The Project Gutenberg eBook of Journal of Residence in the New Hebrides, by C. Bice and A. Brittain.

WRITTEN DURING THE YEAR 1886,
BY
Revds. C. BICE AND A. BRITTAIN.

TRURO:
NETHERTON AND WORTH, LEMON STREET.
1887.

PREFACE.

I have been induced to publish the following Journals at the request of some friends who have perused them, and think they will prove interesting to others. The Journal of the Rev. A. Brittain arrived too late for insertion in the ‘Island Voyage’ for this year, and I have been requested by the Rev. William Selwyn, the Secretary of the Melanesian Mission, to print it with my own. I do this with the greater pleasure, because his report will not only supply me with a good excuse for rushing into print, but will furnish others with a more full and complete account of the work of the Melanesian Mission in the New Hebrides.

The three islands herein spoken of are the Northernmost of the above-mentioned group—the New Hebrides—and form the Southern boundary of the Melanesian Mission work in the islands of the South-west Pacific Ocean.

Araga (or Pentecost) and Maewo (or Aurora) are long and mountainous islands running almost North and South, about forty miles each in length, and separated by a narrow channel three miles wide. Opa (or Leper’s Island) runs at right angles to these, a broad, massive, grand looking country, resembling in appearance a huge whale, the hump of which rises to a height of over 4000 feet.

Araga and Opa are thickly populated, but Maewo has a scattered and sparse population. Opa is about sixteen miles from Araga, but a channel of only five miles in width separates it from Maewo.

The languages and dispositions of these neighbouring lands are much more varied and dissimilar than would naturally be inferred from their close propinquity. And the majority of the{vi} people, too, seem to prefer an inland situation, all which serve to make the work of the Missionary the more arduous and difficult. On these islands every outward prospect is pleasing, and the inhabitants themselves not so far gone in vileness as to be incapable of improvement, as I hope the following pages will show. The work of the Melanesian Mission has been established in these islands a good many years now, with more or less success, and schools are in active operation as follows:—

At Araga—Wonor, on the Southern face of the island, and Lamoru and Qatvenua on the North.

At Maewo—Tanrig, Tasmouri, Tasmate, Mandurvat, Naruru, and Uta. All these stations are on the North of the island.

At Opa—Tavolavola, Lobaha, Walurigi, the most flourishing of which is that first mentioned.

With these few preliminary remarks and explanations I leave the following simple pages to tell their own story.

N.B.—The vowels in the Melanesian languages are pronounced as in Italian: a = ah, e = a, i = e.

The letter written n̈ = ng in singer; d = nd, b = mb.

J O U R N A L.

Friday, 9th July.—The weather seaward looked very threatening as we stood on the Pier at the Settlement in readiness to embark. All the Melanesians, boys and girls, to the number of about 50 had already gone off to the ship which lay tossing and tumbling at her anchorage as if anxious to be let free. A considerable number of Norfolk Island friends were on the Pier, in addition to most of the Members of the Mission, to bid us Farewell and wish us God speed. Many thoughtful little mementos, too, found their way into our hands from our warm-hearted and well wishing friends. The process of shaking hands took some time in execution, but one could not but feel the absence of many who were unavoidably absent on the occasion. My own little ones were the last to bid me good-bye, and poor little Walter (my youngest son) was very tearful. Shortly after, we were all in the boat, and “let go” was called out. The landing was very smooth, and we got out with very little difficulty. Besides the Captain, Mr. Turnbull and myself were the only passengers. It was close upon 5 o’clock p.m. when we got on board, and some of the passengers had already begun to feel the motion of the ocean. After things were put into some order and the shore boat dismissed with Captain Bates and the Norfolk Island crew, the command to “heave away” was given, and then I saw for the first time the steam winch at work. Before many minutes the anchor was in its place in the bows of the ship, and the long process of raising the anchor in old days, performed by manual labour, reduced to a minimum. We slipped{2} quietly down the leeside of the island, and had ample time to get into some amount of order and readiness for a very dirty, rough night. Opposite the Mission, the boys ashore had lit a large bonfire, and we could hear their shouts, borne seaward by the raging gale. As night closed in the sky became very dark and lowering, and we knew full well what we were to expect. We had dinner while still under the lee of the island, but before the meal was finished, we were knocking about in the heavy head gale. Of course any where but at Norfolk Island, where there is no certain shelter, it would be approaching madness to put to sea with such a crowd of people in a small ship on a night like this, but here there is no help for it. Perhaps had we not got away as we did, we might have been detained another week, from the uncertainty of wind changes and the insecurity of the anchorages. All night it blew very heavily, with a nasty head sea. Of course, the wind being very strong and dead ahead, we made little or no progress, and were in fact hove to. Most of the passengers spent a very unpleasant night, and the poor little children, of whom we had four on board, suffered like the others. The poor boys in the schoolroom had a disagreeable time, owing to the large amount of cargo on board, in addition to their own luggage. The Southern Cross, however, is a magnificent sea boat, although slightly lively, and being at sea was, to me at least, the worst of the evils we experienced that first night. Mr. Turnbull is a good sailor, and he and I were alone in the saloon. Poor old Manekalea I invited also to sleep there, on account of his blindness, and I asked Silas Kema to sleep there and look after him. Poor fellow, his sight seems quite gone, but he is wonderfully patient and resigned. I think now he begins to feel that there is no hope of his ever seeing again, and he begins to try and help himself and get about alone a great deal more than before. The loss of so young, active, and intelligent a Teacher must be much felt in the district of Ysabel, formerly under his charge.

Saturday, 10th.—The wind had abated little, if any, this morning, and the vessel was making little or no headway. It rained a good deal throughout the day, and that allayed both wind and sea by evening. Very few of the boys appeared on deck, and I myself was quite hors de combat. Mr. Turnbull kindly offered to read prayers in English for me in the Evening, and I managed the Mota with a few who were able to attend. These first days on board ship are very trying, one feels quite out of it altogether, and the sea legs are somewhat long in returning{3} when one has been ashore for any length of time. Towards evening the weather moderated a little, but there was very little life about the ship. These unhappy days when one is the victim of mal de mer leave a very unsatisfactory impression behind them, and if any recollection is left, it is always painful. I was not actually seasick myself, but I felt uncomfortable enough for a time, and did not care for ship’s fare.

Sunday, 11th.—The weather more moderate. I conducted Morning Prayer both in English and Mota, and generally our passengers were getting over their indisposition. It was not a very profitable day however to me, for I could not settle to anything: our Service hours on Sunday, at sea, are English Mattins at 9 o’clock a.m. and Evensong at 7 p.m. Mota 11 a.m. and 7.30 p.m. Our daily hours for meals are 8 a.m. breakfast, 12 noon lunch, 5 p.m. dinner. On Sunday this is slightly changed, and we dine at 1, and tea at 5 p.m. At anchor, too, the English Morning Service is postponed to 10 a.m., and all the sailors are enabled to attend. Usually only one watch can be present while the vessel is at sea. This year we have a crew composed entirely of Englishmen. We have generally had previously a strong admixture of foreigners. The steward, indeed, is a German, but he has been with us so many voyages, speaks and reads English so well, that one quite forgets his nationality. The crew are a very nice, quiet, well-behaved set of men, and all look so respectable. I believe the Captain has many applications for billets on board the Southern Cross, she being a popular vessel now-a-days, besides, a trip in her is a paying affair, for I am told that sometimes the men realize from £10 to £30 and £40 by the sale of curios alone. The great collector on board now is John Brown the boatswain, and he has accumulated quite a museum, which he meditates taking to England for sale next year. Brown is an old Island Trader, and knows all the specialities of the trade and what will captivate the native taste. Penny whistles and half-penny looking glasses, I believe, are the line this trip. There is very keen competition too on board when the curio fields are reached, chiefly at Santa Cruz and some of the Solomon Islands. Sunday passed away somewhat profitlessly, and evening once more closed over a day past and gone. I did not give the sailors a Sermon, but reserved my efforts for the Melanesians, many of whom were able to attend. I naturally chose the subject of the Gospel as the basis of my remarks, viz: the recovery of the lost sheep and the piece of money, which{4} I applied to the condition of the heathen to whom we were going, and our duty as seekers of those who were still wandering upon the mountains and upon every high hill, with none caring for them or seeking them out. We had some singing after the service, and the termination of the day at least was pleasant, and I hope profitable. One’s thoughts naturally wandered away back to Norfolk Island, and one thought of the quiet peaceful Sunday evenings there, and the love of those we had left. The vessel was much more at her ease this evening, and we could undress and rest in bed with more comfort.

It was a great pleasure to me from this time forward, to see the boys dropping into the cabin one by one to say their prayers, unbidden but none the less welcome.

Monday, 12th July.—This morning the wind has moderated very considerably, and the sea is going down. The vessel moving along much more gently and easily, sometimes towards our destination. Life on board is almost utterly devoid of interest or excitement. There is little or nothing stirring, and out of our element we feel restless and not fit for much. We begin now however, to fall into ship-shape ways, and things begin to look a little straighter than they did. The boys are divided into sets of cooks, and have to take their turn in order to cook and keep the schoolroom clean. The Melanesians have three meals a day, and they are supposed to look after their own food, the cook giving directions as to what he wants doing. After the misery and prostration of mal de mer have passed off, the boys get very lively, and do not easily again succumb.

In the evening we had music. Brown the boatswain has a most ingenious instrument called, I think, the “Cabinetto,” which plays almost any tune; a piece of perforated paper is turned over a sort of key-board, like a mouth organ, by means of a handle, and the closed notes are kept silent, while the open ones speak according to the length of the perforation. Its tone is somewhat harsh, but the music is very correct, and there is plenty of it. Brown bought this instrument, which cost him some £15 or £16, for the special amusement of his young Melanesian friends. The girls never seem to tire of turning the handle, and the more it is turned the better the owner seems pleased. Forward there is a very good concertina, exceptionally well played by one of the sailors, a banjo played by another, and a tin plate beaten by a third makes a very fair tambourine. Altogether, the hour between 5 and 6 p.m. is very lively with{5} strains of music and other enlivenments. The boys most thoroughly enjoy the music, and are very attentive and enthusiastic listeners, breaking in with a good chorus when they happen to know any of the pieces played. At 7 p.m. English Prayers, a shortened form of Evensong with a hymn, and afterwards full Evensong in Mota with a good deal of singing. We have many nice voices on board this time, and the singing is exceptionally good. Owing to the crowded state of the schoolroom, service is held in the saloon, which is inconveniently small for the large number who attend. The girls who hitherto have been prevented from attending, by reason of sea-sickness, this evening put in a very fairly large appearance. Most Melanesian ladies are bad sailors, and some never get over the inconveniences of the uncongenial sea element.

Tuesday, 13th July.—The weather this morning was somewhat finer, but still a good deal unsettled. We have failed as yet to get hold of the S.E. Trades, but are living in hopes that a favourable breeze will soon waft us onward to our destination. The great excitement this morning was the smoke of a steamer, which at first we wildly imagined must be the vessel expected from Sydney to meet us at Norfolk Island, giving us chase. However, wiser heads, by the direction of the ship’s head and the course of the smoke, made it out to be the Rockton or some steamer from Fiji towards New Caledonia. Whatever ship it may have been, the excitement all ended in smoke. Beyond this, we have had nothing stirring all day. The moon at night dispersed the clouds, and the concertina forward enlivened the monotony of the evening. And so has passed another day, leaving little record of any work done.

Wednesday, 14th July.—We were to-day somewhere in the neighbourhood of Walpole Island, a flat, uninhabited island lying by itself in mid ocean, on which myriads of sea birds have their dwelling, and lay their eggs and hatch their young. The weather was somewhat hazy, so we got no sight of the sun although the Captain was anxious to do so, not having been able to see that orb either to-day or yesterday. The ‘dead reckoning’ alone showed him our probable whereabouts, but he was not able to get any definite position laid down. Shoals of fish were seen about the ship to-day, and the boys perched on the bowsprit end succeeded in cleverly catching two fine skipjacks, one of which we had cooked for dinner, and which was pronounced as very good eating. No bait is required for these fish, a line, rod, and hook to which a piece of red rag is attached, are requisite, and the motion of the{6} vessel makes the tempting object skip along the surface of the water, to which the fish rises and swallows hook and all. They are large fish, and peculiarly strong, especially with their tails. At times they breach out of the water to a great height, the motive power being seated in their tails. One of the boys unadvisedly took hold of one of those caught to-day too near the tail, and the fish lashing out struck him on the forefinger, and at first I fancied had sprained it, for the whole hand swelled, and he was in considerable pain for some time. This evening it was very quiet and pleasant, and the moon added to the pleasantness of the occasion. It is wonderful to mark how the days lengthen as we go further North, and how the weather grows warmer. Soon we shall dispense with waistcoats, and bye and bye coats will likewise go, except at meals and at prayers. We saw nothing of Walpole Island, and the Captain got no sight of the sun again to-day.

Thursday, 15th July.—This morning we were well up with Anaiteum, the first of the New Hebrides group, and belonging to the Presbyterians who have been established there a great number of years. Soon after Tanna appeared in view, and later on in the day Eromango. We could not see the volcano at Tanna, so that we cannot speak of its activity or otherwise. We passed close under Eromango, and for some time the water was quite smooth. We had a most beautiful wind all day, the real S.E. Trades, and we were enabled to make good progress towards our first place of call. Everyone on board seems to have sprung into life with the sight of land, and no doubt many see in the islands we are passing the anticipation of their own homes. Most of our passengers are from the New Hebrides and Banks’ groups, of which these three islands are the commencement. It was most beautiful all day and the evening especially enjoyable; the Captain wisely remarked that if it were always so fine, there would be too many sailors, or at least persons who would want to go to sea. Melanesian islands are disappointing as viewed at a distance from the sea, for they are like any other place, but the great beauty of them is seen on nearer inspection and ashore. These three islands and the Loyalty group are not so thickly wooded as some farther North.

Friday, July 16th.—Strong S.E. Trades, and we moved along rapidly all day, doing over two hundred miles. We found ourselves in the evening running through the passage between Ambrym and Pentecost at the South end of which we expected to find Mr. Brittain, who had been left there when the ship went{7} back to Norfolk Island. We stood quite close into the place, but receiving no manner of response from the shore we began to suspect that after all the bird had flown. The vessel stood off and on all the night, and it certainly was more comfortable than usually is the case under the like circumstances. The vessel rode very quietly all night, and on

Saturday, July 17th.—We were early off our place of call, and seeing no signs ashore the boat was lowered and I took the steer oar in a furious wind and a heavy sea. The approach to and departure from this place were as nasty as could be, and I was not sorry to be on board all right again. Mr. Brittain had left some time before, and our visit was futile except that we brought off his things. The people were quiet and well behaved, and Tom (the teacher) was in great form. Tom, having been educated in Sydney, speaks remarkably good English and is evidently held in respect by his people. Their dress and appearance are very like their neighbours of Ambrym, and the women wear the flaxen petticoat also like the Ambrymese. Their language, too, I believe, is akin, the distance separating the two islands not being more than five or six miles. Tom is building a very nice school, and there seems a large population. A big, chiefly looking man was sitting on the beach as we were coming away, and Tom told me that he was the chief of the place. I had brought nothing with me from the ship, and the boys had nothing, so the best I could do for the great man was to give him a tin of sardines which I got out of one of Mr. Brittain’s boxes. I dare say he would have preferred tobacco, but he seemed as satisfied as natives usually appear to be, for they are not generally very demonstrative or profuse in their thanks. The tide was falling fast so we had to beat a hasty retreat and got off with some considerable difficulty.

Poor Tom must find life at home somewhat of a change to the ‘easy life’ he enjoyed in Sydney. I believe he was very much scandalized when he first got home at the outrageously indecent dress of his countrymen. He himself still dons the Sydney costume, but minus boots. Poor boy! I dare say he dreamed in Sydney of the reforms he would endeavour to effect when he got home, but the stern difficulties in the way he now begins to realize. Oh! Missionary work seems easy enough when viewed from an arm chair at a distance of many thousand miles, the difficulties only become apparent when the man is brought into close connection with his work, and has to grapple in a stubborn, persistant hand to hand fight with the Evil one. Poor Tom! I{8} suppose he will try a little at first to stem the tide, and failing in that, will drift along with the stream. To a poor youth like that the difficulties of his position must seem stupendous and insurmountable. Nothing but the grace of God is sufficient for such. I dare say ere now his bright vistas and day dreams are being only too rudely dispelled, for he will have to find out like all other Missionaries that Christians are not made by machinery, or believers made such in a day; it is a long and weary process, but labour is not in vain in the Lord. Once more on board, the boat was hauled up, and on we started for the North end of the island where now we hoped to find Mr. Brittain. We saw a Labour vessel at anchor along the coast, and got to our own anchorage about 4 p.m. Mr. Brittain came off in his boat very sick, and with some difficulty got on board. He has been ill three weeks and was very anxious for the return of the vessel. During the evening he brightened up a good deal and I dare say felt much better for the society of his white brethren. He gave a very sad account of the state of things ashore, great sickness and considerable mortality. We had a very quiet night at anchor, and determined to stay here till Monday. We had some boys to land, and the boats were going forth and back all the evening. The clatter alongside was fearful owing to the large number of canoes that put off to the ship and every occupant speaking at the same time. They used to be a very noisy crowd, but have much improved of late years. It was a most glorious night at anchor and not excessively hot. We consider that we have done very well to be here so soon with the bad start from Norfolk Island. How the boys and girls did enjoy the fruits of their own islands again, especially green cocoanuts and soft sugar cane! And how pleasing was it too, as well as entertaining, as the shades of evening closed in, to watch the coy and shy flirtations of the young married couples on board; one or two were quite oldfashioned at the process, but Charles and Monica especially were somewhat more bashful. The young bridegrooms were most attentive to their respective spouses on the voyage but necessarily lived apart. The boys and men all live together in the schoolroom, and the girls and married women aft. There are as yet no married people’s apartments, we shall look for those when we get a bigger ship.

Sunday, 18th July.—Quiet and peaceful day at Araga. The natives regarded the observance of Sunday so strictly that they troubled us very little with their noisy chatter, indeed very few canoes came off at all to the ship, and we were able to have an{9} uninterrupted day of rest. Our services began at 10 a.m. with English Prayers. We chanted the Venite, read the Te Deum, and sang the Jubilate besides singing the Glorias in the Psalms, and two hymns. We had therefore full Mattins with a short address to which the men paid very good attention. I tried to make the discourse as easy and lively as possible, and interspersed a few anecdotes among my remarks, which I think, being appropriate, were appreciated. The service lasted just three quarters of an hour so that the men were not wearied. It was not a very hot day, but beautifully bright and glorious. Shorewards it looked most lovely, the bright sunshine lighting up the vegetation with a silver sheen, everything seeming to catch the infection from the King of Day, who rejoiced as a giant to run his course. On board a gentle breeze cooled the air, and under the awning and down below alike it was bearably comfortable and refreshing.

At 11 o’clock we had service in Mota, at which we had the attendance of all the Melanesians of both sexes in the ship, and a very hearty, cheering service it was. I reserved my address to them for the evening and before noon our religious duties for the morning were over. We dined at 1 o’clock and in the afternoon Mr. Turnbull and myself went ashore. This was his first experience in these islands and he was duly impressed with the natural beauty everywhere apparent, and the good nature of the people. It was nearly high water when we went in over the reef, and the clearness of the sea, the beauty of the coral bed, the dear little blue and vari-coloured fish which flitted about produced their due effect on him. The white beach, too, with its background of most luxuriant green rising from the base and clothing in marvellous profusion the tops of the hills greatly delighted him. The climb up the hill somewhat dispelled the fancy, but one could well imagine oneself in some semi-fairy land so strangely beautiful as it all looked. We were in a very liquid state when we reached the school about three quarters of a mile up the hill, and green cocoanuts were very acceptable. Here we found in the midst of all the loveliness a poor little child dying amid squalor and destitution. The poor young mother was sitting over it and crying her heart out. Her son had been buried the day before and there seemed not a particle of hope for the elder sister. I said what I could to comfort the mother, but it was too late to do anything for the child. The father with a third child was walking up and down disconsolately outside. The sight had its effect on me, for the father bears the honoured name of my great{10} friend Bishop Key of Kaffraria, the mother bears my wife’s name, and the little dying one the name of my own daughter, the boy too who died the day before was called “Bailey” a cognomen revered by all Augustinians as the name of its late Warden.

Poor things! May God give them all the comfort of His grace, the only balm for a troubled and afflicted soul.

We walked about the village for a time and everything being utterly new and strange to Mr. Turnbull he was very much charmed. We visited old Sarawia who was once, and I dare say now is, the chief man in the place. He still looks much the same as ever but professed himself to be failing in health, and suffering from a sort of paralysis in his left leg. It does not seem however as if he intended to die just yet for he has lately taken two or three additional wives. We also saw the great wind and rain maker, but he said he had given up the trade now, and came to school regularly. Formerly he used to derive a good income from it I believe.

The houses and gamals (men’s quarters) here are most squalid and wretched, but the people seem content, and don’t trouble themselves much about their habitations, but what they shall eat or drink is a prominent consideration in all their minds. Their great treasures here are pigs and mats, and a man’s wealth and standing is measured by his possession in these. After proceeding through various grades if a man can kill one hundred pigs at a feast he is looked upon as a man of importance and his name is handed down to posterity as a great man, and I believe by that means his fare is prepaid to the realms of the Blest. The reverse I believe obtains with those who possess no treasures and kill no pigs. Everyone therefore in the interval between his advent into this world and his departure from it, endeavours to slaughter according to custom one pig or more, or the consequences will be terrible if not here at least hereafter.

This is a cheap way at all events of purchasing blessedness and no wonder they are eager with the small price for it. A fighting man formerly was looked upon as having more claim to their Walhalla than a man who refused or who had failed to take blood. This title certainly of late years has not been so eagerly coveted, and so far it is, thankworthy, but “when the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness and doeth that which is lawful and right he shall save his soul alive,” this last clause as yet is omitted from their programme.

On our way back I could not refrain from paying another{11} visit to the dying child. There still sat the faithful mother, and there still lay her pretty child, life was not yet extinct, and she had turned since I saw her before. I determined when I got off to the ship to try and get some medicine as a sort of dernier resort. I doubt if medicine will ever more do any good. We got off to the ship before 5 p.m., and at that hour had tea, bread and sardines, and cake which the cook had concocted. The “Cabinetto” was going most of the evening, Brown having thoughtfully brought some sacred sheets for Sundays. At 7 p.m. we had Evensong in English and afterwards in Mota with an address on the Gospel, “Be ye therefore merciful,” “not only were we to ask mercy for ourselves I said, but we too must extend it to others, and we should find plenty of opportunity of doing so, in the places to which we were going. If we only felt for a moment the mercy of God towards us as revealed in Christ Jesus, we must be merciful to our fellows, and we must show them the same mercy we had experienced and known in our Saviour’s dealings with our own souls.”

We had great singing afterwards, which they always enjoy. It was most resplendent on deck afterwards, and one was thankful for the quiet and refreshment throughout of the day of rest.

Monday, 19th July.—Mr. Brittain well enough this morning to go ashore to collect his things and make arrangements with his teachers. It is his intention if health permits to stay ashore in Mr. Palmer’s district at Mota and the Banks’ Islands, but in his present condition such a step would scarcely be wise. However, time will tell. While he was ashore Mr. Huggett, the mate, always ready to lend a helping hand, and myself put the teacher’s things together, and when he came off Mr. Brittain had nothing to do but give them out according as they had been deserved. Meanwhile there were crowds of people round about the ship, and much trading was carried on by the boys and girls on board. They use here canoes with outriggers, and the larger ones are very clumsy, unwieldy monsters. The Captain hates the sight of them alongside for they rub the paint off the ship, and sometimes even damage the copper. In the Solomon Islands they have no outriggers, and the natives are much more expert in the management of their canoes, both large and small.

We weighed anchor at noon and stood across to Opa and were at anchor at Tavolavola by about 3.30 p.m.; a very nice{12} breeze took us across, and on arrival there we made preparations for going ashore at once. I found matters satisfactory ashore, and the school in full swing, the young teachers all neatly and nicely dressed.

They were glad to have Charles back again and the women walked off with his pretty wife, dressed in all her bit of best. She had done a good deal of weeping between the ship and shore, evidently being very reluctant to leave her friends on board. Her eyes therefore were slightly tear bedyed, and her cheeks also, before she got ashore. The school looked cared for, and I was pleased to see a very nice new house built for me. The people were very glad to have me back and received me in their usually cordial fashion. An English Trader had built a house, and had resided some months near the village, but had lately taken his departure, why I know not, but I believe there was not trade enough.

There are a number of white men now trading all over the island, the mystery is how they can make it pay. Monica was very tearful again when I bid her good-bye, poor girl I dare say she will have a hard struggle at first among her own country women, but I trust she may have strength given her to resist the wiles of the Evil one and his agents among them. She is a pretty, flighty girl, but much improved of late, and became a great favourite on board. She has a most estimable husband and I hope she will make him a good helpmeet.

We passed a very pleasant night at the snug anchorage and all the boys came off to the ship next morning.

Tuesday, 20th July.—We weighed anchor and dropped down to Lobaha, about four miles along the coast to the Westward. Here we found Herbert Arudale well. He came off to the ship with his wife Mary who was not well. They seem to live much happier now, and both were beaming over with smiles. He gives but a poor account of his work, which is much in statu quo. The fact is his field is very limited if he must confine himself to his own people, and it never suggests itself to a Melanesian to go farther a-field. The mountain must come to Mahomet, for Mahomet never dreams of going to the mountain. However, now with Didi and his wife, a most exemplary pair, and seemingly very devoted, they ought to make a fresh start. Baitagaro I saw ashore and he seems to have improved, but it must be heart breaking work to labour on year after year, and get little or no attention to what you say, no appreciation of the message you{13} bring, and no interest taken in all you endeavour to do. However, it is what the Man of Sorrows passed through, and it is what His true followers have to experience also.

Here we almost filled the ship with fruit, especially a kind ardently longed for by the Norfolk Islanders, which they call the Vee apple, but which the Opa people term “Uhi.” Some very sweet oranges too were offered for sale, and the ship looked like a fruit market.

We hoisted our anchor before noon and stood across to Maewo where we anchored in the evening. No one being down on the beach, I started off Arthur Huqe and Duwu to Tanrig to tell the people to come down in the morning.

The village is three or four miles from the watering place and except the ship is there, the Tanrigese seldom come down to this beach, the sea being nearer on the other side of the island. Mr. Turnbull and I with some of the boys went in and had a most delicious bath, after so many days privation all the nicer. The river we found very full and the rush very great, but the water was most beautifully cool and refreshing. This now is the chief and best watering place in the islands, and the water itself is most excellent. Late in the evening a boy arrived who had rowed a long distance in his canoe, and he gave us the news, which was good on the whole. He told me again the tragic story enacted at N̈adui, a village not far from the watering place. One Vulatewa was a reputed disease-maker, and he resided there. Lately there had been a great mortality at Maewo, and especially among the still heathen people of Tanrowo, a coastal district bordering on N̈adui. The great man, Melkalano’s son died and his brother and many others, and Vulatewa insisted that he had made the sickness, and would kill many more except he were propitiated. However, propitiation by the gift of pigs or money was not in Melkalano’s line, and collecting his followers he made a raid on poor Vulatewa and killed him and two others, cutting them into small pieces, and leaving them as they were killed.

They then drove out the other inhabitants, or rather fear had already lent them wings for flight, and destroyed the village. The poor people left everything they possessed behind, and took refuge in all directions among their friends. The people at the next village, where there was a flourishing school, took fright also, and cleared out of their homes leaving a fine handsome school-house and a new church almost finished. The boy added that as soon as Vulatewa was dead the sickness was stayed. We did{14} no watering this evening as the tide did not suit. After a very quiet night at anchor on

Wednesday, 21st July.—We started watering ship. This is a busy process and keeps everyone on board well employed. Two large canvas tanks are fitted into each boat, and fastened underneath the thwarts. Into these the water is poured from buckets until both are full, a suction pump and hose on board empties these canvas tanks into iron receptacles under the floor of the schoolroom, and one boatload fills about a tank and a half. Seven or eight loads of water therefore finished the watering to-day. When everything was finished, the boys and girls went ashore to wash their clothes and bathe, and this day here is always looked forward to. The people came down from Tanrig in the morning, and I was busy packing up my things. After lunch I went ashore and started away the bearers with my belongings. How they managed to carry all the heavy boxes and a big harmonium up the hill and on for three or four miles, I don’t know, but they did it, and did not think much of it. I went on board again, and thanks to the Captain’s kindness, I got the loan of one of the ship’s boats, my own having been stolen by a labour ship last year. After an early dinner, escorted by Arthur, &c., I left for Tanrig. It was just getting dusk when I arrived, and I had no time to put anything straight. We had Evensong, and after that I prepared for bed. The mosquitos were somewhat numerous, but it was too late to get out my net, and so I put up with their music, and soon was oblivious of their singing or teasing. It seems quite natural to be here again, and as is usual the place has not changed at all. The boys however, have built me a beautiful new house, and I shall live in great comfort. I miss several faces too from the congregation, whom death has removed.

