on the rock;
then, after one cry to my Saviour, having let myself down as far as
possible by a branch, I at last let go, throwing my arms forward and
trying to keep my feet well up. A giddy swirl, as if flying through the
air, took possession of me; a few moments seemed an age; I rushed
quickly down, and felt no obstruction till my feet struck into the sea
below. Adoring and praising my dear Lord Jesus, who had ordered it so, I
regained my feet; it was low tide, I had received no injury, I recovered
my umbrella, and, wading through, I found the shore path easier and
lighter than the bush had been. The vary darkness was my safety,
preventing the Natives from rambling about. I saw no person to speak to,
till I reached a village quite near to my own house, fifteen or twenty
miles from where I had started; I here left the sea path and promised
some young men a gift of fish-hooks to guide me the nearest way through
the bush to my Mission Station, which they gladly and heartily did. I
ran a narrow risk in approaching them; they thought me an enemy, and I
arrested their muskets only by a loud cry--

"I am Missi! Don't shoot; my love to you, my friends!"

Praising God for His preserving care, I reached home, and had a long
refreshing sleep. The natives, on hearing next day how I had come all
the way in the dark exclaimed--

"Surely any of us would have been killed! Your Jehovah God alone thus
protects you and brings you safely home."

With all my heart, I said, "Yes! and He will be your protector and
helper too, if only you will obey and trust in Him."

Certainly that night put my faith to the test. Had it not been the
assurance that I was engaged in His service, and that in every path of
duty He would carry me through or dispose of me therein for His glory I
could never have undertaken either journey. St. Paul's words are true
to-day and forever--"I can do all things through Christ which
strengthened me."



CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE PLAGUE OF MEASLES.

ABOUT this time I had a never-to-be-forgotten illustration of the
infernal spirit that possessed some of the Traders towards these poor
Natives. One morning, three or four vessels entered our Harbor and cast
anchor in Port Resolution. The captains called on me, and one of them,
with manifest delight, exclaimed, "We know how to bring down your proud
Tannese now! We'll humble them before you!"

I answered, "Surely you don't mean to attack and destroy these poor
people?"

He replied, not abashed but rejoicing, "We have sent the measles to
humble them! That kills them by the score! Four young men have been
landed at different ports, ill with measles, and these will soon thin
their ranks."

Shocked above measure, I protested solemnly and denounced their conduct
and spirit; but my remonstrances only called forth the shameless
declaration, "Our watchword is,--Sweep these creatures away and let
white men occupy the soil!"

Their malice was further illustrated thus: they induced Kapuku, a young
Chief, to go off to one of their vessels, promising him a present. He
was the friend and chief supporter of Mr. Mathieson and of his work.
Having got him on board, they confined him in the hold amongst natives
lying ill with measles. They gave him no food for about four-and-twenty
hours; and then, without the promised present, they put him ashore far
from his own home. Though weak and excited, he scrambled back to his
tribe in great exhaustion and terror. He informed the Missionary that
they had put him down amongst sick people, red and hot with fever, and
that he feared their sickness was upon him. I am ashamed to say that
these Sandal-wood and other Traders were our own degraded countrymen;
and that they deliberately gloried in thus destroying the poor Heathen.
A more fiendish spirit could scarcely be imagined; but most of them were
horrible drunkards, and their traffic of every kind amongst these
islands was, generally speaking, steeped in human blood.

The measles, thus introduced, became amongst our islanders the most
deadly plague. It spread fearfully, and was accompanied by sore throat
and diarrhea. In some villages, man, woman, and child were stricken, and
none could give food or water to the rest. The misery, suffering, and
terror were unexampled, the living being afraid sometimes even to bury
the dead. Thirteen of my own Mission party died of this disease; and, so
terror-stricken were the few who survived, that when the little Mission
schooner _John Knox_ returned to Tanna, they all packed up and left for
their own Aneityum, except my own dear old Abraham.

At first, thinking that all were on the wing, he also had packed his
chattels, and was standing beside the others ready to leave with them. I
drew near to him, and said, "Abraham, they are all going; are you also
going to leave me here alone on Tanna, to fight the battles of the
Lord?"

He asked, "Missi, will you remain?"

I replied, "Yes; but Abraham, the danger to life is now so great that I
dare not plead with you to remain, for we may both be slain. Still, I
cannot leave the Lord's work now."

The noble old Chief looked at the box and his bundles, and, musingly,
said, "Missi, our danger is very great now."

I answered, "Yes; I once thought you would not leave me alone to it;
but, as the vessel is going to your own land, I cannot ask you to remain
and face it with me!"

He again said, "Missi, would you like me to remain alone with you,
seeing my wife is dead and in her grave here?"

I replied, "Yes, I would like you to remain; but, considering the
circumstances in which we will be left alone, I cannot plead with you to
do so."

He answered, "Then, Missi, I remain with you of my own free choice, and
with all my heart. We will live and die together in the work of the
Lord. I will never leave you while you are spared on Tanna."

So saying, and with a light that gave the fore-gleam of a Martyr's glory
to his dark face, he shouldered his box and bundles back to his own
house; and thereafter, Abraham was my dear companion and constant
friend, and my fellow-sufferer in all that remains still to be related
of our Mission life on Tanna.

Before this plague of measles was brought amongst us I had sailed round
in the _John Knox_ to Black Beach on the opposite side of Tanna, and
prepared the way for settling Teachers. And they were placed soon after
by Mr. Copeland and myself with encouraging hopes of success, and with
the prospect of erecting there a Station for Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, the
newly arrived Missionaries from Nova Scotia. But this dreadful imported
epidemic blasted all our dreams. They devoted themselves from the very
first, and assisted me in every way to alleviate the dread sufferings of
the Natives. We carried medicine, food, and even water, to the
surrounding villages every day, few of themselves being able to render
us much assistance. Nearly all who took our medicine and followed
instructions as to food, etc., recovered; but vast numbers of them would
listen to no counsels, and rushed into experiments which made the attack
fatal all around. When the trouble was at its height, for instance, they
would plunge into the sea, and seek relief; they found it an almost
instant death. Others would dig a hole into the earth, the length of the
body and about two feet deep; therein they laid themselves down, the
cold earth feeling agreeable to their fevered skins; and when the earth
around them grew heated, they got friends to dig a few inches deeper,
again and again, seeking a cooler and cooler couch. In this ghastly
effort many of them died, literally in their own graves, and were buried
where they lay! It need not be surprising, though we did everything in
our power to relieve and save them, that the natives associated us with
the white men who had so dreadfully afflicted them, and that their blind
thirst for revenge did not draw fine distinctions between the Traders
and the Missionaries. Both were whites--that was enough.

Before leaving this terrible plague of measles, I may record my belief
that it swept away, with accompanying sore throat and diarrhea, a third
of the entire population of Tanna; nay? in certain localities more than
a third perished. The living declared themselves unable to bury the
dead, and great want and suffering ensued. The Teacher and his wife and
child, placed by us at Black Beach, were also taken away; and his
companion, the other Teacher there, embraced the first opportunity to
leave along with his wife for his own island, else his life would have
been taken in revenge. Yet, from all accounts afterwards received, I do
not think the measles were more fatal on Tanna than on the other Islands
of the group. They appear to have carried off even a larger proportion
on Aniwa--the future scene of many sorrows but of greater triumphs.



CHAPTER XXIX.
ATTACKED WITH CLUBS.

THE 1st January 1861 was a New Year's Day ever to be remembered. Mr. and
Mrs. Johnston, Abraham, and I, had spent nearly the whole time in a kind
of solemn yet happy festival. Anew in a holy covenant before God, we
unitedly consecrated our lives and our all to the Lord Jesus, giving
ourselves away to His blessed service for the conversion of the Heathen
on the New Hebrides. After evening Family Worship, Mr. and Mrs. Johnston
left my room to go to their own house, only some ten feet distant; but
he returned to inform me that there were two men at the window, armed
with huge clubs, and having black painted faces. Going out to them and
asking them, what they wanted, they replied, "Medicine for a sick boy."

With difficulty I persuaded them to come in and get it. At once, it
flashed upon me, from their agitation and their disguise of paint, that
they had come to murder us. Mr. Johnston had also accompanied us into
the house. Keeping my eye constantly fixed on them, I prepared the
medicine and offered it. They refused to receive it, and each man
grasped his killing-stone. I faced them firmly and said, "You see that
Mr. Johnston is now leaving, and you too must leave this room for
to-night. To-morrow, you can bring the boy or come for the medicine."

Seizing their clubs, as if for action, they showed unwillingness to
withdraw, but I walked deliberately forward and made as if to push them
out, when both turned and began to leave.

Mr. Johnston had gone in front of them and was safely out. But he bent
down to lift a little kitten that had escaped at the open door; and at
that moment one of the savages, jerking in behind, aimed a blow with his
huge club, in avoiding which Mr. Johnston fell with a scream to the
ground. Both men sprang towards him, but our two faithful dogs
ferociously leapt in their faces and saved his life. Rushing out, but
not fully aware of what had occurred, I saw Mr. Johnston trying to raise
himself, and heard him cry, "Take care these men have tried to kill me,
and they will kill you!"

Facing them sternly I demanded, "What is it that you want? He does not
understand your language. What do you want? Speak with me."

Both men, thereon, raised their great clubs and made to strike me; but
quick as lightning these two dogs sprang at their faces and baffled
their blows. One dog was badly bruised, and the ground received the
other blow that would have launched me into Eternity. The best dog was a
little cross-bred retriever with terrier blood in him, splendid for
warning us of approaching dangers, and which had already been the means
of saving my life several times. Seeing how matters stood, I now hounded
both dogs furiously upon them, and the two savages fled. I shouted after
them, "Remember, Jehovah God sees you and will punish you for trying to
murder His servants!"

In their flight, a large body of men, who had come eight or ten miles to
assist in the murder and plunder, came slipping here and there from the
bush and joined them, fleeing too. Verily, "the wicked flee, when no man
pursueth." David's experience and assurance came home to us, that
evening, as very real:--"God is our refuge and our strength...therefore
we will not fear."

I, now accustomed to such scenes on Tanna, retired to rest and slept
soundly; but my dear fellow-laborer, as I afterwards learned, could not
sleep for one moment. His pallor and excitement continued next day,
indeed for several days; and after that, though he was naturally lively
and cheerful, I never saw him smile again.

For that morning, 1st January 1861, the following entry was found in his
Journal: "To-day, with a heavy heart and a feeling of dread, I know not
why, I set out on my accustomed wanderings amongst the sick. I hastened
back to get the Teacher and carry Mr. Paton to the scene of distress. I
carried a bucket of water in one hand and medicine in the other; and so
we spent a portion of this day endeavoring to alleviate their
sufferings, and our work had a happy effect also on the minds of
others." In another entry, on 22d December, he wrote: "Measles are
making fearful havoc amongst the poor Tannese. As we pass through the
villages, mournful scenes meet the eye; young and old prostrated on the
ground, showing all these painful symptoms which accompany loathsome and
malignant diseases. In some villages few are left able to prepare food,
or to carry drink to the suffering and dying. How pitiful to see the
sufferers destitute of every comfort, attention, and remedy that would
ameliorate their suffering or remove their disease! As I think of the
tender manner in which we are nursed in sickness, the many remedies
employed to give relief, with the comforts and attention bestowed upon
us, my heart sickens, and I say, Oh my ingratitude and the ingratitude
of Christian people!"

Having, as above recorded, consecrated our lives anew to God on the
first day of January, I was, up till the 16th of the month, accompanied
by Mr. Johnston and sometimes also by Mrs. Johnston on my rounds in the
villages amongst the sick, and they greatly helped me. But by an unhappy
accident I was laid aside when most sorely needed. When adzing a tree
for housebuilding I observed that Mahanan, the war Chief's brother, had
been keeping too near me, and that he carried a tomahawk in his hand;
and, in trying both to do my work and to keep an eye on him, I struck my
ankle severely with the adze. He moved off quickly, saying, "I did not
do that," but doubtless rejoicing at what had happened. The bone was
badly hurt, and several of the blood-vessels cut. Dressing it as well as
I could, and keeping it constantly soaked in cold water, I had to
exercise the greatest care. In this condition, amidst great sufferings,
I was sometimes carried to the villages to administer medicine to the
sick, and to plead and pray with the dying.

On such occasions, in this mode of transit even, the conversations that
I had with dear Mr. Johnston were most solemn and greatly refreshing. He
had, however, scarcely ever slept since the 1st of January, and during
the night of the 16th he sent for my bottle of laudanum. Being severely
attacked with ague and fever, I could not go to him, but sent the
bottle, specifying the proper quantity for a dose, but that he quite
understood already. He took a dose for himself, and gave one also to his
wife, as she too suffered from sleeplessness. This he repeated three
nights in succession, and both of them obtained a long, sound and
refreshing sleep. He came to my bedside, where I lay in the ague-fever,
and said with great animation, amongst other things, "I have had such a
blessed sleep, and feel so refreshed! What kindness in God to provide
such remedies for suffering man!"

At midday his dear wife came to me crying, "Mr. Johnston has fallen
asleep, so deep that I cannot awake him."

My fever had reached the worst stage, but I struggled to my feet got to
his bedside, and found him in a state of coma, with his teeth fixed in
tetanus. With great difficulty we succeeded in slightly rousing him;
with a knife, spoon, and pieces of wood, we forced his teeth open, so as
to administer an emetic with good effects, and also other needful
medicines. For twelve hours, we had to keep him awake by repeated cold
dashes in the face, by ammonia, and by vigorously moving him about. He
then began to speak freely; and next day he rose and walked about a
little. For the two following days, he was sometimes better and
sometimes worse; but we managed to keep him up till the morning of the
21st, when he again fell into a state of coma, from which we failed to
rouse him. At two o'clock in the afternoon he fell asleep--another
Martyr for the testimony of Jesus in those dark and trying Isles,
leaving his young wife in indescribable sorrow, which she strove to bear
with Christian resignation. Having made his coffin and dug his grave, we
two alone at sunset laid him to rest beside my own dear wife and child,
close by the Mission House.



CHAPTER XXX.
KOWIA.

ANOTHER tragedy followed, with, however, much of the light of Heaven
amid its blackness, in the story of Kowia, a Tannese Chief of the
highest rank. Going to Aneityum in youth, he had there become a true
Christian. He married an Aneityumese Christian woman, with whom he lived
very happily and had two beautiful children. Some time before the
measles reached our island he returned to live with me as a Teacher and
to help forward our work on Tanna. He proved himself to be a decided
Christian; he was a real Chief amongst them, dignified in his whole
conduct, and every way a valuable helper to me. Everything was tried by
his own people to induce him to leave me and to renounce the Worship,
offering him every honor and bribe in their power. Failing these, they
threatened to take away all his lands, and to deprive him of
Chieftainship, but he answered "Take all! I shall still stand by Missi
and the Worship of Jehovah."

From threats they passed to galling insults, all which he bore patiently
for Jesu's sake. But one day a party of his people came and sold some
fowls, and an impudent fellow lifted them after they had been bought and
offered to sell them again to me. Kowia shouted, "Don't purchase these,
Missi; I have just bought them for you, and paid for them!"

Thereon the fellow began to mock at him. Kowia, gazing round on all
present, and then on me, rose like a lion awaking out of sleep, and with
flashing eyes exclaimed, "Missi, they think that because I am now a
Christian I have become a coward! a woman! to bear every abuse and
insult they can heap upon me. But I will show them for once that I am no
coward, that I am still their Chief, and that Christianity does not take
away but gives us courage and nerve."

Springing at one man, he wrenched in a moment the mighty club from his
hands, and swinging it in air above his head like a toy, he cried, "Come
any of you, come all against your Chief! My Jehovah God makes my heart
and arms strong. He will help me in this battle as He helps me in other
things, for He inspires me to show you that Christians are no cowards,
though they are men of peace. Come on, and you will yet know that I am
Kowia your Chief."

All fled as he approached them; and he cried, "Where are the cowards
now?" and handed back to the warrior his club. After this they left him
at peace.

He lived at the Mission House, with his wife and children, and was a
great help and comfort to Abraham and myself. He was allowed to go more
freely and fearlessly amongst the people than any of the rest of our
Mission staff. The ague and fever on me at Mr. Johnston's death so
increased and reduced me to such weakness that I had become insensible,
while Abraham and Kowia alone attended to me. On returning to
consciousness I heard as in a dream Kowia lamenting over me, and
pleading that I might recover, so as to hear and speak with him before
he died. Opening my eyes and looking at him, I heard him say, "Missi,
all our Aneityumese are sick. Missi Johnson is dead. You are very sick,
and I am weak and dying. Alas, when I too am dead, who will climb the
trees and get you a cocoanut to drink? And who will bathe your lips and
brow?"