Thursday, 22nd July.—I left the Southern Cross last night expecting to get away early this morning, which I suppose she did. However I am so far away from the sea, that I have no means of knowing what she did. Naturally too, I was very busy this first day ashore. The first business after Morning Prayer, was to start off Samuel and the Tasmouri contingent who had spent the night here. They had a good many things to receive, but they got away in time to reach home before night. There were numbers of other things to be done also, such as putting the new window in the Church, unpacking the harmonium, making a platform for it, &c. The old mode of life seems to come back wonderfully naturally to me. Breakfast of rice, with sugar and{15} cocoanut milk, and afterwards a cup of delicious Norfolk Island coffee, for which delicacy I am indebted to my kind friends Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher Nobbs. My midday meal is a bit of biscuit or roasted yam, and I reserve myself for the great meal of the day in the evening, not sumptuous but amply sufficient, fried rasher of bacon, fried taro pancake, and most excellent potatoes, for which I am indebted to Mr. Alfred Nobbs at Norfolk Island. After this I have a cup of milkless tea, which I brew in that charming teapot sent me from China by Dr. Codrington. They say ‘enough is as good as a feast,’ and I suppose this is why I am perfectly satisfied with this rough meal. After dinner I have nothing again till next morning.

Friday, 23rd July.—A most superb morning, and the place looks very charming early in the day and in the evening, at midday there is a strong glare and it is almost too dazzling. The church looks most picturesque and pretty, nestling in a perfect forest of bright coloured shrubs, among which are many European representatives, e.g. the Poinsettia, the Geranium, Marvel of Peru, and others imported from Norfolk Island. Arthur certainly has expended great pains and taste in the plantation, and it amply rewards him. Outside the stone fence is an orange grove, the dark green of which stands out in bold relief against the bright colours within. The church is still in a good state of preservation and will last for some time yet. It is getting inconveniently small however, and will soon want enlarging. It bears evident signs of being made good use of, and they tell me the congregation morning and evening is never short of 50 or 60. In a very short time I hope this will be a purely Christian village, and that not only in name, but in deed and in truth. I see considerable change here since I left in the number of the new houses, and the care of the town, for such it now has a right to be called. Before long the Church will be the centre of a number of private residences, and the people begin to build better houses. Arthur has constructed his like mine with high walls caned all round, and made it very comfortable.

Except the ground floor my house is quite as nice as a one roomed boarded house. The school and church are almost contiguous, and both are strong, substantial buildings. There are at present 80 names of scholars on the books, and these are regular attendants. I hope before I leave, please God, to see that number augmented. At present we are strong in teachers, with the two Arthurs, Patrick, Harry, Duwu, Tilegi, Kate and{16} Agnes. This morning after service, a shortened form of Mattins with a hymn, we had school, and I hope progress has been made. I was pleased to hear the teachers questioning their classes on the subject about which they had been reading. The perseverance of the old men in puzzling out the dreary sheets is perfectly astonishing, but they will not be denied. They have, however, learnt much by heart, e.g. Lord’s Prayer, Creed, Te Deum, &c. The women are quite as persevering, if not more so, and I don’t like to damp their ardour by forbidding them to try and learn to read. The first class of girls are far away ahead of the boys, and know a very great deal. These same girls used to sing very nicely, but they have got into the most disagreeable drawl, and so far from following a leader, they take the bit between their teeth, and sing as fancy dictates. This I shall try and remedy before I leave again. We have now a harmonium for our services, thanks to the very great kindness of my friend and benefactress in England, Miss Mount, who is far more beneficent than I at all deserve. The two Arthurs play very fairly well, but Arthur Huqe is organist at present. After school I had visitors from Golvanua, a populous district some ten or twelve miles from here. They are very peculiar people and very wild, I am sorry to say I have only been there once, and that only a flying visit. I told them I was coming again soon, and they seemed pleased. I gave the head man some tobacco, and he said when I came to their place he would give me food and take care of me. Our people here are rather terrified of them, and the distance is so great that very few have ever been there. There were two nice little boys with them, and I asked them if they were not tired, but they scouted the idea.

I was so busy all day that I did not get away from home, and things begin to be a bit more ship-shape. I begin to feel very comfortable in my new house, but I dare say if my friends saw me, they would fancy it was far from comfort. However, I have a continual feast in a contented mind. In the evening, instead of school, we had singing, into which I endeavoured to infuse some life and harmony, and partially succeeded, but not to my taste quite yet. Then in the evening I held a teacher’s class, and we had much profitable conversation.

Saturday, 24th July.—This is observed by us as a whole holiday, and after Morning Prayer nothing is required of the school till the evening service. Arthur Aruduliwar decided to have his house thatched to-day, and a large party assembled to{17} help him. Here they do everything by means of ‘Bees,’ (working parties). ‘Bees’ dig the gardens, plant the crops, dig the food, build the houses. The women do the cooking, and the owner of the house makes the feast, this is all he has to do, he is not supposed himself to do any work. Next week they are going to thatch a gamal, more stupendous work, and a great many people are going to be engaged, and there is to be much feasting, and I believe a dance. Marvellous harmony prevails in this community at present, and I never hear a harsh expression, nor witness a passionate action. They are the merriest, happiest, most contented people I ever saw, and I think the best natured. A party from Tasmouri appeared during the morning, and Thomas Aruloli among them. I asked him to stay the night, but he replied that it was his Sunday at Tasmate to-morrow, and he would not like to miss. I was pleased at this, for it showed the boy’s conscientiousness with respect to his self-imposed duty. I gave him his goods, and he and the others started again soon after for home. These natives don’t seem to know what fatigue is, and this double journey, which I should be sorry to undertake, they make nothing of it. After a frugal lunch the boys and I went to Ruos, where we bathed and washed our clothes. The river is certainly a boon and a blessing, and a good bathe has a most invigorating effect on one. In the evening the teachers came in and sat a long time with me, and we had much suitable conversation. While they were sitting here, a sound, which I had heard all day and couldn’t find the reason of, kept going on continually, and I asked Arthur what it was. He told me it was a bamboo placed high up on a top branch of a banyan tree in front of my house, in which notches were cut below each joint, and when the wind blew strong it sounded in the bamboo with the same effect that would be produced by so many persons blowing at once into the several orifices. This seemed to me very ingenious, but Arthur Huqe tells me they have the same practice at Opa. They say when the wind blows strong the sound is heard a great distance off, and I can quite imagine it.

We heard this evening the reports of two big guns in the direction of the watering place, so it is conjectured that a vessel is at anchor there. However it was too late to go and see.

Sunday, 25th July.—First Sunday ashore at Maewo, and a very quiet and pleasant day it has been. I think too, it has been one of the most gloriously brilliant days I have ever seen. The morning was beautiful, the midday marvellously resplendent, and the evening indescribably lovely. The place did look so beautiful{18} too. I told the people they ought never to cease praising God for so beautiful a heritage as He had given them. They have not a want or a care, but I fear they fail to appreciate the beauty, according to the truth of the old adage which speaks of familiarity breeding contempt. We had Sunday school very early, for two reasons more especially, (1) because it is cooler in the morning, (2) because we are not plagued with blowflies which appear in untold numbers wherever there is any congregation of people.

After a short interval devoted to breakfast, we had Mattins, and after this a short service and an address for the teachers. We had a very few strangers present to-day, but all our own people turned up. We did away with the great midday feast to-day for the first time for many years, but some of the women cooked a large quantity of food which was distributed to the boys in the usual way. This food business had become too laborious, and too much the chief part of the day, so that I fancied a relaxation for a time would be beneficial.

Patrick went to Mandurvat to take service there, but I stayed at Tanrig. At six different stations, school and service have been held and the day duly observed.

Evensong was a pleasant service here, and the church looked very nice lit up with the new lamps. The strains of the harmonium too, gave an additional pathos and homeliness to the occasion. I gave an address on the Gospel for 5th Sunday after Trinity, which I think was understood and appreciated. We had much singing afterwards and the public part of the day ended with the Blessing. May that blessing ever rest upon us here and elsewhere, and may we always endeavour to do all to God’s glory.

Monday, 26th July.—I reckoned without my host last night when I rashly permitted Agnes and Kate to cook for me this week at their own request. They made a tremendous fuss about it, but the rice came to table uncooked, and in such a small quantity that my breakfast was spoilt and the coffee was anything but good. However they did their best and I dare say to-morrow they will do all right. They were both wonderfully good, and not only washed up for me but gave my premises a good sweep as well. Poor Agnes, she is hideously lame, but she pretends to the liveliness of a kitten. The fence around the school is rather high and I watched her endeavours to get over with her lameness and her petticoats. She managed better than I expected, but I stood by in readiness to lend her a helping hand in case she fell. She comes back fully impressed with a sense of her importance and{19} dignity after so many years absence, and her friends made a great deal of her. To-day she is off with the other women on some excursion or other, and is fully convinced that she is as active as any of them. Before long no doubt she will fancy herself useful and engaging enough to be the life partner of Tilegi, and to be the faithful companion of his joys and sorrows. She is an intelligent girl, and her long training at Norfolk Island ought to make her useful here. She is perfectly charmed with her home, and she sees very plainly the beneficial results produced by Christianity. When she left, she herself was among the few baptized, now she comes back to the bosom of a Christian community with a good church and school, daily Morning and Evening Prayers, and perfect harmony and good will among all men. She will miss little at home now of what she has grown accustomed to at Norfolk Island, and it must be a pleasant realization to her. The girls, too, with whom she will have daily association are all Christians, and she will be spared the shock and repulsion of heathen women’s talk and actions. Her father has died in the interval, a truly godly man in his life, and a believer at the time of his death.

There is no face I miss here more than that of James, a true and faithful friend to me, and I firmly believe, too, of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Arthur tells me his death was perfectly peaceful and happy, and he desired at the last to depart and be with Christ which was far better. His two children followed him, and the three lie side by side in the quiet and rest of the grave. A reputed mother, but one who is really an aunt, Amina, takes charge of Agnes until Tilegi or some one else claims her as a bride, for in spite of her deformity I suppose she will not eschew marriage herself, or be allowed to remain in single blessedness by her friends, for here young ladies are not over plentiful, and to judge by the appearance of some already married there is no accounting for taste among the men of the place. Elizabeth, the wife of James, has found solace in another partner, but she spoke of her former husband with a due amount of grief and tears, and said to me, pointing in the direction of his grave, “He lies asleep over there.”

Yet there are here those who are ‘widows indeed,’ and good old Dorcas is one such. This old lady well deserves her name, for she is full of alms deeds, and kindness to all, and I firmly believe is a true follower of Jesus Christ. She lives alone with a little grandchild in her own hut and trains up dutifully the{20} child in the way she should go. Very seldom is old Dorcas away from her seat in church, and she exercises a benign and gentle influence over her own sex in the village. Anna, another good old widow, has died in my absence, and the loss of such is much felt. Among the younger women there is a perfect colony of children, and this is most thankworthy as being a proof that infanticide has been quite stamped out, and formerly it seemed to be a sort of religious duty here. Children were looked upon as being uncanny as well as a nuisance, and if the mother did not kill her offspring herself, she found plenty of aiders and abettors in the old midwives who attended her. The father seemed utterly impotent to prevent the evil. Now the fathers have turned head nurses and are abundantly proud of their children.

This morning after Prayers and school I walked down to the river side at Rarava, whither almost the entire population had preceded me, and where I lit upon a busy scene. It was a most resplendent day, but the overhanging branches of the wide spreading foliage lent a charm and grateful shade to the occasion. The men were engaged in digging the ‘taro’ roots, from their irrigated beds, and the women busy washing and preparing them for culinary purposes. The ladies here, present no exception to a proverbial excess in the use of the ‘unruly member’ as the especially noticeable characteristic of the gentler sex in more favoured parts of the world, and a Babel-like clatter of tongues formed a striking accompaniment to the quietness and order of the work in hand. The taro beds of course are mud, pure and simple, and the taro when dug is a very dirty vegetable, it is covered over besides with long tenacious feelers for roots, and these are picked off with the fingers in the most skilled and practised manner much after the fashion of plucking and preparing a bird for table. When the cleaning and plucking process is perfected, the long stalks are collected to a head and tied up in convenient bundles with one of their own parts in the most ingenious and knowing manner. Two bundles are then arranged on one long pole, and carried by one bearer on the shoulder, one bundle before and another behind their backs. The weight is considerable, but here the burden is borne by the men, the women carry the broad leaves and other concomitants of native cookery. Beyond the cackle there was very much merriment which all seemed in accord with the dancing sparkling waters of the clear flowing river. The prospect around was most{21} beautiful and although not extensive the landscape was most bewitching, and the eye was never tired with seeing.

These natives have great natural taste, which is displayed to a far greater degree in the arrangement and beautifying of their yam and taro gardens here, than in any other island I have seen.

The broad, handsome evergreen taro leaf spreads its verdure right and left, and all around, amid the friendship of the gay-leaved croton, the majestic dracæna, and the vari-coloured hibiscus, while here and there, to vary the prospect, the graceful cocoanut lends the beauty and elegance of its chastely spreading branches; all this beauty is thrown into relief by a back ground of the most marvellously beautiful bush, which shuts it in as with a natural fence, and leaves the only wish and feeling with the observer just to get for a moment a peep of what lies beyond. Breaks here and there however, in the background, revealed distant hills clad to their very summits with a richness and profusion of vegetation such as always abounds in these lovely islands where ‘every prospect pleases.’ I could select so many subjects for pictures here as almost to finish up all my dry plates, my only hope is that I may meet with some measure of success when by and bye I try my hand at photography. A header into the cool waters and a swim up and down stream was very refreshing. The boys enlivened the scene by their merriment and gambolling in the water, and altogether it was an occasion of much delight, and not the less so to me when I considered that all these people, almost without exception, had passed before through the healing waters of Holy Baptism. As possessing so much of the element, it is perhaps only natural that these people should love the water, and bathe a great deal more than their appearance would give one reason to suspect. The boys, and more especially, I think, the girls, are very fond of the water, and never seem tired of bathing when near the river-side. ‘Tanrig’ is distant about two miles from the river, and this distance, although inconvenient for many reasons, is very convenient for others, and especially because of the mosquitos which abound in the neighbourhood. Here some times they are bad enough, but by the water-side they are, I believe, unbearable. I know I find them troublesome enough there by day, and I don’t care to experience the worry and misery of them by night. They are called here ‘namu,’ and are said to be particularly troublesome at a certain period in the growth and maturity of the yam.

Any one who has not lived in a tropical country can have{22} very little conception of the discomfort and worry of these little maddening tormentors. Yet there are others whose attacks produce more serious consequences, and an illustration was afforded this evening. “Kate Tevano” (Arthur’s wife) was coming across to my house, and when almost at my door she gave a scream of terror and retired at once back again. I rushed out to learn the cause, and found she had been bitten by a centipede in the toe. The blood was just oozing out, and there were the distinct marks of his two fangs. In about ten minutes she was in great agony, and in the course of the evening her foot swelled and the pain was most terrible, and she couldn’t bear anything near it. Poor child, I left her in floods of bitter tears before going to bed, and she expected to be in pain all night long. The natives have some antidote for it, and the women were applying that all the evening. I confess that I did not know myself what to do, except to bathe it with hot water. There was a great hunt for the venomous little reptile, but of course he had made himself scarce. How he got on her foot, and why he bit her, no one knows, but there are multitudes of the creatures here, and perhaps the mystery is that people are not more often bitten. They have scorpions too here whose bite is very venomous, but one doesn’t often hear of their biting. There is a very large ant here called the ‘gandee’ to which I have a great aversion, and its bite is very sharp. Snakes here are not venomous, but the people have an instinctive dread of them, but they do not trouble us much. There is a hideous creature which lives in the thatch of the houses, an ugly toad-like lizard, with large red prominent eyes, which has such a tenacity of grasp with its feet that it sometimes even sticks so tight to the person it attacks as to take away the very skin in its grasp. Indeed, to me there are many strange and uncanny creatures in these islands to which I give as wide a berth as possible. Even in putting on your clothes you may find that a scorpion or centipede have taken up their quarters, in your hat you may find another monster, while most likely your shoes will be the tenement of some hideous reptile. Use and experience cannot rid one of a shudder when one thinks what may be, and yet if one is always anticipating these evils one’s very life becomes a burden.

Tuesday, 27th July.—I visited poor Kate this morning as soon as I got up, and found her still in considerable pain and her foot a good deal swollen. She had slept but little during the night, and was still very tearful. However, her friends assured{23} her that the poisonous effects would soon pass away, and it proved true, for I saw her walking, or rather limping about during the course of the forenoon. I was anxious to see a centipede this morning, and by and bye a man came bringing one which he held tightly by head and tail. It was a pretty creature and not so black as some I have seen, the legs indeed were of an orange yellow colour. It tried very hard to riggle away, but the ruthless boys soon put an end to its existence. How many legs it actually has I did not stop to count, but I saw its nasty fangs and preferred keeping a respectable distance from them.

A nasty lizard such as I have before mentioned was shortly after discovered in the thatch of my house just over my head, and captured after an exciting hunt. One creeps when these creatures are brought so near one, and is thankful for daily protection from them.

To-day has been the occasion of an important event here, viz: the thatching of a gamal (men’s quarters). This, indeed, is one of the greatest events known here, and there has been much feasting and festivity. The men do the thatching, and neighbours and strangers from a distance come to assist. There must have been quite a hundred men at work to-day, and it was the part and duty of the women to prepare food for them, and judging by the quantity spread out to-night they must have been kept pretty busy at work.

The house was a large one, and it took most of the day to finish it. The roof when complete was most neat, and a perfect protection from heat and wet for many years to come. The thatch is made from the frond of the sago palm and very durable. Cocoanut fronds are sometimes used, but they do not make so neat a roof nor nearly so lasting.

These native houses, although seemingly such poor structures, take some time and skill in building, and are very fair habitations when finished. They are rather low according to our ideas of comfort, but the natives grow accustomed to a crouching posture within doors, and they say the low roof does not catch the wind so easily, nor is the interior so cold. This is a consideration for people with no clothing, and I know myself from experience how cool it sometimes is here. Indeed, this very year I have never passed a night without being covered with a blanket, and even then I have not quite kept the cold away. A native, however, generally sleeps near a fire, and the interior of their houses are very snug. After the work was done this evening there was a{24} great brew of kava, a drink made from the root of the kava plant, but here called “Malowo,” and highly intoxicating. There is much ceremony in connection with the drinking of this beverage, which as far as I have seen, if taken in fair moderation, produces strong inebriation, but is not an excitant, nor does it leave any ill effects when once the narcotic effects pass off. Any one who drinks is supposed to do so fasting, in order, I believe, that the draught may have the more effect. One or two cups are enough to produce intoxication, but of course men will make beasts of themselves in the drinking of kava, as well as of any other strong drink. Here it is prepared from the green root, and grated up with a rough, round coral stone, then squeezed into cups made of the half of a cocoanut shell, strained and mixed with water, after which it is ready for imbibation. To look at it is like soap suds, and to the taste it is like what I should suppose that compound resembled, with an additional admixture of rhubarb and magnesia, with a suspicion of strong senna or black draught. Indeed I think it is about the nastiest potion conceivable, and no wonder the drinker takes an unconscionably long time in swallowing the compound, and when finished would almost rather he had never drunk it. I was very glad to see most of our own people at school and prayers, but I believe some have reserved the ‘nightcap’ till nearer bed-time. When the drowsiness is over I believe a craving for food results, and then the appetite is appeased even if it be in the middle of the night. Certainly, however, a man is never quarrelsome over his cups, but a drowsiness and torpor creep over the most quarrelsome and irrepressive after the draught. The mode of preparation similar to that practised here obtains in all the Northern New Hebrides, as far as I know, but at Mota and the Banks’ Islands generally, and in Fiji it is prepared by a process of mastication, and is not nearly so intoxicating in its effects. At Santa Cruz and in the Solomon Islands the use of the kava is unknown, but instead they chew the betel nut.

I had the old men for school to-night, and very interesting it was, old blind Sulu (Daniel) was among the number and paid the greatest attention, assenting in a marked fashion when anything especially pleased him. Poor fellow, he finds wonderful comfort in his religion, and is a most regular attendant at all services and at school. He gets about wonderfully in spite of his blindness, and does wonderful things for a man so totally blind. His patience and cheerfulness under his affliction are marvellous, and{25} he seems to live in hopeful anticipation of the time when he shall see his Lord and Master face to face, Whom now he sees with the inward eyes of his spirit. He is the only blind man here, and I have never seen but one dumb man in these islands.

Wednesday, 28th July.—Our people had a great dance last night after school which they kept up with great spirit and vigour until an early hour this morning. The occasion was the thatching of the new gamal, and a great many took part, and never once intermitted their vigour from the start to the finish. The dance is called a “Sagoro,” but the chief part of it consists of singing with a clapping of hands and peculiar dancing in time. It is no easy work, and when I went to see them about the middle of the performance the perspiration was running down their bodies. Some of the songs are very pretty, but the movement of the dance is not particularly graceful or elegant. The women stand in a ring outside, and what is called “weluwelu.” This ‘weluing’ consists in keeping the feet close together and moving the knees from right to left besides joining in the chorus. Their shrill voices sound quite weird along with the deep tones of the males, but by no means discordant. Native songs have mostly an air sung by one voice, and a chorus joined in by all, and these Maewoese are noted for their songs. I did not attempt to go to sleep before the performance was over, and the consequence was a slight dilatoriness this morning, which as might be expected, was not only manifest in my case. However, after morning duties here I started with Arthur Huqe and Patrick for Mandurvat, passing through the pretty snug little village of Naruru on the way. Here we found a man by name ‘Tamaragai’ sitting with his pretty wife and child in the neat enclosure in front of his house. All the other denizens of the village according to the invariable custom which prevails here, had scattered to the four winds. After the dew is off the bushes here there is a general exodus from all the villages, and at noon it is useless to look for any one at home, for all are abroad. They are very industrious people and find perpetual occupation in their gardens or elsewhere from morning till evening. They say if they stay at home they do nothing but sleep, and a native has not many resources for occupying his time indoors. They have a great dread of the dew, for they say it engenders elephantiasis. Cases of this unpleasant disease are very prevalent here, and it looks very odd to see men and women with great swollen legs and feet and monster hands and arms. However, those afflicted with it do not seem to suffer so much pain as discomfort.{26}

We reached our destination after a somewhat weary walk on account of the dampness of the roads after the heavy rain in the night. I found a nice new school, and the teachers awaiting my arrival. The population is small, but the people are well-intentioned and anxious for instruction as exhibited by their having built the school entirely themselves. The leading spirit there and his wife came to-day and asked for Baptism, and desired that they should at once be put under instruction for that sacred Rite. This was cheering, and I hope the example thus set will be largely followed. Food according to native custom had been prepared, and green cocoanuts, and we spent some considerable time with the kind hearted people. They have only an inferior teacher, but he is very zealous to do his best according to the amount of wisdom and knowledge he possesses. They have some sort of daily service and school, but it must of necessity be very elementary.

It is etiquette here for the host or someone appointed by him to see you off the premises, and this afternoon we were escorted some distance from the village by most of the male population, and when at what was looked upon as a respectable distance they stepped to one side, a sign that that was the last we should have of their society, and calling my name the host said, “Iya, go sage,” which is perhaps equal to “There, you go up,” to which I was supposed to respond calling his name, “Io, go toga,” “All right, you stop.” We then started for home. Arriving at Na Ruru the major part of the population were awaiting us, and Anthony the teacher with them, fear has driven him and his little flock to take refuge here, the third exodus they have made from their homes, and it is hoped that at last they will be safe from the ruthless incursions of the heathen bushmen. Poor fellow, he had begun to build a substantial new church, which was left with the other houses in their precipitate flight, but nothing daunted he has begun a third time to collect materials for another building. Had they continued however where they were, I doubt if they would have been molested. The only excuse for so doing would have been that they were friends of the villagers attacked by the bushmen. We sat for some time in conversation with the friendly people until the sinking sun warned us to be up and moving homewards. After prayers and singing, which we always have by an unvariable custom instead of school on Wednesday evenings, I received a request from some heathen strangers, twenty in number, that they might dance before me. I assented,{27} and now at a late hour they are still at it, and going ahead with such vigour that I do not like to stop them. This dance is a piece of policy, for I am supposed to give them a handsome gratuity at the end, and the request to-night has been for tobacco. I am supposed also to be very liberal on these occasions, and certainly they have earned their wages. Their dance is very like that of the Tanrig people, but of course the songs are somewhat different, and to my taste not so pleasing. It is certainly curious that people living really in such close proximity should speak a dialect so utterly different that I can scarcely understand a word they say. I always assent to their dancing for it brings them here in large numbers, and for no ulterior purposes, and I like in every way to cultivate all friendly feeling between ourselves and our neighbours. Their powers of endurance are wonderful, there were many small boys among the dancers to-night, and the hands of my watch pointed to nearly 2 o’clock a.m. before they finished, and previously they must have walked some twelve or fifteen miles over very rugged country. It must be considered too that these dances are performed without any intermission, and carried through with great vigour to the very end. I believe they had contemplated going on till morning, but that would be too terrible. Now as I write this they are gone, and the place is as quiet as if I were alone the sole inhabitant. I am now quite ready for bed and have really been so for hours, but the din and noise would render sleep an impossibility. God grant that in time these heathen songs may be changed for Christian hymns.

Thursday, 29th July.—My house has been thronged all day with heathen visitors, and I have tried to say something about our blessed religion. I hope they were duly impressed. They certainly gave me a warm invitation to visit them which I shall not be backward to accept, and moreover they promised to pick me out two or three boys to go to Norfolk Island. One man was most anxious to visit Norfolk Island, and I promised him that if he were so minded when the ship came back his wish should be gratified. I dare say I was quite safe in my promise, for no doubt he will cry off at the last. However, I hope I may get the boys. Everything was a matter of astonishment to these poor people, who have rarely if ever seen a white man, and a trumpet and pop gun which I gave a small boy produced the most unbounded delight. I wish my good friend Archdeacon Stock and Miss Kreeft had been here to see what unfeigned joy their kind gifts produced. A prettily dressed doll I brought with me, and{28} which came too, I think, from Wellington, has been the seven day wonder during my visit. Yesterday one of the boys threw it down by accident, and the frail waxwork fell to pieces. There has been more lament over that lifeless toy than over half a dozen ordinary female human beings. Agnes, however, this morning disgorged a beautiful doll of her own, which she got from a Christmas tree, carefully wrapped in ample folds of calico, and the Bushmen I think will never lose the impression the revelation of its beauty produced upon them.

How true it is that little things please little minds, and what a boon it is that the adage is so true. To us, whom civilization and the natural fitness of things have raised so far above nature, it is a matter of a striking character to see these heathens on their travels. They are burdened with absolutely nothing except a club or bow and arrows in their hands. Their dress is but a slight remove from the original fig leaf of the garden of Eden, and they carry neither bedding nor food. They sleep anywhere and eat what they can get. Their endurance in the matter of food too is extraordinary, whether they eat or whether they eat not does not seem to affect them, and in this way they beat us all to fits on the march. These Bushmen tell me they prefer making a journey in rain for it is cooler, and the only change of raiment they need at the end is to dry nature’s clothing before a fire. They are a very hardy race, I suppose from being inured to hardship all their lives.

I missed poor blind Sulu from school to-day, and on enquiring for him was told that his pet pig, whose tusks are getting long and very sharp, importuned him beyond bearing, and that in kicking out to get rid of him the tusk ran into his foot and almost right through it. Poor old fellow, I am going by and bye to see what I can do to administer comfort to him.

Arthur too is very much out of sorts, and could not put in an appearance at school to-day. For some months he has suffered from lassitude and weakness, and has been troubled with nasty sores. Fortunately I have a bottle of Hop Bitters with me, the effect of which I am going to try with him. Fancy the popularity of this wonderful tonic when it even finds its way to these distant islands! I have known it used with very beneficial results, and I hope Arthur may improve under its influence and strengthening properties.

Friday, July 30th.—A somewhat idle and prurient curiosity led me with some of our people to ‘Uta’ this morning to witness{29} a sort of masked ball about which I had heard a great deal, and which was supposed to be something quite extraordinary. We started fairly early in the morning, and arrived at the place after a long, hot, and fatiguing walk. The ceremonies were not perfectly arranged when we got there, and we waited a long, weary time. It was mainly through my urging that they began when they did, and after all the affair was disappointing.

The initial performance was a song sung by four men to an accompaniment beaten on bamboos, but that was by no means impressive. The females during this performance advanced and squatted around the performers and poor things were almost roasted alive under the blazing rays of the midday sun. When the song was finished the maskers rushed out, 17 in number with very curious and savage-looking head pieces, and petticoats of long sago palm leaves reaching almost to the ground. They presented a very weird and uncanny appearance certainly as they danced forth and back and uttered their gruff “Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh.” I do not wonder at weak minded females and small children being very terrified of them. The head pieces were decided works of art, and very well made. Thirteen were almost entirely of the same make and pattern and are called “Rauwe,” three were again somewhat of a different shape and fashion called “Tamate,” and one very elongated and strangely devised mask also called a ‘Tamate’ completed the list. When the dancing was over which was called ‘Welu,’ the Rauwes rushed flying about all over the place, and the wiser course was to keep out of their way. In former days I believe they carried heavy sticks, or even clubs, and struck at anyone who failed to get out of their way. Boys and females were the chief objects of their attacks, and sometimes considerable injury resulted. Of course if any one retaliated and gave blow for blow, a skrimmage of perhaps serious and general nature resulted, and ended probably in lives being sacrificed.

To-day these rough maskers carried clubs and long handled axes, and nothing was feared from them. The tamates were much more quiet and danced quietly about like so many kiwis (native New Zealand bird), and molested no one. They represent a higher grade in the social scale and their intentions are always pacific. For some days after the ceremony they are allowed to sail about the country and take what they please in the shape of food, &c. if it happens to come in their way, indeed I believe the people put it out for them and render every assistance to send them away full handed. The tamate mask has no eyehole, but{30} the rauwe head piece has every facility for observation to facilitate its hilter skilter rush. The native idea of these things I believe is that if anyone dies who has not paid for these masks, he is haunted by them in the hereafter, at their places of departed spirits, “Banoi.” The tamates protect the disembodied spirits and conduct them safely to their final destination in Banoi. Moreover, I believe that those who die without propitiating these tamates and rauwes by gifts of pigs and mats are transformed into flying foxes, and adorn for ever the courts of an ill-fated Banoi. When the ‘welu’ was over, great cakes of cooked food were disgorged from their covering of leaves and distributed, the men behind a very curious screen called “Bugoro” distributing to men, and the women on one side of the village square distributing to women. The busy and animated scene was often disturbed by one or more of the rauwes rushing wildly about, and the women utterly regardless of food or hospitality, tore hilter skilter in screams of terror to some place of temporary security. It was now getting late, and as we had a journey before us and the performance was virtually over, except the kava drinking, we wished our friend good-bye and started for home, getting here in time for dinner, both by the time of day and by the condition of an appetite which had not been appeased since morning. On the whole I do not think the ceremony was at all worth the labour it cost to witness, and having seen it once, one would scarcely care to trouble about it a second time. However, it has its due effect upon the natives of both sexes, and it is looked upon by many as of paramount importance as regards both the present time and the future. To the newly initiated it gives certain social rights and privileges, but the strict observance with many is a thing of the past. It has only to do with the males, females may enjoy no special benefit from the practice except to assist as ornamental observers, and to bring beast burdens of food for distribution. What becomes of their poor souls hereafter is a matter for no anxiety or consideration, indeed I suppose the doubt is as to their possessing such things as souls at all, so that their final destination can only be a matter of supreme indifference and of the most insignificant importance. A hazy indefinite belief therefore these people have in some hereafter, and they endeavour to make some provision for it while they can, but they have no distinct form of religion, nor any images to which they offer worship. They have some kind of propitiatory sacrifice however of food and shell money, and whatever prayer they have is made to the spirits of their{31} ancestors. Almost invariably a dying man calls to his father, and we have frequently noticed that when a sick person arrives at this stage of illness, his case is very bad indeed, if not hopeless. Yesterday as we were waiting at the entrance to the village, the people called my attention to a peculiar kind of red grass which had been chewed up, and the refuse strewn about all over the path, and they told me that this was done by the master of ceremonies to make the visitors take delight and interest in the festivities, and to raise the wish in the minds of the uninitiated to swell the ranks of those who had already taken the initiatory steps in social rank. Like all natives of course these people are utterly superstitious, and any little thing of a slightly extraordinary nature serves to determine or deter their mode of action. There is a certain class of persons among them who read these signs and comment upon them, just as the ancient oracles, and these persons are consulted in every matter of public or private interest. No one takes a journey or engages in any matter without recourse to this oracle, but as of old in case of failure, the matter is explained ambiguously. Superstition indeed creeps into almost every concern of daily life, and its effect upon one would be very wearying and irritating, except of course that superior mindedness ought to condescend and bear with such human frailties when one considers the education under which these poor folks have been brought up from generation to generation. Much, I think, of this weak mindedness is passing away under Christian regime, and more and more I suppose will it disappear as the day breaks and the shadows flee away.

Saturday, July 31st.—A peculiarly cold night, so cold indeed that I could not sleep even under a blanket. The people all experienced the same cold, and they said it was because of the calmness of the night and the heavy dew. Had there been a fire near, I could readily have got up to sit over it. The nights here are generally cool, but last night was absolutely cold. What shall I do when I go to England? This morning however, it is supremely lovely, and the wind in the S.W. for a wonder, for the S.E. Trades usually blow nine months out of the twelve. This morning I tried a photograph, which I dare say will prove a failure, from the extra care I took to prevent all mistakes. I only attempted one, but I hope I shall gain courage and experience as I go on and be able to reproduce some of these lovely views here. Of course every view is shut in more or less by the density of the surrounding bush, but this village has a considerable{32} clearing and a good long vista for a photograph. My first attempt was on the church with some natives in the foreground, but the view will miss a great deal in a picture, owing to the absence of the beautiful colouring. It seems the fashion now-a-days here to build houses, and large parties to-day were busy thatching two new ones. I went with Patrick, Arthur Huqe and some more of the boys to Ruosi where we had a delicious bathe in the river, washed our clothes, caught prawns which we cooked very ingeniously in a bamboo. The prawns are put into the bamboo with water, and then placed on the fire with the orifice slightly elevated. It soon starts boiling, and to prevent the bamboo (always a green one) burning through it is constantly turned round and round, and in a very short time the prawns come out cooked red, and ready for eating. Cooked in salt water they are very nice, and they are looked upon as an especial delicacy when eaten with cocoanut cream. It is perfectly surprising what a number of dishes these natives wot of, and how frequently they vary their menu. Here they are especially good cooks, and I like most of their dishes very much. They are all slightly indigestible, but that one somehow expects. In most Melanesian islands the yam is the staple article of diet, but here the taro has the preference, and is planted in larger quantities. The yam likes a dry situation, but the kind of taro in common use here flourishes in a damp soil, and this is prepared for it by a neat and skilful system of irrigation.

While we were sitting there at Ruosi one of the men told me a curious custom they have here. I knew him of old to be an habitual and heavy kava drinker, now he told me he never drank it and had not for months. It appears that persons who enjoy a certain rank can deny the use of this beverage to any one they like, and they place a sort of ‘tabu’ over the kava bowl, and this tabu is not taken off again until a pig or its equivalent is paid. A short time ago kava drinking became so general in the school as to impede the working of it, for teachers and scholars drank alike. The boys and young men therefore met together and laid mutual tabus upon each other, and for some time past very little kava has been drunk by those attending, and no one of those on whom the tabu was laid has chosen yet to take it off.

This same man told me another curious custom they have with respect to revenge. If a man has a grudge against another and he wishes to kill him, or if he wishes to kill someone as a set off against someone belonging to him having been killed, he{33} refuses to wash his hands until such time as they can be washed with blood. He told me of three brothers, Bushmen, who swore to kill a man apiece, the two younger brothers have already performed their part of the contract, but the dirt is still thick on the hands of the eldest, and he still means murder when he can get the convenient opportunity. It does not matter much, I believe, who the victim is as long as he has not many friends to retaliate. Poor weak inoffensive mortals in this way often lose their lives, innocent sacrifices to heathen brutalism and bloodthirstiness. We came home in the cool of the most glorious evening, a strange contrast in its peace and loveliness to the rage and horror of savage brutalism. A quiet evening service and the song of melody seemed more in tune with the scene without, and I trust that the Peace of God which passeth all understanding may ever keep our hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God and of His Son Jesus Christ.

I gave notice last Sunday of Holy Communion to-morrow, and this evening I held a Communicants’ class at which were present the two Arthurs and Patrick. Anthony and Samuel are too far away to be able to attend. I cannot but esteem it a high privilege and blessing to be enabled to receive and dispense the Bread of Life here in this once heathen village, and I pray that we may be strengthened and refreshed for our work, and show forth God’s praise not only with our lips but in our lives, and by giving up ourselves more fully to His service. May the time too be hastened when some of these good people may be permitted to partake of the visible tokens of redeeming love.

It is now late, and except for the singing of crickets, perfectly still, fit prelude, I trust, to a peaceful Sabbath.

Sunday, August 1st.—Another peculiarly cold night, so cold indeed that I could not sleep although I had taken care to make proper preparations against it. How these poor ill clad, blanketless people fare I cannot make out, but no doubt they pile on the wood. It was most perfectly calm all through the night, and this morning there was a very heavy dew. The wind was blowing from some westerly quarter, and it has continued there with some strength all the day. We began our day very early with a Celebration of the Holy Communion. The two Arthurs, Patrick, and myself made up the quorum. It was a nice, quiet, refreshing time, and a fresh and green oasis in a somewhat arid, spiritual desert. I think, perhaps, it belongs to the native character and disposition to do without certain things which are to us essential,{34} and the loss even of the Holy Communion is not so serious deprivation to them as to us. Native minds, I fancy, adapt themselves too readily to the existing condition of things, and because they live in the desert they must never even pine for the food and water which is not directly attainable. Unless the Holy things of our religion are kept before them in constant practice they are too wont to dispense with them, and be content with the dry husks such as their neighbours around feed upon. I shall therefore try to keep up the regular administration of the Holy Communion both for the present strengthening and refreshing of their souls, and for a continual remembrance that the reception of it is necessary to salvation. Easy native natures are too apt to float along with the popular stream, and to be content with dry, dull teaching and drier, duller services, and I sometimes long for the time when we shall have a more ornate church and appointments, and a more elaborate ritual. I firmly believe it would be helpful to the congregation. Now we are too content with such things as we have, and they are poor at the best.

After the Celebration we had school. We assembled first in the schoolhouse, sang a hymn and I said a Prayer, then divided into classes, I myself taking all the old men into the Church, and trying to explain the sense of the collect to them. I told them how God had prepared for them that love Him such good things as pass man’s understanding, and I asked them how we knew that. I told them that God had revealed these things to us by His Son Jesus Christ, and He had left His testimony with us in His Gospel, and the books which persons chosen by Him had written under the influence and direction of His Holy Spirit. Their religion was a matter of mere hearsay and conjecture, and had been handed on from mouth to mouth, and had grown as it came down after the manner of mere verbal testimony. There could be no doubt with us because we have the living testimony of Christ’s own words which never pass away. Their religion came from nowhere and no one knew of its beginning; of ours at all events we were sure. I told them too that in England and other countries, where arts and sciences were known and practised far beyond anything they could conceive of, there were things so marvellous that their understanding could not grasp even the faintest idea of them, and how much more marvellous, wonderful, and glorious must the things be which God has prepared for such as love Him. Why even here below we see great and wonderful and mysterious things which pass the understanding of the{35} world’s wisest minds, and how much more wonderful still must the things be which are to be revealed hereafter, when the eye shall be purified to see, the ear to hear, and the senses to discern the beauty and true glory of them. And what does God, who thus prepares these blessed things for us, require of us? Why to love Him above all things. Each one of us had some darling idol, to which we offered the devotion of our hearts, but it must be torn down and removed if it comes before our love to God. And the end of this love was God Himself, and to dwell with Him for ever as inheritors of His gracious promises which exceed all that we can desire. The old fellows were very attentive, and interspersed running remarks, and when I had done I asked them to kneel down, and I said the Collect as a Prayer for them. Meanwhile the other teachers had school with their scholars in the schoolhouse. The first class of boys and girls had to say their Collect by heart, and after that they were questioned on its meaning. School was closed with Prayer and a Hymn, and then I was ready for breakfast, very dry, uncooked rice with sugar and cocoanut cream, and a cup of delicious Norfolk Island coffee. Morning Prayer followed in due course before the day got too hot, and after this everyone was busy with their Sunday meal for the afternoon. The day was as hot as the night was cold, but it was most glorious, and all nature seemed to be keeping its Sabbath. The evening was perfectly serene and peaceful, a fit termination to a quiet, restful day.

In the evening I had the teachers, and after that service at which I preached from the gospel of the day, “Except your righteousness exceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees.” They were very attentive during my remarks, so I trust I was understood. I told them God did not want us merely to come to school and church but He wanted the devotion of the heart, it was not outward righteousness He wished for, but inward truth and honesty and straightness. The Pharisees were very good Churchgoers, but their heart was not right with God, &c., &c.

After Service we had singing which they always enjoy, and even now I hear their voices in the School house singing “There’s a friend for little children.” I had intended to have made an excursion to the neighbouring villages to-day but I could not manage the time, the day having gone so rapidly. Now it is very cool and betokens another cold night but Oh! how calm and peaceful!{36}

Monday, August 2nd.—Another peculiarly cold night ushered in a most glorious day. A very heavy dew lay all round, and until the sun was quite high in the heavens the cold was very perceptible, and a flannel coat was very agreeable. I took two photographs early and trust they are good, but it would be very hard to reproduce the original so lovely as it appeared in the morning light. The scene too was animated with the cheery voices of the people, the crowing of the cocks, the merry laughter of the boys, and even the squealing of the pigs as they followed their owners for their morning food, lent additional and characteristic charm to the occasion. All this one cannot photograph, but it is necessary to suppose all this to give an idea of the village as it is on these glorious mornings. Here we are several hundred feet above the sea level, and a good way inland so that a pleasant day breeze always fans the air, and keeps the place gratefully cool under cover of a roof, or in the shade. I believe one could live here quite comfortably all the year round, and for myself I never feel better than I do here. There is such a freedom too about life here that one can carry a light heart and a contented mind in a healthy body. To-day almost without exception the people are off to the beach to windward. At this time of year the tides are very low, and leave the reefs almost entirely uncovered. Fish and crabs and other sea oddities are therefore left exposed, and the first named are shot by the men in the pools, and the women collect the latter, which are looked upon as choice articles of diet. Just now I am left quite solitary, but I have just dismissed a bevy of ladies who came to see the present seven days wonder, my magnetic fish. They cannot fathom the mystery at all why when one point of the fishing rod as they call it, is presented to the fish they eagerly rush at it, and why when the other they rapidly retire. They solve the problem by saying it is a “Wui,” (spirit). And it must seem strange to them as all our belongings must being of an order of art, so far removed from their conceptions or achievements. A kerosene lamp to this day is a marvel to them, and the manipulation equally mysterious, why it should flare up when turned one way, and why it should die when turned the other. One old woman who has been very sick and up to-day for the first time, came with the crowd and greeted me in the most maternal manner, grasping my hand in both her own, and calling me “Baua,” an obsolete word now, but belonging to a district called “Loqala” which was utterly devastated years ago by enemies among whom were these very people of Tanrig. This{37} old lady and her son Samuel, now my head teacher at Tasmouri, are the sole survivors I believe, and she retains the expression or appelation by which a grandmother greets her grandson.

I brought a box of refuse toys from Norfolk Island to which our boys and girls there have grown superior, and the exhibition and distribution of them created quite a furore. One would never suppose in these days of superior enlightenment that any people could be found simple enough to go into ecstacies over a halfpenny toy, but these women and children have gone off perfectly enraptured with their new possessions, and I dare say they will treasure them up for many a day and find pleasure in the contemplation and exhibition of them. One poor young mother has just brought in great distress her infant child which she says is suffering from a pain in its side, and the only remedy I can conceive of is a dose of castor oil. The father comes around to my side of the table, and whispers that it has not been ‘washed’ yet, meaning that it has not been Baptized, and that it has no name. While writing this Samuel appeared with another friend from Tasmouri, and I went with them to the beach where all the population had previously gone. Our path lay through the carefully and skilfully irrigated taro fields, and of course it was very bad in some places. Crossing one place I made a false step and went up to my knees, it was a fitting judgment on my pride for I refused the assistance of a stalwart follower’s back, which had borne me dry and safely over two such places before. I presented a strangely harlequin appearance with white flannel trowsers above the knee, and black mud gaiters below. However appearances are easily pardoned here, and the only grief was at my own discomfort. The people of course all said it was because the roads were so bad, but that was too palpable a truism, and was no relief to my feelings. Bootless and trowserless, these paddy paths make no difference to them, and mud has not the same appearance on a black skin. However we went to the sea-shore and saw the sport which was not much. One very large fish was caught with a hook and line, and the women had great horse-loads of shell fish, but generally the bowmen came off badly. The tide was out to the utmost limit of the reef, and quite half-a-mile from the shore the rocks were entirely exposed. Of course there was some very good reason for the failure and ill luck, and I was somewhat surprised to hear the wind blamed. It so happened that what of that element there was, was off shore, but if it had been only blowing in shore{38} it would have driven in the fish. However there was disappointment depicted on every countenance, and there was some trifling relief to the feelings in putting the blame on the wind. Probably if the wind is all right to-morrow something else will be wrong, and so on. What a wonderful place in the English language those two little words ‘if’ and ‘but’ have, and how they qualify almost every action of mankind, and how usually are they made use of in self-extenuation. How scarcely possible is it to describe a single character without the use of one or other of them! He would be a very nice fellow ‘if.’ She would be an estimable woman ‘but.’ On our homeward road I marched boldly through mud and water taking pride I suppose in revenging myself, and showing my unmentionables that now the pink of their whiteness was off, they might just as well be a little more dirty. However, a refreshing bath was some return for my chagrin and discomfort, and I hastened home for a clean change. The cooks brought me two deliciously cooked fish for dinner, and were very disappointed when I sent them back untasted. I am never very partial to fish, and in these latitudes my digestive organs rebel even against the smell of them. However, the boys very soon picked the bones, and perhaps were not sorry that I had not partaken. There is great feasting going on to-night with both sexes, the men with their fish supper and the women with shell-fish.

Everywhere to-day we saw the bush lit up with the bright red “Rarava,” a gorgeous tree, which flowers at this time of the year, and gives its name to the winter season. The other season is called “Magoto” from a reed of that name which shoots in spring, and these are the only native seasons of the year. There does not seem to be however any very marked distinction or peculiar line of demarcation between summer and winter as regards the heat and cold, but in fact it does seem to be warmer in the “Magoto” and cooler in the “Rarava.” To an Englishman however it is always hot, and he does not detect any material difference. One shivers now to think of ice and snow and of such concomitants of the winter season, for here of course they are absolutely unknown.

Tuesday, August 3rd.—It gets somewhat monotonous to write every day of cold nights, but this last one has been no exception. The cold is so peculiar and penetrating that clad in flannel from head to foot, and covered with a blanket and rug, I failed to keep it out, and slept very badly in consequence. When I did sleep, too, I was troubled with dreams and fancied myself in Ireland{39} hunted by ‘Moonlighters.’ I had proposed to go to a very distant district called “Golvanua” to-day, but at the eleventh hour my escort cried off and I could not go alone. I cannot quite say why it is, but natives when they are about to make an excursion almost invariably start on the spur of the moment without making any previous appointment, or specifying any distinct time. Whether they wish to elude ‘Fate’ and deprive it of the chance of being unpropitious by stealing a march, or whether the fear of material foes induces them to do these things secretly so that they may not be cognizant of their movements, or what it is I do not know, but fact it is that if you want to make a journey, you must abide the native’s time and conveniences for they will seldom assent to yours if premeditated or prearranged.

I quite expect that some fine morning, before I am out of bed perhaps, my escort will be awaiting me outside my door, and anxiously and impatiently desiring to start at once. Natives make no preparation for a journey, they have no impedimenta of travel, and lightly clad, and lightly weighted, they are ready at any moment to start, and a long or short stay is all the same to them. They want no canteens or bedding or change of clothing, and they can lay their heads down in any spot, and rest and refresh themselves, and be ready for any emergency. They do not even need as much as a tooth brush and pair of slippers for their excursions, and marvel at our wanting so much to them unnecessary luggage. I believe I should make many more journeys, if I could accomplish them with so little inconvenience and discomfort.

Samuel went back this morning, and I am to go to Tasmouri on Friday for a week. He gives a very good account of his work there and I am anxious to see and judge for myself. The whole Community there are Baptized, and most exemplary Christians they are. They are very nice lively good-natured people too, but are not very numerous. Indeed these Maewo villages have dwindled down to very few inhabitants, from one cause and another, and a large measure of the decrease is owing to the wide spread practice of infanticide. Now in this district that practice, thank God, is checked and the population is again on the increase. Moses who was here with Samuel to-day asked me to Baptize while at Tasmouri his fourth child, three boys of his are already Baptized, and such mothers as his wife are a blessing to the race. Here two mothers have three children apiece, and several have two. I wish however the mothers would bring up{40} their children a little better, they are the perfect slaves of their offspring, and give into them in everything. Talk about spoilt children, I have to roar every day of my life to some little urchin, screaming his lungs out because his mother does not do at once what he wants. The mother beats at one moment and coaxes at another, and the child grows up anyhow, a burden to himself and a nuisance to his neighbours. I want a good superior minded and well educated mother here to give some practical advice. Arthur’s wife is but a child herself, and as devoid of gumption as the rest of them. Poor people, they do not know what trouble and misery they entail upon themselves and their children from a want of a little firmness, and well timed correction.

It has been a most glorious day, and this morning I accepted an invitation from the boys to go to ‘Kerepei.’ The tide was very low and many of the people had preceded us, and were busy searching the reef and rocks for the much prized products of the sea shore. The little fellows got me most deliciously sweet green cocoanuts, and while I was bathing caught me a nice lot of prawns for my tea. Days spent in this way are very pleasant, for we get to know each other all the better, and I can exercise a continual supervision over their actions. I generally carry a paper or portable volume with me, and to-day the Church Times was my companion. The evening was most glorious and peaceful, but when the sun went down peculiarly cold. Now as I write I have a blazing fire in my house, and I feel the comfort of it. The poor ill clad people are shivering all around, and are off to their several domiciles to try and get some heat. The attendance at school to-night was worse than I have known it yet, and the cold was said to be the reason of it.

Wednesday, August 4th.—There seems a perfect rage for fishing just now, when the exceptionally low tides afford such advantages for the pursuit. School was no sooner over to-day, than there was a general exodus seaward of all the able bodied inhabitants of the place. They talk to-day of trying the “Tasigoro” to see what it yields. This Tasigoro is a tabu’d enclosure of so much of the reef as those who make it choose, and it is made in this way—one, two, three or indeed any number of people who have reached the rank of “welu” kill a certain kind of pig, and for ten days the killer or killers are supposed to subsist on pig’s flesh, at the end of ten days they go to the beach, and mark off the chosen portion of the beach with a long bamboo at either end, like a base for football, but on a somewhat larger{41} scale, and tie on to the bamboo the leaf of a certain palm tree; the person or persons then bathe in that part of the sea, and the juice of the pig’s flesh which they have eaten, is supposed to have the effect of sanctifying in some way the place, and no one fishes within the enclosure until the “welus” choose to take the “tabu” off. There is a talk of doing this to-day, and the whole population turns out to it. Of course the whole length and breadth of the reef during these low tides is left high and dry, and the fish have wisdom enough to retire as the tide goes out, but some are dilatory like Lot in his flight from Sodom, and some stop to have a look back like his wife, these are therefore left behind in the several pools that are everywhere dotted about of more or less depth. Some fish again which feed upon the reef have natural channels of escape into deep water, but these are very skilfully guarded by the natives with large nets, and the fish are captured while making a rush to get out into the open sea. All these channels are carefully guarded, and a very large number of fish shut in from escape on the more or less exposed reef. The leaves of a certain shrub are used for the purpose of stupifying the fish in the deeper pools, and they are easily caught when under the influence of the stupification. Others again are shot with bows and arrows, others speared, others caught by hand until at times the haul numbers several thousands, of all sorts, sizes and descriptions. After this great catch of course there is much feasting and rejoicing, and according to their own old heathen superstitious ideas there is something sacred in the fish so caught. ‘Kava’ is largely drunk on these occasions and the festivities are prolonged for many days. After my experience the other day I did not care to go again, and followed Arthur and some others to ‘Rarava,’ whither I took my photographic camera, and shot off a most beautiful picture in nature. I hope it may prove so in development.

William, one of the men, lit a fire and soon produced some fine large bread-fruit which were placed on the embers, and deftly turned over and over so as to be properly cooked all round. The result was that in about a quarter of an hour I was engaged upon a smoking hot loaf of bread, which eaten with scraped cocoa-nut is very nice indeed. Breadfruit is too much like boiled dough to be really very nice, but to me it is very palatable food. The black outside coating peels off very readily when well cooked, and leaves a round puddingy sort of compound to be eaten. Inside are seeds somewhat bigger than a marble, not unlike{42} filberts, and these are generally eaten with the breadfruit, the hard outside husk easily peeling off, and leaving a large bean like kernel. “Duwu” prepared his in quite a new way to me. Having pealed off the outside crust caused by the cooking, he wrapped the whole fruit up in the long dracæna leaves, and tied up the neck very carefully. He then took a small bamboo, and beat the breadfruit into a soft pulp, giving it a few final bangs on the ground, the leaves were opened, and the pudding turned out on leaves resembling very much a squash, and then cut up like a vegetable marrow into slices and eaten with scraped cocoanut. This I think was nicer than the bare breadfruit. We were a little party of twelve of both sexes, and all shared alike, men and women eating together in the most friendly manner, and not only so but the men did the cooking and helped the women in the nicest way. I could not help thinking what a contrast it was to years gone by. There we were sitting every man under his own vine and under his own fig, with no apparent fear or apprehension of evil, and the most perfect harmony of the two sexes existing among us. Here you scarcely ever now see the husband without the wife, and where you see the wife you may know the husband is not far off. Amina and Eliza kindly got me some land crabs which I enjoyed for tea. These and prawns are readily obtainable, and make a nice occasional change.

Thursday, August 5th.—A strong Trade wind blowing fresh all night, and this morning it is still very gusty and disagreeable.

To-morrow there is another house to be thatched, and those who are not crazed about fishing are off getting food. From the commencement to the finish, house building here is a matter of great importance. There are four kinds of houses, of which the ‘gamal’ is the chief. This is the men’s club, and the young men’s sleeping quarters. Within its walls the women may not enter, and there is a certain circumscribed boundary into which they may not trespass. All food cooked in the ‘gamal’ is partaken of by the men only, and a woman may not eat of it under any consideration. ‘Kava’ is prepared and drunk there also, and of this a woman may not drink. Within the gamal are various ovens according to the several degrees of rank, and those of the same grade eat out of one oven, and the rules of precedence are strictly adhered to. Fire used within the gamal may not be used in a private house. After a certain age all boys are supposed to live in the gamal, and that becomes their proper quarters until{43} they marry and build houses of their own. Any man may sleep in the gamal and eat food there.

The next house in importance is the “ima” or married man’s residence. Within this house the cooking of the food for the family is done, and the married couples live. This house is known from the rest, by having the front and back end worked with cane, and more pains are expended on the building of it. The third kind of house is the “vale,” within which there is no fire place for cooking, and this is used mostly as the apartments of the young females before marriage, and for stowing any treasures which may be inconvenient in the “ima.” The front and end of the ‘vale’ are made only of bamboos. A fourth kind of house is the “ima somu” (the Bank). In this house is kept the treasures of the village, and it is always known by a peculiarly neat front of reeds, and by a very curious sort of pallisade of reeds placed in a sort of semicircle around the front door. Within this house a fire is kept continually burning night and day, and the reason for this is that the most prized and valuable article of barter here is the smoked mat, and the blacker it can be smoked the more does it increase in value. As may be supposed, within these houses a most weird and odd sight presents itself. The gross darkness being only relieved by the glowing embers of the undying fire, the fresh black mats look like so many great flying foxes suspended over it.

The importance of the several houses is therefore in this order, the “gamal,” “ima,” “vale,” and “ima somu.” When a building is finished there is always a great ceremony ranging in importance according to the description of the house. For the gamal the ‘house warming’ is a matter of much ceremonial called “nasu,” and a man is supposed to “nasu gamal” with a pig at least. Any live stock may be slaughtered in “nasu ima,” and fowls, or if possible fish, are mostly in requisition. Plain food only is required for the two latter, but all the same there must be some house warming, or the building would not be properly finished. The house I occupy is an “ima,” and being a proprietor of many pigs, I am going to add to the dignity and full completion of my residence, by slaughtering two innocent animals next Thursday (D.V.) and the school will get a general holiday and a pleasant evening. I do this partly because I want to give the boys some slight return for the pains they have been at in building the house, to get a piece of pork myself, and to give a holiday in honour of my return among them. They say they must dig an oven within{44} the ‘ima’ to make the thing complete, but to this I object. To-morrow, all being well, I go to Tasmouri.

Friday, August 6th.—Morning Prayer, school and breakfast at Tanoriki, and then started with three others for Tasmouri. It was a most lovely day, and a fresh Trade wind fanned the air and kept the paths pleasantly cool. Beneath the deep, dark shade of the native forest, the strong burning heat of the morning sun was not oppressive, and the roads and bush were fortunately very dry. However, any exertion in this climate induces perspiration, and that one expects.

The native guide swung along at a rapid pace, and we were not long in reaching “Uta,” where we rested for some time in the neat little school, and Takele regaled us with green cocoanuts, which were very acceptable. Poor Takele, who has only one enlightened friend to help him, finds a difficulty in getting his scholars together on a week day, and no wonder, as I suppose he knows very little more than they do themselves, and it is irksome to old people to spell over their A.B.C. day after day, and get no oral instruction. It is far more in consonance with their feelings and habits to go out for the day, either to the seashore or to their gardens, than to be trammelled with the cares and labour of school. On Sundays he says they turn up in large numbers, and generally some one goes to them from Tanoriki. I promised him a visit for Sunday week, all being well, and I shall try to keep my promise, for he deserves all the help we can extend to him. He has never been away, is a man now of middle age, and entirely self-taught. He is a most excellent, conscientious man, and tries to do all he can for his people, according to his limited amount of knowledge.