Here he broke down into deep and long weeping, and then resumed, "Missi,
the Tanna-men hate us all on account of the Worship of Jehovah; and I
now fear He is going to take away all His servants from this land, and
leave my people to the Evil One and his service!"

I was too weak to speak, so he went on, bursting into a soliloquy of
prayer: "O Lord Jesus, Missi Johnston is dead; Thou hast taken him away
from this land. Missi Johnston the woman and Missi Paton are very ill; I
am sick, and Thy servants the Aneityumese are all sick and dying. O
Lord, our Father in Heaven, art Thou going to take away all Thy
servants, and Thy Worship from this dark land? What meanest Thou to do,
O Lord? The Tannese hate Thee and Thy Worship and Thy servants; but
surely, O Lord, Thou canst not forsake Tanna and leave our people to die
in the darkness! Oh, make the hearts of this people soft to Thy Word and
sweet to Thy Worship; teach them to fear and love Jesus; and oh, restore
and spare Missi, dear Missi Paton, that Tanna may be saved!"

Touched to the very fountains of my life by such prayers, from a man
once a Cannibal, I began under the breath of God's blessing to revive.

A few days thereafter, Kowia came again to me, and rousing me out of
sleep, cried, "Missi, I am very weak; I am dying. I come to bid you
farewell, and go away to die. I am nearing death now, and I will soon
see Jesus."

I spoke what words of consolation and cheer I could muster, but he
answered, "Missi, since you became ill my dear wife and children are
dead and buried. Most of our Aneityumese are dead, and I am dying. If I
remain on the hill, and die here at the Mission House, there are none
left to help Abraham to carry me down to the grave where my wife and
children are laid. I wish to lie beside them, that we may rise together
in the Great Day when Jesus comes. I am happy, looking unto Jesus! One
thing only deeply grieves me now; I fear God is taking us all away from
Tanna, and will leave my poor people dark and benighted as before, for
they hate Jesus and the Worship of Jehovah. O Missi, pray for them, and
pray for me once more before I go!"

He knelt down at my side, and we prayed for each other and for Tanna. I
then urged him to remain at the Mission House, but he replied, "O Missi,
you do not know how near to death I am! I am just going, and will soon
be with Jesus, and see my wife and children now. While a little strength
is left, I will lean on Abraham's arm, and go down to the graves of my
dear ones and fall asleep there, and Abraham will dig a quiet bed and
lay me beside them. Farewell, Missi, I am very near death now; we will
meet again in Jesus and with Jesus!"

With many tears he dragged himself away; and my heart-strings seemed all
tied round that noble simple soul, and felt like breaking one by one as
he left me there on my bed of fever all alone. Abraham sustained him,
tottering to the place of graves; there he lay down, and immediately
gave up the ghost and slept in Jesus; and there the faithful Abraham
buried him beside his wife and children. Thus died a man who had been a
cannibal Chief, but by the grace of God and the love of Jesus, changed,
transfigured into a character of light and beauty. I lost, in losing
him, one of my best friends and most courageous helpers; but I knew that
day, and I know now, that there is one soul at least from Tanna to sing
the glories of Jesus in Heaven--and, oh, the rapture when I meet him
there!



CHAPTER XXXI.
MARTYRDOM OF THE GORDONS.

MAY 1861 brought with it a sorrowful and tragic event, which fell as the
very shadow of doom across our path; I mean the martyrdom of the Gordons
on Erromanga. Rev. G. N. Gordon was a native of Prince Edward Island,
Nova Scotia, and was born in 1822. He was educated at the Free Church
College, Halifax, and placed as Missionary on Erromanga in June 1857.
Much troubled and opposed by the Sandal-wooders, he had yet acquired the
language and was making progress by inroads on Heathenism. A
considerable number of young men and women embraced the Christian Faith,
lived at the Mission House, and devotedly helped him and his excellent
wife in all their work. But the hurricanes and the measles, already
referred to, caused great mortality in Erromanga also; and the degraded
Traders, who had introduced the plague, in order to save themselves from
revenge, stimulated the superstitions of the Heathen, and charged the
Missionaries there too with causing sickness and all other calamities.
The Sandal-wooders hated him for fearlessly denouncing and exposing
their hideous atrocities.

When Mr. Copeland and I placed the Native Teachers at Black Beach,
Tanna, we ran across to Erromanga in the _John Knox,_ taking a harmonium
to Mrs. Gordon, just come by their order from Sydney. When it was opened
out at the Mission House, and Mrs. Gordon began playing on it and
singing sweet hymns, the native women were in ecstasies. They at once
proposed to go off to the bush and cut each a burden of long grass, to
thatch the printing-office which Mr. Gordon was building in order to
print the Scriptures in their own tongue, if only Mrs. Gordon would play
to them at night and teach them to sing God's praises. They joyfully did
so, and then spent a happy evening singing those hymns. Next day being
Sabbath, we had a delightful season there, about thirty attending Church
and listening eagerly. The young men and women living at the Mission
House were being trained to become Teachers; they were reading a small
book in their own language, telling them the story of Joseph; and the
work every way seemed most hopeful. The Mission House had been removed a
mile or so up a hill, partly for Mrs. Gordon's health, and partly to
escape the annoying and contaminating influence of the Sandal-wooders on
the Christian Natives.

On the 20th May 1861 he was still working at the roofing of the
printing-office, and had sent his lads to bring each a load of the long
grass to finish the thatching. Meantime a party of Erromangans from a
district called Bunk-Hill, under a Chief named Lovu, had been watching
him. They had been to the Mission House inquiring and they had seen him
send away his Christian lads. They then hid in the bush and sent two of
their men to the Missionary to ask for calico. On a piece of wood he
wrote a note to Mrs. Gordon to give them two yards each. They asked him
to go with them to the Mission House, as they needed medicine for a sick
boy, and Lovu their Chief wanted to see him. He tied up in a napkin a
meal of food, which had been brought to him but not eaten, and started
to go with them. He requested the native Narubulet to go on before with
his companion, but they insisted upon his going in front. In crossing a
streamlet, which I visited shortly afterwards, his foot slipped. A blow
was aimed at him with a tomahawk, which he caught; the other man struck,
but his weapon was also caught. One of the tomahawks was then wrenched
out of his grasp. Next moment a blow on the spine laid the dear
Missionary low, and a second on the neck almost severed the head from
the body. The other Natives then rushed from their ambush, and began
dancing round him with frantic shoutings. Mrs. Gordon hearing the noise,
came out and stood in front of the Mission House, looking in the
direction of her husband's working place, and wondering what had
happened. Ouben, one of the party, who had run towards the Station the
moment that Mr. Gordon fell, now approached her. A merciful clump of
trees had hid from her eyes all that had occurred, and she said to
Ouben, "What's the cause of that noise?"

He replied, "Oh, nothing! only the boys amusing themselves!"

Saying, "Where are the boys?" she turned round. Ouben slipped stealthily
behind her, sank his tomahawk into her back, and with another blow
almost severed her head!

Such was the fate of those two devoted servants of the Lord; loving in
their lives, and in their deaths not divided--their spirits, wearing the
crown of martyrdom, entered Glory together to be welcomed by Williams
and Harris, whose blood was shed near the same now hallowed spot for the
name and cause of Jesus. They had labored four years on Erromanga,
amidst trials and dangers manifold, and had not been without tokens of
blessing in the Lord's work. Never more earnest or devoted Missionaries
lived and died in the Heathen field.



CHAPTER XXXII.
SHADOWS DEEPENING ON TANNA.

IMMEDIATELY thereafter, a Sandal-wood Trader brought in his boat a party
of Erromangans by night to Tanna. They assembled our Harbor Chiefs and
people, and urged them to kill us and Mr. and Mrs. Mathieson and the
Teachers, or allow them to do so, as they had killed Mr. and Mrs.
Gordon. Then they proposed to go to Aneityum and kill the Missionaries
there, as the Aneityumese Natives had burned their Church, and thus they
would sweep away the Worship and the servants of Jehovah from all the
New Hebrides. Our Chiefs, however, refused, restrained by the Merciful
One, and the Erromangans returned to their own island in a sulky mood.

Notwithstanding this refusal, as if they wished to reserve the murder
and plunder for themselves, our Mission House was next day thronged with
armed men, some from Inland, others from Mr. Mathieson's Station. They
loudly praised the Erromangans! The leader said again and again in my
hearing, "The men of Erromanga killed Missi Williams long ago. We killed
the Rarotongan and Samoan Teachers. We fought Missi Turner and Missi
Nisbet, and drove them from our island. We killed the Aneityumese
Teachers on Aniwa, and one of Missi Paton's Teachers too. We killed
several white men, and no Man-of-war punished us. Let us talk over this,
about killing Missi Paton and the Aneityumese, till we see if any
Man-of-war comes to punish the Erromangans. If not, let us unite, let us
kill these Missionaries, let us drive the Worship of Jehovah from our
land!"

An Inland Chief said or rather shouted in my hearing, "My love to the
Erromangans! They are strong and brave men, the Erromangans. They have
killed their Missi and his wife, while we only talk about it. They have
destroyed the Worship and driven away Jehovah!"

I stood amongst them and protested, "God will yet punish the Erromangans
for such wicked deeds. God has heard all your bad talk, and will punish
it in His own time and way."

But they shouted me down, amidst great excitement, with the cry, "Our
love to the Erromangans! Our love to the Erromangans!"

After I left them, Abraham heard them say, "Miaki is lazy. Let us meet
in every village, and talk with each other. Let us all agree to kill
Missi and the Aneityumese for the first of our Chiefs that dies."

The night after the visit of the Erromangan boat, and the sad news of
Mr. and Mrs. Gordon's death, the Tannese met on their village
dancing-grounds and held high festival in praise of the Erromangans. Our
best friend, old Nowar the Chief, who had worn shirt and kilt for some
time and had come regularly to the Worship, relapsed once more; he
painted his face, threw off his clothing, resumed his bow and arrows and
his tomahawk, of which he boasted that it had killed very many men and
at least one woman! On my shaming him for professing to worship Jehovah
and yet uniting with the Heathen in rejoicing over the murder of His
servants on Erromanga, he replied to this effect, "Truly, Missi, they
have done well. If the people of Erromanga are severely punished for
this by the Man-of-war, we will all hear of it; and our people will then
fear to kill you and the other Missionaries, so as to destroy the
Worship of Jehovah. Now, they say, the Erromangans killed Missi Williams
and the Samoan, Rarotongan, and Aneityumese Teachers, besides other
white men, and no Man-of-war has punished either them or us. If they are
not punished for what has been done on Erromanga, nothing else can keep
them here from killing you and me and all who worship at the Mission
House!"

I answered, "Nowar, let us all be strong to love and serve Jehovah
Jesus. If it be for our good and His glory, He will protect us; if not,
He will take us to be with Himself. We will not be killed by their bad
talk. Besides, what avails it to us, when dead and gone, if even a
Man-of-war should come and punish our murderers?"

He shrugged his shoulders, answering, "Missi, by and by you will see.
Mind, I tell you the truth. I know our Tannese people. How is it that
Jehovah did not protect the Gordons and the Erromangan worshipers? If
the Erromangans are not punished, neither will our Tannese be punished,
though they murder all Jehovah's people!"

I felt for Nowar's struggling faith, just trembling on the verge of
Cannibalism yet, and knowing so little of the true Jehovah.

Groups of Natives assembled suspiciously near us and sat whispering
together. They urged old Abraham to return to Aneityum by the very first
opportunity, as our lives were certain to be taken, but he replied, "I
will not leave Missi."

Abraham and I were thrown much into each other's company, and he stood
by me in every danger. We conducted Family Prayers alternately; and that
evening he said during the prayer in Tannese, in which language alone we
understood each other:--

"O Lord, our Heavenly Father, they have murdered Thy servants on
Erromanga. They have banished the Aneityumese from dark Tanna. And now
they want to kill Missi Paton and me! Our great King, protect us, and
make their hearts soft and sweet to Thy Worship. Or, if they are
permitted to kill us, do not Thou hate us, but wash us in the blood of
Thy dear Son Jesus Christ. He came down to Earth and shed His blood for
sinners; through Him forgive us our sins and take us to Heaven--that
good place where Missi Gordon the man and Missi Gordon the woman and all
thy dear servants now are singing Thy praise and seeing Thy face. Our
Lord, our hearts are pained just now, and we weep over the death of Thy
dear servants; but make our hearts good and strong for Thy cause, and
take thou away all our fears. Make us two and all Thy servants strong
for Thee and for Thy Worship; and if they kill us two, let us die
together in Thy good work, like Thy servants Missi Gordon the man and
Missi Gordon the woman."

In this manner his great simple soul poured itself out to God; and my
heart melted within me as it had never done under any prayer poured from
the lips of cultured Christian men!

Under the strain of these events, Miaki came to our house, and attacked
me in hearing of his men to this effect, "You and the Worship are the
cause of all the sickness and death now taking place on Tanna! The
Erromanga men killed Missi Gordon the man and also the woman, and they
are all well long ago. The Worship is killing us all; and the Inland
people will kill us for keeping you and the Worship here; for we love
the conduct of Tanna, but we hate the Worship. We must kill you and it,
and we shall all be well again."

I tried to reason firmly and kindly with them, showing them that their
own conduct was destroying them, and that our presence and the Worship
could only be a blessing to them in every way, if only they would accept
of it and give up their evil ways. I referred to a poor girl, whom Miaka
and his men had stolen and abused--that they knew such conduct to be
bad, and that God would certainly punish them for it.

He replied, "Such is the conduct of Tanna. Our fathers loved and
followed it, we love and follow it, and if the Worship condemns it, we
will kill you and destroy the Worship."

I said, "The Word of the Holy God condemns all bad conduct, and I must
obey my God in trying to lead you to give it up, and to love and serve
His Son Jesus our Saviour. If I refuse to obey my God, He will punish
me."

He declared that his heart was good, that his conduct was good, but that
he hated the teaching of the Worship. He had a party of men staying with
him from the other side of the island, and he sent back a present of
four large fat hogs to their Chiefs, with a message as to the killing of
the Mathiesons. If that were done, his hands would be strengthened in
dealing with us.

To know what was best to be done, in such trying circumstances, was an
abiding perplexity. To have left altogether, when so surrounded by
perils and enemies, at first seemed the wisest course, and was the
repeated advice of many friends. But again, I had acquired the language,
and had gained a considerable Influence amongst the Natives, and there
were a number warmly attached both to himself and to the Worship. To
have left would have been to lose all, which to me was heartrending;
therefore, risking all with Jesus, I held on while the hope of being
spared longer had not absolutely and entirely vanished.

The following quotation from a letter of the late A. Clark, Esq., J. P.,
Auckland, New Zealand, will show what Bishop Selwyn thought of my
standing fast on Tanna at the post of duty, and he knew what he was
writing about. These are the words:--"'Talk of bravery! talk of heroism!
The man who leads a forlorn hope is a coward in comparison with him,
who, on Tanna, thus alone, without a sustaining look or cheering word
from one of his own race, regards it as his duty to hold on in the face
of such dangers. We read of the soldier, found after the lapse of ages
among the ruins of Herculaneum, who stood firm at his post amid the
fiery rain destroying all around him, thus manifesting the rigidity of
the discipline among those armies of Ancient Rome which conquered the
World. Mr. Paton was subjected to no such iron law. He might with honor,
when offered to him, have sought a temporary asylum in Auckland, where
he would have been heartily received. But he was moved by higher
considerations. He chose to remain, and God knows whether at this moment
he is in the land of the living!' When the Bishop told us that he
declined leaving Tanna by H. M. S. _Pelorus,_ he added, 'And I like him
all the better for so doing!'"

For my part I feel quite confident that, in like circumstances, that
noble Bishop of God would have done the same. I, born in the bosom of
the Scottish Covenant descended from those who suffered persecution for
Christ's honor, would have been unworthy of them and of my Lord had I
deserted my post for danger only. Yet not to me, but to the Lord who
sustained me, be all the praise and the glory.



CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE VISIT OF THE COMMODORE.

AT that time, though my life was daily attempted, a dear lad, named
Katasian, was coming six miles regularly to the Worship and to receive
frequent instruction. One day, when engaged in teaching him, I caught a
man stealing the blind from my window. On trying to prevent him, he
aimed his great club at me, but I seized the heavy end of it with both
my hands as it swung past my head, and held on with all my might. What a
prayer went up from me to God at that dread moment! The man, astonished
and abashed at my kind words and appeal, slunk away and left me in
peace. God never took away from me the consciousness that it was still
right for me to be kind and forgiving, and to hope that I might lead
them to love and imitate Jesus.