He built the school himself and keeps it in most extraordinary order. In many cases he has acted as a deterrent on his countrymen, when they have proposed some heathen act which he has not thought to be within the bounds of strict rectitude, and I believe he tries to lead a good life as far as he knows. As far as morality goes, I do not think anyone would venture to bring an accusation against him. I have always intended to Baptize him, and perhaps this year I may put my intentions into effect. Leaving “Uta” we still marched on in single file, till we reached the brow of the cliff down which, of necessity, we had to descend, Tasmouri being on the other side of the island to windward. A striking and broad prospect greeted us from the hill top, and we saw besides Meralava and the wide expanse of ocean before us, the{45} grand fertile plain belonging to the Tasmouri district, and the church and school visible in the far distance. At the foot of the steep cliff our way lay through the beautifully irrigated taro beds, and of course I had to pick my way to prevent being buried in mud. Leaving the gardens, we had a grand stretch of level country before us, and before long we came upon a merry party of Tasmouri people awaiting our arrival, some distance from their village. Being tired and hungry I pushed on ahead with some of the boys, and enjoyed a refreshing bathe and change of garments. Then came what I suppose I must dignify by the name of dinner, mostly native food, but eaten with the best sauce was as good as the best Lord Mayor’s feast, and I dare say as digestible. The Bishop’s kind present was most useful, and the canteen contained every article requisite for out of the way travellers. After the meal the people came home, and before long we had Evensong. I was quite surprised at the heartiness of the responses, the fluency of the reading, and the general brightness of the singing and service.

The women sang out lustily with a good courage, and although a trifle slow the result was pleasing on the whole. With a little teaching the singing and service will be very nice. I find I have Baptized forty-six people here, two of whom have died, two have gone away in a labour vessel, and forty-two still remain. They are a very nice, genuine, exemplary community, and Samuel has kept them well together. They seem to me beyond the Tanrigese in point of mental ability, and readily take in fresh ideas. One or two of the young men are very superior fellows. This evening I felt the warmth of this place, by comparison with Tanrig, and for the first time for the year I have slept without any kind of covering. The reed bed I found somewhat hard, but one cannot expect everything, and is content with such things as one has. The condition of the people morally, socially and spiritually, simply reconcile one to any amount of bodily inconvenience. I can thank God and take courage.

Saturday, August 7th.—Most beautiful morning at Tasmouri. After Prayers and breakfast we all went for a picnic to a pretty place called “Ron̈o nawo” meaning the sound of the surf, but why I don’t know. It is curious how the Mota word has got in here “nawo.” The word here for surf is “togovi” but nawo comes probably from Meralava. We all turned out for the holiday, men, women and children. The women did the cooking while the men and boys amused themselves in various ways, fishing,{46} shooting, bathing or playing an animated game called “buka,” something between “prisoner’s base” and the old game of “tig.” Some of the young men amused themselves by shooting at a mark about thirty or forty yards distant. They made such good shooting at that distance, that I should be very sorry to give them a shot at me with a good well balanced poisoned arrow. At short distances of course they make very good work, and in their own skirmishes they don’t want to make long shots. I dare say by the side of a good English archer they would cut a sorry figure at a long shot, but for their own purposes they are excellent shots, and custom of course engenders skill. Their arrows are unfeathered, and I don’t expect will carry as true as the better made English arrow. Their bows are very strong and durable, being made curiously enough from a tree called the “Aru” (she oak). I spent my day pleasantly enough in reading and making pencil notes. Crabs and breadfruit was my luncheon, and a green cocoanut. The whole party assembled in the course of the afternoon, and the ovens were opened and their plentiful supply of food disgorged. I said grace and then there was a general fall to. The meal over we made preparation for a start homewards which we reached some time before sunset. On the way home the boys showed me in the water course a cocoanut tree which time had failed to rot or destroy, and the story according to native ideas was that this same tree was coexistant with the upheaval of the island, and had never changed, generation after generation handing on the fact of its existence and whereabouts.

In the evening we had Prayers in the church and a nice hearty Service. Poor “Samuel” the head teacher is sick and has not been able to be with us to-day. I gave a short address at Evensong explanatory mostly of to-morrow’s programme. It is very warm here and one’s thoughts either cease to flow or one’s hand to write, anyhow I find a difficulty in inducing energy to write or my brain to cogitate.

Except for the perpetual boom and surge of the restless ocean all is still and peaceful here at present.

On Saturdays following the general and long prevailing custom of the Mission we have a whole holiday, and consequently this morning we had only the shortened form of Mattins such as we use here. Breakfast followed consisting of yam scraped and cooked in leaves, and the particular kind presented for my discussion this morning is called “laqan̈a.” The natives are great cooks and have a very long list of various dishes on their menu.{47}

There are three principal modes of cooking food, however, such as yams and taro, (1) Roasted on the embers and the outside skin carefully scraped off as it gets hardened, this is called “tutunu,” (2) scraped on the rough edge of the tree fern, then wrapped in leaves like a large pudding and cooked in the hot stones, this is termed “loko,” (3) roasted on the fire until cooked, then beaten on a large wooden dish until as thin about as biscuit pastry, and cocoanut cream poured over, this is named “lutu.” The first two are the most common preparations, and the first perhaps most generally in use.

The different kinds of “loko and lutu” are wonderful, and it would puzzle any one but a skilled native cook, to make any distinct varieties of dishes out of such unpromising materials.

Both sexes are good cooks, and no wonder, as from the time they are able properly to run about, until the infirmities of old age creep on they are accustomed to shift for themselves. An English boy would fare very badly if he had to cook his own dinner, and provide for his own wants as early as some of these native children. But education and habit are everything, the latter of course is second nature.

Sunday, August 8th.—At Tasmouri. Beautiful but very warm morning. After breakfast we had Sunday School, at which every member of the village population was present. I was much pleased with the way four or five classes repeated by heart their catechism, and the collect for the week, and answered general questions on the subject. It showed one that school was a serious and important business both with teacher and pupil. We went from the school into church, where we had full Morning Service but without any Sermon. Service over, I was followed by the whole male population to Tasmate. The day was very hot, and we had been obliged to choose the hottest part of it for our walk. However we tumbled over the same creepers, knocked our heads against the same branches, brushed against the same bristly bushes, that the natives of Maewo have done ever since they peopled the island. No one ever thinks of trying to improve his own or his neighbour’s ways, and from being accustomed so long to the present condition of the paths, they are quite content to experience the discomfort for ever and aye, they were good enough for their own forefathers, why should not they be good enough for them. Being head and shoulders taller than most of our natives, I suffered untold agonies mentally and physically, but I submit to the necessity, knowing that unless I commence to{48} improve matters myself, I may expect the same discomforts to the end of the chapter. My helmet on more than one occasion has saved my head very severe concussions, and to be bonnetted is no uncommon occurence. However, on we swung, I being thankful that the road was so level as it was, and at length arrived at Tasmate more fit to be comforted than to think of administering comfort to others. They have built a nice little school here, and by the way they turned up at the subsequent service it was manifest that they knew the use of it. Augmented by the Tasmouri people the little place was crowded to its fullest capabilities, and the heat and flies were not such as one would choose for ordinary enjoyment, but personal comforts with Missionaries are a secondary consideration. We had a nice service, and I gave a somewhat long address in spite of inconveniences, and when it was over I retired to the cool refreshing shade by the sea shore, and all at once everyone began to feel the heat and followed me there. However, our conversation ran in an edifying course, and I hope some were profited by it. The return home was the next consideration, and I must say it seemed formidable for a Sunday afternoon. We reached a place called “Na Seu,” and there I could not resist a bathe in the natural bathing place, under such a deliciously cool shoot of water. We came home by a new route which was said to be much shorter, but it turned out to be quite as long I think, and not nearly so pleasant walking.

At “Uta riki,” where I formerly remember a good population, one man and a small child are the only surviving remnant. The rest are all scattered or dead. We asked him to come to Tasmouri and live there, but he would not consent on the spur of the moment. His son and relations left are mostly there. In matter of wives he has been a regular Blue Beard, and the last of a long list has just died, and left him a widower.

We arrived in due course at Tasmouri, and after dinner all together, which the women had provided in our absence, we had Evensong, a very nice service with a Sermon from me. The women proposed singing afterwards, and this went on till late. At the Evening Service I Baptized the infant daughter of Moses, naming her Anika. Moses, wife, and four children are now a Christian family. His care of, and love for, his children gave me good food for my discourse afterwards, as did the case of ‘Dimeli’ and the remnant of his people migrating from the place where many had died, to a place where all were going to keep well and live, with the result that all have died with the exception of himself. There was no hope of life apart from God.{49}

Monday, August 9th.—Very hot, oppressive day, and I was so ill throughout I did little or nothing. My efforts to get cool were utterly abortive. Great Christening festivities were going on all day. The fatted pig was killed and eaten with much thankfulness and rejoicing in the evening. At Evensong I screwed my courage up to a Sermon which was better listened to than delivered. Afterwards there was a dance.

Tuesday, August 10th.—I saw this morning a beardless youth, who is the tenth husband of a woman in the district. One of her sons is a full-gown man at Tasmouri, himself married many years. There is no accounting for taste, but on which side the love or taste is I do not know. Beauty of face and figure have little weight generally with natives, they think more of utility and position. They seem to me to have no idea of the sublime and beautiful either in woman or in nature according to our ideas, and in a very matter of fact way look to the practical side of the business. Polygamy here is the exception, and there is not so large a percentage of females as is found in some of the islands. However, if they are all as easily satisfied as the youth mentioned above, young girls will be at a premium. There is one man here at Tasmouri who has two wives, and he steadily refuses to divorce one or the other with a view to Baptism, and according to our present practice in the administration of that Holy Rite, we insist on monogamy. Strangely enough the son of this very man had five wives, four of whom he divorced in order to be Baptized. All the four divorced are now married and Baptized at Tasmouri.

It was so intolerably hot in the village, I proposed that we should go to Ron̈onawo, as I was going to Tasmate to sleep and that was about a half-way house. All the population followed me, and there we cooked our dinner and rested. After the meal we had a short service there on the beach which was very quiet and solemn, and then with most of the men I turned my steps towards Tasmate, Samuel and a few others, with the women going back to Tasmouri. There was a great shaking of hands, some profusion of tears among the women, and a great deal of Christian harmony between us all.

Arriving at Tasmate we found another dinner awaiting us, and a hearty welcome. We had Prayers after dinner with a sermon from myself, in which I contrasted the present visit with those they must remember to have known in heathen days. Then the hands were full, but the heart was empty, now the heart was full of love and the hands carried no bow and arrows. We had{50} great Hymn singing afterwards, and the men sat and talked outside about the present and the past. There are a few hearts here I can see being prepared for the good seed which may God sow in His good time, quickly if it may be, and water the plant of grace with the dew of His Holy Spirit.

We were rather late before we thought of retiring, and I was not sorry at length when it was proposed, for without chair or seat, except a native tree, there was no great pleasure in sitting.

Wednesday, August 11th.—Spent a very uncomfortable night at Tasmate. The kind people had done all they could to make me comfortable, but I found the bed very hard, the sleeping quarters very rough, the fleas in large numbers, and the mosquitos very lively. However, I have been more uncomfortable, and I was not unthankful to be brought safely to the beginning of another day. A place was named to me last evening called “Beitabu,” as being a most choice spot for a bathe, and it was said to be near at hand. Having not many toilet requisites with me, I proposed to one “Lulu” a denizen of the place to pilot me there. I was very “breakfasty” and most unrefreshed, but away we started for “Beitabu.” It was a fearful grind to get there, and the distance seemed to me interminable. Of course being well watered there were irrigated taro beds, and I slipped off a bank clean into the mud. Yet when the spot was reached it made up for all difficulties and distresses and proved to be a most marvellous natural bath, a large, clear, deep pool, with water pouring in from a charming little waterfall, and flowing out rapidly over the rocks below. I do not know when I have enjoyed a bath more, or when water had a more invigorating and refreshing effect on me. Fortunately my host had what breakfast there was ready for me when I got back, and in my state of exhaustion it did not much matter what it was. After breakfast we had Morning Prayer with a short address from me instead of school. Not long after “sail oh!” was cried and my boat appeared to bring me back here to Tanrig, and heartily glad am I to be back here again in comparative comfort. We had a pleasant but rather heavy row up the coast, our party on board numbering twenty-eight. Fortunately the sea was very smooth, and not much wind, or probably we should not have fared so well. All my Tasmouri friends came on with me and are spending the night. All were well here and the place looked much as usual. One little baby had died unbaptized during my absence, a matter of great regret to everybody, and very much so to me. I had known of the child’s illness, and{51} it was better before I left. I had therefore postponed its Baptism until I could make it convenient to Baptize three or four more infants now waiting for the Rite.

Thursday, August 12th.—General holiday. Arthur took occasion to “nasu ima” at the same time with me, and the great event of two house warmings drew together a large concourse of people. Fire was lit in my house, and part of a pig and two fowls were cooked in the oven. It is the custom here to have as many kinds of flesh as possible on these occasions, and as many kinds of vegetables, representing I suppose all the different sorts of food that will hereafter be cooked therein. There has been great preparation for this day, and great excitement to-day. Every household added its mite to the feast, and in the evening when the feast was spread out there was a grand display. Everyone had huge pieces of yam and taro and banana cake, and a large piece of fish, fowl and pork. The pork takes precedence, but the fish costs the greatest pains in provision, not being so easily within their reach or means of acquisition. Fish in these countries do not seem to take hook and bait readily, and the poor natives have to resort to all manner of odd expedients to secure them. There were many strangers here, and quite 150 people or more must have partaken. The pork was very nice and most beautifully cooked in the native oven. The females presided over the cutting up, but Arthur as co-host with myself gave directions as master of the feast. He gave a sigh of relief when he came into my house after it was all over, and said “there, what a poor return for so much labour.” That always strikes me as the most pitiable thing about a feast, it is all over in the twinkling of an eye, and what have you for your pains?

This evening there is a great dance, a vast crowd of people has already congregated, and it is to go on till morning light. It is done as a special compliment to myself, and I do not like to stop them. The patient endurance of some of the dancers is wonderful. From the start to the finish, say from 8 p.m. to 4 a.m., they never leave the ranks of the dance but keep at it all the time, singing, clapping the hands and dancing. There is no rest for a good supper at midnight, but the dance is carried right through to the bitter end. I am going to attempt sleep, but I fear the noise will prove too much for me. They have certainly a most beautiful night for their dance, but I should be sorry to be one of the performers. The songs are certainly very pretty, and they show wonderful power of memory to keep up the succession all through the night, without a book of words or musical score.{52}

I can imagine too, as the enthusiasm of the dance increases, that there must be a sort of fascination about the performance.

Friday, August 13th.—The dance was kept up till daylight, and I got little or no sleep before that. When I did get to sleep, I slept so soundly that it was late on in the morning before I awoke, and then I was driven to it. Arthur Huqe appeared at my bedside and asked me if he should ring the bell for prayers, and I was obliged to consent. The whole day afterwards was somewhat of a blank to me, and I went no whither and did little till evening. The duties of the day however, were carried on as usual.

Saturday, August 14th.—The usual holiday. We had Prayers very early, and before breakfast I took a picture of most of the congregation in front of the church, which I hope will turn out good. It was not a pleasant day indoors, there was a strong wind blowing, and clouds of dust penetrating my house from all quarters, and I was not sorry to accept Arthur’s offer to go with himself and most of the people to the riverside. There it is always cool and pleasant, and the luxury of a bathe, although almost a daily occurence, is always appreciated. I took my photographic Camera with me, and after almost burying myself in mud, succeeded in getting a good view of the pretty taro gardens. On our way to Rarava the monotony of the road was relieved by our starting a “malau,” the ornithological name of which I know not, but it is a kind of bush turkey, it has a red head, yellow legs and black feathers, and is really like a common hen in shape and appearance. The poor thing was evidently startled from her peculiar nest, where she was about to deposit her eggs. These strange birds after securing a favourable spot, lay their eggs some depth beneath the upper soil, and leave them there uncared for until the young ones hatch themselves, and when strong enough burst their earthly tenement, and come forth to the light of day. Some say the parent comes occasionally back to her nest to see how matters are progressing, and even digs at the earth to find out how the process of hatching goes on. If she finds her progeny ready to walk, she drives them on before her to a place of security, but the general belief is that she allows them to shift for themselves. These curious birds are said to feed principally on the large ants here called “gandee.”

In Savo and some of the Solomon Islands, these birds are tamed and fenced in, to lay their eggs in the hot sand, but here they are wild and rare. Their eggs which are very numerous are{53} esteemed a great delicacy. This poor bird in question tried very hard to get away by flight, but getting entangled in the thick bush, was shot by a cruel arrow. The capture was the food for conversation throughout the day, and I listened to the relation and re-relation of the narrative of it times without number, with all the little details with which natives are wont to embellish and amplify their narration of the smallest fact. It is perfectly wonderful how the smallest matter affords pasture for native conversation, and what a wonderful faculty they have of making multum out of parvum. In powers of conversation and flow of language, I think natives are far before our European working classes. A native never seems at a loss for something to say, and certainly never fails to express himself from lack of words.

I have frequently heard an European confess that he had a great deal to say, but he could not express himself for want of words. The fluency of speech, and powers of conversation are not confined here to the weaker sex, and I think the men have quite as long tongues as the women, although I do not think they chatter so much or make such a clatter. Some of the men are great wits, and make fun for the multitude, but I do not think this applies to the women. The Maewo folks are great “laughers,” and go off into fits of cacchination at the smallest joke. They are a most simple, good-natured race certainly, and it is hard to conceive of their being such depraved savages, so gentle are they in their ways.

After school with the teachers in the evening, during which we discussed our Sunday programme, we had Evensong, and afterwards a long singing practice. Miss Mount’s generous gift is a most welcome addition to our singing, and Arthur Huqe begins to play the harmonium very nicely at the services. Our singing is very fair on the whole, but there is room for improvement, and we have the ability if I could get the girls to use their very nice voices. In the old familiar hymns and chants they sing out lustily, but when we attempt anything new, they shut up altogether, without making a trial to join in.

Sunday, August 15th.—There are two very homely sounds which break the stillness of the early morning here, and the first is the cock which seems to have a peculiar faculty for crowing in these latitudes, he starts his chant before commerce is awake and he keeps religiously at it all day long. Here at Maewo, too, these birds are in prodigal abundance, their flesh is esteemed very delicate food, and is kept for great and exalted occasions. Here{54} the male takes precedence of the female even in the matter of dumb animals, and sows and hens are looked upon as only fit food for women. The crow of the first cock is a signal for a general chorus, and then the natives begin to stir. As soon as they appear on the threshold of their doors another chorus takes up the morning song, and the pigs begin their squealing. Whether it is that one looks for more peace on Sunday morning, or whether one perchance is a trifle more inclined to take a little more sleep or a little more slumber, whatever the actual cause may be, I always notice that on Sundays there is always a greater noise from the domestic animals than on ordinary days. The pigs here are hand fed, and will not be denied, they squeal to their hearts’ content until they have their morning meal, and being in considerable numbers the noise is not sleep producing. In old days these animals were kept for their heathen feasts, but as of late these have fallen into disuse, so the pigs have increased until they have become one of the features of the place. At a Baptism or any great Church Festival such as Christmas, Easter, Pentecost, one or more male animals have to die, and although the possession of a flock is as much valued as an Englishman’s stud, no one ever grumbles to kill his animal when his turn comes round.

Being very hot this morning, and there being a prospect of the repetition of the Egyptian plague of flies, who always add to the discomfort of a congregation, we had school very early. Our numbers were slightly augmented by outsiders, but not quite to my satisfaction. After a hasty breakfast I started for Uta. This is a good long distance from here, and I was in a state of dripping perspiration when I arrived there. I found everyone keeping a Sabbath, but very few appreciating the idea of a Christian Sunday.

However, I had quite a large congregation in the neat little school but the ladies preponderated in point of numbers. We had quite a nice hearty little service, and they listened patiently to an address from myself. I wish from my heart I had a good teacher to place here, for I know he would be the means of doing much good work to God’s glory. The present teacher is a very good, conscientious fellow, but his own knowledge is not much above that of his own countrymen, and they grow weary of hearing continually the same thing. I was quite pleased with my visit, and amply rewarded for any discomfort I experienced in the journey. I do not expect that any immediate result will issue{55} from such spasmodic efforts, but there is no knowing the power of grace, and God’s ways are not as our ways. Often it is that the last becomes first, and the first last. At all events I keep the door open, and I hope before long someone else may be raised up to settle among them as a permanent teacher. After resting awhile I took my homeward journey, escorted according to custom by the denizens of the village beyond their own boundary. I returned by way of “Na Ruru,” where “Anthony” one of our Norfolk Island trained boys has a school. He seems to be doing fairly well there, and has a nice school. After sitting with him for some time, the shades of evening began to close in, and I to feel somewhat famished, having had but little since morning. Bidding him goodbye I started for Tanrig, where I arrived in due course. After dinner I baptized three children, Maida, Victoria and Matthew respectively. The Font was very prettily arranged and decorated by Arthur Huqe, and the service generally, very nice. Later on we had Evensong, quite a refreshing and stirring service, at which I preached, and never before do I remember to have secured more attention. These children I Baptized this evening make up the number of Christians here to 100, under God, the fruits of my own, and my teacher’s work, and I feel that by the orderly and consistent lives of most of them, I can thank God and take courage.

I took as the basis of my remarks, our Lord’s last command to His Disciples, and I urged those who had already been admitted into the fellowship of Christ’s religion, to eschew all those things which were contrary to their profession, and to follow all such things as were agreeable to the same, and those still without the pale to lose no time in applying for that rite, the absence of which our Lord declared must be condemnation. Those words have a strong sound here for Missionary and heathen—“He that believeth and is Baptized shall be saved, but he that believeth not shall be dammed.” One realizes here their full weight, and solemnity, and power. Quite three parts of the congregation have dropped in to wish me good night, and by the hushed stillness over the place I can tell that God’s Word has not fallen to the ground. God grant that it may minister grace to hearer and preacher.

Monday, August 16th.—The night was made perfectly hideous by the howling of the fiendish curs which are dignified with the name of dogs, the squealing of hungry swine, and the cackling of a poor forlorn goose whose kith and kin have left her a solitary representative of her species, and who seems to find her only{56} solace in sitting outside my door and calling to her lost companions. The dogs are simply a pest to the place, they keep up their incessant bark all the day long, and all night they howl and prowl around. They are hideously ugly, undersized creatures, and are the more loathsome because they are the acknowledged scavengers of the place. They are not worthy to be called dogs, and any one except he was assured of the fact, would scarcely believe that they were dogs. They are supposed to be useful in catching wild pigs, but from their appearance you would fancy that it must be a poor specimen of a pig they would dare to tackle. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and all these sounds rending the still night air simultaneously drove sleep from my eyes, and produced such inward irritation and disgust that if a thought could have killed the lot, none of them would have troubled the world again with their noises. A most glorious morning enticed me up very early, and certainly the early dawn was very fresh and beautiful. We had Prayers very soon after daylight and even then the blue bottles had collected in great numbers and were by no means a help to devotion. These pests spring into existence at once as soon as any number of human bodies are congregated together, and are particularly active in church and school. The idea of them apart from their propensities is very nasty and disgusting, and when in a country like this without the concomitants of devotion, one wants all the solemnity one can possibly obtain, their presence and irritation are the more odious and nauseating.

To-day, according to custom, we kept the Christening Feast of the children who were Baptized last night. The parents of the children gave a most beautiful pig, and the women attended to the cooking, the men dispersing in many directions each in quest of his own business or pleasure. I went with a party to Ruosi where we bathed, and got back in time for the opening of the ovens, and the division of the feast. I said grace and then each one partook of his or her share of the plentiful repast, all eating together in the most harmonious fashion, and not as in old days the sexes keeping religiously apart. This middle wall of separation has been almost entirely broken down, and family life and sociability have taken the place of the old seclusion and division. It was a most glorious night but the people were too tired to dance, and we all retired early to our houses. I kept busy till very late writing up arrears of correspondence and reading, and was the last in the village out of bed.{57}

Tuesday, August 17th.—The most glorious day from earliest morning till now at night, the evening one of the most beautiful I ever saw, when the moon rose it was a most perfect night above and below, the sky studded with myriads of stars and absolutely cloudless, here everything hushed in peaceful slumber, except the restless, ever-singing crickets, whose buzz is continuously kept up by night and day. At the heathen end of the village there was a sort of Irish wake kept up to-day, but there was no “tangi” or any ceremony except a pig being killed, and a great feast being prepared. Formerly, death days were kept with great strictness, and the day of death and the 100th were observed with great festivities. I have seen nothing of the kind now for years, and I fancied the custom had quite died out. It was supposed in old days when the people were still heathen, that the disembodied spirit, after it left its earthly tenement, hung about hungry and restless on the thick creepers in the bush, and on the day of death a great feast was prepared for it, after which it retired to the place of departed spirits called Banoi. This same Banoi is near Tasmouri, but I have never seen it. The idea, I believe, is that when the spirit is at length at rest, its stone is placed in a certain cave or pit there exists there, and the people who have seen the place, tell me that certainly there far inland are smooth seaside stones laid in wonderful regularity, and in old days supposed to be put there by successive spirits in order as they died. Until quite recently, no one ventured into this ghostly place, and it was regarded as eminently sacred. Some day I hope to go there and examine it for myself.

I cannot find out the rationale of the subsequent death days, but they seem to have more to do with the living than the dead, and are supposed to show the departed one that he or she is still kept in faithful and affectionate memory.

In old days everyone was careful to have one good pig at least, in readiness for the day of his death, and any others which he might possess at the time of his departure, his friends were careful to kill in his honour.

They carefully kept the days, principally the tens, I think, and religiously observed the 100th, after which remembrance seemed no longer necessary, but before that, I am afraid, there was a large amount of selfishness about the death days, and more was thought of the living in them than of the dead. The people tell me how strictly these days were kept formerly, they dispensed with their regular ordinary food sometimes for the whole 100{58} days, and ate only such roots and fruits as grow wild in the bush, religiously abstaining from all garden produce until the full time had expired. Some went even beyond this when a very particular person died, and for the whole 100 days ate only one kind of root, and that the most difficult to obtain, strenuously refusing to partake of food in common with others. I have known a man myself adhere to this rigid, self-imposed abstention, in the case of the death of a son, and of a wife, not here however, but at Opa. A man once came into my house over there, tired and hungry after a long fast and a laborious journey, but he strictly refused a biscuit or other food which I ventured to offer him, and when or where he ate I do not know, for the particular food he had chosen to eat was most rare in the neighbourhood, I doubt even if it was obtainable at all. Yet no privation or distress would force him to break his rule, and eat promiscuously until the proper time had elapsed. In the keeping of their days they are wonderfully accurate, and you seldom find them wrong in their calculations. Their fingers are their ready reckoners, and they have to do a great deal more work than ours in assisting a weak memory, where the use of slate and pencil are unknown. I very often ask people to count over the names of persons in the place or neighbourhood, just to see how clever and correct they are with their numbers. Here the whole ten fingers are used, at Opa only the left hand, five fingers down being five, the first finger up and the rest down six, and so on until all are up which makes ten, then two tens, three tens, up to ten tens or one hundred. In the distribution of food, too, it is wonderful how accurate they are, and it is very rarely that any one is left out of the count. Of course, where the science of numbers is unknown, nature teaches by a more roundabout, but scarcely less accurate process. For all practical purposes and uses, their fingers help them a great deal, indeed almost as far as their requirements go, for their lives are very simple and their ways uncomplicated. The leaves of a certain palm, however, lends them some assistance, especially in the distribution of food, and as the person is seen, or his name thought of, a leaf is broken off, and then the broken leaves are counted. I have never heard of the toes being used as assistants, although one might fancy their being of service.

Wednesday, August 18th.—About midnight as I lay reading in bed, and a perfect stillness reigned around, we experienced a very sharp shock of an earthquake. My house shook so uncomfortably, that I really feared it was coming down, and I had the{59} sort of feeling as of some one trying to upset it, and I felt as if I must say “Oh! do not, please leave off, you will have it down.” My neighbour’s fence was shaken so, that I fancied some considerable damage had been done. The vibration lasted a good long time, some seconds I should say, after the real shock was over, and I felt myself, a sort of palpitation for some considerable period. I was not afraid, but no one can feel an earthquake without some instinctive dread. Nothing, I think, makes one feel one’s littleness and helplessness and insecurity more, and there is such a solemnity attached to it, that you are very thankful when it is fairly over. Man, bird and beast were roused into action at once, and there was quite an excitement here for a time. Curiously enough, in the evening there was a very bright and exceedingly beautiful after-glow, and I remarked to the boys how like it was to the time when the terrible destruction was caused in the gulf of Sunda, and I said casually, that I should not be surprised if we had more earthquakes soon. The natives have a firm idea that they are the precursors of rain, and certainly this morning we have had a very heavy downpour. This is the first rain we have had for the whole month I have been here, and the first day I have been kept to solitary confinement. Most of the day I have been absolutely alone, and my pen has been kept very busy writing letters and hymns and songs. With the latter I have been very successful, and have managed four. One, particularly successful, goes to the chorus of “Wait till the clouds roll by,” and is as follows:—

Gana unui vagamatera
A len̈elen̈e mas
Gana tuwur, sogon le gete
Toli tasgoro rik ka sem.

We will kill them dead with poison,
All and every kind of fish,
We will gather and lay them in baskets,
What a glorious tasgoro!
{60}

The tasgoro I have before described. Part of beach enclosed, tabu’d, and after lapse of time opened again to the public.

This evening we have sung this chorus with grand effect, and high as I was previously in popular estimation as a poet, I have gone still higher now. What a little thing wins popularity, how little is a thing so easily purchased worth the having! One other song goes very prettily and smoothly to “Home sweet Home,” and is much appreciated. It is, as far as I could adapt it, the reproduction of the English song into Maewo. “Dream Faces” supplied me with another very pretty little song, which runs very well, the theme of which is the “moonlight.” “Our Jack’s come home to-night,” lent me the music of a fourth song, which is peculiarly native in expression, and slightly more comic than the two above mentioned.

The production of this last was received with such peals of laughter, that for a time confusion and merriment took the place of composure and perfect gravity. It would lose its charm and half its meaning if I were to attempt to translate it into English. Here, however, is the Maewo:—

The light called “marama,” is looked upon by natives as the perfection of light, because it is, I suppose, unaccompanied by the burning heat of the sun. I therefore use it as illustrating better the idea of heaven’s light. Maran is the light of day.{61}

Thursday, August 19th.—The village was hushed in the stillness of slumber again about midnight, and I was preparing for bed, too, and kneeling down to say my prayers, when another quite sharp earthquake shock was felt, and the sensation came upon me very solemnly and impressively while so engaged. I cannot say why I trembled, but I did, and it was quite instinctive. However, I went to bed and slept profoundly. We have had another slight shock of domestic earthquake here this morning, and Ann, one of our young married women, after rating her husband, started off for Naruru, and we were quite in a ferment here for a short time. However, this evening, her parents went for her, and I have had to give her a scolding. I told her that anger was like a charge of dynamite, it not only exploded itself, but it produced destructive effects far and wide, indeed there was no knowing what the extent of its mischief might be. She seemed penitent, and was utterly ashamed of her unchristian conduct. I am thankful to say that scenes of domestic warfare are uncommon here, and, generally speaking, a great deal of harmony prevails, but of course there are clouds in the most perfect day, and the smoothest ocean is at times ruffled by the sudden breeze. Beyond this, our day has been like most other days, except for the thatching of Peter’s “gamal,” which has brought together a large concourse of people, and has been the occasion of a great festivity this evening. Arthur, Patrick and myself walked down to Ruosi in the afternoon, where we bathed, and returned in the evening. Our evening duties as usual.

Friday, August 20th.—Certainly we are blessed with the most glorious weather. This morning was simply perfect, and one almost wishes one could keep some of its coolness for the middle of the day, when the heat is very great.

After school and breakfast this morning, some of the people invited me to go with them eel catching. As the performance was new to me, I gladly assented. The scene of the sport lay in the direction of the water fall, and I took my camera, hoping to get a good view of it.

We followed the course of the stream, and waded through the taro gardens, and finally found ourselves in the most advantageous position for a photograph. It ought to be good, after all my efforts to secure the picture, but I could not get far enough away. While I have been writing this, since I began the last sentence, an earthquake shock has shaken the place very perceptibly, and, why I know not, has left a tremour all over me, which{62} I cannot explain. The picture being shot off, I hastened back to where the eel catching was going on. The water was cleverly dammed off above two large pools, and then one pool “teemed” out with buckets. In the first pool nothing was discovered, and the next proceeding was to empty the full pool into the now empty one. This took some time, but it was finally accomplished, and one large eel was captured, the sole occupant of the pool, and the only sport afforded after a long day’s work. Disappointment was depicted on all countenances, and I was rather disgusted too, having expected to see some sport. I comforted myself with a most glorious bathe in the broad flowing river, and hastened home to drown my disappointment in a cup of tea.

After school this evening, I was sitting here alone, when four men came in, in whispers, and shut the door behind them, and when they had sat down, they said, still in the lowest accents, “we wish to see your Eucharistic vessels.” I proceeded to exhibit them, and they seemed quite awe struck. Miss Patteson would have been pleased to have seen how her noble gift was valued and appreciated. The exhibition of the beautiful vessels gave me much food for conversation with these men, and I told them I hoped the day was not far distant when they would be regularly used in the Church here, and they themselves be partakers from them of the Blessed Tokens of Redeeming Love, the bread of the world in mercy broken, the wine of the soul in mercy shed.

Saturday, August 21st.—General holiday as usual. Nothing of particular importance marked the day, except the visit of three nice fellows from Uta. The British Workman’s Almanac adorns my walls, and they were particularly struck with the picture of Lord Shaftesbury which occupies the centre. Curiously, many others have admired this same picture, why I do not know, except perhaps from its size. I told these visitors all about the late Earl, of his philantrophy and the goodness of his life, and I told them too, of the philantrophy and goodness of a greater than he, “who went about doing, and healing all manner of diseases and sicknesses among the people.” They asked me if I had heard the earthquake of late, to which I responded in the affirmative, and told them of the terrible outburst of volcanic power at Tarawera, and the fearful and alarming results, and I said there was no knowing but it might be our turn next, and we ought to try and be prepared for whatever lay before us. I urged them to fly, while they had the opportunity, to the Higher{63} Rock, for there we should find shelter and protection until the tyranny were overpast, and any such visitation would be but to bring us the quicker to a haven of rest and safety, whither such things never come. They asked me if I could not spare some regular teacher to come and live with them, to teach them the wonderful things of God’s law, and expound more fully to them, the things concerning the Kingdom of God. I promised them a weekly service, but I could do no more just yet.

Sunday, August 22nd.—A most glorious Sabbath morning. We had school before breakfast, both because it was cooler and also on account of the blue bottle flies, which become very troublesome in the heat of the day, where people are congregated together. Before our school duties were over, they became very numerous, and I was not sorry to get back to the refuge and quiet of my own house. After breakfast we had Morning Prayer, a very nice service, but not rendered more solemn by the presence, in crowds, of those disgusting pests, the flies. However, they are an inevitable worry, from which there seems no chance of escape. After Prayers I went to the Unduna villages, and talked to the few people I found there. They were keeping Sunday, they said, i.e. they were doing no work and were generally idling. I asked why they did not come to Church as formerly, and they said it was too far. I asked why then did not they build a school there, and I would be responsible for the teaching in it. They so far assented as to say that they would see about it, when they had got through with their yam planting. There is a nice little population there, and I have always had it on my conscience that nothing practical or definite had been done for them. Natives do not care to go to the trouble of a few yards more or less for religion, so I suppose the alternative is that religion must go to them. One very nice man called “Vangoro,” was most energetic about the building, in promising to get it done and helping all he could, he is a leading man there too, and I hope my desire will be accomplished.

It was very hot coming back, and I was in a liquid state when I got home. The evening was deliriously cool and fine, and I enjoyed it outside my house with several of the people.

Evensong was a very nice quiet service, and I preached on the subject of the Collect (9th Sunday after Trinity), the “spirit to think and do always such things as were rightful.” I hope I got intelligent attention. We had some nice singing afterwards, and the people went very quietly home.{64}

On Monday there were great festivities here, and a dance till morning. I began to feel ill in the evening, and spent a most wretched night. On Tuesday I was unwell all day, and could do nothing. On Wednesday I was fearfully ill all day with a severe attack of fever and ague, and lay down under all the wraps I could secure, until the hot fit came on with a very severe headache. In the evening the boys surprised me by saying there was a white man outside, and I was glad to welcome Mr. Blackburne, Government agent of the Sybil, from Queensland. The vessel anchored at the watering place, and the boys told him “Missionary he plenty sick.” He therefore very kindly came up and spent the night with me. He has just left me now, and I have not strength to go with him to the ship. However, I am better to-day, and hope after a big dose of Quinine he has given me, that I shall be better.

Tuesday, August 31st.—I have wasted a whole week, and only to-day feel equal to doing anything or going anywhere. To-day for the first time for a week, I have moved out of the village boundaries, and have been to the river with the boys and bathed.

It has been a sickly time here all together, and many besides myself have been laid by. It is bearably pleasant to be pent up day by day within doors when feeling well, but almost unbearably so when one feels ill and out of sorts. However, I trust it is all over now, please God, and I must endeavour to make up for lost time. Several of the people, Arthur included, have been quite ill through eating a certain eel, caught somewhere in the sea and very poisonous. They all detected the burning, stinging sensation on their lips, tongue and palate as soon as they had eaten it, but fancied it was the taro. From that time till the end of the week, they have been all laid up, and one or two have been very bad indeed. They have experienced not only burning, sharp pains internally, and pricking, poignant stabbing pains in the palms of the hands and soles of the feet, but have suffered a great deal also from strong and utter prostration with an abhorrent distaste for food. Several others were warned betimes from partaking, or the poisoning might have been more general. This particular eel was caught by a heathen on a Sunday, and therefore its peculiarly deleterious and poisonous qualities have been traced by the more virtuous to that fact, of which no cognizance was taken before it was cooked and eaten, nor would have been afterwards, but for its effects. The really admitted fact, however, I believe, is that certain fish caught at certain parts of the beach at particular{65} seasons of the year, have all a more or less poisonous effect on those who eat them. The people themselves say it is the feed they find there which makes them poisonous, but it may be inherent in the nature of the particular fish. I remember on many occasions on board the Southern Cross, the natives looking askance at some very tempting looking fish which had been caught, and pronouncing them dangerous to eat. On one very memorable occasion, when dinner was over, one of the senior boys being cook, and one of the most poisonous of fish having been served and partaken of by all, this youth without a change of feature saying to some remark that was passed, “Oh! Yes, we die in our country if we eat that fish.” This was reassuring after what had passed, and we eyed one another with wistful and anxious faces, thinking whether or not perchance our end may have been hastened by our wilful inadvertence in thus partaking of deadly poison. But we neither swelled, nor fell down dead, and felt no ill effects. Many a time, too, since, I have eaten the same fish with the like happy and successful result. This particular kind of eel, however, has played the same post mortem tricks before, and taken his revenge for wrongs received before going into the oven. The people tell me that those who have eaten, have become like mummies, their hair and skin have changed to a ghastly leaden hue, and have fallen off like a snake’s skin. How far this is true or fable, I know not, but it may be partially credible. Nothing of the sort has happened fortunately, at this present crisis, and the sufferers are about again.

A dull, dark evening ushered in a blustery, rough night, and the coughs and sneezings and other demonstrative sounds peculiar to people who do not carry pocket handkerchiefs, bore testimony to the fact of an epidemic catarrh, contracted during a very inclement week. Like the Norfolk Islanders, they look for the source of such things in the world without, and accuse my friend Mr. Blackburne of having brought it here, all the way from Queensland. In what part of his luggage he secreted so desirable a communication I know not, but they are decidedly of opinion that he it was who ‘gave them’ the cold, and they were unwise enough to ‘catch it’ from him. He ‘had’ the cold, they said, when he came here, and certainly said I, I believe he took it away again. However, as colds are catching, I suppose they must be left content with their belief, and to ‘bless him,’ I hope, every time they sneeze.{66}

Wednesday, September 1st.—Another full month past and gone, and leaving I fear, but a poor memory of much good done behind it. The days here certainly fly past one after another in rapid flight, and the very monotony of existence speeds their departure. One day is so like another that it passes unmarkedly by, and one finds oneself, all at once, at the end of the week, and is brought to final consciousness of the rapid rotation of time’s wheels at the end of the month. What has been done in the month? I fear there is but a poor record. God grant that I myself may have, by His Grace, made one step forward, and have been instrumental in leading others also onward to a higher and better life, and to that final epoch where the flight of time is unmarked by days and weeks and months and years, for time itself will be swallowed up in eternity.

Nothing much happened to-day. A bright morning seemed likely to usher in a fine and brilliant day, but in the forenoon the rain pelted down, and for some hours we had a glorious downpour. The “blue bottles” gave indication of this at Prayers and morning school, and I have never known them in such numbers or so troublesome. One perfectly loathed oneself, but escape from them was impossible, they crowded my house, which is generally free from their incursions, and the poor people seemed quite distracted. This is the great yam planting season, and everyone was away after school busy at his garden. The heavy rain, however, drove them home, and some took refuge here with me. Natives are not great hands for introducing originality into their conversation, nor do they go much beyond the sight of their eyes, or the hearing of their ears for their subject matter. Any prominent object which attracts their attention is made the subject of remark. This is a specimen of the sort of conversation which goes on. I was writing when my friends came in, “Oh! you are writing!” “Yes, what else did you suppose I should be doing with pen, ink and paper?” “Oh! this is a curious tin, what is in it? Meat?” “You are the 101st person who has asked that self-same question, I answered the 100 before you with the monosyllabic negative, No, and I give you the same answer.” “What then is in it? Fish?” “No.” “Fruit?” “Yes, I hope you are satisfied.” “Oh! I see you have a “kove” (native flute) up there in the thatch, who gave it you?” “You yourself have asked that same question ten times before, and I have always given the same answer, ‘Arthur,’ next time perhaps you will know without asking.” “You have a bow and arrow there, where did you get them?{67}” “Considering that every person in the village knows from whence they came, and has made them the subject of general conversation for weeks, I wonder you should be the only person ignorant of their origin, especially as you were here when I brought them from Tasmouri.” This is the style of thing which goes on, and except that one is glad to accede to any means for introducing conversation, one would soon weary of it. They themselves do not seem to mind going over and over again the same conversation, and wading through the same minutiæ of detail, and they expect one to be equally patient. The rain gave me a good opportunity of planting my new fence, and I planted, as a start, a number of oranges around my house. The evening was fine, and the moon already quite sizeable. We had the usual singing school after Prayers, with very good success. When the practice was over, I asked the older men to sing some of their own songs, and they readily complied. Old blind Daniel is the great leader, and knows all the songs. There are three parts to the native song, (1) the person who starts and sings the air as in a Gregorian tone, and then follows (2) a chorus, then (3) a single voice takes up the air again, and this is followed by the chorus. The first singer is said to “tau” the song, the second to “sawu,” and the chorus to “lai.” The songs are very pretty, and they kept them up with spirit for quite an hour. Some of the singers beat a weird kind of accompaniment with bamboos, and kept most excellent time. When the performance was over, it was time to retire, and soon quietness warned me that it was time for me, too, to be going to rest.

Thursday, September 2nd.—How the days seem to chase one another in ever too hasty flight! It seems no sooner morning than the night is here again. We tried the experiment to-day of having prayers even earlier than usual, to be rid of the noxious blue bottles, but only partially succeeded in anything like freedom from them. At the school subsequently they were more troublesome, I think, than ever, and it was not an easy matter to keep one’s own or one’s pupils’ attention, with these hideous creatures buzzing about. After Prayers and school one is fairly ready for breakfast, and by the time that is over the day has already worn on towards Noon.

It is the commencement of planting time now, and the people are very busy day after day in their yam gardens preparing the soil. It is by no means easy work, and they certainly make a very good show by the end of the day.{68}

I always like to get out somewhere if I can every day, for I find my health is better for the constant out-door exercise. This morning the people were all going shrimping, and I accepted an invitation to go with them to a place called ‘Niewotu.’ I had never been there before, and I was charmed with the picturesque beauty of it. A clear, flowing river is utilized for the purpose of irrigation, and there one saw again the quaint little taro beds so deftly laid out, and the showy crotons and dracænas ornamenting the immediate view, while all round the bush was thickly matted with innumerable, and almost impenetrable creepers with masses of white and pink flowers. In the direct foreground one got a peep of the bright blue sea sparkling in the midday heat. A bathe, and green cocoanuts were very agreeable and most refreshing. The boon of abundance of water in these hot countries is inestimable, and this island is rich in its water supply. Araga again on the other hand is very badly off, and Opa not much better.

Saturday, September 4th.—After Prayers and breakfast, the boys and I started for a long meditated journey up the coast. It was a most glorious day, but very hot, the sun scorching down with pitiless heat. We embarked at Kerepei, sixteen of us all told, and rowed away against the Trade wind which was blowing strong down the coast. We were a merry party, and the shore view was very beautiful as we coasted along. From the point of embarkation to Tanrowo, a distance of eight or ten miles, there is not a single “salt water” native, and it seems a great pity to see so much valuable land lying fallow, when it might be utilised for almost any purpose. As we rounded the Point between us and Tanrowo, called “Vaturowa,” we saw a vessel at anchor in the distance. The heat on the water was intense, and I felt myself being scorched about the face and hands. The natives, hatless and clotheless, did not seem to mind it, and their exuberant spirits were proof against almost any outer evil. We saw some people along the coast, and conversed with them at several places. Arriving at “Beitarara,” we saw a number of people we knew. We of course asked about the “schooner” at anchor, and they said they did not know what she was, as she had only just a short time before come to her anchorage. However, the boat painted red was coming towards us, and soon we were within speaking distance. I asked where she was from, and what was her errand. As they came close to us, I heard my name called,{69} and found myself shaking hands with Captain Martin of the schooner “Idaho” from Noumea. I met him years ago when he was in charge of the “John S. Lane,” Captain McCleod owner, and he very kindly then towed me across from Opa to Pentecost Island. He seemed very glad to see me, and invited me on board. He now belongs to the “Nouvelles Hebrides” Company, and was recruiting labour for “Port Sandwich” in Mallicollo. The Company had bought land here at “Beitarara,” and he just dropped in to see the people. He was very kind and amiable, and I spent some time on board, and made some purchases.

The boat then started for our destination, where we found many amiable, friendly people awaiting us, and although they had sold their land, they had very hazy notions as to how much had been purchased, or what was to be done with it. After spending some time with them, we gave them some presents, and then found it was time to be getting homeward. A strong favourable breeze took us rapidly to the Kerepei. Arriving at “Ruosi,” we found a large number of our people awaiting us, with a smoking hot supper they had cooked for us there. We arrived here tired and sunburnt just before dark. Evensong followed, and a singing practice for Sunday.

Sunday, September 5th.—School very early on account of the blue bottles. I took all the old men into the Church and talked to them there. They paid good attention, and I hope remembered something of what they were taught. I tried to explain how God declared His Almighty Power most chiefly in showing mercy and pity. There were times when He revealed Himself as a consuming fire, but that was in His attitude towards sin, but the whole being and essence of God was love. After breakfast I started with Patrick for “Mandurvat” by way of “Naruru.” Anthony had already had Morning Prayer, so I did not stay long there, but pushed on for my destination. It was very hot walking, and I was very liquid when I arrived at Mandurvat. Sunday travelling here is much more tiring than week-day work, for you are obliged to respect the day a little, as regards the clothing you wear. I had not a very large congregation, and when service was over I asked the reason. The people then told me that a certain man called “Ala” had “tabu’d” (i.e. made sacred) the school, and prevented the people of his village from attending service. I protested against this, and when I had said my say, the plucky young teacher “Tarione” at once went to the village, and broke the “tabu,” rendering himself liable to a fine{70} of pigs or perhaps a knock on the head. “Ala” was not at home or I would have gone to see him. However, I believe Tarione did all I could do, and perhaps more. I was very much pleased with the way some of the scholars had been taught, and two females especially, took me quite by surprise. These people have no baptized teacher, and the efficiency of the school is entirely owing to the exertion and perseverance of two young men, Tarione aforementioned and “Livotari.” The latter requested Baptism for himself, wife and child, and Tarione has previously expressed the same wish. Now that the tabu is taken off, or at least broken, no doubt the scholars will increase, but it reflects great credit on these young fellows that they have built the school themselves, taught themselves to read, and do their best to teach their people. They are a most friendly, good-natured people, and act up to their limited light and knowledge. They have prayers and school every day, and this is very wonderful, when one considers the few advantages they have had. “Masa,” the leading man of the district, was present at the service, and was very enthusiastic in the after conversation. They gave us a sumptuous luncheon of various kinds of “loko,” and we started for Tanrig when the sun’s rays began somewhat to decline. At “Naruru” we stopped some time, and I addressed the people. Anthony afterwards came on with me to Tanrig. Here, in the evening, I preached on the subject of the Gospel, the Pharisee and the Publican, and tried to adduce some healthful lessons from the parable. We were somewhat inclined by nature to think more highly of ourselves than we ought to think, and not to be sober and humble in our self consideration. Because we attended service regularly, and were very accurate in our daily lives, we were apt to despise others around us, who were not so exact, and were still living heathen lives. When we came before God, our thought ought not to be of our own worthiness or goodness in His sight, still less of the depravity and wickedness of others, but our attitude and our language should be that of our own utter unworthiness and sinfulness, we should imitate the action and adopt the words of the Publican rather than that of the Pharisee, and smite our breasts and say, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” What we sought from all our services was to go down to our houses justified, and the only road to justification and righteousness was humility. That was the only road for white and black people alike, for teacher and taught, for Priest and people. How many of us would be justified that night? How many of us were{71} growing day by day in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ?

Monday, September 6th.—Captain Martin had kindly offered to tow me and my boat’s crew across to Opa if I could manage to be ready. He would come down and anchor at Kerepei, and fire a gun as a signal for me. The gun went, but I was not ready, and after breakfast I went down to tell him so. Being a French ship they kept French hours, and I found a second breakfast awaiting me on board. Twelve people had recruited at Tanrowo, and all had been bought with snider rifles, and plenty of ammunition. French and English recruiting laws are very different. Vessels from Queensland and Fiji are not allowed to give guns or ammunition to the natives, but the French do just as they like. While I was on board, another silly female was recruited. In one of her humours she had run away from her husband, and had come a distance of twelve or fifteen miles, to be engaged for three years as the slave and tool of some depraved Frenchman on one of the island stations. I could say nothing, although I knew the result of the embarkation. However, the Captain promised me that he would call again at the place, and see the woman’s friends, and if they consented to her going, he would keep her and pay for her, but if not, she should be put on shore again. How far or how truly he will carry out his promise I do not know, but he is a tender hearted and, I think, an upright man in his dealings with the natives. As soon as I was ashore, he lifted his anchor and went up the coast, but I have not yet heard what he did. He was very kind to our boys, and gave them several tins of meat and biscuits. We made a fire at Ruosi, and there they cooked their dinner, while after a bathe I came home. In the evening it rained very hard, and just before the bell went for Prayers, our congregation was therefore not so large as usual, and our numbers thinner at school. I was very tired, and went early to bed.

Wednesday, September 7th.—Very heavy rain during the night succeeded this morning by a northerly wind, and a hot, close, oppressive day. I have not felt it so warm since I have been here, and I was glad that my duties kept me at home, and mostly in doors all the day. Nothing here seems possible to be done without a feast and a dance, and all work was postponed to-day to do my new fence the honour of having a supper prepared for it. Any excuse for eating and dancing. The women were kept busy at the ovens cooking, and the men away at the seaside endeavouring to get a meal of fish, seemingly the choicest compli{72}ment possible to be paid to the exterior decoration of my house. The fence making certainly was a most laborious business, and the result, if not strikingly beautiful, has the advantage of being strong and durable, and hitherto pig-proof.

The men returned in the afternoon with about thirty nice fish, which were at once consigned to the oven, and in the evening the feast was spread here in front of my house, and the whole village assembled to partake. Grace was said, and the huge quantities of food distributed, and eaten with very evident relish. Postprandial grace having been said, the company dispersed, and soon all the festal remnants, too, disappeared. The evening was one of the most glorious I have ever seen, and I sat outside my house for a long time talking with the people. Many were prevented attending by reason of sickness, and our numbers at Prayers and school were not so full as usual. After school a dance was proposed, but did not come off. Instead thereof, a few of the men came and serenaded me, very quietly and softly, and much more in consonance with my feelings than the noisy songs and clappings of the dance. It was one of those nights in which it was a “shame to go to bed,” but tired nature seeks repose, and soon the village was sunk in silent slumber.

Wednesday, September 8th.—Another most glorious morning followed by a very hot and ennervating day. After our morning duties here, public and private, I went with some of the boys to Ruosi. It was very pleasant there by the water side, and one got a perfect freedom from the blue bottles, which invaded my house in such numbers, this morning, that I had to retire. The discomfort of these loathsome creatures is excessive, and one gets away from them as far as possible. Not having had a washing day for some days, I made one to-day, and myself turned washerwoman. The one idea of natives with respect to clothes washing, is to pile on the soap agony, and leave your garments as stiff as a board, and almost as uncomfortable to wear. I entrusted a pair of white flannel trowsers, and a white flannel coat to one of the boys to wash, but I tremble to think what the result will be. On our way homeward we were stopped by loud “cooes” from the rear rank, and Patrick came running forward to say “They are here.” Soon a white hat appeared, and I fancied at once it must be the “Southern Cross,” but wondered why she had come so quickly.

However, I was soon undeceived, and was greeted by Mr. Coates, Government Agent of the “Lord of the Isles” from Fiji.{73} He was photographing the Falls, and the boys brought him on here. He was very amiable, and followed me on to the village. He took three views of different parts of the place, and after staying a short time returned again to the ship as night was rapidly approaching. It is so seldom that a white man ventures up here, that the sight of one is a seven days’ wonder. He came quite unarmed, and was evidently not frightened by the ferocity of our people. It is customary to look upon natives as naturally wild and ferocious, and few white men trust themselves among them without arms. However, of course we always go armed with a Power more protective than a Colt’s revolver, and we, I suppose, engender trust in the natives by trusting them.

The “Lord of the Isles” is a large ship of 300 tons, and has brought over two hundred natives from Fiji as returned labour.

Mr. Coates told me that the Conservative Government was in power with Lord R. Churchill as Premier, and that the English Government had sent an ultimatum to the French to withdraw their troops from the New Hebrides, or their action in sending them there would be looked upon as a breach of faith and an act of aggression. There will be troubles down here yet I fear, with all the shilly-shallying there is over the annexation of these islands. The French are evidently intending some forward step, for they have troops both in Havannah Harbour, and Port Sandwich (Mallicollo), and the Nouvelles-Hebrides Company are buying land right and left all over these islands. It would not be pleasant to find myself a prisoner in France instead of a free man in England, and I hope there may be no fear of such a criterion.

Thursday, September 9th.—Another most glorious morning, and a bright warm day. My home duties kept me here till far on in the day, when I joined a large picnic party at Ruosi. Certainly these natives take life easily, and in their own way get a good deal of enjoyment out of it. They seem utterly devoid of that care and worry which kills so many of us, and certainly follow the Scripture injunction as to taking no anxious thought. Nature affords them all they want for their bodily comfort, and I trust religion supplies the rest. It is perfectly wonderful how far more merry and light hearted they are than their heathen neighbours, and I fondly hope the secret is within, such jolly, amiable, good-natured creatures they are, and so happy and friendly and harmonious among themselves. The sportsmen to the number of twelve or fifteen went off in search of wild fowl,{74} or any other of the feathered tribe they might come across, the cooks setting to work to get the oven alight and start the cooking. Prawns were caught in abundance, and were eaten with roasted taro, as a sort of lunch, and green cocoanuts were secured as the refreshing beverage. It was an animated and picturesque scene, and in the evening the sportsmen returned with five fowls and one owl, an odd looking object, as the result of their day’s sport. These birds were soon consigned to the oven with the other food, and were partaken of in the evening. I came away beforehand and had my dinner here. It was a most gloriously still and beautiful evening and the native songs sung by the boys coming home, sounded very pretty in the distance. There seems to have been an exuberant joyous spirit about to-day, animating everyone, and never since I have been here, have I known so hearty and bright a service as we had this evening.

After school most of the boys and younger men went to “Unduna,” a suburb of Tanrig, to a great dance, which is to be kept up till morning light. The occasion of it is the ‘nasu’ing of two gamals to-morrow, and nothing can be done without a dance. Arthur, who has neither the strength nor the inclination to go, has been keeping me company, and we have had some nice and profitable conversation. He has left me now, and in the stillness of the most glorious night, the song of the dancers breaks upon one’s ear, and makes one conscious that one is in the Melanesian Islands. Besides that one sound, nothing else is audible, and I myself am going to prepare for the quiet and rest of my humble couch.

Saturday, September 11th.—Started this morning after breakfast for Tasmate by boat, and saw a vessel heading in for the watering place. This was the Southern Cross from the islands, and before long she came to anchor and we were on board shaking hands. We were somewhat surprised to see the Bishop, but he was not well and was going for the change to Norfolk Island. None of the party on board looked very well, but they were going South and would soon feel the benefit of the colder weather. Mr. Turnbull came back with me and spent the night here. After service I held a consultation with the teachers as to Arthur’s going to Norfolk Island, and they were unanimous that he ought to go. A. P. Huqe offered to stay in his place. The vessel was much earlier than I expected her, but none too early. The news generally, very good.

There were five earthquake shocks to-day, one of which was{75} very severe, felt equally on shore and at sea. The Captain fancied the ship was on a rock.