For some time, Nouka and his wife and daughter--a handsome girl, his
only child--and Miaki's principal wife and her two sons, and nine Chiefs
attended Worship regularly at the Mission House, on Sabbaths and on the
afternoon of every Wednesday. In ail, about sixty persons somewhat
regularly waited on our ministrations at this time; and amidst all
perils I was encouraged, and my heart was full of hope. Yet one evening
when feeling more consoled and hopeful than ever before, a musket was
discharged at my very door, and I was constrained to realize that we
were in the midst of death. Father, our times are in Thy hand!

In my Mission School, I offered as a prize a red shirt for the first
Chief who knew the whole Alphabet without a mistake. It was won by an
Inikahi Chief, who was once a terror to the whole community. Afterwards,
when trying to teach the A B C to others, he proceeded in something like
this graphic style: "A is a man's legs with the body cut off; B is like
two eyes; C is a three-quarters moon; D is like one eye; E is a man with
one club under his feet and another over his head; F is a man with a
large club and a smaller one," etc., etc.; L was like a man's foot; Q
was the talk of the dove, etc. Then he would say, "Remember these
things; you will soon get hold of the letters and be able to read. I
have taught my little child, who can scarcely walk, the names of them
all. They are not hard to hold, but soft and easy. You will soon learn
to read the book, if you try it with all your heart!"

But Miaki was still our evil genius, and every incident seemed to be
used by him for one settled purpose of hate. A Kaserumini Chief, for
instance, and seven men took away a young girl in a canoe to Aniwa, to
be sold to friends there for tobacco leaf, which the Aniwans cultivated
extensively. They also prepared to take revenge there for a child's
death, killed in their belief by the sorcery of an Aniwan. When within
sight of the shore, the canoes were upset and all were said to have been
devoured by sharks, excepting only one canoe out of six. This one
returned to Tanna and reported that there were two white Traders living
on Aniwa, that they had plenty of ammunition and tobacco, but that they
would not come to Tanna as long as a Missionary lived there. Under this
fresh incitement, a party of Miaki's men came to my house, praising the
Erromangans for the murder of their Missionaries and threatening me.

Even the friendly Nowar said, "Miaki will make a great wind and sink any
Man-of-war that comes here. We will take the Man-of-war and kill all
that are on board. If you and Abraham do not leave us we will kill you
both, for we must have the Traders and the powder."

Just as they were assuming a threatening attitude, other Natives came
running with the cry, "Missi, the _John Knox_ is coming into the Harbor,
and two great ships of fire, Men-of war, behind her, coming very fast!"

I retorted upon Nowar and the hostile company, "Now is your time! Make
all possible haste! Let Miaki raise his great wind now; get all your men
ready; I will tell them that you mean to fight, and you will find them
always ready!"

Miaki's men fled away in unconcealed terror; but Nowar came to me and
said "Missi, I know that my talk is all lies, but if I speak the truth,
they will kill me!"

I answered, "Trust in Jehovah, the same God who sent these vessels now,
to protect us from being murdered." But Nowar always wavered.

And now from all parts of the island those who were most friendly
flocked to us. They were clamorous to have Miaki and some others of our
enemies punished by the Man-of-war in presence of the Natives; and then
they would be strong to speak in our defense and to lead the Tannese to
worship Jehovah.

Commodore Seymour, Captain Hume, and Dr. Geddie came on shore. After
inquiring into everything, the Commodore urged me to leave at once, and
very kindly offered to remove me to Aneityum, or Auckland, or any place
of safety that I preferred. Again, however, I hesitated to leave my dear
benighted Tannese, knowing that both Stations would be instantly broken
up, that all the influence gained would be thrown away, that the Church
would lose all that had been expended, and above all, that those
friendly to us would be left to persecution and destruction. For a long
time I had seldom taken off my clothes at night, needing to be
constantly on the alert to start at a moment's notice; yet, while hope
burned within my soul I could not withdraw, so I resolved to risk all
with my dear Lord Jesus, and remained at my post. At my request,
however, they met and talked with all the leaders who could be assembled
at the Mission House. The Natives declared frankly that they liked me,
but did not like the Worship. The Commodore reminded them that they had
invited me to land among them, and had pledged their word more than once
to protect me; he argued with them that as they had no fault to find
with me, but only with the Worship, which could do them only good, they
must bind themselves to protect my life. Miaki and others promised, and
gave him their hand to do so. Lathella, an Aneityumese Chief, who was
with Dr. Geddie, interpreted for him and them, Dr. Geddie explaining
fully to Lathella in Aneityumese what the Commodore said in English, and
Lathella explaining all to the Tannese in their own tongue.

At last old Mouka spoke out for all and said, "Captain Paddan and all
the Traders tell us that the Worship causes all our sickness and death.
They will not trade with us, nor sell us tobacco, pipes, powder, balls,
caps, and muskets, till we kill our Missi like the Erromangans, but
after that they will send a Trader to live among us and give us plenty
of all these things. We love Missi. But when the Traders tell us that
the Worship makes us sick, and when they bribe us with tobacco and
powder to kill him or drive him away, some believe them and our hearts
do bad conduct to Missi. Let Missi remain here, and we will try to do
good conduct to Missi; but you must tell Queen 'Toria of her people's
bad treatment of us, and that she must prevent her Traders from killing
us with their measles, and from telling us lies to make us do bad
conduct to Missi! If they come to us and talk as before, our hearts are
very dark and may again lead us to bad conduct to Missi."

After this little parley, the Commodore invited us all on board, along
with the Chiefs. They saw about three hundred brave marines ranked up on
deck, and heard a great cannon discharged. For all such efforts to
impress them and open their eyes, I felt profoundly grateful; but too
clearly I knew and saw that only the grace of God could lastingly change
them! They were soon back to their old arguments, and were heard saying
to one another, "If no punishment is inflicted on the Erromangans for
murdering the Missi there, we fear the bad conduct of the Tannese will
continue."

No punishment was inflicted at Erromanga, and the Tannese were soon as
bold and wicked as ever. For instance, while the Man-of-war lay in the
Harbor, Nowar kept himself closely concealed; but no sooner had she
sailed than the cowardly fellow came out, laughing at the others, and
protesting that he was under no promise and was free to act as he
pleased! Yet in the hour of danger he generally proved to be our friend;
such was his vacillating character. Nor was Miaki very seriously
impressed. Mr. Mathieson shortly thereafter sent his boat round to me,
being again short of European food. On his crew leaving her to deliver
their message to me, some of Miaki's men at once jumped into the boat
and started off round the island in search of kava. I went to Miaki, to
ask that the boat might be brought back soon, but on seeing me he ran
for his club and aimed to strike me. I managed to seize it, and to hold
on, pleading with God and talking with Miaki, till by interference of
some friendly Natives his wrath was assuaged a little. Returning home, I
sent food overland to keep the Mathiesons going till the boat returned,
which she did in about eight days. Thus light and shadow pursued each
other, the light brightening for a moment, but upon the whole the
shadows deepening.



CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE WAR CHIEFS IN COUNCIL.

A TIME of great excitement amongst the Natives now prevailed. War, war,
nothing but war was spoken of! Preparations for war were being made in
all the villages far and near. Fear sat on every face, and armed bands
kept watching each other, as if uncertain where the war was to begin or
by whom. All work was suspended, and that war spirit was let loose which
rouses the worst passions of human nature. Again we found ourselves the
center of conflict, one party set for killing us or driving us away; the
other wishing to retain us, while all old bitter grievances were also
dragged into their speeches.

Miaki and Nouka said, "If you will keep Missi and his Worship, take him
with you to your own land, for we will not have him to live at the
Harbor."

Ian, the great Inland Chief, rose in wrath and said, "On whose lands
does the Missi live, yours or ours? Who fight against the Worship and
all good, who are the thieves and murderers, who tell the lies, you or
we? We wish peace, but you will have war. We like Missi and the Worship,
but you hate them and say, 'Take him to your own land!' It is our land
on which he now lives; it is his own land which he bought from you, but
which our fathers sold Missi Turner long ago. The land was not yours to
sell; it was really ours. Your fathers stole it from us long ago by war;
but we would not have asked it back, had you not asked us to take Missi
away. Now we will defend him on it, and he will teach us and our people
in our own land!" So meeting after meeting broke into fiery speech, and
separated with many threats.

To the next great meeting I was invited, but did not go, contenting
myself with a message pleading that they should live at peace and on no
account go to war with each other. But Ian himself came for me. I said,
"Ian, I have told you my whole heart. Go not to that meeting. I will
rather leave the island or die, than see you going to war about me!"

He answered, "Missi, come with me, come now!"

I replied, "Ian, you are surely not taking me away to kill me? If you
are, my God will punish it."

His only reply was, "Follow me, follow me quickly."

I felt constrained to go. He strode on before me till we reached the
great village of his ancestors. His followers, armed largely with
muskets as well as native weapons, filled one half the Village Square or
dancing-ground. Miaki, Nouka, and their whole party sat in manifest
terror upon the other half. Marching into the center, he stood with me
by his side, and proudly looking round, exclaimed, "Missi, these are my
men and your friends! We are met to defend you and the Worship." Then
pointing across to the other side, he cried aloud, "These are your
enemies and ours! The enemies of the Worship, the disturbers of the
peace on Tanna! Missi, say the word, and the muskets of my men will
sweep all opposition away, and the Worship will spread and we will all
be strong for it on Tanna. We will not shoot without your leave; but if
you refuse they will kill you and persecute us and our children, and
banish Jehovah's Worship from our land."

I said, "I love all of you alike. I am here to teach you how to turn
away from all wickedness, to worship and serve Jehovah, and to live in
peace. How can I approve of any person being killed for me or for the
Worship? My God would be angry at me and punish me, if I did!"

He replied, "Then, Missi, you will be murdered and the Worship
destroyed."

I then stood forth in the middle before them all and cried, "You may
shoot or murder me, but I am your best friend. I am not afraid to die.
You will only send me the sooner to my Jehovah God, whom I love and
serve, and to my dear Saviour Jesus Christ, who died for me and for you,
and who sent me here to tell you all His love. If you will only love and
serve Him and give up your bad conduct, you will be happy. But if you
kill me, His messenger, rest assured that He will in His own time and
way punish you. This is my word to you all; my love to you all!"

So saying, I turned to leave; and Ian strode suddenly away and stood at
the head of his men, crying, "Missi, they will kill you! they will kill
us, and you will be to blame!"

Miaki and Nouka, full of deceit, now cried out, "Missi's word is good!
Let us all obey it. Let us all worship."

An old man, Sirawia, one of Ian's under-chiefs, then said, "Miaki and
Nouka say that the land on which Missi lives was theirs; though they
sold it to him and he has paid them for it, they all know that it was
ours, and is yet ours by right; but if they let Missi live on it in
peace, we will all live at peace, and worship Jehovah. And if not, we
will surely claim it again."

Miaki and his party hereon went off to their plantations, and brought a
large present of food to Ian and his men as a peace-offering. This they
accepted; and the next day Ian and his men brought Miaki a return
present and said, "You know that Missi lives on our land? Take our
present, be friends, and let him live quietly and teach us all.
Yesterday you said his word was good; obey it now, else we will punish
you and defend the Missi."

Miaki accepted the token, and gave good promises for the future. Ian
then came to the hill-top near our house, by which passed the public
path, and cried aloud in the hearing of all, "Abraham, tell Missi that
you and he now live on our land. This path is the march betwixt Miaki
and us. We have this day bought back the land of our fathers by a great
price to prevent war. Take of our breadfruits and also of our cocoanuts
what you require, for you are our friends and living on our land, and we
will protect you and the Worship!"



CHAPTER XXXV.
UNDER KNIFE AND TOMAHAWK.

CHAFED at the upsetting of all their plans and full of revenge, Nouka
and Miaki and their allies declared publicly that they were now going to
kill Ian by sorcery, _i. e._ by Nahak, more feared by the poor Tannese
than the field of battle. Strange to say. Ian became sick shortly after
the Sacred Men had made the declaration about their Nahak-sorcery. I
attended him, and for a time he recovered, and appeared very grateful.
But he soon fell sick again. I sent him and the Chief next under him a
blanket each; I also gave shirts and calico to a number of his leading
men. They wore them and seemed grateful and pleased. Ian, however,
gradually sank and got worse. He had every symptom of being poisoned, a
thing easily accomplished, as they know and use many deadly poisons. His
sufferings were very great, which prevented me from ascribing his
collapse to mere superstitious terror. I did all that could be done; but
all thought him dying, and of course by sorcery. His people were angry
at me for not consenting before to their shooting of Miaki; and Miaki's
people were now rejoicing that Ian was being killed by Nahak.

One night, his brother and a party came for me to go and see Ian, but I
declined to go till the morning for fear of the fever and ague. On
reaching his village, I saw many people about, and feared that I had
been led into a snare; but I at once entered into his house to talk and
pray with him, as he appeared to be dying. After prayer, I discovered
that I was left alone with him, and that all the people had retired from
the village; and I knew that, according to their custom, this meant
mischief. Ian said, "Come near me, and sit by my bedside to talk with
me, Missi."

I did so, and while speaking to him he lay as if lost in a swoon of
silent meditation. Suddenly he drew from the sugar-cane leaf thatch
close to his bed a large butcher-like knife, and instantly feeling the
edge of it with his other hand, he pointed it to within a few inches of
my heart and held it quivering there, all atremble with excitement. I
durst neither move nor speak, except that my heart kept praying to the
Lord to spare me, or if my time was come to take me home to Glory with
Himself. There passed a few moments of awful suspense. My sight went and
came. Not a word had been spoken, except to Jesus; and then Ian wheeled
the knife around, thrust it into the sugar-cane leaf, and cried to me,
"Go, go quickly!"

Next moment I was on the road. Not a living soul was to be seen about
the village. I understood then that it had been agreed that Ian was to
kill me, and that they had all withdrawn so as not to witness it, that
when the Man-of-war came to inquire about me, Ian would be dead, and no
punishment could overtake the murderer. I walked quietly till quite free
of the village, lest some hid in their houses might observe me.
Thereafter, fearing that they, finding I had escaped, might overtake and
murder me, I ran for my life a weary four miles till I reached the
Mission House, faint yet praising God for such a deliverance. Poor Ian
died soon after, and his people strangled one of his wives and hanged
another, and took out the three bodies together in a canoe and sank them
in the sea.

Miaki was jubilant over having killed his enemy by Nahak; but the Inland
people now assembled in thousands to help Sirawia and his brother to
avenge that death on Miaki, Nouka, and Karewick. These, on the other
hand, boasted that they would kill all their enemies by Nahak-sorcery,
and would call up a hurricane to destroy their houses, fruit-trees, and
plantations. Immediately after Miaki's threat about bringing a storm,
one of their great hurricanes actually smote that side of the island and
laid everything waste. His enemies were greatly enraged, and many of the
injured people united with them in demanding revenge on Miaki. Hitherto
I had done everything in my power to prevent war, but now it seemed
inevitable, and both parties sent word that if Abraham and I kept to the
Mission House no one would harm us. We had little faith in any of their
promises, but there was no alternative for us.

On the following Saturday, 18th January 1862, the war began. Musket
after musket was discharged quite near us, and the bush all around rang
with the yell of their war-cry, which if once heard will never be
forgotten. It came nearer and nearer, for Miaki fled, and his people
took shelter behind and around our house. We were placed in the heart of
danger, and the balls flew thick all around us. In the afternoon Ian's
brother and his party retired, and Miaki quickly sent messengers and
presents to the Inikahimini and Kaserumini districts, to assemble all
their people and help him "to fight Missi and the Tannese who were
friends of the Worship." He said, "Let us cook his body and Abraham's,
and distribute them to every village on this side of the island!"

Yet all the while Miaki assured me that he had sent a friendly message.
The war went on, and poor Nowar the Chief protected us, till he had a
spear broken into his right knee. The enemy would have carried him off
to feast on his body; but his young men, shouting wildly his name and
battle-cry, rushed in with great impetuosity and carried their wounded
Chief home in triumph. The Inland people now discharged muskets at my
house and beat against the walls with their clubs. They smashed in the
door and window of our storeroom, broke open boxes and casks, tore my
books to pieces and scattered them about, and carried off everything for
which they cared, including my boat, mast, oars, and sails. They broke
into Abraham's house and plundered it; after which they made a rush at
the bedroom, into which we were locked, firing muskets, yelling, and
trying to break it in. A Chief, professing to be sorry for us, called me
to the window, but on seeing me he sent a tomahawk through it crying,
"Come on, let us kill him now!"

I replied, "My Jehovah God will punish you; a Man-of-war will come and
punish you, if you kill Abraham, his wife, or me."