Monday, September 13th.—Yesterday I spent at Tanrig. Mr. Turnbull slept the night with me, and spent the whole of Sunday. We had school in the early morning and after that, breakfast. Then followed Morning Prayer with a very large congregation. In the afternoon Mr. Comins, Mr. Plant, Mr. Brittain, the Captain, Engineer, and a large number of Melanesians came up to see the village and stayed to our social meal in the evening. They were all quite charmed with the people and the place, and enjoyed very much the pleasant walk. Mr. Turnbull took his departure, and Mr. Brittain spent the night with me. The party, with the exception of Mr. Comins, were not successful on the return journey and missing the track got into the taro gardens, and floundered about in the mud in the most helpless confusion. Not finding a way out of their difficulty they tried back, and hit happily upon the right track. This little episode threw somewhat of a damper upon the visit, and the party returned rather wet and crestfallen to the ship. Mr. Comins was accused of being the cause of the misfortune, and I believe those who fared worse than he heaped their approbrium on him when they got on board. The Bishop was not well, and we were all disappointed not to see him at our head quarters. Naturally, a visit from our Bishop is looked upon as a red letter day by our people, and if he cannot come the disappointment is very apparent. Mr. Brittain and I dined together and spent a most pleasant evening. It was a most glorious evening, and the calm peace of a cloudless sunset gave place to the most brilliant moonlight. We sat outside the house talking to the people until Prayer time. The service was a very impressive one, for I got Arthur to say a few words to his people before leaving them, and the thought of going away raised a great lump in his throat, and for some moments, although generally so ready and so eloquent, he could not say a word. Several times there was a tremble in his voice and he was nigh to breaking down, and his own undisguisable emotion produced a visible effect on his congregation. He said in the course of his remarks, that to-day they had seen a great concourse of people at their village, of many colours and nationalities. But though divided by race, differing in speech, and separated in locality, they were all one people with them, because through Christ they were all united in one, owning one God and Father of all, believing one Common Saviour, knit together by one Spirit, and professing one religion.{76} Though so many and so various we were all one in Christ. And then he went on to speak of himself and them, still carrying on the same idea, and he said that although divided in bodily presence, unseen by the bodily eye, and separated by the wide ocean, they were still one in spirit and in heart. Oceans could not separate those whom God had joined together, and whether near or far they were still all one in Christ. And then almost overcome, he said it might be God’s will that they should never again see each others’ faces, but they must look forward to the great meeting time beyond the grave, where parting would again be unknown, and those whom Christ had joined together, and made one in Himself should be one for ever with Him and behold His glory. Because they were going to be separated it was no reason that they should forget each other, but day by day they should remember each other at the Throne of Grace, until such time as they should be reunited in this world, or if not, in the world to come. I followed with a few remarks, and a very impressive service concluded with the Blessing. After the service I called the teachers together to make final arrangements for our departure to-morrow, and Patrick was quite content to take charge of the school. I am very glad that he should, and I quite feel that the extra responsibility will be good for him.

Arthur Huqe will go with me to Opa for the change, and return again with me when the ship comes back from Norfolk Island. Two Maewo lads have expressed a wish to go with us to Opa, and I am very glad of any exchange of friendship between the two islands. It will do them good to see other places, and enlarge their minds and ideas to see other people beside themselves. Moreover, being with Arthur, a native of Opa, they will not feel so lonely as if going by themselves. They are two nice boys, and I hope they will profit by the little outing.

Mr. Brittain’s enthusiasm was quite cheering, and we were very late in getting to bed, being so busy talking over our mutual work, inasmuch as our district is one, and he knows the people here so well.

This morning we were astir very early, and after Prayers and breakfast were very busy getting ready for our departure. Many hands made light work, and soon our impedimenta were shouldered by willing bearers, and we were on our way for the Kerepei. We had a most pleasant walk down, Mr. Brittain most cheery and appreciative all the way, and we were all on board very soon after the stipulated time, 10 o’clock. We had a light{77} wind to start with, but it soon fell calm, and the engineer’s services were called into requisition. It is very hot work steaming in these latitudes, and the cabin especially gets very stuffy. We anchored at Opa between five and six o’clock, and I got my things ready for the start ashore in daylight. Mr. Brittain and Mr. Turnbull came with me, and we visited the French Trader ashore, who was said to have the latest telegrams. We were quite astonished, not only at the polite manner in which we were received, but by the neat and tastey appearance of the little man’s premises and dwelling house. He is evidently a man of considerable genius, and far more energy than most of the Traders down in these parts.

His kitchen garden was a sight to behold, and although for three months he has had no rain he has an abundance of cabbages, carrots, onions, shalots, garlick, parsley, spinnach, lettuce, &c. The whole garden too is laid out in the most natty matter, showing wonderful care and perseverance. Inside his house it was equally neat, and the walls were decorated with an enormous number of island curiosities. During the slack time of the year when cocoanuts are scarce he makes very curious, but extremely chaste, ornaments out of shells, and sells them to Traders at about fifteen shillings the pair. He also makes sleeve links out of opercules, and many other ornaments of personal adornment. He gave us a great basket full of eggs, and some green food for the ship. We bade the amiable and loquacious little man good-bye, and thanked him for his kindness, and then pushed on for Tavalavola where we found the whole village waiting for us, and Charles and Monica heading the party. I was most pleased to see the happy and affectionate relations which existed between them, and the natural and unaffected way in which she came into my house, and the kind care she exhibited in the bestowal of my goods and chattels. Afterwards when we went off to the ship she came with us, and went down of her own accord to see the Bishop in the cabin. We did not stay long on board, but bidding farewell to them all we came ashore for the night. I should have liked of course to stay till morning, but they were so crowded on board I thought it was better we were out of the way. It was near midnight when we finally retired for the night, and I was very tired and glad to get to bed. The boys are so nice and friendly, and come in and out of my house so naturally, that it gives one quite a homely feeling, and when they call me “Mama” (Father) I feel quite proud of the spiritual relationship.{78} I quite look forward to my stay here, and I hope under it God may be the means of much good.

Tuesday, September 14th.—Most beautiful morning, but the night was very cold, and I was very glad of a blanket over me. We had Prayers and school before breakfast, the scholars numbering about 50 of both sexes. I was quite astonished at the admirable way most of them read and answered, and equally struck with the diligent and painstaking manner in which the boys were teaching. The school is admirably conducted, and peculiarly well and thoroughly taught. The scholars are evidently very sharp, and one or two little boys and a very little wee girl read surprisingly well. Charles, the head teacher, is a most steady and excellent young fellow, and to him the credit of the efficiency of the school is mainly due. All the other boys however, work well and steadily with him, and I was particularly gratified to see what a helpmeet his wife Monica is to him. In the course of the day the older people were about, and I told them I wanted them to come and get instruction also, to which they consented. While I was at breakfast the French Trader called on me and brought me a most noble present of green food, for which I was deeply grateful. He was very amiable, most polite and peculiarly loquacious, and I was quite interested in listening to his broken English. He is a Parisian and was in the ‘garde mobile’ during the siege by the Prussians, which of course means that he is a Communist. He left me after a time, and I set to work to put my house in order. The boys went to ‘Tahi mamavi,’ where we have a school, which I hope we shall be able now to teach regularly. Meramaeto (Paskal) had been there living, but some trouble broke out and he had to come away in consequence. Now all is pacific again, and we hope to make another fresh and vigorous start, which I hope will be permanent. In the afternoon I went to see a Trader who had sent me a request to visit him, not having a boat of his own. His complaint was, that having a Frenchman on either side of him, and he doing a better trade than either they were jealous of him, and had threatened him with violence if he did not leave. He is a Scotchman and a very decent fellow. The Frenchmen had threatened also to lay hands on his copra, looking on him as an interloper, inasmuch as they suppose the French are about to annex the New Hebrides group. I did all I could to explain his position to the natives, and ‘Tabi’ the chief, and really a big man, said that while he dealt fairly with them he would see that he was properly protected and fairly{79} dealt with. I told him that he and I were subjects of one Queen, and of a different nationality to the Frenchmen, and that being a steady and well-behaved and honest man he ought to help him all he could. He had a great many nuts, and a large amount of copra, and I should say he was doing very well. He does not trade with powder, or guns, or spirit, and is evidently a very temperate man. He asked me to tell the natives not to bring the coconuts on Sunday as he wanted that as a day of Rest, and he asked me if I could make it convenient to come and see him sometimes on that day, because he wished not to forget his God in the midst of his mundane pursuits. He has been a sailor all his life, and has a mate’s certificate, I think. He has only been here five weeks from Sydney, and hitherto has done very well. I got back to dinner, and then went to see David, one of our teachers, who is sick. He was very full of his child, about three years old, a perfect prodigy. He told me the child would get into a perfect frenzy if he were not allowed to go to school and Prayers, and when once or twice he has been left at home he has knelt down in their house and gone through the form of prayer by himself. He will never go without his clothes, and the only time they can get him to take them off is to bathe. Even at night he must have on a garment. His mother told me too that his first thought in the morning, even before eating, was the bell, and he would tug at her sleeve until she took him up and started for the school. The same was the case too, in the evening. They also told me of a poor girl who had died about a fortnight ago. She has been most regular at school for years past, and was far away ahead of all the others in knowledge. She never would marry because she was afraid she should be debarred from attending school. She was most anxious to be Baptized, and when she was taken ill she still longed for Baptism. She importuned Charles so on the subject that just before her death, he sprinkled her with water in the Name of the Trinity, and signed the sign of the Cross on her forehead. She died perfectly happy and at peace, and her devoted life and peaceful death have produced a great and profound impression in the village.

While talking with David, his old grandmother came in, and she is a woman of great age, and marvellous energy. She is now a great grandmother, and a bright, cheery old lady. I asked her how old she thought she was, and she said she really did not know, but she was very aged. She said that I had always told{80} her that she “tugi vetu” (was as hard as flint) and it seemed as if she really was. She comes regularly to school, but her eyes are so dim that she can only sit and listen. Several old ladies attend school only to sit and listen, and they take great interest in coming. In the evening we had Prayers, and a very nice school afterwards.

So ends my first day, and I hope all the other days I am here may be as pleasant and as happy.

Wednesday, September 15th.—A beautiful morning but a strong Trade wind blowing. After our morning duties here we sailed down to ‘Lobaha’ to see Arudale, Didi and the school there. We pulled the boat up on the beach, no very easy work with the sand so soft. Most of the boys were down at the beach and we all went up together to the village. It was a hot, steep climb and we were very liquid when we got there. The boys brought us a plentiful supply of young coconuts and with these we quenched our thirst. I was glad to see the amiability which was manifested one towards another by our people and the Lobaha folks, for lately the relations have been somewhat strained.

It appears that not long ago, the chief wife of our Head man took offence at his scolding her, and ran away to his younger brother who lives at Lobaha. Our great man was very fond of this wife, for they had grown up together from childhood, and she had always presided over his establishment in a most devoted manner. She is most queenly in deportment, and quite one of the finest native women I have ever seen. However, she went off, and “Virclumlum” was not only incensed, but very sorely grieved. He told the boys in most pathetic words how he missed his wife, how that it seemed unbearable to do without her, how that everything seemed void and empty now that she was away. However, once away it seems she was away for good, and very soon a pig arrived and that he had to accept in lieu of her. For a long time the people here have never been to Lobaha and contrariwise the Lobaha people here. However, we have, I hope, broken the ice again, although I am particularly sorry to lose so nice a woman from the place, and I believe she has deeply repented already of her conduct and would give worlds to be back again. I was glad to see a new school in course of erection, and the old men and women told me they were only waiting for it to be finished to all coming to school. Herbert has already a nice little building at his own place, but the people say it is too far away, and any excuse is enough to keep people away from{81} religious duties. Herbert shewed me with manifest pride, the most beautiful tool chest sent by his English “mother” (Miss Mount). He has been trying to use the tools, and I saw an attempt at some amount of straightness in the new building at which he was assisting. We stayed some time with him, talking over matters in connection with the school, &c., and then we made preparations for home. The wind was blowing strong down the coast, so that a sail was useless, and we had a heavy pull. However, the boys are very good oarsmen, and we got along famously. I anchored the boat off for the night, having use for her again to-morrow. It was a very miserable evening, the wind blowing in strong gusts, and the threatened rain falling at short intervals. We had Prayers and a very long interesting school afterwards. The boys and girls here are very sharp, and learn very rapidly, and seem to understand well what they read. There are three classes of Catechumens preparing for Baptism, adults, boys and girls, all more or less proficient. Altogether, this school is very cheering, and with such an excellent head teacher as Charles, one need not fear of its stability.

Thursday, September 16th.—After our morning duties were over here we rowed up to “Lo tahi mamavi,” and had school there with a large number of people, who were very enthusiastic to know more and to be regularly taught.

There are a nice lot of boys here, and some already know how to read. The old men I had school with, and they seemed quite delighted to say the letters one by one, and afterwards to put them together, and find out that they made Opa words. I told them as far as I could about our religion, and that I had left home, and all to come and live with them and teach them, but that Jesus Christ pitied and loved us so much that He left heaven, and His Father’s glory to come down into our world to live and die for us. They were very attentive, and asked me to come again, which I promised to do on Sunday, all being well. They gave us a handsome present of food according to native custom, and we left for home. It was raining heavily and we got very wet, but the distance was not very great. It was a most unpleasant evening, and I was cold and miserable, and I began to fear ague again. Last night was most wretched, my house was not properly finished, and the strong gusts of wind blew me almost out of bed, and brought in clouds of dust. To-day the boys have been patching up the holes, and it is more snug and comfortable.{82}

Friday, September 17th.—Fine morning and very close and hot after the rain. After breakfast I received a visit from an English Trader, who lives about two miles from me. Poor fellow, in my honour he had put on a coat, and he was literally running with perspiration when he reached my house, and he did not succeed in getting cool again before he left although he stayed some time. He seems to be doing a very fair trade here in copra, and although he has not been long on the island, he has already several tons of the dried coconut (copra). After he left I was attacked with a good-for-nothing fit and did nothing all day. In the evening I was very queer, and thought I was going to have rheumatism, my legs were so cold and my limbs generally so frail. However I managed Evensong and school, and was not sorry to be ready early for bed.

Saturday, September 18th.—General holiday here. The boys wished me to take them to Vuinago, fishing, to which I rashly consented. It was a perfectly windless day and, oh! so hot. We had a long weary pull up, but were very successful when we got there, and came home late in the evening with about eighty fish. I was very glad to be able to send ten to the French Trader, as a return for all his many kindnesses to me, the rest were divided out to different great people, and about thirty were kept for to-morrow’s dinner. I was very glad the boys did not forget the women in their distribution. I had a nice fish for my own tea, a kind of mackarel. Very soon after dinner it was Prayer time, and I am now preparing for bed being very tired, sunburnt, and sleepy.

The boys are having great fun over the way, and it is evident the outing has not had much ill effect on their spirits.

Sunday, September 19th.—Yesterday was perfectly calm and cloudless, and to-day again it is blowing very hard, with rain squalls at intervals. We began the day with school, and then after an interval for breakfast we had Mattins with a fair congregation. The females are very enthusiastic and attend very regularly, and the same applies to the boys, but the older men are very callous. There are one or two who never miss, but the majority are much more concerned with the affairs of this world, than about the one thing needful. There are one or two old fellows who are very regular, and who seem really to like being taught, but most of the men prefer the free and careless life to which they have always been accustomed. There are many who feel the beauty of Christianity, but it is so hard to them to{83} practise it. They think it is all right for boys and women, but they themselves cannot stand the bother and burden it entails.

After Prayers we went up to “Tahi mamavi” and found the whole population awaiting us. We divided them into five sets, two of boys, one of youths, and two of old men. Charles and I taught the old men, and found them very attentive. Walter Tarigisibue addressed the youths who seemed appreciative, and Paschal and Peter taught the boys who were said to learn very quickly. They asked us to fix a day for coming again, and said they should expect us every Sunday. I had been feeling sick and queer all day, and coming home was violently sick in the boat. I got home as quickly as possible, but the sickness continued, accompanied by ague, and afterwards strong fever headache, and then strong perspiration, and this morning, (Monday) convalescence.

However, I am very washed out and good for nothing, and shall rest at home. I am disappointed however, for I meant to have gone to the other side of the island in the boat, and had made all my preparations. Now I must wait a bit.

Tuesday, September 21st.—Reasonably convalescent again, but weak and not fit for much. It was a most unpleasant day however, with fitful squalls of rain and wind, and I could not have gone far even if I had wanted. The boys were busy planting “Virelumlum’s” yam garden, and were kept hard at work all day. I was not surprised, for I previously knew it to be the custom here for the chief’s wives to prepare his food in the gamal. Generally speaking, women are not admitted within these edifices, and more especially here, but to-day Virelumlum’s wives, three or four in number, were busy with the men getting ready the evening meal. I asked them where they were going to eat themselves, and they said with some naïvete, “Oh! that is a secondary matter, we have to get our masters’ dinner ready and shift for ourselves as best we may.” It would be impossible for them to eat any food cooked in the gamal, and so religiously have they been brought up under this restriction, that they would probably sooner die of hunger than attempt to appease their appetites with what to them is sacred food, or at least forbidden, and they are more faithful to the laws of men, than was Eve to the law of God. And, I suppose as spiritual death was the judgment on Eve’s disobedience, so would physical death be the penalty in case of their transgression. Human life is not more highly valued here than it is in Ireland, and a woman’s life is not much accounted of, and death is the common penalty for very{84} trivial offences. Here it is universally averred that woman is at the root of all the evil that transpires, and poor things, they are too often the victims where the men go scott free. Here the females are much in excess of the males, and naturally polygamy is widely practised. The big men however, get the lion’s share, and it is no uncommon thing to find a troop of women in the households of the chiefs, varying from ten to fifty or even one hundred. All no doubt are not wives, but slaves and beasts of burden, and these big guns do nothing themselves but impose all the duties of the house and garden on their women. I do not think I am maligning the Opa men when I say that I look upon them as hideously lazy, but of course that results in large measure from their imposing their own natural duties on others, whom they find ready or obliged to do it for them. It is quite different at Maewo, where monogamy now mostly obtains, and where the men take an active and a man’s share in all out door employments. However Virelumlum was very active bustling about among his women, and I saw him shouldering off a big burden of yams, following up the rear of a troop of preceding females.

Here time seems of no importance and no account, and it wearies me sometimes to see people squatting about for hours at a time, whistling or otherwise killing time. It is an ennervating climate no doubt, but that is no excuse for laziness in people who have been born and brought up in the country. I often urge laggards and idlers, who make my house a convenient lounge, to go to work and plant their fences, but as nothing can be done out of due course, what was, is, and ever must be the same.

In the evening there was a great feast spread for the workers, and the day finished like all days here, with Evensong and school. This little village is a bright spot in the surrounding darkness, and I trust in time its influence for good will be more widely felt than even now. The attendants at the school seem wonderfully staunch, and the teachers very earnest, and I pray God that their vigorous instruction may not be lost on the heathen people around them. But there is the same callousness attending religious practice as about everything else here, and although they see the beauty and the benefit of Christianity, the effort is too great to reduce its blessed precepts to daily practice.

Wednesday, September 22nd.—By-and-bye I shall have as much trouble with my white flock, as with the black. The white Traders have got some feud one against the other because of difference of nationality, and I had to listen again to accusations{85} from an Englishman against a Frenchman, as to plots against his life and property. Poor man, he is new to the business, is doing well, and fancies that he is taking the bread out of the Frenchmen’s mouths, but there is room for all. I found he was not only filled with gloomy fears himself, but had imbued the chief under whom he lives with warlike intentions also, and I had to put a veto upon any resort to open violence. I told the chief “Tabi,” that he must keep his hands from all white men, and if he had any complaints to make, to make them in the proper quarter, and not take the law into his own hands. He must learn the sacredness of human life, and not rush to bow and arrow and club for every fancied affront or grievance. As long as I was here I would do my best to see that peace and harmony reigned among whites and blacks, but I would countenance no violence or bloodshed. After this I went to the Frenchman at Lan̈an̈qa, and he seemed very surprised to think that he was accused of any ill feeling, and judging from his good nature I should imagine his surprise was genuine. However, I said it was very hard if a few white men living on so large an island, could not live at peace, even if their nationalities were various, and if they could not agree among themselves, what could be expected of the natives? I quite like the natty little man, and certainly he is the best colonist I have ever seen down here. He is a most handy man and always employed, and as far as industry goes, he sets the natives a very excellent example. The neatness of his house and surroundings too, ought to have a good effect.

The fine day turned into a most dirty, rough, unpleasant evening, and we went to Prayers in a perfect downpour of rain. After Church there were great searchings of heart among the elders, and I publicly announced that I wanted the names of those who wished for Baptism. To the surprise of everybody, and to the delight of not a few, four women stood up and said almost simultaneously “Inew” (I). These quiet, demure creatures, generally so terribly afraid of the men, and always so shy in public, must have been influenced by a stronger Power than any they had hitherto known to make this public profession, and it produced no small sensation on all present. Two men also said they wished to be admitted to the Sacred Rite, and I hope they will soon be followed by many more. Charles Tariqatu’s influence here is great, and the fruits of his thorough and earnest teaching are beginning to be felt. He is so thorough and good himself, that his example and influence have all the more effect.{86} There will be about twenty to be baptized on Sunday, the nucleus I trust, of a good Christian population hereafter.

Thursday, September 23rd.—A thoroughly wet and disagreeable day. Fortunately there was a great festivity here, and I was not left without something to do all day. I trust I did not spend quite an unprofitable time. I begin to see distinct light through my work here now, and I can see how the seed sown through long years is at last beginning to bear fruit. I am eminently satisfied with the work of the boys here, and I can see that Charles’s influence pervades everything. One man to-day, who never has taken much interest in our teaching, came to ask me if Martin Tan̈abei might not come back from Norfolk Island, and live with him and his people as teacher. Another told me that my words to him of former years have quite changed the course of his life, and no doubt he is as different as possible to what he formerly was. I was under engagement to go to Tahimamavi, but when we were launching the boat the rain came down in such torrents that I reluctantly turned back. The evening was as bad as the day, and most uncomfortable it was in my leaking, cold house. We had Evensong with a good congregation, but a great gust of wind put out the principal lamp in the very middle of the service, and made it somewhat dismal.

Friday, September 24th.—Fine bright morning and a very hot day. Having failed to go to “Tahimamavi” yesterday I resolved to go instead this morning. We had a hot, but a most pleasant row up the coast about three miles, and found the people awaiting our arrival. They had been disappointed that we did not come yesterday, but supposed that the rain was the occasion of our failing in our promise. Such a nice number of bright boys assembled for school, and a great many grown-up people. The boys were divided into two classes, and two of the boys taught them their letters. The older men I undertook to teach myself with the help of Peter. I made a few remarks at first and then told Peter to say a few words. I was quite unprepared for what followed. It is not often I have seen such an effect on a native audience, and his flow of natural eloquence from beginning to end quite held the men enchained. With a great deal of energy, and a vast amount of earnestness, he went into the thick of his subject, and left an impression which I feel sure must, under God, have a good effect. At the end of his remarks he said very modestly, “You may perhaps think it presumptuous in me to stand here in your presence and speak like this, you who are old{87} enough to be my fathers, and so high in rank all of you as to look upon me as a mere nonentity, and indeed I am amazed at my own audacity. But I speak about things of so momentous import that I take the chance of your displeasure, and submit myself to whatever verdict you may choose to return. Were I only concerned about things which belong to our heathen state, I should take the place of a humble listener and you should do the talking, but here all is different, for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth must speak, and that heart and mouth, thank God, are mine.” There was not even an assent of approval, all were so impressed with the message delivered so eloquently by a mere boy. I said at the end, after a long pause, for I did not like to break the spell which seemed to hold them all, “Our son has spoken good words to you which I hope you will not soon forget.” And they all said, “Who can forget them?” I was also much pleased with the way the boys had got on with their reading after so few lessons, and altogether I felt that a “great door and effectual had been opened here,” for which I was most thankful to Almighty God. Now it remains but to put a good teacher there, and I think a wide harvest may by God’s blessing be soon gathered in. We came back with a fair wind in the afternoon, and in the evening again we had torrents of rain. However, we had our full complement at Prayers, and a very nice time afterwards.

Saturday, September 25th.—I had intended to-day to have gone to Walurigi, but it set in to a wet day, and I was obliged to stay at home. However, I had a succession of visitors, and among them some Bushmen from a long way inland. The boys told me some odd stories about them, how ignorant they formerly were and what strange things they did in consequence. When they first came down to the sea they fancied it was hungry, because the surf came rolling in, as they said, “mouth wide open.” They therefore gave it food to eat. Knowing only the taro root, when first getting possession of a yam, they fancied it was firewood and put into the fire. Some many years ago they came down here in quest of a pig, and while waiting in the gamal their eyes caught sight of a tin with the picture of a lobster outside. Thinking this was something very wonderful they stole it, and marched off homewards with it instead of their pig. Arriving at their village home the chief made a great feast for it, and placed it in the midst of the village dancing ground, and went through the various ceremonies as if it were a pig in verity.{88} The ceremonies over, the chief advanced to the tin, and with his foot, squashed up the tin as if he was treading the life of a pig out, with the inevitable result that he almost cut his foot off. Now-a-days of course they are more enlightened, and the men who were here to-day I found very amiable and intelligent. All “salt water” natives despise Bushmen, and they have always stories to tell of them. There is somehow a natural feud existing between them, but the agression I must say, comes generally from the Bushmen. They do, certainly, very unaccountable things, but they are always forgiven, and their conduct explained by saying, “Oh, they are only Bushmen,” or as they say here “(Taute).” A small vessel passed here in the afternoon, and anchored off M. Moussu’s place “Ian̈an̈qa.” In the evening there was the greatest excitement, the boys returning from fishing saw a boat under sail coming down the coast, and the general idea was that it was Mr. Brittain. I was led into the swim, and made active preparations for his reception, but he never turned up, the sail belonged to some other boat.

Sunday, September 26th.—A day which will ever be memorable to me, here at Tavolavola. To-day I Baptized twenty-five people, and it has been indeed a day of great spiritual enjoyment to me. Before I was up in the very early morning, I heard boys in the school house reading their baptismal service over, and all through the day there are some who have never had their books out of their hands. The teachers have done their part most admirably, and I thank God for such earnest children. We had school before breakfast, and a most excellent school too. I went from class to class leaving A. P. Huqe to discourse the older men. The boys, nothing daunted by my presence, kept their instruction going, which was generally very thorough and good. The earnestness of all was quite remarkable. After school and breakfast we had Morning Prayers, a nice hearty service, and after that we started by boat for “Tahimamavi.” Here we found the people awaiting us, and soon we were assembled for school. Charles gave the old men a very good and eloquent address, and three other classes were provided for. On our way home we stopped for a few minutes to learn the news from the schooner at anchor, but they had none except that the French troops were still at Port Sandwich, and did not intend to move at present, and moreover, that the Mail Steamer had a contract to come as far North as that Port. This does not look like clearing out of the group, and the{89} Captain told me they had not the least intention of moving at present. Before long we shall know the fate of these islands, but I sincerely trust they may not fall into the hands of the French. In the afternoon I was most pleased to see the teachers selecting boys and youths, more especially connected with them by ties of kindred, and taking them for a walk and serious talk, as is the custom at Norfolk Island. Everyone was so filled with enthusiasm that the chief himself sent to say he wished to be Baptized, but inasmuch as he has already four or five wives, and contemplates taking more, I could not listen to his petition for a moment. To put away his wives would lower him in rank at once, and in the choice between God and Mammon, he felt the difficulty of putting away any of his women, and I was obliged to leave him with his god Mammon.

In the early evening we decorated the Font, and when the building was lit up at night with lots of candles, it looked quite nice. The service was quite one of the most stirring I have ever taken part in, and the ready responses one by one, of men and women, produced a great effect on every one present. The women, generally like poor frightened, startled creatures, answered out marvellously, with a vigour and earnestness, such as no one was prepared for. The ceremony of Baptizing twenty-five people took some time, but no one seemed fatigued, so interested were they in what was going on. Among the number Baptized were a blind man, and a blind woman, but they, like the rest, were wonderfully self-possessed. Poor Diu, whom I called Kate, after Miss Lodge, who had nursed her so faithfully at Norfolk Island, was perfectly ecstatic in her delight, and seemed endued with special strength, having risen from a bed of sickness on purpose to be present.

I gave a short address afterwards, and was followed by Charles, who spoke well to the subject, and in very good taste considering the number of outsiders present.

We finished with the Nunc Dimittis, a fitting conclusion to a most beautiful service.

Monday, September 27th.—A most beautiful day, and a whole holiday. I told the scholars in the morning that I wished to see only smiling and happy faces all day, and to hear of nothing but joy and gladness because of the occasion of the holiday, viz., to celebrate the spiritual birthday of twenty-five brothers and sisters. Food in large quantities was provided, and we managed to secure two pigs for the feast. I think it was the brightest and happiest day I have ever known here, and our festivities were shared in by{90} a number of neighbours. Contrary to strict custom here, the women and girls of the school prepared the food under the trees on the beach, the boys chopping the wood and doing the heavy work. The scene was a very animated one, and all seemed to be in the very best of tempers. In the evening the ovens were opened, and the distribution of the food was made. Unfortunately I was not very well myself, but that did not interfere very much with the rest. In the cool of the evening the boys played a number of their native games, very pretty and very picturesque, with a pretty song to each. When darkness closed in we had Evensong, and then the happy day was brought to an end.

Tuesday, September 28th.—This morning after our duties here, we started for a long voyage to “Vagebeo,” which means something like “down West.” “Beo” is the word used there for “down,” while ours here is “Hivo.” “Vage” is a particle put before the name of a place with a sense of motion towards the place, thus when we are going to Maewo we are here going “vage Maewo,” or Araga “vage Raga,” or Marino “vage Marino,” and so when we are going to the Beo people we are going “Vage Beo.” We call the people of those parts “Meraibeo.” They, on the other hand, term these parts “Taulu,” “up East,” and when coming here they say they are going “Vageulu,” because our word for “up” here is “Ulu.” We here are to them “Natiulu.”

We had a light, fair wind down, and did the journey in good time. We hauled up our boat at a place called “Duidui,” where a Mr. Wilber, commonly called “Jim” by white traders, and by the natives, “Timi,” lives.