He retorted, "It's all lies about a Man-of-war! They did not punish the
Erromangans. They are afraid of us. Come on, let us kill them!"

He raised his tomahawk and aimed to strike my forehead, many muskets
were uplifted as if to shoot, so I raised a revolver in my right hand
and pointed it at them. The Rev. Joseph Copeland had left it with me on
a former visit. I did not wish it, but he insisted upon leaving it,
saying that the very knowledge that I had such a weapon might save my
life. Truly, on this occasion it did so. Though it was harmless they
fell back quickly. My immediate assailant dropped to the ground, crying,
"Missi has got a short musket! He will shoot you all!"

After lying flat on the ground for a little, they all got up and ran to
the nearest bush, where they continued yelling about and showing their
muskets. Towards nightfall they left, loaded with the plunder of the
store and of Abraham's house. So God once more graciously protected us
from falling into their cruel hands.

In the evening, after they left, I went to Miaki and Nouka. Miaki, with
a sneer, said, "Missi, where was Jehovah to-day? There was no Jehovah
to-day to protect you. It's all lies about Jehovah. They will come and
kill you, and Abraham, and his wife, and cut your bodies into pieces to
be cooked and eaten in every village upon Tanna."

I said, "Surely, when you had planned all this, and brought them to kill
us and steal all our property, Jehovah did protect us, or we would not
have been here!"

He replied, "There was no Jehovah to-day! We have no fear of any
Man-of-war. They dare not punish us. They durst not punish the
Erromangans for murdering the Gordons. They will talk to us and say we
must not do so again, and give us a present. That is all. We fear
nothing. The talk of all Tanna is that we will kill you and seize all
your property tomorrow."

I warned him that the punishment of a Man-of-war can only reach the body
and the land, but that Jehovah's punishment reached both body and soul
in Time and in Eternity.

He replied, "Who fears Jehovah? He was not here to protect you to-day!"

"Yes," I said, "my Jehovah God is here now. He hears all we say, sees
all we do, and will punish the wicked and protect His own people."

After this, a number of the people sat down around me, and I prayed with
them. But I left with a very heavy heart, feeling that Miaki was
evidently bent on our destruction.



CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

I SENT Abraham to consult Nowar, who had defended us till disabled by a
spear in the right knee. He sent a canoe by Abraham, advising me to take
some of my goods in it to his house by night, and he would try to
protect them and us. The risk was so great we could only take a very
little. Enemies were on every hand to cut off our flight, and Miaki, the
worst of all, whose village had to be passed in going to Nowar's. In the
darkness of the Mission House, we durst not light a candle for fear of
some one seeing and shooting us. Not one of Nowar's men durst come to
help us. But in the end it made no difference, for Nowar and his men
kept what was taken there, as their portion of the plunder. Abraham, his
wife, and I waited anxiously for the morning light. Miaki, the false and
cruel, came to assure us that the Heathen would not return that day.
Yet, as daylight came in, Miaki himself stood and blew a great conch not
far from our house. I ran out to see why this trumpet-shell had been
blown, and found it was the signal for a great company of howling armed
savages to rush down the hill on the other side of the bay and make
straight for the Mission House. We had not a moment to lose. To have
remained would have been certain death to us all, and also to Matthew, a
Teacher just arrived from Mr. Mathieson's Station. Though I am by
conviction a strong Calvinist, I am no Fatalist. I held on while one
gleam of hope remained. Escape for life was now the only path of duty. I
called the Teachers, locked the door, and made quickly for Nowar's
village. There was not a moment left to carry anything with us. In the
issue, Abraham and his wife and I lost all our earthly goods, and all
our clothing except what we had on. My Bible, the few translations which
I had made into Tannese, and a light pair of blankets I carried with me.

We durst not choose the usual path along the beach, for there our
enemies would have quickly overtaken us. We entered the bush in the hope
of getting away unobserved. But a cousin of Miaki, evidently secreted to
watch us, sprang from behind a breadfruit tree, and swinging his
tomahawk, aimed it at my brow with a fiendish look. Avoiding it I turned
upon him and said in a firm bold voice, "If you dare to strike me, my
Jehovah God will punish you. He is here to defend me now!"

The man, trembling, looked all round as if to see the God who was my
defender, and the tomahawk gradually lowered at his side. With my eye
fixed upon him, I gradually moved backwards in the track of the
Teachers, and God mercifully restrained him from following me.

On reaching Nowar's village unobserved, we found the people
terror-stricken, crying, rushing about in despair at such a host of
armed savages approaching. I urged them to ply their axes, cut down
trees, and blockade the path. For a little they wrought vigorously at
this; but when, so far as eye could reach, they saw the shore covered
with armed men rushing on towards their village, they were overwhelmed
with fear, they threw away their axes and weapons of war, they cast
themselves headlong on the ground, and they knocked themselves against
the trees as if to court death before it came. They cried, "Missi, it's
of no use! We will all be killed and eaten to-day! See what a host are
coming against us."

Mothers snatched up little children and ran to hide in the bush. Others
waded as far as they could into the sea with them, holding their heads
above the water. The whole village collapsed in a condition of
indescribable terror. Nowar, lame with his wounded knee, got a canoe
turned upside-down and sat upon it where he could see the whole
approaching multitude. He said, "Missi, sit down beside me, and pray to
our Jehovah God, for if He does not send deliverance now, we are all
dead men. They will kill us all on your account, and that quickly. Pray,
and I will watch!"

They had gone to the Mission House and broken in the door, and finding
that we had escaped, they rushed on to Nowar's village. For, as they
began to plunder the bedroom, Nouka said, "Leave everything. Missi will
come back for his valuable things at night, and then we will get them
and him also!"

So he nailed up the door, and they all marched for Nowar's. We prayed as
one can only pray when in the jaws of death and on the brink of
Eternity. We felt that God was near, and omnipotent to do what seemed
best in His sight. When the savages were about three hundred yards off,
at the foot of a hill leading up to the village, Nowar touched my knee,
saying. "Missi, Jehovah is hearing! They are all standing still."

Had they come on they would have met with no opposition, for the people
were scattered in terror. On gazing shorewards, and round the Harbor, as
far as we could see, was a dense host of warriors, but all were standing
still, and apparently absolute silence prevailed. We saw a messenger or
herald running along the approaching multitude, delivering some tidings
as he passed, and then disappearing in the bush. To our amazement, the
host began to turn, and slowly marched back in great silence, and
entered the remote bush at the head of the Harbor. Nowar and his people
were in ecstasies, crying out, "Jehovah has heard Missi's prayer!
Jehovah has protected us and turned them away back."

About midday, Nouka and Miaki sent their cousin Jonas, who had always
been friendly to me, to say that I might return to my house in safety,
as they were now carrying the war inland. Jonas had spent some years on
Samoa, and been much with Traders in Sydney, and spoke English well; but
we felt they were deceiving us. Next night, Abraham ventured to creep
near the Mission House, to test whether we might return, and save some
valuable things, and get a change of clothing. The house appeared to
stand as when they nailed up the door. But a large party of Miaki's
allies at once enclosed Abraham, and, after asking many questions about
me, they let him go since I was not there. Had I gone there they would
certainly that night have killed me. Again, at midnight Abraham and his
wife and Matthew went to the Mission House, and found Nouka, Miaki, and
Karewick near by, concealed in the bush among the reeds. Once more they
enclosed them, thinking I was there too, but Nouka, finding that I was
not, cried out, "Don't kill them just now! Wait till Missi comes."

Hearing this, Matthew slipped into the bush and escaped. Abraham's wife
waded into the sea, and they allowed her to get away. Abraham was
allowed to go to the Mission House, but he too crept into the bush, and
after an anxious waiting they all came back to me in safety. We now gave
up all hope of recovering anything from the house.

Towards morning, when Miaki and his men saw that I was not coming back
to deliver myself into their hands, they broke up my house and stole all
they could carry away. They tore my books, and scattered them about.
They took away the type of my printing-press, to be made into bullets
for their muskets. For similar uses they melted down the zinc lining of
my boxes, and everything else that could be melted. What they could not
take away, they destroyed.

As the night advanced, Nowar declared that I must leave his village
before morning, else he and his people would be killed for protecting
me. He advised me, as the sea was good, to try for Mr. Mathieson's
Station; but he objected to my taking away any of my property--he would
soon follow with it himself! But how to sail? Miaki had stolen my boat,
mast, sails, and oars, as also an excellent canoe made for me and paid
for by me on Aneityum; and he had threatened to shoot any person that
assisted me to launch either the one or the other. The danger still
increasing, Nowar said, "You cannot remain longer in my house! My son
will guide you to the large chestnut tree in my plantation in the bush.
Climb up into it, and remain there till the moon rises."

Being entirely at the mercy of such doubtful and vacillating friends, I,
though perplexed, felt it best to obey. I climbed into the tree, and was
left there alone in the bush. The hours I spent there live all before me
as if it were but of yesterday. I heard the frequent discharging of
muskets, and the yells of the savages. Yet I sat there among the
branches, as safe in the arms of Jesus. Never, in all my sorrows, did my
Lord draw nearer to me, and speak more soothingly in my soul, than when
the moonlight flickered among these chestnut leaves, and the night air
played on my throbbing brow, as I told all my heart to Jesus. Alone, yet
not alone! If it be to glorify my God, I will not grudge to spend many
nights alone in such a tree, to feel again my Saviour's spiritual
presence, to enjoy His consoling fellowship. If thus thrown back upon
your own soul, alone, all, all alone, in the midnight, in the bush, in
the very embrace of death itself, have you a Friend that will not fail
you then?



CHAPTER XXXVII.
FIVE HOURS IN A CANOE.

GLADLY would I have lingered there for one night of comparative peace!
But Nowar sent his son to call me down from the tree, and to guide me to
the shore where he himself was, as it was now time to take to sea in the
canoe. Pleading for my Lord's continuing presence, I had to obey. My
life and the lives of my Aneityumese now hung upon a very slender
thread; the risk was almost equally great from our friends so-called, or
from our enemies. Had I been a stranger to Jesus and to prayer, my
reason would verily have given way, but my comfort and joy sprang out of
these words, "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee; lo, I am with
you alway!" Pleading these promises, I followed my guide. We reached the
beach, just inside the Harbor, at a beautiful white sandy bay on Nowar's
ground, from which our canoe was to start. A good number of the Natives
had assembled there to see us off. Arkurat, having got a large roll of
calico for the loan of his canoe, hid it away, and then refused the
canoe, saying that if he had to escape with his family he would require
it. He demanded an ax, a sail for his canoe, and a pair of blankets. As
Koris had the ax and another had the quilt, I gave the quilt to him for
a sail, and the ax and blankets for the canoe, in fact, these few relics
of our earthly all at Nowar's were coveted by the savages and endangered
our lives, and it was as well to get rid of them altogether. He cruelly
proposed a small canoe for two; but I had hired the canoe for five, and
insisted upon getting it, as he had been well paid for it. As he only
laughed and mocked us, I prepared to start and travel overland to Mr.
Mathieson's Station. He then said, "My wrath is over! You may take it
and go."

We launched it, but now he refused to let us go till daylight. He had
always been one of my best friends, but now appeared bent on a quarrel,
so I had to exercise much patience with him and them. Having launched
it, he said I had hired the canoe but not the paddles. I protested,
"Surely you know we hired the paddles too. What could we do without
paddles?"

But Arkurat lay down and pretended to have fallen asleep, snoring on the
sand, and could not be awaked. I appealed to Nowar, who only said, "That
is his conduct, Missi, our conduct!"

I replied, "As he has got the blankets which I saved to keep me from
ague and fever, and I have nothing left now but the clothes I have on,
surely you will give me paddles."

Nowar gave me one. Returning to the village, friends gave me one each
till I got other three. Now Arkurat started up, and refused to let us
go. A Chief and one of his men, who lived on the other side of the
island near to where we were going, and who was hired by me to go with
us and help in paddling the canoe, drew back also and refused to go.
Again I offered to leave the canoe, and walk overland if possible, when
Faimungo, the Chief who had refused to go with us, came forward and
said, "Missi, they are all deceiving you! The sea is so rough, you
cannot go by it; and if you should get round the weather point, Miaki
has men appointed to shoot you as you pass the Black Rocks, while by
land all the paths are guarded by armed men. I tell you the truth,
having heard all their talk. Miaki and Karewick say they hate the
Worship, and will kill you. They killed your goats, and stole all your
property yesterday. Farewell!"

The Teachers, the boy, and I now resolved to enter the canoe and attempt
it, as the only gleam of hope left to us. My party of five embarked in
our frail canoe; Abraham first, I next, Matthew after me, the boy at the
steering paddle, and Abraham's wife sitting in the bottom, where she
might hold on while it continued to float. For a mile or more we got
away nicely under the lee of the island, but when we turned to go south
for Mr. Mathieson's Station, we met the full force of wind and sea,
every wave breaking over and almost swamping our canoe. The Native lad
at the helm paddle stood up crying, "Missi, this is the conduct of the
sea! It swallows up all who seek its help."

I answered, "We do not seek help from it, but from Jehovah Jesus."

Our danger became very great, as the sea broke over and lashed around
us. My faithful Aneityumese, overcome with terror, threw down their
paddles, and Abraham said, "Missi, we are all drowned now! We are food
for the sharks. We might as well be eaten by the Tannese as by fishes;
but God will give us life with Jesus in heaven!"

I seized the paddle nearest me; I ordered Abraham to seize another
within his reach; I enjoined Matthew to bail the canoe for life, and the
lad to keep firm in his seat, and I cried, "Stand to your post, and let
us return! Abraham, where is now your faith in Jesus? Remember, He is
Ruler on sea as on land. Abraham, pray and ply your paddle! Keep up
stroke for stroke with me, as our lives depend on it. Our God can
protect us. Matthew, bail with all your might. Don't look round on the
sea and fear. Let us pray to God and ply our paddles, and He will save
us yet!"

Dear old Abraham said, "Thank you for that, Missi. I will be strong. I
pray to God and ply my paddle. God will save us!"

With much labor, and amid deadly perils, we got the canoe turned; and
after four hours of a terrible struggle, we succeeded, towards daylight
as the tide turned, in again reaching smooth water. With God's blessing
we at last reached the shore, exactly where we had left it five hours
ago!

Now drenched and weary, with the skin of our hands sticking to the
paddles, we left the canoe on the reef and waded ashore. Many Natives
were there, and looked sullen and disappointed at our return. Katasian,
the lad who had been with us, instantly fled for his own land; and the
Natives reported that he was murdered soon after. Utterly exhausted, I
lay down on the sand and immediately fell into a deep sleep. By and by I
felt someone pulling from under my head the native bag in which I
carried my Bible and the Tannese translations--the all that had been
saved by me from the wreck! Grasping the bag, I sprang to my feet, and
the man ran away. My Teachers had also a hedging knife, a useless
revolver, and a fowling-piece, the sight of which, though they had been
under the salt water for hours, God used to restrain the savages.
Calling my Aneityumese near, we now, in united prayer and kneeling on
the sands, committed each other unto the Lord God, being prepared for
the last and worst.



CHAPTER XXXVIII.
A RACE FOR LIFE.

As I sat meditating on the issues, Faimungo, the friendly Inland Chief,
again appeared to warn us of our danger, now very greatly increased by
our being driven back from the sea. All Nowar's men had fled, and were
hid in the bush and in rocks along the shore; while Miaki was holding a
meeting not half a mile away, and preparing to fall upon us. Faimungo
said, "Farewell, Missi, I am going home. I don't wish to see the work
and the murders of this morning."

He was Nowar's son-in-law. He had always been truthful and kindly with
me. His home was about half-way across the island, on the road that we
wanted to go, and under sudden impulse I said, "Faimungo, will you let
us follow you? Will you show us the path? When the Mission Ship arrives,
I will give you three good axes, blankets, knives, fish-hooks, and many
things you prize."

The late hurricanes had so destroyed and altered the paths, that only
Natives who knew them well could follow them. He trembled much and said,
"Missi, you will be killed. Miaki and Karewick will shoot you. I dare
not let you follow. I have only about twenty men, and your following
might endanger us all."

I urged him to leave at once, and we would follow of our own accord. I
would not ask him to protect us; but if he betrayed us and helped the
enemy to kill us, I assured him that our God would punish him. If he
spared us, he would be rewarded well; and if we were killed against his
wishes, God would not be angry at him. He said, "Seven men are with me
now, and thirteen are to follow. I will not now send for them. They are
with Miaki and Nouka. I will go; but if you follow, you will be killed
on the way. You may follow me as far as you can."

Off he started to Nowar's, and got a large load of my stolen property,
blankets, sheets, etc., which had fallen to his lot. He called his seven
men, who had also shared in the plunder, and, to avoid Miaki's men, they
ran away under a large cocoanut grove skirting the shore, calling, "Be
quick! Follow and keep as near to us as you can."

Though Nowar had got a box of my rice and appropriated many things from
the plunder of the Mission House besides the goods entrusted to his
care, and got two of my goats killed and cooked for himself and his
people, yet now he would not give a particle of food to my starving
Aneityumese or myself, but hurried us off, saying, "I will eat all your
rice and keep all that has been left with me, in payment for my lame
knee and for my people fighting for you!"

My three Aneityumese and I started after Faimungo and his men. We could
place no confidence in any of them; but, feeling that we were in the
Lord's hands, it appeared to be our only hope of escaping instant death.
We got away unobserved by the enemies. We met several small parties of
friends in the Harbor, apparently glad to see us trying to get away. But
about four miles on our way, we met a large party of Miaki's men, all
armed, and watching as outposts. Some were for shooting us, but others
hesitated. Every musket was, however, raised and leveled at me. Faimungo
poised his great spear and said, "No, you shall not kill Missi to-day.
He is with me." Having made this flourish, he strode off after his own
men, and my Aneityumese followed, leaving me face to face with a ring of
leveled muskets.

Sirawia, who was in command of this party, and who once, like Nowar, had
been my friend, said to me, Judas like, "My love to you, Missi." But he
also shouted after Faimungo, "Your conduct is bad in taking the Missi
away; leave him to us to be killed!" I then turned upon him, saying,
"Sirawia, I love you all. You must know that I sought only your good. I
gave you medicine and food when you and your people were sick and dying
under measles; I gave you the very clothing you wear. Am I not your
friend? Have we not often drunk tea and eaten together in my house? Can
you stand there and see your friend shot? If you do, my God will punish
you severely."

He then whispered something to his company which I did not hear; and,
though their muskets were still raised, I saw in their eyes that he had
restrained them. I therefore began gradually to move backwards, still
keeping my eyes fixed on them, till the bush hid them from my view,
whereon I turned and ran after my party, and God kept the enemy from
following. We trusted in Jehovah Jesus, and pressed on in flight.

A second hostile party encountered us, and with great difficulty we also
got away from them. Soon thereafter a friendly company crossed our path.
We learned from them that the enemies had slaughtered other two of
Manuman's men, and burned several villages with fire. Another party of
the enemy encountered us, and were eager for our lives. But this time
Faimungo withstood them firmly, his men encircled us, and he said, "I am
not afraid now, Missi; I am feeling stronger near my own land!"



CHAPTER XXXIX.
FAINT YET PURSUING.

HURRYING still onwards, we came to that village on their high ground
called Aneai, _i. e._ Heaven. The sun was oppressively hot, the path
almost unshaded, and our whole party very exhausted, especially
Faimungo, carrying his load of stolen goods. So here he sat down on the
village dancing-ground for a smoke, saying, "Missi, I am near my own
land now. We can rest with safety."

In a few minutes, however, he started up, he and his men, in wild
excitement. Over a mountain, behind the village and above it, there came
the shoutings, and anon the tramp, tramp of a multitude making rapidly
towards us. Faimungo got up and planted his back against a tree. I stood
beside him, and the Aneityumese woman and the two men stood near me,
while his men seemed prepared to flee. At full speed a large body of the
tallest and most powerful men that I had seen on Tanna came rushing on
and filled the dancing-ground. They were all armed, and flushed with
their success in war. A messenger had informed them of our escape,
probably from Miaki, and they had crossed the country to intercept us.

Faimungo was much afraid, and said, "Missi, go on in that path, you and
your Aneityumese; and I will follow when I have had a smoke and a talk
with these men."

I replied, "No, I will stand by your side till you go; and if I am
killed, it will be by your side, I will not leave you."

He implored us to go on, but that I knew would be certain death. They
began urging one another to kill us, but I looked round them as calmly
as possible, saying, "My Jehovah God will punish you here and hereafter,
if you kill me or any of His servants."

A killing-stone, thrown by one of the savages, grazed poor old Abraham's
cheek, and the dear soul gave such a look at me, and then upwards, as if
to say, "Missi, I was nearly away to Jesus." A club was also raised to
follow the blow of the killing-stone, but God baffled the aim. They
encircled us in a deadly ring, and one kept urging another to strike the
first blow, or fire the first shot. My heart rose up to the Lord Jesus;
I saw Him watching all the scene. In that awful hour I beheld His own
words, as if carved in letters of fire upon the clouds of Heaven: "Seek,
and ye shall find. Whatsoever ye shall ask in My name, that will I do,
that the Father may be glorified in the Son." I could understand how
Stephen and John saw the glorified Saviour as they gazed up through
suffering and persecution to the Heavenly Throne!

Yet I never could say that on such occasions I was entirely without
fear. Nay, I have felt my reason reeling, my sight coming and going, and
my knees smiting together when thus brought close to a violent death,
but mostly under the solemn thought of being ushered into Eternity and
appearing before God. Still, I was never left without hearing that
promise in all its consoling and supporting power coming up through the
darkness and the anguish, "Lo, I am with you alway;" And with Paul I
could say, even in this dread moment and crisis of being, "I am
persuaded that neither death nor life,.. nor any other creature, shall
be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our
Lord."

Faimungo and others now urged us to go on in the path. I said,
"Faimungo, why are we to leave you? My God heard your promise not to
betray me. He knows now what is in your heart and in mine. I will not
leave you; and if I am to die, I will die by your side."

He replied, "Now, I go on before; Missi, keep close to me."

His men had gone, and I persuaded my Aneityumese to follow them. At
last, with a bound, Faimungo started after them. I followed, keeping as
near him as I could, pleading with Jesus to protect me or to take me
home to Glory. The host of armed men also ran along on each side with
their weapons ready; but leaving everything to Jesus, I ran on as if
they were my escort, or as if I saw them not. If any reader wonders how
they were restrained, much more would I, unless I believed that the same
Hand that restrained the lions from touching Daniel held back these
Savages from hurting me! We came to a stream crossing our path. With a
bound all my party cleared it, ran up the bank opposite, and disappeared
in the bush. "Faint yet pursuing," I also tried the leap, but I struck
the bank and slid back on my hands and knees towards the stream. At this
moment I heard a crash above my head amongst the branches of an
overhanging tree, and I knew that a _Kawas_ had been thrown, and that
that branch had saved me. Praising my God, I scrambled up on the other
side, and followed the track of my party into the bush. The savages
gazed after me for a little in silence, but no one crossed the stream;
and I saw them separate into two, one portion returning to the village
and another pressing inland. With what gratitude did I recognize the
Invisible One who brought their counsels to confusion.

I found my party resting in the bush, and amazed to see me escaped alive
from men who were thirsting for my blood. Faimungo and his men received
me with demonstrations of joy, perhaps feeling a little ashamed of their
own cowardice. He now ascended the mountain and kept away from the
common path to avoid other Native bands. At every village enemies to the
Worship were ready to shoot us. But I kept close to our guide, knowing
that the fear of shooting him would prevent their shooting at me, as he
was the most influential Chief in all that section of the island.

One party said, "Miaki and Karewick said that Missi made the sickness
and the hurricanes, and we ought to kill him."

Faimungo replied, "They lie about Missi! It is our own bad conduct that
makes us sick."

They answered, "We don't know who makes the sickness, but our fathers
have taught us to kill all Foreign men."

Faimungo, clutching club and spear, exclaimed, standing betwixt them and
us, "You won't kill Missi to-day!"

Faimungo now sent his own men home by a near path, and guided us himself
till we were close upon the shore. There sitting down, he said, "Missi,
I have now fulfilled my promise. I am so tired, I am so afraid, I dare
not go farther. My love to you all. Now go on quickly! Three of my men
will go with you to the next rocks. Go quickly! Farewell."

These men went on a little, and then said, "Missi, we dare not go!
Faimungo is at war with the people of the next land. You must keep
straight along this path." So they turned and ran back to their own
village.

To us this district was especially perilous. Many years ago the
Aneityumese had joined in a war against the Tannese of this tribe, and
the thirst for revenge yet existed in their hearts, handed down from
sire to son. Most providentially the men were absent on a war
expedition, and we saw only three lads and a great number of women and
children, who ran off to the bush in terror. In the evening the enraged
savages of another district assaulted the people of the shore villages
for allowing us to pass, and, though sparing their lives, broke in
pieces their weapons of war--a very grievous penalty.

In the next district, as we hasted along the shore, two young men came
running after us, poising their quivering spears. I took the useless
revolver out of my little native basket, and raising it cried, "Beware!
Lay down your spears at once on the sand, and carry my basket to the
next landing at the Black Rocks."

They threw their spears on the sand, lifted the bag, and ran on before
us to the rocks which formed the march betwixt them and their enemies.
Laying it down, they said appealingly, "Missi, let us return to our
home!" And how they did run, fearing the pursuit of their foes.

In the next land we saw none. After that we saw crowds all along, some
friendly, others unfriendly, but they let us pass on, and with the
blessing of Almighty God we drew dear to Mr. Mathieson's Station in
safety. Here a man gave me a cocoanut for each of our party, which we
greatly required, having tasted nothing all that day, and very little
for several days before. We were so weak that only the struggle for life
enabled us to keep our feet; yet my poor Aneityumese never complained
and never halted, not even the woman. The danger and excitement kept us
up in the race for life; and by the blessing of God we were now
approaching the Mission House, praising God for His wonderful
deliverances.

Hearing of our coming, Mr. Mathieson came running to meet me. They had
heard of our leaving my own Station, and they thought I was dead! They
were themselves both very weak; their only child had just been laid in
the grave, and they were in great grief and in greater peril. We praised
the Lord for permitting us to meet; we prayed for support, guidance, and
protection; and resolved now, in all events, to stand by each other till
the last.



CHAPTER XL.
WAITING AT KWAMERA.

BEFORE I left the Harbor I wrote and left with Nowar letters to be given
to the Captains of any vessels which called, for the first, and the
next, and the next, telling them of our great danger, that Mr. Mathieson
was almost without food, and that I would reward them handsomely if they
would call at the Station and remove any of us who might be spared
thence to Aneityum. Two or three vessels called, and, as I afterwards
learned, got my letters; but, while buying my stolen property from the
Natives for tobacco, powder, and balls, they took no further notice of
my appeals, and sailed past Mr. Mathieson's, straight on to Aneityum.
"The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel!"

Let me now cull the leading events from my Journal, that intervened
betwixt this date and the break-up of the Mission on Tanna--at least for
a season--though, blessed be God! I have lived to see the light
rekindled by my dear friends Mr. and Mrs. Watt, and shining more
brightly and hopefully than ever. The candle was quenched, but the
candlestick was not removed!

On the 23d January, 1862, Mr. Mathieson sent for Taura, Kati, and
Kapuku, his three principal Chiefs, to induce them to promise protection
till a vessel called to take us away. They appeared friendly, and
promised to do their best. Alas! the promises of the Tannese Chiefs had
too often proved to be vain.

On Friday, 24th January, report reached our Station that Miaki and his
party, hearing that a friendly Chief had concealed two of Manuman's
young men, compelled him to produce them and club them to death before
their eyes. Also, that they surrounded Manuman's party on a mountain,
and hemmed them in there, dying of starvation, and trying to survive on
the carcasses of the dead and on bark and roots. Also, that Miaki had
united all the Chiefs, friends and foes alike, in a bond of blood, to
kill every one pertaining to the whole Mission on Tanna. Jesus reigns!

On Sunday, the 26th January, thirty persons came to worship at the
Mission House. Thereafter, at great risk, we had Worship at three of the
nearest and most friendly villages. Amidst all our perils and trials we
preached the Gospel to about one hundred and sixteen persons. It was
verily a sowing time of tears; but, despite all that followed, who shall
say that it was vain! Twenty years have passed, and now when I am
writing this, there is a Church of God singing the praises of Jesus in
that very district of Tanna. On leaving the second village, a young lad
affectionately took my hand to lead me to the next village; but a sulky,
down-browed savage, carrying a ponderous club, also insisted upon
accompanying us. I led the way, guided by the lad. Mr. Mathieson got the
man to go before him, while he himself followed, constantly watching.
Coming to a place where another path branched off from ours, I asked
which path we took, and, on turning to the left as instructed by the
lad, the savage, getting close behind me, swung his huge club over his
shoulder to strike me on the head. Mr. Mathieson, springing forward,
caught the club from behind with a great cry to me; and I, wheeling
instantly, had hold of the club also, and betwixt us we wrested it out
of his hands. The poor creature, craven at heart however bloodthirsty,
implored us not to kill him. I raised the club threateningly, and caused
him to march in front of us till we reached the next village fence. In
terror lest these villagers should kill him, he gladly received back his
club, as well as the boy his bow and arrows, and they were lost in the
bush in a moment.

At the village from which this man and boy had come, one savage brought
his musket while we were conducting Worship, and sat sullen and scowling
at us all the time. Mocking questions were also shouted at us, such as,
"Who made the rains, winds, and hurricanes? Who caused all the disease?
Who killed Missi Mathieson's child?" They sneered and scoffed at our
answers, and in this Taura the Chief joined the rest.

On the 27th, at daylight, a vessel was seen in the offing, as if to
tantalize us. The Captain had been at the Harbor, and had received my
letter from Nowar. I hoisted a flag to induce him to send or come on
shore, but he sailed off for Aneityum, bearing the plunder of my poor
Mission House, purchased for ammunition and tobacco for the Natives. He
left the news at Aneityum that I had been driven from my Station some
time ago, and was believed to have been murdered.

On the 29th of January, the young Chief Kapuku came and handed to Mr.
Mathieson his own and his father's war-gods and household idols. They
consisted chiefly of a basket of small and peculiar stones, much worn
and shining with use. He said, "While many are trying to kill you and
drive the Worship of Jehovah from this island, I give up my gods, and
will send away all Heathen idols from my land."

On the 31st, we learned that a party of Miaki's men were going about Mr.
Mathieson's district inciting the people to kill us. Faimungo also came
to inform us that Maiki was exerting all his artifice to get us and the
Worship destroyed. Manuman even sent, from inland, Raki, his adopted
son, to tell me of the fearful sufferings that he and his people were
now passing through, and that some were killed almost every day. Raki's
wife was a Chief's daughter, who, when the war began, returned to her
father's care. The savages of Miaki went to her own father's house and
compelled him to give her up as an enemy. She was clubbed and feasted
on.

On Sabbath, 2d February, thirty-two people attended the Morning Service.
I addressed them on the Deluge, its causes and lessons. I showed them a
doll, explaining that such carved and painted images could not hear our
prayers or help us in our need, that the living Jehovah God only could
hear and help. They were much interested, and after Worship carefully
examined the doll. Mr. Mathieson and I, committing ourselves to Jesus,
went inland and conducted Worship at seven villages, listened to by
about one hundred people in all. Nearly all appeared friendly. The
people of one village had been incited to kill us on our return; but God
guided us to return by another way, and so we escaped.

During the day, on 3d February, a company of Miaki's men came to the
Mission House, and forced Mrs. Mathieson to show them through the
premises. Providentially, I had bolted myself that morning into a closet
room, and was engrossed with writing. They went through every room in
the house and did not see me, concluding I had gone inland. They
discharged a musket into our Teacher's house, but afterwards left
quietly, greatly disappointed at not finding me. My heart still rose in
praise to God for another such deliverance, neither by man nor of man's
planning!



CHAPTER XLI.
THE LAST AWFUL NIGHT.

WORN out with long watching and many fatigues, I lay down that night
early, and fell into a deep sleep. About ten o'clock the savages again
surrounded the Mission House. My faithful dog Clutha, clinging still to
me amid the wreck of all else on earth, sprang quietly upon me, pulled
at my clothes, and awoke me, showing danger in her eye glancing at me
through the shadows. I silently awoke Mr. and Mrs. Mathieson, who had
also fallen asleep. We committed ourselves in hushed prayer to God and
watched them, knowing that they could not see us. Immediately a glare of
light fell into the room! Men passed with flaming torches; and first
they set fire to the Church all round, and then to a reed fence
connecting the Church and the dwelling-house. In a few minutes the
house, too, would be in flames, and armed savages waiting to kill us on
attempting an escape!

Taking my harmless revolver in the left hand and a little American
tomahawk in the right, I pleaded with Mr. Mathieson to let me out and
instantly to again lock the door on himself and wife. He very
reluctantly did so, holding me back and saying, "Stop here and let us
die together! You will never return!"

I said, "Be quick! Leave that to God. In a few minutes our house will be
in flames, and then nothing can save us."