He came down to welcome us, and extended his hospitality to me as long as I chose to stay. I was not sorry to accept it, and I made his residence the basis of my operations. He has been here for many years, and is well known and very much liked by the natives. He does a very extensive business there in copra (the dried coconut), &c., and deals very kindly, liberally, and most honourably with the people. He has very nice premises there, and a large establishment. He got us refreshments served as soon as we arrived, and after resting for a time he went with me to the village of the great man of those parts “An̈ga,” or as the Traders call him, “anchor.” I knew him formerly as a very large and powerful man, but long sickness has reduced him to a terrible and pitiable state of weakness and leanness. He asked me to come and settle in those parts and start a school for his people. The natives there are very numerous and extremely amiable, and I feel{91} sure a great deal might be done if I could see my way to settling there. A fine young fellow, his son, was very friendly, and also asked me to come and teach them. I said I would see what I could do if they would spare me some boys to go to Norfolk Island to be taught. This they said they would do, as they were tired of the Labour ships. We got back, and Mr. Wilber indulged us in a most sumptuous repast. The boys, my boat’s crew, being tired, we had Prayers early, and they retired for the night in very comfortable quarters provided for them. We, Mr. Wilber, another white man and myself, sat talking till far on into the night, and when I retired it was to the ample recesses of a large four poster, with sheets and other delights and comforts of civilization. I felt I had turned my host out of his bed, but he would insist on my sleeping where he had put me, and I acquiesced. The next morning, Wednesday, 29th September, it was very hot and calm, and I determined not to start till the afternoon. After a sumptuous lunch I went to another great man’s village, and received a warm welcome. There they told me that they would build me a schoolhouse and give me boys, and would sell their land to no one else if I would come there and occupy it. Altogether the cry from Macedonia to come over and help them was very cheering, and I must try what I can do for them.

At the end of this period of my work, it is pleasant and thankworthy to find the Morian’s land stretching out her hands unto God. We started soon after I got back for “home,” and had a long, toilsome journey up. However, the boat’s crew were very plucky and merry, and didn’t seem much to mind as the boat’s head was towards Tavolavola. I myself was very seasick in the smooth water, and very soon was in the shivering fit of the ague. I made as good a bed as possible in the boat, and lay down till I got here. On arrival I found Mr. Brittain and party here, and felt sorry for him that I was such a sorry host. I certainly felt cheered by his society, and we sat quite late talking about matters of mutual interest.

Thursday, September 30th.—After a night of fever and strong perspiration I got up this morning feeling fairly refreshed, and a good deal better, but weak and not fit for much. Mr. Brittain and his party went to Lobaha by boat, but I stayed at home to rest. In the afternoon we walked up to M. Moussu’s place, and he showed us with great pride his garden and poultry yard, and all the other many things which his ingenuity devised, and his cunning hand has fashioned. He gave a splendid quantity of green food,{92} which we afterwards enjoyed for dinner. Prayers concluded the public part of the day, and Mr. B. and myself sat till late talking here in the quiet of a most pacific and mild evening.

Friday, October 1st.—Fine day. After our morning duties here were over, Mr. Brittain and I went up to Tahimamavi, and stayed some time with the kind-hearted people.

Before leaving, Mr. Brittain bought a number of native Opa mats, which are much treasured at his station at Araga. The Opa people are great hands at mat weaving, and are possessors of a greater quantity and variety than any natives I know. Since the introduction of European calico the manufacture has somewhat diminished. However, when it comes to getting so much tobacco, a great many still turn up, and for the labour it must be to make them, the price is perhaps inadequate except they get all they ask.

We came home in the very hot sun, and Mr. Brittain sat down to dinner alone, I myself being too sick to join him. All the evening I was fit for nothing, and lay down all the time. I did not get up for church, and only finally left my bed to go back to it again for the night. I felt miserably shabby in my position as host to treat my guest so, but I could not help it.

Saturday, October 2nd.—Dull threatening morning and squally. Mr. Brittain and party decided to go although we tried to detain them. The day, however, cleared, and as they did not return we concluded that they had stood across for Maewo. I was feeling weak and miserable when the kind little Frenchman, M. Moussu, appeared to take me away to have lunch with him. I had agreed to partake of his hospitality on this day, but had quite forgotten all about it. However, my seediness was excuse enough for my forgetfulness, and here he was with his boat to take me off. He is a first rate cook, and treated me to such a display of luxuries as I have never before seen in these parts. The choicest soup, &c., &c., and later on in the feast a most excellent dish of beche de mer. This I liked very much, and should fancy it was very nourishing. He complained of my want of appetite, and J. was sorry I had not more when so many good things were there to be eaten. He brought me back again in his boat, and I felt pretty well all the evening. We had Prayers, and singing practice afterwards, preparatory to Sunday. The evening was fine, and I trust Mr. Brittain and party are well on their homeward way. I wished him to stay till Monday, but he was anxious to get back for Sunday.{93}

Sunday, October 3rd.—Last night I fancied A. P. Huqe was at the point of death. To-day I felt very ill myself, and have been fit for very little all day. I managed to get through my Sunday duties here, however, and Charles, Mera, and some others went to Tahimamavi, where they had the usual school. I feel very comforted at the earnest manner with which these good people are stretching out their hands at last unto God. I pray that His Spirit may descend upon them in ample measure, that they may continue as earnest to the end as they have now begun to be. I trust, too, the zeal and perseverance of the boys may keep up, so that the teaching may be regularly carried on, and the Word of God become a savour of life unto life.

At present they are very earnest and even indefatigable, but I am somewhat afraid lest white supervision may have something to do with this, and when I am away the present enthusiasm may die down, and things be allowed to go on as they were before.

Would to God I had a few more teachers like Charles Tariqatu, a man in whom truly the Spirit of God is, the most earnest, humble, patient, God-fearing, Gospel-loving youth Opa has ever known. I can only commit the matter to God, and He will provide as seemeth Him best.

In the evening I was very sick and could eat no dinner, and went to bed with ague. Could not go to Church, and Charles took the service and preached.

Monday, October 4th.—Not very well. I had promised, if well enough, to go to Lobaha to-day, but I had to put off my journey. It was a fine day with a strong Trade wind blowing. In the evening A. P. Huqe was very ill, and I began to be quite alarmed about him. However, we applied hot flannels, which relieved the pain and the vomitting. When he was quieted a little, we removed him to the chief’s house, where he was quiet and comfortable. Some of the boys sat with him, but before I went to bed he was decidedly better, but painfully weak. The only thing I could give him was arrowroot and brandy, which fortunately he liked, and it did him good. I forgot my own ailments in my anxiety for him, and I went to bed aguish and shivering.

Tuesday, October 5th.—We had got through our morning duties, and I had already secured my boat’s crew, and were on the point of starting for Lobaha, when, “Sail oh!” was cried, and there was the veritable Southern Cross close at hand. It was not long before she was at anchor, and we were rowing off to her. I saw the Bishop and Mr. Palmer on board from some distance{94} off, and when we got alongside, the first question I asked was of course about the Norfolk Island news, which was good. When I got over the side of the ship and had greeted the Bishop and all, I almost fell overboard again with astonishment, for there was Mrs. Selwyn in proporia persona, and I could hardly believe my eyes. I was, as they say, perfectly “flabergastered,” and could only shake her by the hand without saying a word, so surprised was I. Yet I was most glad to see her, and she makes quite a new light and life to our ship-board life. Having all my things in the boat, I did not go in again ashore, but the Bishop kindly rowed in to bring off my party who were going to Maewo. When I had settled down a little, and got over my surprise at seeing Mrs. Selwyn, I devoured my home letters, which were very numerous and most welcome. Thank God, all were well and prosperous at Norfolk Island.

One begins a new life now with good news, and a great slice of home on board in the beloved presence of our Bishop’s wife, and the past is forgotten in the present. When the Bishop came off, we got away under steam for Maewo. We had a quick passage over, and were at anchor about 8.30 p.m. It was a glorious evening with a nice bright moon overhead, and the Bishop and Mrs. Selwyn went for a row in the quiet of the night. In due course, we retired, but I found it very hot and stuffy after the cool night air ashore.

Wednesday, October 6th.—On board the Southern Cross. The tide did not serve till nearly noon, and then the watering began. I took no part, because I was not very well, and I had to get my things together preparatory to going ashore. In the afternoon the Bishop and Mrs. Selwyn went ashore for a scramble, and her enthusiasm when she came off was quite refreshing and most charming to see and hear. The watering, too, was finished, and I was to have gone ashore, but I stayed for another night on board, intending to start very early the next morning. However, I was not very well, and the Bishop kindly postponed the time of sailing, so that the vessel did not leave till after breakfast on

Thursday, October 7th.—Mrs. Selwyn kindly came in with the Bishop to see the last of me, and A. P. Huqe and myself sat some time after our farewells had been said, deliberating the stupendous undertaking of getting to Tanrig. We were both much refreshed by our stay on board, and quite ready for our stay on shore again. I shall certainly not want for medical comforts and dainties, or{95} even medicines, for the Bishop was kindness itself in lading me with one good thing after another, until my paraphernalia of travel have increased to the no small consternation of my bearers. When the vessel was well away we made our start, and with the expenditure of most of our strength, and certainly of all our moisture, we got at length to the top of the first hill. Then it was all plain sailing, and we got to Ruosi, where we rested and bathed. In that refreshing water I seemed to have left all my ailments and distresses, and I was quite another being when I started again for Tanrig. Hither we arrived in due course, and Huqe, too, seemed quite like another being. It is so nice getting back here again, with the cool invigorating air and the cheery welcoming faces all so pleasant. I miss Arthur, though, very much, and now that Patrick has gone in the ship, the place is almost devoid of teachers, ourselves excepted. The first evening ashore was fine, and the moon shone out brightly as we were coming from Prayers.

Friday, October 8th.—It rained very heavily during the night, and this morning and all day it blew very hard, with heavy rain squalls at intervals. I did not go out all day, and indeed, I had enough to keep me at home. The people were away busy with their gardens, and the women at home preparing the food for the men. I had almost interminable visits from one and another, during the day, to see the pictures which I had taken of the place, and which Dr. Codrington has printed and sent down to me. They were quite charmed with them, and were much more clever in finding out faces and details, than ever I expected they would be. The day drew rapidly to a close, and the evening was fairly pleasant, but somewhat cold and damp. We had a fair attendance at evening school, and I gave them an address instead of school.

Saturday, October 9th.—A thoroughly wet and disagreeable day. The rain poured down, and the village looked as if it were going to be flooded. It kept on, too, without intermission almost the whole day, and I could not stir out of doors. However, I had plenty of occupation, and the time passed rapidly. It cleared slightly towards evening, and it was fine overhead for Evensong. Nothing seems to keep these hardy people indoors, and most of them have been paddling about all day in their taro gardens, utterly regardless of the state of the elements. In spite of all inconveniences we had quite a large evening congregation, and few seemed the worse in any way for the unpleasant day. It was a cold, raw evening, and I am not sorry that bed-time is so near.{96}

Sunday, October 10th.—The day somewhat finer overhead, but still very squally and boisterous. As soon as I was up and dressed we had morning school, with a large and general attendance. The first two classes are supposed to say their Sunday Collect at this school, and answer questions on it. The school begins with a Hymn and Prayer, and finishes with the Lord’s Prayer and the Grace. The third class learn the Church Catechism, and the remainder of the school read from a small manual containing the first seven chapters of S. Matthew’s Gospel. The school lasts about an hour. After breakfast we had Morning Prayer, a very nice service, and I Baptized the infant son of Thomas and Lily by name and special request—Penny. A. P. Huqe, Harry, and Agnes stood sponsors. The Font was very tastefully and prettily decorated by Arthur, and the service was very solemn.

After Matins I assembled the Catechumens for instruction, and I told them that I wished everyone present fully to make up his or her mind to the dignity, the solemnity, and responsibility of what they were undertaking. They are the last unbaptized inhabitants of Tanrig, and of their own accord have pressed for Baptism. They number over twenty, and seem very much in earnest, especially the older men and women. It is most gratifying to me, and a matter for which I cannot sufficiently thank God, that just at the end of this era of my missionary life, I should see such zeal and earnestness exhibited by the people among whom I have worked so long, and apparently with so little result. I shall leave behind me here, please God, an entirely Christian village, in profession at least, and I trust in reality also. There are one or two I wanted to leave out, but they seem so anxious to be Baptized, that I leave their future with God and the blessing of His spirit, and accede to their request. We have here now, all the organizations of a Christian community, a good school, an excellent Church, and a zealous congregation. Surely one can labour on steadfast and unmoveable, seeing that one’s labour is not in vain in the Lord. At other stations also, people are crying out for Baptism, and before I leave, please God, I shall admit many into the Fold of Christ’s Flock.

It was too wet to get about during the afternoon, but we had our usual social meal in the school-house, and in due course, Evensong. This was one of the heartiest and most inspiriting services I have ever known here, and the congregation felt the same, the singing, the responses and all, went with a swing and harmony which shewed that the people’s hearts were in it. I{97} gave a discourse on the Gospel for the day, the story of the widow’s son at Nain, and likened them to the young man, and Christ coming and touching the bier and saying stop! to the powers of evil who were carrying them, dead in trespasses and sins, out to their burial. The young man sat up and began to speak, and our first act, when delivered from the wrath to come, should be to sit up and speak and declare God’s praises for all He has done for us in His dear Son our Saviour. We had singing afterwards, and then dispersed for the night. A great many of the congregation lingered outside, to wish me good-night. Thank God for these real days, how different to the old heathen times, when the people were still lying in the darkness and shadow of death. God grant that they may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and be filled with His fulness and grace.

Monday, October 11th, was much finer, and the sun shone out in rich splendour. The people at this time of the year are very busy planting their yam gardens, and every day they are at work from morning until night. The men do the toiling part, the women the cooking. They work in parties, and many hands make light work. The harmonium being out of order I stayed to try and mend it. I was interrupted in the midst of my work by visitors from Tasmouri and Tasmate, and retired to my house to talk with them. When they left I finished my job, and was far more successful than ever I dared to hope. The bellows had burst, and the wind escaped in such quantities that it was hard to get any music at all out of the instrument. I could only make a patch up affair of it, but it was so far successful that a volume of sound was emitted such as I have never heard from it before, and the addition to the singing in the evening was very marked. I had intended to have made an excursion during the day, but it was too late when I had finished, and I had to content myself at home. After Evensong I took the Catechumens for a lesson, and afterwards joined my own class in the school previous to the Roll Call. The evening was fine, but blustery and raw, and I fancy the people were tired, for there was quietness soon after school.

Tuesday, October 12th.—Very rough, squally morning and a terribly windy night. Sometimes I fancied I was going to be blown over altogether in my frail native hut. However, these little tenements stand a great deal, and here I am safe and sound at the beginning of a new day.{98}

After early Morning Prayer we had our usual school, and breakfast followed. I have no refreshment before this meal, and sometimes I feel a little famished, but am generally ready for the breakfast when it comes. It is not a very sumptuous meal at the best of times, plain rice and a cup of coffee, but it does very well, and stops the craving of the appetite as well as anything else. The strange thing is that at home I scarcely ever touch rice, having a positive aversion to it, but here I make my breakfast on it nine mornings out of ten.

After breakfast I had school with a very earnest Candidate for Baptism who comes from Mandurvat, and wished for special instruction. I hope I managed to explain to him any difficulties he has experienced in the nature and meaning of the service. When he was dismissed I wended my way with some of the boys to Ruosi, where I bathed and washed my clothes. I do not know what it was, but when I got home I was quite exhausted, and somehow I don’t feel as strong as I did at the beginning of the season. We had very hearty Evensong, and a nice class with the Catechumens, who, I think, are very much in earnest, especially the older men. There are about twenty in this class, the last remnant of the heathen population. With their Baptism, Tanrig will cease to have any remains of heathenism, and in name at least will be able to call itself Christian. The usual school was held, and the first two classes were engaged in solving the mysteries of simple addition, one of the girls succeeding in doing a six line sum without a fault. This same girl, Emily by name, is rather a creditable production for this out of the world place. She reads well, answers well, and writes well, besides being quite an adept at figures. A couple of years at Norfolk Island would make a very useful woman of her. There are seven others in her class who all are very fair scholars, and take their turn at teaching.

Wednesday, October 13th.—Very fine morning and very warm. After our morning duties were over there was soon a dead silence over the village, the people all going off to their several occupations in their gardens. I busied myself, and got very hot over a little simple carpentering—but oh! the tools, they were so blunt and so rusty. However, I managed to do fairly well what I wanted to do, viz. to enlarge the Communion table, and generally to give a more Churchy appearance to the East end of our Church. I proposed to myself a bathe after my labours were over, but I was too exhausted, and stayed at home in preference. However, the shades of evening soon stole on, and my little cooks came to{99} get my dinner, which, frugal as it was, I enjoyed with the best of sauce—hunger. The evening was calm and fine, and I sat outside my house and enjoyed myself with a book. In the evening they came to tell me of the death of a poor heathen woman who has lately come here, and has been for years past a confirmed invalid. Poor thing! the women came back in the evening to find her cold and stiff in death, without a soul near her to say a word of comfort or to close her eyes in dying. She was buried in the moonlight, and her memory consigned to oblivion with her body. Her sad story afforded me a fitting text for the Catechumens afterwards, which I trust was not unproductive of seasonable lessons and wholesome and solemn warnings. Our singing school subsequently was very nice, after which everyone seemed glad to turn in for the night.

Thursday, October 14th.—Fine bright morning, and a most beautiful day with a strong Trade wind blowing. After our morning duties I was left alone, the people being away almost at once to their gardens. They work very hard at this season, and the men do the heaviest part of the labour. At present they are engaged in fence making, usually here with bamboos, and very neatly they make them. It is very hot, fatiguing work for them in the broiling sun, but I suppose habit has so far become second nature with them, that they don’t seem to notice the heat or mind a little extra perspiration. The cool waters of the river always afford a grateful and refreshing anticipation when the work is once over.

I amused myself with making a Cross to surmount the Communion table, and give a little more of a sacred nature to the Chancel of the Church. With my poor tools and limited necessaries at my disposal I flattered myself that I had done fairly well, and I afterwards attempted a picture gallery on the walls of my house, which has attracted all the boys in the village this evening, and they have taken more interest in these pictures than ever I have seen them before display. The launching of a life boat, and the English Bishops have been the chief attractions, and everyone, I think, has counted over the Bishops dozens of times. There being no one here in the afternoon I went alone to the river and enjoyed a refreshing bath. This evening it is blowing heavily, but there is a good moon and it is fine overhead. Instruction to the Catechumens, and the evening school finished a nice day.

Friday, October 15th.—After our morning duties here and breakfast I started with a party of four for Tasmouri. It had{100} rained a little during the night, and the bush was still wet this morning. The sun, however, shone out in Tropical brilliancy, and travelling was very unpleasant. The hottest time is just after a shower, and to-day proved no exception to the native idea on the subject. I don’t know when I have felt so hot and disinclined for exertion. However, the journey had to be made, and on I went somewhat mechanically. We arrived in due course at a rippling brook which the natives call “Na Marou,” and here we refreshed ourselves with its cooling waters and quaffed away our thirst. We rested, too, awhile, and then shouldering our impedimenta on we trudged again. The dense bush afforded a grateful shade generally, but every now and then we came out into the open glade, and we felt by experience for how much we were indebted to the shelter from the sun’s rays. Our next resting place was “Qaruqatu,” and then we were in a very liquid condition, and could gladly have lain down and given up further exertion for the day, but we were not half-way to our destination yet, and when we had cooled a bit we moved on to the village, where we found the “Uta” natives awaiting our arrival. They had prepared food for us and procured a good supply of coconuts, and we stopped for some time with them. However, the day was hastening on to-night, and we were driven to move on when we would willingly have sat on in idleness and inactivity. We started again for “Vanua garaqa” where the school house is, and there I found my friend and teacher “Takele,” whom I was going to Baptize on Sunday, and with whom I was anxious to have some previous conversation. He is a good man, and a staunch, and “Uta” owes him a great deal for his steadfast and consistent upholding of the Truth, and his fearless and bold protestations against evil. He had also food and coconuts ready for us, and I am afraid I went to sleep for a while, as the boys were refreshing the inner man. However, we were not yet at our journey’s end, and shouldering our traps, on we went again.

After leaving Uta there is a very steep descent, really down the face of the cliff, Tasmouri being on the other side of the island to windward. The road, however, is good, if somewhat precipitous, and my poor long shins ached again before I got to the bottom. Yet we did get to the bottom, and there we found a most lovely natural bathing place, the delight and comfort of which we were not long in testing. One can imagine how refreshing it must inevitably be to get off one’s dripping garments, and get under a cool and delicious shower-bath. I felt much{101} more “fit” when I got on my walking garments again and prepared for another advance towards Tasmouri, which I must say has never seemed so far and the journey towards it so fatiguing. We found Samuel and the Tasmouri people waiting from the village, and of course had food and drink in readiness for us. It was very cool and nice there, and being now near our destination we were not in a great hurry to move. Tasmouri, however, was reached towards evening, but oh! how hot the place is! a change of raiment scarcely mended matters, and I was soon almost as liquid as before. My evening meal made matters worse, and didn’t I long for a little grateful coolness? However, that seems an unknown quantity, and I gave up the idea of discovering it more here than anywhere else. Evensong followed in due course, and afterwards I had the Catechumen class for a short instruction. When these duties were over I was fit for bed, and this is the reason of the shortness and scantiness of my account of this day.

Saturday, October 16th.—At Tasmouri. Most beautiful morning, but oh! so hot. Within doors it was absolutely unbearable, and I was glad when the people proposed to go to the seaside. The place selected was “Ron̈onawo,” and there it was bearably cool. A “Guardian” supplied me with companionship, and it proved to be so pleasant there that we spent most of the day, the boys bathing, fishing, and generally enjoying life, and I reading and seeking new names for the Baptismal Candidates. The heat again in the evening when we came home was very oppressive, and so great had it been in the house during the day that my candle I found all melted and doubled down in the candlestick.

My dinner did not mend matters, but rather made the heat the hotter. I could not get cool for the life of me, and I had to grin and bear the discomfort. I do not know a much hotter place than Tasmouri and trust I never may, the wonder is how people live there at all. The fact I suppose is that the natives live very little within doors except at night, but during the day are engaged in their gardens, or otherwise enjoying the free and easy life to which they are the heirs by nature. It was intensely hot at Evensong, and oh! how one sighed for relief! An interesting Class with the Catechumens finished a pleasant day, on the whole, in spite of the heat. While we were at Evensong, and even while praying for her, one of the Christian young women, by name “Nesta,” was given a happy issue out of all her afflictions. She has been lying in a state ‘twixt life and death for more than two months,{102} and died this evening. She was one of the first baptized here, and a nice, clever girl she was, and a great favourite. The people asked me to bury her to-night, and I consented. About midnight the grave was finished, and I went with the people to the graveside. A weird, but picturesque scene it was, the moon in full splendour high up in the heavens, the blazing native torches casting a lurid glare upon the quiet figure of the dead, resting in her final bed and wrapped in native mats, the husband seemingly heart-broken, wailing beside the open grave, the women sobbing all around, myself with a lantern and vested in a surplice at the head of the grave, and the people all subdued and solemn around. I read the Burial Service, and when I came to “earth to earth,” “ashes to ashes,” “dust to dust,” Samuel threw on the earth according to custom, and at the end of the service we sang a funeral hymn, which sounded very solemn in the strange stillness of the night. I gave an address to the people, and words never seem to me more appropriate, and apposite than on this occasion. When I had finished my part of the service I came away, and left the grave diggers to their unenviable duty.

Sunday, October 17th.—Most glorious morning and meltingly hot. We had school before breakfast, and I took a class of adult women. I was quite surprised at their readiness in the Church Catechism, which they said by heart from beginning to end. The Collect also they had got by heart and read with great facility. With the proficiency of the school generally I was amply satisfied, and teaching has evidently not been thrown away on the majority of the scholars. After breakfast we had Prayers, and the discomfort of the heat was not lessened by the hateful buzz and presence of the blue bottles. The service was hearty and comforting, however, and I asked the Catechumens to stay afterwards.

With them I had a nice class, and was satisfied that they were in earnest. One man who has two wives, and has long held out against Baptism, has now given in and put away one of his wives. It is a peculiarly hard case, as he has children by both, and the women have both lived with him for a great number of years. Both offered to go, and gave him his free choice as to the one he chose to retain and which to banish. He chose the elder of the two, his first wife, and the other consequently left, but I could not help being sorry for them all, and at the earnest supplication of the divorced wife I admitted her and her young child to Holy Baptism. It was no inconsiderable pang to the husband to relinquish his second wife, and I could see that the sacrifice both{103} he and she were making had cost them a great deal of suffering, but the rule is hard and fast, and I could not go beyond our invariable practice to admit a man with one wife only to the Rites of our Holy Church.

In the evening I Baptized seventeen people of all sizes, ages, and sexes, and Tasmouri now lays claim to the proud title of being the first entirely Christian village in Maewo. It has not now a single heathen member, and I thank God and take courage from the success which His Word has had here through His Grace, and to Him alone be the honour and glory.

After the Baptism, and at the end of Evensong, I gave an address, and was listened to with marked attention, and I pray God my words may not have been spoken in vain. It was indeed to me an occasion of rejoicing in the Spirit, and I do not think I shall soon forget the reality and heartiness of that service. As I sat here in my house afterwards, all the newly Baptized came to bid me good-night, and the woman and child who were going into new quarters were not among the last or the least grateful for the events of the evening, for their present loss will be their eternal gain, and to have Jesus as Friend and Husband must compensate any one, with a grain of mustard-seed faith in their hearts, for the loss of husband and earthly father. None the less I could not help feeling sorry for the pretty, gentle creature who will begin henceforth a new and different life—this, of course, humanly speaking. I was very tired when the day was over, and everyone seemed glad that resting time had come.

Monday, October 18th.—Fine, indeed glorious day, but consequently very hot. According to standing custom here, I gave a whole holiday to the school and, we went for our usual picnic. The fatted pig was killed, and we all proceeded to Ron̈onawo to prepare it for dinner. The women did the cooking, the men lending ready and very efficient aid in getting and cutting firewood, &c. A book gave me employment throughout the day, and there was a good deal to interest one going on. The scene was far from being unanimated and devoid of interest, and the day soon hastened on to its termination and natural darkness. The ovens were opened in due course, and disgorged their plentiful contents. After grace the food was distributed, and before long we were wending our way homewards.

After Evensong a request was brought me that the people might have a dance, and of course I consented. There was not a very numerous company of dancers, but they kept up their energy{104} for an hour or two in a manner in which I should be very sorry to imitate them, and the result may be imagined in a place where the smallest movement throws you into a bath of perspiration. This evening appeared those mysterious things like seaworms. They only come about one night in the year, but the people not only know the very night of their appearance, but almost the very hour. When they are expecting them they get ready a peculiar kind of deep basket with a wide mouth, and long cane torches, and when these worms of the sea are observed, the people shovel them by handsful into their baskets, and great quantities are in this way taken. They are of course esteemed a great delicacy, and by cooking and re-cooking, they are kept for a very long time as an accompaniment to their different kinds of food. Their flavour is somewhat peculiar, but by no means disagreeable, and I can quite understand a native esteeming them a delicacy. Their wormy nature, I am afraid, gives me a false sentiment against their niceness. Considerable numbers were secured this evening, but the “haul” was said not to be a very successful one.

Tuesday, October 19th.—This morning we were early astir and getting ready for our homeward journey. We had Prayers and school and then breakfast, after which we put our traps together and prepared to start. The boat was coming for me, so that our first journey was to Tasmate, and no joke at that, hot as it was. However, we got there finally, and before the boat. It was very warm walking, and I was very liquid again by the time Tasmate was reached. While we were there waiting for the boat a big steamer passed Southwards. She had not the appearance of a man-of-war, but was too large to be down this way for no purpose. She was steaming fast and well, but looked to be rather battered and dilapidated. She appeared to have come from Fiji or from somewhere in that direction. Later on we saw her again up the coast, whither perhaps she may have gone for water. Our row homewards was terrible—the heat was simply awful and pelted down upon us piteously without a breath of wind. However, we got to our boat cove eventually, and hauled up our boat, and then, as night was drawing nigh, we prepared to start at once for Tanrig. We had scarcely got off before we were caught in a heavy thunderstorm, and the rain came down in torrents. The roads, always bad, were now fearful, and having a good deal of water before us to wade through I had taken off my shoes and socks. My feet were very sore when I got to Ruosi, where, in{105} spite of present dripping condition, we all bathed, and we got home like drowned rats, to find that very little rain had fallen here. After tea and Evensong I was ready for bed, being very tired and foot-sore.

Wednesday, October 20th.—I was very glad of a good excuse for a thoroughly quiet day, and this was given me in a perfect downpour of rain, which continued without cessation until past midday, and I could not possibly get out. It cleared, however, in the evening, and I got out to church and to my Catechumen class, after which we had our usual secular singing. These Wednesday evenings are certainly looked forward to, but they do not satisfy me that much is taught by them. The people are very slow at picking up new things, and except occasionally are far from enthusiastic about the performance, yet I suppose they enjoy it or they would not attend in such numbers. I was perfectly inundated afterwards by people coming to wish me good-night. Shaking hands has become quite an institution here now, and you cannot meet or quit anyone except the process of hand grasping be gone through. However, it is a good step to the right direction and I give so much encouragement to it that my own arm runs the risk often of being wrung off.