He did let me out, and locked the door again quickly from the inside;
and, while his wife and he prayed and watched for me from within, I ran
to the burning reed fence, cut it from top to bottom, and tore it up and
threw it back into the flames, so that the fire could not by it be
carried to our dwelling-house. I saw on the ground shadows, as if
something were falling around me, and started back. Seven or eight
savages had surrounded me, and raised their great clubs in air. I heard
a shout--"Kill him! Kill him!" One savage tried to seize hold of me,
but, leaping from his clutch, I drew the revolver from my pocket and
leveled it as for use, my heart going up in prayer to my God. I said,
"Dare to strike me, and my Jehovah God will punish you. He protects us,
and will punish you for burning His Church, for hatred to His Worship
and people, and for all your bad conduct. We love you all; and for doing
you good only, you want to kill us. But our God is here now to protect
us and to punish you."

They yelled in rage, and urged each other to strike the first blow, but
the Invisible One restrained them. I stood invulnerable beneath His
invisible shield, and succeeded in rolling back the tide of flame from
our dwelling-house.

At this dread moment occurred an incident, which my readers may explain
as they like, but which I trace directly to the interposition of my God.
A rushing and roaring sound came from the South, like the noise of a
mighty engine or of muttering thunder. Every head was instinctively
turned in that direction, and they knew, from previous hard experience,
that it was one of their awful tornadoes of wind and rain. Now, mark,
the wind bore the flames away from our dwelling-house; had it come in
the opposite direction, no power on earth could have saved us from being
all consumed! It made the work of destroying the Church only that of a
few minutes; but it brought with it a heavy and murky cloud, which
poured out a perfect torrent of tropical rain. Now, mark again, the
flames of the burning Church were thereby cut off from extending to and
seizing upon the reeds and the bush; and, besides, it had become almost
impossible now to set fire to our dwelling-house. The stars in their
courses were fighting against Sisera!

The mighty roaring of the wind, the black cloud pouring down unceasing
torrents, and the whole surroundings, awed those savages into silence.
Some began to withdraw from the scene, all lowered their weapons of war,
and several, terror-struck, exclaimed, "That is Jehovah's rain! Truly
their Jehovah God is fighting for them and helping them. Let us away!" A
panic seized upon them; they threw away their remaining torches; in a
few moments they had all disappeared in the bush; and I was left alone,
praising God for His marvelous works. "O taste and see that God is good!
Blessed is the man that trusteth in Him!"

Returning to the door of the Mission House, I cried, "Open and let me
in. I am now all alone."

Mr. Mathieson let me in, and exclaimed, "If ever, in time of need, God
sent help and protection to His servants in answer to prayer, He has
done so to-night! Blessed be His holy Name!"

In fear and in joy we united our praises. Truly our Jesus has all power,
not less in the elements of Nature than in the savage hearts of the
Tannese. Precious Jesus! Often since have I wept over His love and mercy
in that deliverance, and prayed that every moment of my remaining life
may be consecrated to the service of my precious Friend and Saviour!



CHAPTER XLII.
"SAIL O! SAIL O!"

ALL through the remainder of that night I lay wide awake keeping watch,
my noble little dog lying near me with ears alert. Early in the morning
friends came weeping around us. Our enemies were loudly rejoicing. It
had been finally resolved to kill us at once, to plunder our house and
then to burn it. The noise of the shouting was distinctly heard as they
neared the Mission premises, and our weeping, friendly Natives looked
terror-struck, and seemed anxious to flee for the bush. But just when
the excitement rose to the highest pitch, we heard, or dreamed that we
heard, a cry higher still, "Sail O!"

We were by this time beginning to distrust almost our very senses; but
again and again that cry came rolling up from the shore, and was
repeated from crowd to crowd all along the beach, "Sail O! Sail O!"

The shouts of those approaching us gradually ceased, and the whole
multitude seemed to have melted away from our view. I feared some cruel
deception, and at first peered out very cautiously to spy the land. But
yonder in very truth a vessel came sailing into view. It was the _Blue
Bell_ Captain Hastings. I set fire to the reeds on the side of the hill
to attract his attention. I put a black shawl as a flag on one end of
the Mission House and a white sheet on the other.

This was one of the vessels that had been to Port Resolution, and had
sailed past to Aneityum some time ago. I afterwards saw the mate and
some of the men wearing my shirts, which they had bought from the
Tannese on their former visit. At the earnest request of Messrs. Geddie
and Copeland, Mr. Underwood, the owner, had sent Captain Hastings to
Tanna to rescue us if yet alive. For this purpose he had brought twenty
armed men from Aneityum, who came on shore in two boats in charge of the
mate, the notorious Ross Lewin. He returned to the ship with a boat-load
of Mr. Mathieson's things, leaving ten of the Natives to help us to pack
more and carry them down to the beach, especially what the Missionary
thought most valuable.

The two boats were now loaded and ready to start. It was about two
o'clock in the afternoon, when a strange and painful trial befell us.
Poor dear Mr. Mathieson, apparently unhinged, locked himself all alone
into what had been his study, telling Mrs. Mathieson and me to go, for
he had resolved to remain and die on Tanna. We tried to show him the
inconsistency of praying to God to protect us or grant us means of
escape, and then refuse to accept a rescue sent to us in our last
extremity. We argued that it was surely better to live and work for
Jesus than to die as a self-made martyr, who, in God's sight, was guilty
of self-murder. His wife wept aloud and pleaded with him, but all in
vain! He refused to leave or to unlock his door. I then said, "It is now
getting dark. Your wife must go with the vessel, but I will not leave
you alone. I shall send a note explaining why I am forced to remain; and
as it is certain that we shall be murdered whenever the vessel leaves, I
tell you God will charge you with the guilt of our murder." At this he
relented, unlocked the door, and accompanied us to the boats, in which
we all immediately left.

Meantime, having lost several hours, the vessel had drifted leeward;
darkness suddenly settled upon us, and when we were out at sea we lost
sight of her and she of us. After tumbling about for some hours in a
heavy sea, and unable to find her, those in charge of the boats came
near for consultation, and, if possible, to save the lives of all. We
advised that they should steer for Port Resolution by the flame of the
volcano--a never failing lighthouse, seen fifty miles away--and there
await the vessel. The boats were to keep within hearing of each other by
constant calling; but this was soon lost to the ear, though on arriving
in the bay we found they had got to anchor before us. There we sat in
the boats and waited for the coming day.

As the light appeared, we anchored as far out as possible, beyond the
reach of musket shots; and there without water or food we sat under a
tropical sun till midday came, and still there was no sign of the
vessel. The mate at last put all the passengers and the poorest seamen
into one boat and left her to swing at anchor, while, with a strong crew
in the other, he started off in search of the vessel.

In the afternoon, Nowar and Miaki came off in a canoe to visit us. Nowar
had on a shirt, but Miaki was naked and frowning. He urged me to go and
see the Mission House, but as we had seen a body of men near it I
refused to go. Miaki declared that everything remained as I had left it,
but we knew that he lied. Old Abraham and a party had slipped on shore
in a canoe, and had found the windows smashed and everything gone except
my books, which were scattered about and torn in pieces. They learned
that Miaki had sold everything that he could sell to the Traders. The
mate and men of the _Blue Bell_ had on my very clothes. They boasted
that they had bought them for a few figs of tobacco and for powder,
caps, and balls. But they would not return a single shirt to me, though
I was without a change. We had all been without food since the morning
before, so Nowar brought us off a cocoanut each, and two very small
roasted yams for the ladies. Those, however, only seemed to make our
thirst the more severe, and we spent a trying day in that boat under a
burning sun.

Nowar informed me that only a few nights before this, Miaki and his
followers went inland to a village where last year they had killed ten
men. Having secretly placed a savage at the door of every house, at a
given signal they yelled, and when the terrified inmates tried to
escape, they killed almost every man, woman, and child. Some fled into
the bush, others rushed to the shore. A number of men got into a canoe
to escape, but hearing women and children crying after them they
returned, and taking those they could with them, they killed the rest,
lest they should fall alive into Miaki's hands. These are surely "they
who through fear of death are all their lifetime subject to bondage."
The Chief and nearly his whole village were cut off in one night! The
dark places of the Earth are "full of the habitations of horrid
cruelty." To have actually lived amongst the Heathen and seen their life
gives a man a new appreciation of the power and blessings of the Gospel,
even where its influence is only very imperfectly allowed to guide and
restrain the passions of men. Oh, what it will be when all men in all
nations love and serve the glorious Redeemer!



CHAPTER XLIII.
FAREWELL TO TANNA.

ABOUT five o'clock in the evening the vessel hove in sight. Before dark
we were all on board, and were sailing for Aneityum. Though both Mr. and
Mrs. Mathieson had become very weak, they stood the voyage wonderfully.
Next day we were safely landed. We had offered Captain Hastings £20 to
take us to Aneityum, but he declined any fare. However, we divided it
amongst the mate and crew, for they had every one shown great kindness
to us on the voyage.

After arriving on Aneityum, Mrs. Mathieson gradually sank under
consumption, and fell asleep in Jesus on 11th March, 1862, and was
interred there in the full assurance of a glorious resurrection. Mr.
Mathieson, becoming more and more depressed after her death, went over
to Mr. Creagh's Station, on Mare, and there died on 14th June, 1862,
still trusting in Jesus, and assured that he would soon be with Him in
Glory.

After their death I was the only one left alive, in all the New Hebrides
Mission north of Aneityum, to tell the story of those pioneer years,
during which were sown the seeds of what is now fast becoming a glorious
harvest. Twenty-five years ago, all these dear brethren and sisters who
were associated with me in the work of the Mission were called home to
Glory, to cast their crowns at the feet of Jesus and enjoy the bliss of
the redeemed; while I am privileged still to toil and pray for the
salvation of the poor Islanders, and plead the cause of the Mission both
in the Colonies and at home, in which work the Lord has graciously given
me undreamt-of success. My constant desire and prayer are that I may be
spared to see at least one Missionary on every island of the group, or
trained Native Teachers under the superintendence of a Missionary, to
unfold the riches of redeeming love and to lead the poor Islanders to
Jesus for salvation.

What could be taken in three boats was saved out of the wreck of Mr.
Mathieson's property; but my earthly all perished, except the Bible and
the translations into Tannese. Along with the goods pertaining to the
Mission, the property which I had to leave behind would be
under-estimated at £600, besides the value of the Mission House, etc.
Often since have I thought that the Lord stripped me thus bare of all
these interests that I might with undistracted mind devote my entire
energy to the special work soon to be carved out for me, and of which at
this moment neither I nor any one had ever dreamed. At any rate, the
loss of my little Earthly All, though doubtless costing me several
pangs, was not an abiding sorrow like that which sprang from the thought
that the Lord's work was now broken up at both Stations, and that the
Gospel was for the time driven from Tanna.

In the darkest moment I never doubted that ultimately the victory there,
as elsewhere, would be on the side of Jesus, believing that the whole
Earth would yet be filled with the glory of the Lord. But I sometimes
sorely feared that I might never live to see or hear of that happy day!
By the goodness of the Ever-merciful One I have lived to see and hear of
a Gospel Church on Tanna, and to read about my dear fellow-Missionaries,
Mr. and Mrs. Watt, celebrating the Holy Supper to a Native Congregation
of Tannese, amid the very scenes and people where the seeds of faith and
hope were planted not only in tears, but tears of blood,--"in deaths
oft."

My own intention was to remain on Aneityum, go on with my work of
translating the Gospels, and watch the earliest opportunity, as God
opened up my way, to return to Tanna, I had, however, got very weak and
thin; my health was undoubtedly much shaken by the continued trials and
dangers through which we had passed; and therefore, as Dr. and Mrs.
Inglis were at home carrying the New Testament through the press in the
language of Aneityum, and as Tanna was closed for a season--Dr. Geddie,
the Rev. Joseph Copeland, and Mr. Mathieson all urged me to go to
Australia by a vessel then in the Harbor and leaving in a few days. My
commission was to awaken an interest among the Presbyterian Churches of
our Colonies in this New Hebrides Mission which lay at their doors, up
till this time sustained by Scotland and Nova Scotia alone. And further,
and very specially, to raise money there, if possible, to purchase a new
Mission Ship for the work of God in the New Hebrides,--a clamant
necessity which would save all future Missionaries some of the more
terrible of the privations and risks of which a few examples have in
these pages already been recorded.

With regrets, and yet with unquenchable hope for these Islands, I
embarked for Australia. But I had only spoken to one man in Sydney; all
the doors to influence had therefore to be unlocked; and I had no
helper, no leader, but the Spirit of my Lord.

Oftentimes, while passing through the perils and defeats of my first
four years in the Mission field on Tanna, I wondered, and perhaps the
reader hereof has wondered, why God permitted such things. But on
looking back now, I already clearly perceive, and the reader of my
future pages will, I think, perceive, that the Lord was thereby
preparing me for doing, and providing me materials wherewith to
accomplish, the best work of all my life, namely, the kindling of the
heart of Australian Presbyterianism with a living affection for these
Islanders of their own Southern Seas--the binding of all their children
into a happy league of shareholders, first in one Mission Ship, and
finally in a larger and more commodious Steam-Auxiliary; and, last of
all, in being the instrument under God of sending out Missionary after
Missionary to the New Hebrides, to claim another island and still
another for Jesus. That work, and all that may spring from it in Time
and Eternity, never could have been accomplished by me, but for first
the sufferings and then the story of my Tanna days!

Never for one moment have I had occasion to regret the step then taken.
The Lord has so used me, during the five-and-twenty years that have
passed over me since my farewell to Tanna, as to stamp the event with
His own most gracious approval. Oh, to see a Missionary, and Christian
Teachers, planted on every island of the New Hebrides! For this I labor,
and wait, and pray. To help on the fulfillment thereof is the sacred
work of my life, under God. When I see that accomplished, or in a fair
way of being so, through the organization that will provide the money
and call forth the men, I can lay down my head as peacefully and
gratefully as ever warrior did, with the shout of victory in his
ears--"Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace!"

(_For "Good News from Tanna," see Supplementary Chapter by the Editor,_
p.393.)



CHAPTER XLIV.
THE FLOATING OF THE "DAYSPRING."

RESCUED from Tanna by the _Blue Bell_ in the Spring of 1869, 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
Aneitymn united in urging me to go to Australia in the interests of our
Mission. 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 forever 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. And how my heart
bled for some poor Islanders whom he 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 worshipers 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 _Labor_ Traffic,--_Free_ Labor! I will, to
my dying breath, denounce and curse this _Kanaka_ traffic as the worst
of Slavery.

As we came to anchorage, about midnight, in Sydney Harbor, 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. 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.

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 honored representative of the London Missionary Society
on Rarotonga, considerable light was let in upon the mystery 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. 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 recompense.

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 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. M'Skimming, 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.



CHAPTER XLV.
A SHIPPING COMPANY FOR JESUS.

THE kindly minister of Chalmers church, 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. Dunmore 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 Himself 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 fulfillment of the Lord's purposes;
and, to one who realizes that he is a fellow-laborer 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 M'Bain, 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 labor. Dr. Cairns, and many others now gone to
their rest, along with two or three honored Ministers yet living, formed
my Committee. The Lord richly reward them all in that Day!

As in New South Wales, I made, chiefly by correspondence, 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
traveled 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.

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 £5000, 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 larger hopes and
plans which 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."

Of the money which I had raised, £3000 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 honor of
building our new 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."



CHAPTER XLVI.
AUSTRALIAN INCIDENTS.

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._ Traveling in the
Colonies in 1862-68 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 traveler 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-travelers 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 to
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 bearing 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 though 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 up 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 and a Christian 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 plowed 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 watchdog 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 the 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's wife 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.

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 grip, 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 quarreled 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 traveler 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 to his own eyes;
and Might was Right.



CHAPTER XLVII.
AMONGST SQUATTERS AND DIGGERS.

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.

Wheresover 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 check-book; and your check 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-by!"

As we drove off, he kept growling 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 check 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 payday, 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 far-away Stations, most attentive and
perfectly respectful.

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 Islands 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.



CHAPTER XLVIII.
JOHN GILPIN IN THE BUSH.

THE crowning adventure of my tour in Australia 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 by. 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-by. 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 honor 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
veranda, 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 to 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
veranda,--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 veranda 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 by 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 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 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 ascendency. 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 farther on to the
Church. A groom rode the racehorse, 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 regaled by the good lady there with very comical descriptions of my
first arrival at her door.



CHAPTER XLIX.
THE ABORIGINES OF AUSTRALIA.

DETAINED for nearly a week at Balmoral by the breakdown 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 the 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, and
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 then, "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 fellows 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.

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.



CHAPTER L.
NORA.

WHILE I was pondering over Kingsley's words,--about the blacks of
Australia being "poor brutes in human shape," and too low to take in the
Gospel,--the story of Nora, an Aboriginal Christian woman, whom 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 far 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,
as mere blasphemies against 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."

It is easy to understand how even experienced travelers 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 recognized 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.

On returning to Horsham, from a visit to a great camp of the blacks at
Wonwondah, and having purchased, in the presence of witnesses, specimens
of their idols from the Doctor or Sacred Man of these tribes, 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 at me, she said, pointing with her finger, "That fellow
savvy (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.

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 I have the recorded testimony of "Robert Hood, J.
P., Hexham, Victoria, 28th February, 1863," certifying on his honor all
that I am here affirming.

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.

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.



CHAPTER LI.
BACK TO SCOTLAND.

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, also zealously enforced this
appeal.

Constrained by what appeared to me the Voice of God, I sailed for London
in the _Kosciusko_, an Aberdeen clipper, on the 17th May, 1863. Captain
Stuart made the voyage most enjoyable to all. The Rev. Mr. Stafford,
friend of the good Bishop Selwyn and tutor to his son, conducted along
with myself, alternately, an Anglican and a Presbyterian 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 in 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 6
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.

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 Mission Committee
of the Reformed Presbyterian Church, to which I then 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 Exemplar 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
Congregation and 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 honor, the highest which they could
confer--the honor 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!

I have ever regarded it as a privilege and honor that I was born and
trained within the old covenanting Reformed Presbyterian Church of
Scotland. As a separate Communion, that Church was 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.



CHAPTER LII.
TOUR THROUGH THE OLD COUNTRY.

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 "have killed six ordinary men," 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 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 re-claimed 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 absolute
prerequisite. Every Missionary was urged to obtain all insight that was
practicable at the Medical Mission Dispensary, 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 traveling
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.



CHAPTER LIII.
MARRIAGE AND FAREWELL.

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 brother had been
an honored 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 at Edinburgh, Kenneth,
and Alloa, besides being not unknown to fame as the author of those
still popular books, _Whitecross's 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 (1892); 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 which 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 describes 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,
commenced 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, along 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 afterward 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 deathlike 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."



CHAPTER LIV.
FIRST PEEP AT THE "DAYSPRING."

WE embarked at Liverpool for Australia in _The Crest o' 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, M'Cullaghs, and Morrisons 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 clamoring 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 Brigantine, 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."

Since she sailed, £1400 had been expended; for present liabilities at
least £700 more 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 20 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 eleven 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 then 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. M'Gibbon 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 neighbors. 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 hill. We have so enjoyed the
Service. We do heartily sympathize with you. This check 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 led them up that hill, 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.

Clearing out from her sister ships, then in harbor, 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 Collection Cards to be returned within two
weeks.

We received many tokens of interest and sympathy. The steam tug was
granted to us free, and the harbor 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: 11 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 ail expenses while in port,
there remained a sum of £634: 9: 2 for the up-keep of the vessel. The
Honorable 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
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 £1726: 9: 10. Our
_Dayspring_ once more sailed free, and our hearts overflowed with
gratitude to the Lord and to His stewards!



CHAPTER LV.
THE FRENCH IN THE PACIFIC.

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, to prevent any such crisis as that through which
we had recently passed. 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 Mare, 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 delayed 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. Again 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 honor 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 around, 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 labor all the public works seemed to be
carried on, and the Gardens were most beautiful. The carved work in
bone, ivory, cocoanuts, 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. It 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.



CHAPTER LVI.
THE GOSPEL AND GUNPOWDER.

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 Wisenian, 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 at anchor
off the shore having the _Dayspring_ astern. 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 eyewitness, 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
picture. 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 our 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 Win. Wiseman, Bart., C. B.,
arrived in the harbor 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 incited 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 Efate. 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 (brother of the martyr) for
Erromanga, and Mr. Morrison for Efate.

"At each of these Islands, the Commodore summoned the principal Chiefs
near the harbors 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. Indeed nearly the whole of the
inhabitants, young and old, went to Nowar's land, where they were
instructed they would be safe, while they witnessed what a Man-of-war
could do in punishing murderers. But before the hour approached, a
foolish host of Tannese warriors had assembled on the beach, painted and
armed and determined to fight the Man-of-war! And 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 returned then for a moment to Sydney. The public excitement made it
impossible for me to open my lips in the promotion of our Mission. The
Rev. Drs. Dunmore, 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.

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. But 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 mob is still as ready as ever to cry,
"Crucify! Crucify!"



CHAPTER LVII.
A PLEA FOR TANNA.

EVERYTHING having been at length arranged for in the Colonies, in
connection with the Mission and _Dayspring_, as far as could possibly
be,--and I having been adopted by the Victorian Assembly of 1866, as the
first Missionary from the Presbyterian Church of Australia to the New
Hebrides,--we sailed for the Islands on the 8th August of that year.
Besides my wife and child, the following accompanied us to the field:
Revs. Copeland, Cosh, and M'Nair, along with their respective wives. On
20th August we reached Aneityum; and, having landed some of our friends,
we sailed Northwards, as far as Efate, 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.

While staying at Aneityum, I learned with as deep emotion as man ever
felt for man, that noble old Abraham, the sharer of my Tannese trials,
had during the interval peacefully fallen asleep in Jesus. He left for
me his silver watch--one which I had myself sent to the dear soul from
Sydney, and which he greatly prized. In his dying hour he said, "Give it
to Missi, my own Missi Paton; and tell him that I go to Jesus, where
Time is dead."

I learned also, and truly human-hearted readers will need no apology for
introducing this news in so grave a story--that my faithful dog
_Clutha_, entrusted to the care of a kindly Native to be kept for my
return, had, despite all coaxing, grown weary of heart amongst all these
dark faces, and fallen asleep too, truly not unworthy of a grateful
tear!

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 reoccupied 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 rumored
regarding its fruits on other Islands. Imagine _Cannibals_ 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 clear 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 chestnut 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 Missi 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.



CHAPTER LVIII.
OUR NEW HOME ON ANIWA.

ANIWA became my Mission Home in November, 1866; and for the next fifteen
years it was the heart and center of my personal labors in the Heathen
World. Since 1881, alas! my too frequent deputation pilgrimages among
Churches in Great Britain and in the Colonies have rendered my visits to
Aniwa but few and far between. 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 scarcely seven miles by two, 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.

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.

Aniwa has no harbor, 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 rock 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."

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 dishonorable 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. 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 rumor 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 of our
Aniwan house on the highest ground, and away from the malarial
influences 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 leveling 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!"



CHAPTER LIX.
HOUSE-BUILDING FOR GOD.

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 labor 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 small 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.

Every day after dinner we set the bell a-ringing--intimating, from, our
first arrival on Aniwa, 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!

Our learning the language on Aniwa was marked by similar incidents to
those of Tanna related in a preceding chapter; 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 neighbor 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 toward 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 penciled 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 by, 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, an Erromangan, actually died. 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.



CHAPTER LX.
A CITY OF GOD.

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 of 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 Schools then, by their own
free toil, rejoicing to labor 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 cocoanut 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 cocoanut 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 the 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 plasterwork 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 other soft woods, but
even Colonial blue gum-trees, the hard cocoanut, 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 coloring 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 LXI.
THE RELIGION OF REVENGE.

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, fishhooks, strips 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 were 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 cocoanuts, he awaited a favorable 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 their 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 pleaded 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
(1888)--a high class Chief on Aneityum, and an honor 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 cocoanut
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 Chiefs
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
neighbors.

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 pleaded 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!



CHAPTER LXII.
FIRST FRUITS ON ANIWA.

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. 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.

So soon as I could speak a little to them in their own language, we
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. 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 leveled 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."

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 harbor; 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 become
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, which the
Aneityumese Teacher had been forced to prepare before our coming, and
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 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 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.



CHAPTER LXIII.
TRADITIONS AND CUSTOMS.

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 game! 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 worshiped 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 man.

Their story of Creation, at least of the origin of their own Aniwa and
the adjacent Islands, is much more an outcome of the unaided 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, where his mark may
still be seen upon the rock--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
land 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 with them 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 southeastern 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 a high mountain in 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, and women or children scream wildly at the sight of one.

One of the darkest and most hideous blots 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 by 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."



CHAPTER LXIV.
NELWANG'S ELOPEMENT.

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 had also 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 forever."

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 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 Chiefs'
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 loved 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 flourished his tomahawk about 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.

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
cocoanuts 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 worshiper has to be seated, when our
Church 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, but
grasping very determinedly his tomahawk! He sat down as near to me as he
could conveniently get, trying hard to conceal his manifest agitation.
Silently smiling towards me, he then turned and looked eagerly at the
other 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 had determined to show the extent of her Christianity by the
amount of clothing she could carry upon her person. Being a Chief's
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-colored 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,
planting the body of them on her neck and shoulders, and leaving her
head and face looking out from between the legs--a leg from either side
streaming over her bosom arid dangling down absurdly in front! 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!



CHAPTER LXV.
THE CHRIST-SPIRIT AT WORK.

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 general
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 at
the many outhouses required at the Station. One, along with his people,
built the cookhouse; 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 clamored 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 by,
however, they set fire to a large district belonging to our supporters
burning cocoanut and breadfruit 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 defense, 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 arm 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 favor.

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
House, 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.



CHAPTER LXVI.
THE SINKING OF THE WELL.

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. 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 drink very unwholesome water; and,
indeed, the best water they had at any time for drinking purposes was
from the precious cocoanut, 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 bathing-place, 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 cocoanut is refreshing, and in appearance, taste,
and color 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 water from the well.

Aniwa, having therefore no permanent supply of fresh water, in spring or
stream or lake, and my own household also suffering sadly for lack of
the same, 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 comparatively 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 have to say, 'He is 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 center
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
great 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 Native 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!



CHAPTER LXVII.
RAIN FROM BELOW.

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 center 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, lapping it with my trembling hand, and then I almost
fell upon my knees in that muddy bottom as my heart burst up in praise
to 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 by, 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 labors 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. The world is turned upside down since
Jehovah came to Aniwa! But, Missi," continued he, after a pause that
looked liked 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?"

I was thankful, indeed, to accept of the Chief's assistance, now sorely
needed, 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
block they can bring. It is well worth all the toil thus to preserve our
great Jehovah's gift!"

Scarcely were my words uttered, 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 bag-basket, into 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 ax. 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_, the
latter 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 Native
Church said to me, on a recent visit, "But for that water, during the
last two years of drought, we would have all 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!"



CHAPTER LXVIII.
THE OLD CHIEF'S SERMON.

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

One of the very first steps in 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 beneath it), 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 occupation ceased.
Sabbath was spoken of as the Day for Jehovah. Saturday came to be called
"Cooking Day," referring to the extra preparations for the coming 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 traveling, 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 person 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 high-pitched 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 ere
many years an avowed worshipper of Jehovah God. Again, "O Galilean, Thou
hast conquered!"



CHAPTER LXIX.
THE FIRST BOOK AND THE NEW EYES.

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 by 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 some 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 learned to read 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. Oh, my new eyes!"



CHAPTER LXX.
A ROOF-TREE FOR JESUS.

AT first we moved about amongst the Natives from village to village,
acquired their language, and taught them everywhere,--by the roadside,
under the shade of a tree, or on the public Tillage Ground. Our old
Native Hut, when we removed to the Mission House formerly referred to,
was also used for all sorts of public meetings. Feeling by and by,
however, 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 (= cocoanut fiber rope)
which I had brought from Aneityum, and the nails 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 ironwood, and were each by tenon and
mortise fastened into six ironwood 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
ironwood trees, and a fifth 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 cocoanut 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.

But our pride in this New Church soon met with a dreadful blow. That
very season a terrific hurricane leveled it with the ground. After much
wailing, the principal Chief, in a public 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, the roof lowered by four feet,
and there was still plenty of smaller wood on Aniwa, the larger trees
were apparently exhausted. One morning, however, we were awakened 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 center 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., Birkenhead. The
Aniwans, therefore, gave me no rest till I agreed to have it hung on
their new Church. They found a large ironwood 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, and
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.



CHAPTER LXXI.
"KNOCK THE TEVIL OUT!"

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!"

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 cocoanut 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 all 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
neighbors. 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.



CHAPTER LXXII.
THE CONVERSION OF YOUWILI.

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 fiber 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--the
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! 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
other 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 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 yoke 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 regeneration, being
born again by the power of the Spirit of God, the new heart; but there
are many ways of conversation, of outwardly turning to the Lord, of
taking the actual first step that shows on whose side we are.

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.



CHAPTER LXXIII.
FIRST COMMUNION ON ANIWA.

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 the memorials 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--1 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.
M'nair, 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, but 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 after 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."



CHAPTER LXXIV.
THE NEW SOCIAL ORDER.

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 worshiper
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 worshiper 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 on 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 favorite 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.

Nor is our week-day life less crowded or busy, though in different ways.
At gray 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 of 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 cocoanut, breadfruit, 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 occupy 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 passed 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,"
which seems to find its life in pleasures that Christ cannot be asked to
share, and in which, therefore, Christians should have neither lot nor
part.



CHAPTER LXXV.
THE ORPHANS AND THEIR BISCUITS.

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 meals consisted of fig leaves which they had gathered
and cooked--a poor enough dish, but hunger makes a healthy 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 gray 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 boy 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 cocoanut 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, as I afterwards learned, 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 _Tanaka_-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 reveled. 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,
daughter 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!



CHAPTER LXXVI.
THE FINGER-POSTS OF GOD.

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, 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.

In the circumstances of our baby Lena's death, every form of
heartrending tenderness seemed to meet. On Friday, 28th March, at 3 A.M.
she came from God, and seemed to both of us the Angel-child of all our
flock. Alas, on Saturday I was seized with sciatica, so dreadful and
agonizing, that I had to be borne to my bed, and could not stir a limb
any more than if my back had been broken. My dear wife struggled to
attend to the baby, with such help as Native girls could give; and I
directed the Teachers about the Services in Church next Sunday, the
first time as yet that I had been unable to appear and lead them. From
the beds where we lay, my wife and I could hear each other's voices, and
tried to console one another in our sorrowful and helpless state. On
Tuesday, 1st April, the child was bright and vigorous; but the mother's
strength had been overtaxed, and she fell back, fainting in her bed,
when helping to dress the baby. Next morning, to our dismay, there were
symptoms of wheezing and feverishness in the little darling. All due
measures were at once taken to check these; and Williag, an experienced
Native, now having charge, kept everything warm and cozy. Before tea,
when receiving a little food, Lena opened her dark blue eyes, and gazed
up peacefully and gladly in her mother's face. But, immediately after
tea, within less than an hour, when the nurse brought her and placed her
in the mother's arms, the Angel-Soul fled away. Poor Williag, seeing the
mother's pathetic look, and as if she herself had been guilty, fell on
her knees and cried,--"I knew it, Missi, I knew it! She gave two big
sighs, and went! Awai, Missi, Awai!" When the mother called to me
something about the child having "fainted," I was talking with Koris,
but my heart guessed the worst. Alas, all means were seen to be vain! I
could not rise, could not move, nor could the mother, but we prayed, in
each other's hearing, and in the hearing of our blessed Lord, and He did
not leave us without consolation. In such cases, the Heathen usually fly
away in terror, but our Teachers were faithful and obedient; and our
little boys, Bob and Fred, six and four respectively, followed all our
tearful directions. One of their small toy-boxes was readily given up to
make the baby's coffin. Yawaci brought calico, and dressed the precious
body at the mother's instructions. I then offered a prayer to the clear
Lord, whilst the mother clasped the coffin in her arms. The little
grave, dug by the Teachers in the Mission plot, was within earshot of
where we lay, and there Bob and Fred, kneeling in their snow-white
dresses, sang "There is a Happy Land," as their sister's dust was laid
in the Earth and in the arms of Jesus who is the Resurrection and the
Life. God only can ever know how our hearts were torn by the pathos of
that event, as we lay helpless, almost dying, and listened to our
children's trembling voices! Johna, the Teacher, then prayed; while the
Heathen, in groups of wonder, but holding far aloof, had many strange
ideas wakened in their puzzled brains. The mother and I gave ourselves
once more away to God, and to the Service of our dear Lord Jesus, as we
parted with our darling Lena; and when, by and by, we were raised up
again, and able to move about, often, often, did we find ourselves
meeting together at that precious grave.

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 £2000 on the
first _Dayspring_. Of that sum £1000 had been spent on chartering and
maintaining the _Paragon;_ so that we required an additional £2000 to
purchase her, according to Dr. Steel's bargain with the owners, 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. 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. 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 in Sydney about the end of March. My health was wonderfully
restored, and New Zealand had given me about £1700 for the new ship.
With the £1000 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 £3000 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
honor 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. Steel, 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 LXXVII.
THE GOSPEL IN LIVING CAPITALS.

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.

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 round 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,
striking them and turning 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 turned aside, desisted from mere surprise, after having
thrown what the old Chief called "a shower of spears." 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 overawed. 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 honor 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
intrusted 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.



CHAPTER LXXVIII.
THE DEATH OF NAMAKEI.

IN claiming Aniwa for Christ, and winning it as a small 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
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 chapter 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 honor 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.

It was this same child, who, in the moment of our greatest peril, when
the Mission House was once surrounded by savages who had resolved to
murder us, managed in some incredible way to escape, and appeared, to
our horror and amazement, dancing with glee amongst the armed warriors.
He threw his arms around the neck of one after another, and kissed them,
to their great surprise,--at last, he settled down like a bird upon the
ringleader's knee, and therefrom prattled to them all, while we from
within gazed on in speechless and helpless terror! He roundly scolded
them for being "Naughty! Naughty!" The frowning faces began to relax
into broad grins, another spirit came over them, and, one after another,
they rapidly slipt away. The Council of Death was broken up; and we had
a new illustration of the Lord's precious work,--"A little Child shall
lead them."

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 booklets were then gathered
together, his meager 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 aloud, 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 raising 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."



CHAPTER LXXIX.
CHRISTIANITY AND COCOANUTS.

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 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 addresses were
wonderfully happy in graphic illustrations, and his prayers were fervid
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
quarreled, 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, 'Cocoanuts and yams.' 'And this?'
'Cocoanuts and bananas.' 'And this?' 'Cocoanuts and taro.' 'And this?'
'Cocoanuts and chestnuts,' etc. etc. The Chief was immensely astonished
at the host of dishes that could be prepared from the cocoanuts. 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 cocoanuts, he took out the kernels, all charred and spoiled,
and distributed them, amongst his people. They tasted the cocoanut, they
began to chew it, and then spat it out, crying, 'Our own food is better
than that!' The Chief was confused, and only got laughed at for all his
trouble. Was the fault in the cocoanuts? 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 labor; 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 cocoanuts.



CHAPTER LXXX.
NERWA'S BEAUTIFUL FAREWELL.

THE Chief of next importance on Aniwa was Nerwa, a keen debater, all
whose 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 cocoanut 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 cocoanut 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 shortly thereafter the Lord sent us a
little orphan girl from Nerwa's village. She was very clever, and could
soon 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 the
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 neighboring 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, as if he would cry, "Oh, to have this
treasure in my own words of Aniwa!"

When the Gospels of 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 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 favorite 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 by 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."



CHAPTER LXXXI.
RUWAWA.

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 annually by our ever dear and
faithful friends, Mr. and Mrs. Watt, from Tanna, the good Ruwawa carried
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!"



CHAPTER LXXXII.
LITSI SORÉ AND MUNGAW.

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 your 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 blowing the conch to assemble the workers. 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."

Two loaded muskets were leveled at him. I seized one in each of my
hands, and held their muzzles aloft in air, so that, if discharged, the
balls might pass over his head and mine; and thus I stood for some
minutes pleading with them.

Others soon 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, where
he proffered his penny for a ticket, all in vain. At last a sailor took
pity on him, got him some food, and led him to the St. Kilda Station.
There he stood for a whole day, offering his penny for a ticket by every
train, 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 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 intrusted 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 Church, he leaped up during Worship with a loud yelling
war-cry, rushed off through the Imrai 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 any 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 favored 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 offered themselves as the head of a band of
six or eight Aniwan Christians and were engaged there to open up the way
and assist, as Teachers and Helpers, the Missionary and his wife. There
she and they have labored 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 at
once serving the Mission family and ministering to the Natives in that
foreign 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! Oh 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 independent as Queen of my own 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."



CHAPTER LXXXIII.
THE CONVERSION OF NASI.

NASI, the Tanna-man, 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 affection 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 rubbed off the ugly thick-daubed paint 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!"

During a 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 read to the people! On arriving at the Island, after
my tour in Great Britain (1884-85), 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 a 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!"



CHAPTER LXXXIV.
THE APPEAL OF LAMU.

MY first Sabbath on Aniwa, after this 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 wonderfully "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 LXXXV.
WANTED! A STEAM AUXILIARY.

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 £6000, without which this great undertaking could not
be faced.

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.

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
throughout all my tour.

Having been invited by Mr. Dickson, an Elder of the Free Church, to
address a midday meeting of children in the Free Assembly Hall, I was
able by all appearances, greatly to interest and impress them. At the
close, my dear and noble friend, Principal Cairns, warmly welcomed and
cheered me, and that counted for much amid all anxieties; for I had
learned that very day, at headquarters, that the Free Church authorities
were resolved, in view of a difference of opinion betwixt the
_Dayspring_ Board at Sydney and the Victorian Assembly as to the new
Steam Auxiliary, to hold themselves absolutely neutral.

Having letters from Andrew Scott, Esq., 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 that 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 only to be vanquished. And I thought
in my deeper soul,--Thus our God throws us back upon Himself; and if
these £6000 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." Thus I had the pleasure and honor 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.

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.

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 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 men and women of noble rank thus consecrating themselves
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."



CHAPTER LXXXVI.
MY CAMPAIGN IN IRELAND.

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 fervor 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
wholehearted in their devotion to the work which the Lord had given them
to do.

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 eminently 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 £6000? 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 Missions, 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 Sabbath; 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 £6000 required. If He does not so send it, then I shall
expect 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 conversation; 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.



CHAPTER LXXXVII.
SCOTLAND'S FREE-WILL OFFERINGS.

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 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 at once entered into
each other's confidence, as brothers in the Lord's service. I afterwards
learned that 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!

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 alaughing 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 colored 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 characterize the gifts and the givers. One
donor 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."

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 friend carne 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.



CHAPTER LXXXVIII.
ENGLAND'S OPEN BOOK.

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 afterwards 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 a 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 ever
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, Mr. J. E.
Mathieson, 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, the Hon. Ion Keith-Falconer,
handed me a cheque from his father-in-law for £300, by far the largest
single donation at that time 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, Mr. 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 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 Douglas-Support 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
check 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
Lord's 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? I would rather give you £500
for your Orphans if I could, 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
forever, amidst all changes of creed and of climate, this, this is "pure
and undefiled Religion" before God and the Father!

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 humor, so mighty a gift when sanctified, which has so often given
wings to C. H. Spurgeon's words, when he saluted me 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
afterwards 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 had been
so specially indebted, and who had consecrated all his gifts and
opportunities to the proclamation of the pure and precious Gospel.

Of all my London associations, however, the deepest and the most
imperishable is that which weaves itself around the Honorable 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 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 harbor 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.



CHAPTER LXXXIX.
FAREWELL SCENES.

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
labor 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 License as preachers, 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 Mission 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 center of one of the great shipbuilding 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."

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 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."

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 labored 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 (£1000, by one friend, have since been given to the "John
G. Paton Mission Fund"), came from a converted tradesman who had
consecrated his all to the Lord Jesus, and whose whole leisure was now
centered upon seeking to bless and save those of his own rank and class,
amongst whom he had spent his early and unconverted days. Jesus said
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 a
"thank-offering" from Lord and Lady Polwarth, received since our
departure from Glasgow. The Lord had now literally exceeded my prayers.
With other gifts, repeated again by friends at Mildmay, the special fund
for outfit and traveling expenses for new Missionaries had risen above
the £500, and now approached £650.

In a Farewell Meeting at Mildmay the Lord's servants, being 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 Good-by, 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!"



CHAPTER XC.
WELCOME TO VICTORIA AND ANIWA.

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.

During my absence at the Islands, to which I immediately proceeded, they
unanimously elected me Moderator of their Supreme Court, and called me
back to fill that highest Chair of honor 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 £6000, 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 £9000. And all this had been forwarded to me, as
the freewill offerings of the Lord's stewards, in the manner illustrated
by the preceding pages. "Behold! What God hath wrought!"

Of this sum £6000 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, with trained Native
Teachers, 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, unexpected delay has arisen. There are
differences of opinion about the best way of carrying out the proposal.
There must be an understanding betwixt New South Wales and Victoria and
the other Colonies, as to the additional annual expenditure. And the
perplexity as to the wisest course has deepened, since the Colonial
Government began to run Mail Ships regularly from Australia to Fiji,
willing on certain terms of subsidy, to call at one or other harbor in
the New Hebrides. Meantime, let all friends who are interested in us and
our work understand--that the money so generously intrusted to me has
been safely handed over to my own Victorian Church, and is deposited at
good interest in the bank, to be spent at their discretion in due time,
when all details are settled, and, as nearly as possible in the altered
circumstances, exclusively for the purposes for which it was asked and
bestowed.

To me personally, this delay is confessedly a keen and deep
disappointment. But the special work laid upon me has, however, been
accomplished. The Colonial Churches have now all the responsibility of
the further steps. In this, as in many a harder trouble of my checkered
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 an ordained
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!

My Home has since been at Melbourne. My life-work now (1892), and
probably during the remainder of my active days, will be to visit and
address the Congregations and Sabbath Schools of the Presbyterian
Churches of Australasia, telling them, as in this book, the story of my
experiences, and inspiring the Christian people of these Colonies to
support the New Hebrides Mission, and to claim all these Islands for the
Lord Jesus Christ.

Reader, in your life, as in mine, one last Chapter still awaits us. By
His grace, who has sustained me from childhood till now, I would work
out that Chapter, and live through these closing scenes. With this book
still open before you, I implore you to go alone before your blessed
Saviour, and pledge yourself so to live, and so to die, in the service
and fellowship of the Lord Jesus, that you and I, who have companied
with each other through these pages, may meet again and renew our happy
intercourse in our FATHER'S HOUSE.



CHAPTER XCI.
GOOD NEWS FROM TANNA, 1891. (By the Editor.)

WHILST this page of manuscript passes through my hands, there is laid
before me a brilliant letter from Mrs. Watt of Tanna, which, I am sure,
she will pardon me for utilizing thus. It is written from Port
Resolution, in the closing days of 1891. Its main theme is the building
of the SCOTCH CHURCH, in the very heart of the district where my
brother's years of anguish and toil were endured. Friends in Scotland
gave Mr. and Mrs. Watt the money wherewith to purchase materials, and
St. Paul's Parish Church, Glasgow, provided the Bell. But let us hear
how she paints the scene, and unveils to us the Island life,--alike
Pagan and Christian.

When they returned from Scotland and found their way to Kwamera, after
galling delays among the Islands, one of their first duties was the
making of "the annual contribution of arrow-root," the proceeds "to go
to line the roof of the Kwamera Church,--the Church itself having been
built in the same way," that is, by the sacred arrow-root! Then they
went round to Port Resolution for the erection of the SCOTCH CHURCH,--"A
Memorial of Workers and Work on Tanna." She tells how they "improvized a
derrick by lashing together the masts of the two boats, and, with the
aid of these and blocks and tackle, got the principals into their proper
position. And though carpenters or builders may laugh at it," she adds,
"we heaved a sigh of relief when the last one was secured." Listen to
this: "Mr. Gray (neighbor Missionary) and Mr. Watt were the only skilled
workmen. The others were all inexperienced, being Natives. We had them
all divided into two relays, and they came turn about, each alternate
day; and I can assure you there are no Natives in the Group, or indeed
in any land, who would have come more faithfully, or worked more
heartily, than these much-abused Tannese! The work went on every day,
Sabbaths excepted, from 6 A.M. till 6 P.M., for forty days. On ten of
these days Mr. Gray gave very valuable assistance; in truth, I do not
see how we could have done without him. Day by day the women prepared
food; the boys pulled drinking cocoanuts; and every one worked
willingly, while crowds came and gazed on in wonder as the edifice
arose." And if there be any shallow arm-chair critic of Missions ready
to sneer at such toils, let him first digest what this devoted lady
Missionary says: "Church Building may not be considered by some as
Mission work; yet we believe this Church erection has been the means of
much good to this people. We have had better attendances, both on
week-days and on Sabbaths, than ever before. And we managed to keep up
the daily morning and evening meetings during all the building
time,--as, after the devotional part was over, the builders went out,
but the rest remained for lessons." What more blessed than thus to work
and pray! To teach their hands to work, and their hearts to sing praises
to the Lord!

Now let us pass on, and look in upon them at the opening and dedication
of this SCOTCH CHURCH ON TANKA to the Lord God. "On a fixed day,
Wednesday 28th October, exactly twelvemonths to a day from our leaving
Liverpool, Natives from far and near assembled for the occasion. Mr. and
Mrs. Gray, with their two children, a Mr. Voullaire, a German who has
come to Tanna as a Trader, and our neighbor Mr. Bramwell, joined us. So
that, when we all met for the Opening Services, we were a somewhat mixed
company, speaking a medley of languages,--English, Scotch, German,
Fijian, Aneityumese, Aniwan, and at least two of the Tannese languages!
The building was well filled; but the bigger crowd was gathered outside;
for our Heathen onlookers were afraid to enter the sacred edifice. The
Service was beautiful. All seemed very happy. After it, there was an
exchange of gifts, we giving fifty fathoms of prints and calicoes, some
handkerchiefs, two pots full of cooked rice, a pile of raw yams and
taro, and two pieces of salt beef. Our neighbor gave some print, some
tins of luncheon beef, and some uncooked rice. The Natives gave two
cooked pigs, and native puddings _ad libitum_. These things being
divided to the satisfaction of all, we had speeches, when doubtless some
good impressions were made. On the Sabbath following we had a good
attendance, Mr. Gray addressing the people. On the Sabbath following
that we made our first money collection on Tanna." I again ask to my
readers to listen, and to lay to heart what the lady Missionary tells us
of these once cruel and cannibal souls. "We asked the people to give it
as a thank-offering for the remarkable exemption from accident during
the building of the Church though at times the work was rather
dangerous. The collection was £3: 5s. We were much pleased with the
hearty way the people responded to this, the first call to give a free
gift to the Lord. One man, whose whole purse was 17s., gave 1s. himself,
and gave 1s. to each of his three sons, so that they too might have
something to give. Knowing how meanly the Tannese treated the Spirits
whom they worshiped in Heathenism,--giving them the scraggiest fish, the
poorest bananas, and the smallest yams,--we rejoiced in this Christian
liberality!!"

Referring to exaggerated Newspaper rumors she says: "Tanna bulks largely
in some minds, though it is only a small Island, a little larger than
Arran! We had noticed that our Civil War was telegraphed not only to the
Australian papers, but to San Francisco, and even to the _London
Standard_. We have been receiving letters of condolence from friends,
who think our lives in danger!" Now, mark what the presence of the
Gospel and the Missionary has brought about, as compared with former
days: "Personally, the said Civil War has not affected us in the
slightest. The Grays, who were in the center of the scene of action, and
who more than once had the bullets whizzing over and around their house,
were so assured of their complete safety that Mrs. Gray stayed there
bravely alone with their children, while Mr. Gray came up here to assist
at our Church building!"

But she does not pretend that all is Christlike: "The list of killed and
wounded has been unusually large for Tanna, while the atrocities
committed have been worse than we ever heard of before. Indignities were
offered to the dead of both sexes. And, in one case at least, a
mutilated woman was left unburied to be eaten by dogs,--and would have
been completely devoured, had not one of our Teachers come on the scene
next day, and, unaided, dug a grave and buried her." And then the writer
lets in the lurid light of the Nether Pit in this closing picture: "One
instance of the disgusting depravity of the people shocked me much. A
man, who even attends Service in the district where the above dreadful
affair took place, on seeing the poor mutilated form of the woman,
addressed it thus--'If only the Gospel had not reached my Village, how I
would have enjoyed a feast off you!' I cannot tell you how much this has
preyed upon my mind; or how glad I feel at realizing that Jesus is an
Almighty Saviour, and can save to the uttermost, else I would despair of
these People!"

This may be commended to the attention of those who still affect to
believe that the Cannibalism of my brother's book is overdrawn. That
half-civilized Tanna man, smacking his lips at the thought of what might
have been his but for the Gospel, outweighs all cavils, and is tenfold
stronger than arguments. Also let us ask all readers to ponder the dear
lady's parting shot at unsympathetic and disparaging critics: "Some have
said that the backwardness of the Gospel on Tanna is due to the want of
faith on the part of her Missionaries; but I agree with our
fellow-laborer, Mr. Gray, who declares that it is only gigantic Faith
that could have toiled so many years amongst such a People!" Dear sister
in the Lord, courageous, much-enduring, free of all mock-modesty,
conscious of thy Cross, I thank thee for that word--it is the right
one--"Gigantic faith!"





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