Thursday, October 21st.—Busy here all the morning, and having got very hot and tired with what I was doing, I came to get my towel to go for a bathe, when lo and behold, down came the rain in a perfect torrent, and I had to swallow my disappointment and stay at home. However, I started again at my picture gallery, and got a good deal done. I must try and finish it at some future time. It is a source of immense diversion to not a few, and some of the boys are never tired of coming to find out what the pictures mean. I was not very well all day, and after the Catechumen Class was very glad to retire for the night.

Friday, October 22nd.—Was very sick all the morning, and went to Ruosi to try and drown my cares in the river, but was only partially successful. Came back appetiteless to an uninviting dinner, and did not feel equal to much during the evening.

Saturday, October 23rd.—Very busy all day with preparations for to-morrow. Anthony came to make final arrangements about his Candidates. Determined to go to “Naruru” for the ceremony. Was not well all day, and everything seemed a business. Final class with Catechumens.{106}

Sunday, October 24th.—A very full but an exceptionally joyous day. We had school before breakfast, but that meal followed directly after. Then came Mattins. Then, followed by all the male population of Tanrig, I went to Naruru. The house there being very small I determined to have the Baptism out of doors. I would have gone to the river-side but it was too far. While Anthony and the others were getting ready the place and the Font, I said a few final words to the Candidates, who were already well prepared. Anthony’s wife was among the number, and a fine, intelligent young woman she is. There were nine Candidates in all, and the service was a very solemn and impressive one. It was the first time I had ever Baptized anyone in the open air, but a great deal of solemnity was not lost by it. The whole service went very nicely, and I hope the Candidates were fully alive to the importance and dignity of the occasion. When it was over I said a few words to the Congregation and Baptized, and soon after we hastened home, having another Baptism at Tanrig. During my absence A. P. Huqe had made a most chastely pretty Font, and brightened up the Church with flowers, &c., until it looked quite charming. The Baptism took place in the evening, and seeing that there were as many as twenty-eight Candidates it was not a short service. It passed off very nicely, and I think made a great impression. I preached afterwards, and told them that this would be my final Baptism for some time to come, and urged them all to remember their Baptismal vows and to try and live more and more up to them, by the grace of God. Tanrig is now a Christian village, and the number Baptized here is considerably over a hundred. There are suburbs, however, which are still lying in comparative heathen darkness, and these we shall now have time, please God, to attack. There is much rejoicing here to-day, and a fresh start has again been made. I have Baptized thirty-seven people to-day, and I thank God and take courage.

Monday, October 25th.—General holiday, and great Christening Feast at Ruosi. All the world turned out from here, and we were joined by many from Naruru. Four large pigs were slaughtered, and a prodigious quantity of yams and taro prepared. It was a most lovely day, and the sunshine overhead seemed to have found its way into every heart, for there was the greatest harmony and good will manifest on all sides. Men and women shared the burden of the day alike, and the result in the evening was a most grand spread of perfectly cooked food, more than sufficient for{107} all the great number present. All shared alike, and the females had great junks of pork as well as the men. Formerly the women ate very little animal food, but now Christianity has broken down the middle wall of partition, and taught them that all are One in Christ. We came home in the evening, and dinnerless I had to go to bed with an attack of ague which lasted me far on into the hours of midnight. I did not go to Prayers, and indeed I don’t know what happened. There was a dance, I believe, but I didn’t hear anything of it.

Tuesday, October 26th.—Very weak and seedy all day—did not go out anywhere. However, I had lots of little things to do here at home, and I busied myself over them. Visitors from Uta came in the evening. The people told me they wanted to take away one of our women whose husband is just dead, but I refused and told them they had women enough already. They were very frightened I believe, and I don’t care, I trust they were, for I meant what I said. They are quite enough as they are to live and die in heathen darkness, while here the poor woman will have a chance at all events of hearing and living.

Wednesday, October 27th.—Beautiful day, but I was not particularly well to enjoy it. I was up betimes though, and got through our morning duties before breakfast.

Perhaps this is not a wise plan, but it is more convenient and therefore I submit to it. You certainly get leisure and quiet afterwards, which one would fail to secure previously to Prayers and school. I like to give the people every opportunity of getting away early to their gardens, and therefore, perhaps, I sacrifice myself. Many people could not stand this going without breakfast so long, but it is a meal I was never very hearty at, and the want of which very strangely I feel the least.

Our “Bush” friends brought down some prints for sale this morning, and there has been a tremendous competition for them. There were six yards of Turkey red handkerchief stuff, which were finally bought by a young married lady, “Ann,” for a large pig. The Bushmen still go “clothesless,” and returned Labourers find a ready market here for their linen goods, which they bring home from Queensland or Fiji. Pigs are of much more value to them, for of course they still keep up the old native custom of purchasing rank by means of these animals, while here now they are only looked upon as so much meat. I have been long trying to get a proper hold on these people, but I cannot flatter myself that I have yet succeeded very far. They live a long distance off, and{108} the road is very inaccessible, but I trust in time they may be reached from hence. They are very amiable and very friendly, but they are somewhat terrified at anything new. However, they come here very often, and I don’t think they go away unprofited.

Thursday, October 28th.—Fine day with strong fresh Trade wind blowing. I was busy all day here at home doing little odds and ends of things preparatory to my anticipated visit from Mrs. Selwyn. The people were all away busy at their gardens, and I was left alone most of the day. I could not find time to get to Ruosi, so I went without my customary dip in the river.

The people were all back in the evening, and their lively chatter and merriment were a pleasing contrast to the ghostly stillness which had reigned throughout the day. We had Prayers late because the people were late with their dinner.

Friday, October 29th.—Not a very fine day, and threatening for rain. Directly after school the people were away to their gardens, but three or four boys were working for me here. They felt the slight shock of an earthquake, but I did not perceive it. The undivided opinion here is that earthquakes are the precursors of rain, and often indeed I have known it so to result, but it seems rather an extraordinary law to lay down. However, there are abundant signs of a no very distant downpour, and the prophets may have a chance of being right in their present conjecture. We were very busy all day, but towards evening snatched time enough to go to Ruosi for a bathe. The rain kept off well, but there was a sprinkle in the evening, and evident signs of a great deal more before very long. I have felt the heat here very oppressive for the last few days, and by the appearance of the sky we must soon have some dirty weather with thunder.

Saturday, October 30th.—The storm came on us with a vengeance this morning at daylight, and kept on for a long time. At times the flashes and thunder peals seemed simultaneous, and the crashes were peculiarly heavy. I have never known a more severe storm in the Tropics, and as for the rain it simply poured down in torrents.

I did not get up till late, and Mattins were later than usual. However, being a holiday it did not so much matter. In my house it was as dark as night, and all day it has been very sombre and dull. Rain has kept on continuously all the time, and it has been impossible to move out. The people, however, in spite of wet and dirt are up and about, and do not seem to mind the{109} weather. Many here, indeed, prefer the rain to the sun for making journeys and doing certain works. Rain does not seem to give them cold or ague, and I suppose that custom has become second nature.

I could not get out all day except to my duties, and these wet days at home are somewhat trying, especially when you are anxious to be about. It was somewhat finer in the evening at Prayer time, and we had a good congregation, but it did pour down while we were at service, and this gave us a good excuse for a long singing practice.

Sunday, October 31st.—Another wet and intensely disagreeable day. However, there were spells of fine weather, and during those we performed our duties. School came first with a full house, the elder classes saying the Collect for the day and the Church Catechism, and answering questions on the former, the juniors reading from school books and large printed sheets. When school was over I was quite prepared for breakfast, and eschewed rice for once in a way for prawns which the boys brought me. Sometime after breakfast we had Mattins, a very nice service and especially well attended. I experienced much distress of mind from the illness of my friend “Virelumlum,” the Opa chief who came over with me. He has been very ill all day with acute inflammation of the lungs, and we have had to keep hot water applications going, off and on, all day. He moans for home, too, and there is no chance of getting him there. While at Opa, A. P. Huqe was so ill, and here now I have my other visitor a patient on my hands. In the evening I was down myself with ague and could not go to Church, and had no dinner.

Monday, November 1st.—Terribly stormy, rough night, and a most unpleasant day, the disagreeableness of which was not decreased by the continued serious illness of my visitor Virelumlum. All day yesterday and again to-day it has been a continual anxiety and care to me, and I have been dabbling about in the mud and wet dancing attendance upon him. He has quite a serious attack of inflammation of the lungs, and I have had to keep hot flannels going almost continuously, and rack my brains to find out what to give him to keep up his rapidly decreasing strength. In addition to his sickness he has developed a craving for home, and a strong impression that he is going to die here, which with natives sometimes is actually equivalent to mean that they will not recover, and when a native makes up his mind to die, he in most cases does die. There is no remote possibility of{110} getting my friend home in such weather as we are having, and he is killing himself with worry. If the weather were fine I would willingly take him across to Opa in my boat, but that is scarcely possible in a gale of wind and a downpour of rain. On the whole it has been a most anxious and unpleasant day. Being “All Saints’” Day I gave an address in the evening instead of School, and no one, I fancy, was sorry to be indoors out of the cold and wet. I had to paddle off after every one was quietly within doors to feed my patient and make him comfortable for the night.

Tuesday, November 2nd.—A most terrible night, wherein it blew with almost hurricane violence in the squalls, with a perfect deluge of rain accompanied by heavy thunder and lightning. I was not sorry or ungrateful to be brought safely to the beginning of another day. My first business when I got up, was to trudge off to my patient, whom, thank God, I found better, but all day long since I have had to look after him, for he is no exception to the idiocy of all natives, who when they feel a bit better, rush off and do some extraordinarily foolish thing. It was a terrible day throughout, and I was so fortunate in keeping my man within doors, that this evening he was visibly on the mend, and likely to make a good and I hope a rapid recovery. I read him a most strong lecture this morning about his craving for home, and told him he could not possibly get there in this weather, and that he was better where he was even if he could. I said he never would recover if he went on distressing himself about getting home, and told him that he was killing me too, by continually crying for what he could not possibly obtain. And what a lot of spilt milk I have cried over these last few days in my regret at having brought a big man here at all. But the inutility of weeping is more apparent to me than his crying for home is to him. I can hardly say what I have done to-day either to benefit anyone else or myself. This evening I have turned away from my dinner, leaving it untasted, and I feel that I must go to bed.

Wednesday, November 3rd.—An attack of ague last night has made me feel weak and good for nothing this morning. However, I had to get up, and the prospect outside was as dismal as ever. Rain and wind and gloominess. My patient, thank God, is most decidedly better, and if he takes care of himself will do very well now. I have had a fire in my house all day, and with Dr. Codrington’s book on the Melanesian languages, have got on very pleasantly. I should like, however, to see a little sunshine, and one has a right to expect it now in the height of summer. I am{111} dreadfully afraid Mrs. Selwyn’s visit to me will be impossible, when the ship arrives the roads will be so impassable. Towards evening it cleared a bit and I was able to move out, but generally speaking, everyone has been kept close prisoner to-day. The people who always seem to me to love paddling about in the wet, expressed a strong disinclination to move from their houses, and in the absence of other occupation or amusement, have been asleep most of the day I fancy. A native’s capacity for sleep is unbounded, and perhaps a fortunate thing for him, but he can wake at any time, day or night, and get up straight away. We had our usual Evensong and singing class, the weather keeping fairer until we had all got indoors again in our several houses, when down came the rain. There is a sweet, lulling, comfortable sound in rain when you are safe indoors, or perchance in bed, and sleep seems to come unwooed. I practice here what I seldom do anywhere else, read in bed, and far on in the stillness of the solemn night, I read on and on with keen enjoyment and a sense of rest, for one gets tired of sitting in a land devoid of easy chairs and sofas. The usual posture of a native is to squat on his heels or else to recline, naturally our high seats are foreign and uncanny to them. I cannot myself squat for any length of time, and at times I sigh for the comfort of a good easy chair.

Thursday, November 4th.—Very wet, dispiriting morning, and threatening for another stormy day. It cleared off, however, and barring showers we have had a fine day.

A most interesting ceremony took place here to-day called “uli meroana,” (i.e. “untieing war.”) The event ought to have come off long ago, but the chief actors in the sad drama which led to its necessity have been somewhat dilatory. Sometime since the natives of “uta” (the inland as distinguished from the shore) attacked a village in our district and killed three people. They were the agressors and the sole actors—the people did nothing but pack up their goods and clear out, some flying in one direction and some in another. The majority took refuge in this part of the island and have never done anything in the way of retaliation, but have always gone armed since and been on the alert, not with the object of revenging their injuries, but from fear of further attack.

However, thank God, all has been quiet since, and the Uta people have the fire coals so heavily heaped on their head, that being first in agression they have been the first to make amends. They came down yesterday in great numbers, all armed, of course,{112} and bringing three pigs with them. Our people were all present too, very fully armed, and also bringing three pigs. The chief man on the Uta side and the attacker stood out in the open with his pig, and the chief among the injured stepped out, and walking around the pig took it from the other, first passing his hand over the pig’s back and head and the rope he was held with, and then delivering the scape pig to the injured. This was done thrice, i.e. with each several pig. Then the ceremony was changed to our side and the like performance gone through, and the pigs delivered one by one to the attackers. There was thus a mutual exchange and no one was the loser, indeed so far from it that had the pigs been made for the occasion and cast in the same mould, they could scarcely have been more of a size, shape, and colour. It would seem, according to our ideas, as if the aggressors ought to have paid all the pigs without receiving any in exchange, but no, native custom seems to be different, and a fair exchange must be made. After the pigs had been delivered, there was some speechifying and a good deal of after talkey-talkey, and the quondam enemies became the best of friends. I hope they will continue so, I am sure, and I think they will. I made a little speech, in which I glorified peace and good-will, and denounced fighting and bloodshed. I have never seen such a concourse of people in Maewo, certainly, and the place perfectly bristled with guns and poisoned arrows. The natives, although they seem somewhat careless with these weapons, are really very careful, and an accident seldom or never happens through carelessness. I do not like the poisoned arrows, and keep clear always of them, for the smallest prod from one would most probably prove fatal. Very soon the vast concourse had dispersed, and the pigs, the mediators, were escorted off to their new places of residence, but I do not fancy they felt the weight of the aggressor’s repentance, or the forgiveness of the attacked. A small coal of inward anger would very soon kindle again the blaze of war, for after all I fancy there is not much love lost between the two parties. With one of my Opa boys I came back here to get my towels, and then made a start for Ruosi and Kerepei, being anxious to bathe, and also to see the road the boys have made for Mrs. Selwyn’s feet to tread in. I must say after my observation of it, that if her anticipated visits everywhere have the same effect of causing people to mend their ways, she may well be satisfied with her trip down here. The road was not good before, neither is it perfect now, but the boys have certainly made a most{113} passable track, the question is whether a lady can manage the first steep climb. In anticipation of this, they have strained a strong climbing reed, like the rail of a balustrade, and by this it is hoped she may be able to ascend. The road otherwise is now very good. A delicious bath at Ruosi was made doubly delicious by some days’ privation, and my present liquid condition.

We got home here in the evening, and I dined very late, but with much more of an appetite than I have had for some time. In the evening A. P. Huqe being laid up, I gave an address at Evensong, instead of school.

Friday, November 5th.—The glorious 5th November, Guy Fawkes, of unhappy memory! Very wet night, but fairly fine day. People very busy to-day, so they asked me to relinquish school, which I did. I made preparations for photographing a pretty part of the river, but the rain came down and I had to give it up. However, my dry plates are at an end, and the few I have left I must keep for a peradventure of something good before I leave.

Saturday, November 6th.—Squally, unsettled sort of day, after a very rough night. Great preparations were being made here in the morning, for the Bishop’s and Mrs. Selwyn’s advent. When it was done I went with the boys to Ruosi, where I sat and watched their sports and gambols in the water, and thought how the one touch of nature makes the whole world kin. Human nature and boy nature is the same everywhere, and these boys are just like every other boy except in colour. They had a great spur of fun and frolic, and boy-like pleasure produced no languor or tediousness. I made a descent to “Wosawosa,” and looked in vain for the ship.

Sunday, November 7th.—The Mission schooner arrived with all on board well. After Morning Prayer I went down to the vessel, but it was too dirty for Mrs. Selwyn to come up to the village, but in the evening Mr. Cullwick came back to Tanrig and spent the night with me. The account of the work in the islands farther North, was very cheering, and it had a fresh and charming meaning, as told by Mrs. Selwyn in the full enthusiasm of her first voyage into these new but beautiful regions. The evening services in our little native Church was a sad and solemn one, for I said my public farewell to the people, in prospect of my leaving them for a long time, inasmuch as it was decided for me to go to{114} England. Mr. Cullwick was very much struck with the beauty of the service, and the devotion of the worshippers. When we bid them “Good night” they all said, “Ah! this will be the last good night for a long, long time.”

Monday, November 8th.—The Bishop and Mrs. Selwyn came to stay with me at Tanrig. It was fortunately a most beautiful day, and Mrs. Selwyn, partly carried and partly on foot, made the journey without any great fatigue. Of her visit, she herself no doubt will write.

Tuesday, November 9th.—We stood across to Opa, distant about twenty-five miles from this part of Maewo. The people were in floods of tears at the final parting, and a general wail went up from all, as the boat drew off from the shore. At Opa we anchored for the night.

Wednesday, November 10th.—The Bishop and I were rowed ashore early, and examined the school at Lotahimamavi. This is as yet in embryo, but the people were very nice and most friendly, and seemed quite in earnest about their school duties. A proper school house has yet to be built, but this they have undertaken to do as soon as they have dug their yams. Their yam digging answers to our harvest. Leaving this place we went on board the Southern Cross to breakfast, and afterwards to examine the school at Tavolavola. The Bishop was much pleased with the state of this school, and the great proficiency attained to by some of the young scholars. Prizes of knives, calico, beads, fish-hooks, &c., were distributed and then we went to Lobaha, another school. Before leaving Tavolavola, Mrs. Selwyn was anxious to see how the natives got up the coconut trees. There are no branches of course, to hold on to, and many natives tie a cord around their feet, and some use an ingenious arrangement with cord for their hands. But these natives go up hand over hand without any help or assistance. The lad in question was up the tree, had thrown down green coconuts, and descended again with wonderful and astonishing rapidity, with nothing on his hands or feet.

Before we got to Lobaha it began to rain heavily, and I was overtaken with a fit of ague, and had to lie shivering on the beach while the Bishop went alone to examine the school. It poured in torrents all the way home, and I was very miserable.

Thursday, November 11th.—Away early from Opa and started for Araga, distant over twenty miles from this part of Opa.{115} There the school was examined, and we left in the evening for the South end of the island. This we reached on

Friday, November 12th, the Bishop going ashore in a strong gale of wind, and in pelting rain, to examine the school and bring off Mr. Brittain, who had been spending some days there. They were not long before both were on board, and Mr. Brittain, thank God, quite well.

When the boat was hauled up we stood out to sea, and so on our homeward journey for Norfolk Island, which we reached after a stormy but quick passage on November 18th, and found all well at home. “Praise thou the Lord Oh! my soul, and forget not all His benefits.{116}”

Rev. A. BRITTAIN.

For the year 1886 my contribution will be concerned with the time between April 3rd and November 18th. On the former date the Southern Cross left Norfolk Island on the first trip of the year, and on the latter we reached it again at the end of our voyaging season. I had never before left for the islands on the first voyage, but our plans gave me a longer stay than usual. My own island, Araga, was to take up the usual time, but I was to make a stay also in the Bank’s Islands, which would be out of the ordinary course. As it turned out, however, the arrangements were of necessity altered, and no stay was made in the Bank’s Islands.

The Southern Cross left Norfolk Island with a wind very strong, but altogether fair. None of the regular Araga boys were on board, as they were to return home on the second voyage, according to our plan. One lad, however, we had with us, whose presence in the Southern Cross was quite out of the ordinary course. The explanation concerning him will show something of the individual efforts made in various places to give some sort of instruction to those who are taken from our islands to work on the plantations and elsewhere. On the whole they are simply neglected, with the result that they return home having learnt almost all the vices, and none whatever of the virtues, of the white man. Personal interest has in some cases induced thought and work for their benefit. In Sydney was one instance of this. The visit of a young lady to Norfolk Island on the occasion of the Consecration of the Memorial Chapel increased her interest in the Mission, and on her return to Sydney she sought some kindred work. A class was established for natives from the islands engaged in different kinds of work in the city, and it has proved most successful. Several of the lads are from our own islands, and as it has happened that the Bishop has been in Sydney at convenient times, he has twice held Baptisms of members of the Class. One of these Baptized lads made a request that he might{117} be taken home in the Southern Cross. His home was Araga, and he came to Norfolk Island in readiness for the first voyage of the Southern Cross. It was apparently five or six years since he had been taken away in a labour vessel to Noumea, whence he had found it possible to make a move to Sydney. And this was the end of his life in foreign countries—he was returning home a Christian, with, in some respects, a surprising knowledge, with a perfectly good character from all who knew him, and with a great desire to do something for the benefit of his fellow-countrymen. All that had hitherto been done in Araga is in the northern part of the island, the remainder of the island being partially known only, while the extreme southern end was quite unknown and inaccessible. The lad, Thomas Rorsal, gave us to understand that his village was right in the south, close to the neighbouring island of Ambrym, and we had then the prospect of breaking into new parts.

On April 8th, that is on the fifth day from Norfolk Island, we were in the passage between Araga and Ambrym. A boat was lowered, Tom’s belongings placed in it, and we pulled in shore to find his village, which he could not distinguish from the vessel. A clump of cocoa-nuts was recognised by him, and at last we pulled into a good sandy beach with very good landing, where a crowd had already collected for our reception. Their returning brother was at once recognised, and his goods shouldered with great readiness. The Bishop’s bad foot forbade his leaving the boat, but I landed and went up with the people to their village, which was quite close at hand, though invisible from the beach owing to the very thick bush. Tom had previously expressed his determination to build a house for school purposes as soon as possible, and I, through him, told the people of our plans and something of what we hoped to do among them. We thereupon, in consequence of the readiness they expressed, chose a convenient site for the house, and I promised to make a boat voyage to them as soon as I could conveniently get away from the northern district. It was evident that there could not be a great population in the immediate neighbourhood, as there was only a small level tract lying off the beach, backed up by somewhat high hills, which would doubtless form a separate district from the beach villages.

On the next day, the 9th, we arrived at the north end of the island, having been almost becalmed on the way thither. The Southern Cross anchored, my belongings were put together, and in{118} two or three hours I landed at the usual place, and was at home again at Qatvenua. It was not a bright reception—the unusual quietness all about, the absence of the usual vociferous greetings, and the depressed looks of the teachers were not enlivening, and it was easily seen that there were unpleasant tidings to be heard. Gradually all became known. With regard to the chief school at Qatvenua the report was altogether favourable. It had decidedly advanced. Several outside adults, who had hitherto kept aloof from us, had come forward and joined themselves to our congregation, and the ordinary work had proceeded quite satisfactorily. But the other two schools in the district had met with interruptions, and one was in a state of temporary suspense. The cause of all was the fruitful source of trouble to us, the labour vessel. Some short time before one had visited that part, and a party of men and lads, almost entirely baptized or scholars, had departed in her. It was all to be put down to one man who had been of some importance. He had done wrong, and to avoid the retribution that in some form or other would have fallen upon him, he decided to leave the place, and then persuaded some of these men to accompany him, and the rest followed them. Amongst them was the teacher who had been in charge of the school at Lamoru, whose going was a great surprise, as he had always been so quiet and well-conducted. Fortunately his helpers were able to continue the school work by themselves without any intermittence. At the other place, Vathuqe, the school was closed for a time, as there was no one to take the erring teacher’s place. He had been left there with some misgivings, as he was not of equal standing with the teachers generally, but it was thought that his zeal and expressed desire for the post would be equal to the demand made upon his steadfastness. Some of the others that embarked were his relatives, and so he had the unusual temptation before him, and gave way to it.

My first fortnight on shore was spent at Qatvenua. The landing was done in very unfavourable weather. It rained very heavily, and the very steep path leading up to the school village, bad enough in fine weather, was extremely troublesome for carrying up my goods and chattels, and they got very wet. My own little house was not in good condition, and until we repaired it I slept in the large boys’ house.

Within a day or two we pulled some little distance down the coast to a small bay, where I heard some white man had been recently buried. We saw his grave, with an inscription, and in{119} time I heard the story of his death. No outrage on labour vessels has been made or attempted in Araga for several years, but in January, as it appeared, when a vessel from Samoa was visiting some place about thirty miles down the coast, one man was shot by a native as he was on shore with several others from the vessel bathing. It must be said that this man, a German, showed a great lack of wisdom in his behaviour. The native had come down some distance from the hills under the impression that his two wives, who had disappeared, were on board the vessel then to be seen lying at anchor, and in his rage the man was shot, while all the time the women were elsewhere. The body was brought up along the coast, and buried near our station. The whole affair had caused much excitement, even at the Northern end of the island. Some time after the place was visited by a German man-of-war, with results that will be spoken of further on.

The great man to the South, Viradoro, expressed his continued desire for us to do something in his part, and we visited him several times, and were well received and listened to always. There is a lad at Norfolk Island who has connections with this place, and when they make a beginning at a school-house we may begin work with him as teacher, but I decline to put him there, as they desire, before this is done. Within a fortnight of my going ashore two labour vessels anchored near us, one from New Caledonia, and the other from Fiji. In the latter there departed a young son, quite a small boy, of Viradoro’s, whom I had hoped to take to Norfolk Island some time or other. His father was greatly put out by his being taken away.

I had decided to remain at Qatvenua until Good Friday, and then to go on to Tanrig in Maewo for Easter. There are several communicants there, and I should have taken the Araga communicants with me that we might have our Easter Communion together. During the whole of Holy Week the weather was bad, and I feared that our voyage would not be practicable. On the Saturday, when we should have left, there was a strong wind blowing from the North, which would have been dead against us, with continuous rain, and there was no possibility of our going. Our Easter, however, was very pleasant, and the joyful hymns told of really joyful Christian hearts.

In Easter week we left for my first visit to Wonor, the village at the Southern end where we had put Rorsal ashore. My intention and arrangements for going there caused much talk. The distance would be nearly forty miles, and I suppose no one{120} had been more than half that distance down the coast, and it was thought to be a very long journey. More talked of even than the distance, however, was the belief that attaches itself to a particular place at the extreme Southern end. To this place were supposed to go all the spirits of the departed, and to remain there in some sort of community. Of all places in Araga, therefore, it is the one of the greatest superstitious interest and fear, and many of my chosen boat’s crew’s relatives did their best to dissuade them from accompanying me, but without effect. We started on the appointed day, and as I knew we could not do the whole distance in one day, as we went along the coast we made several calls at the villages as they appeared, and fixed upon one not quite half-way, known to some of the men, in which to pass the night. Our various stoppages, however, so delayed us, that it became clear that we should not reach our destination before night, and so when, upon rounding a point, we came upon a labour vessel quietly at anchor, and were hospitably invited on board for the night, I thought it wise to take advantage of it. It was a Fijian vessel with a number of men on board, lately recruited, and a Government agent whom I had met before. We passed the night quietly at least, though not comfortably for any of us, and pulled away in the morning, very grateful for the hospitality shown to us, and resumed our journey. The evening found us ashore at Wonor, where there was considerable excitement over our landing. Although the place is quite open to the prevailing Trade wind, a reef and a sand bank that lie off the shore shelter it quite effectually, and make the landing on the shelving beach easy and pleasant. In the fortnight that had elapsed since our calling here only a little had been done towards building the school-house. The site was cleared of all its timber, and some of the posts were ready. During our stay we had therefore to sleep in the men’s common house, which, being much smaller than is usual in the northern part of the island, we found rather inconvenient. On the whole our visit of a week was a great success, and it excited much interest. The house was proceeded with with great vigour, and all the people in the district showed a very friendly spirit, making things look bright and promising for the future. Thomas was doing all he could in the way of teaching, and his Scripture Picture Books were all well thumbed. I confined my doings to the immediate neighbourhood, and saw but little of the adjacent country, though the report of our sojourn caused people to come from a great distance to Wonor,{121} and they were very desirous of being visited. My boat’s crew were thoroughly well treated, and feasted to a great extent, and our entertainers did us the honour of dancing to us one evening. I had not intended to make a long stay this time, and having made some arrangements in the North, which required my presence, we left at the appointed time, in spite of the pressing invitation for a longer stay. Our return journey was accomplished with a little difficulty. The ordinary winds would have taken us back pleasantly in a day, but we fell in with a contrary wind halfway up the coast, and were delayed. Some time after night-fall we decided to land at a village then quite close, but the tide being out the reef was uncovered, and not wishing to have the boat injured we continued on our way, and at last reached our own beach, after very hard pulling, two or three hours before the dawn of the new day. It was not surprising that some of the lads should be knocked up for a time after this, but it was thought to be quite in accordance with the character of the place visited, that they were all, one after the other, laid up for varying periods. It did really seem peculiar that it should so happen at this particular time, when so much was being said about the superstition connected with the southern part.

After this there was a month’s stay at the two Northern schools. At Lamoru a new house was built, larger and in better style than the old one which had seen the beginning of the work, and new arrangements were made concerning the teaching staff. At Qatvenua also repairs were made to the various buildings, and a boat-house, sufficient for the purpose, but not of any great size or beauty, was erected on the beach. The whole of this time was more or less wet, and there was much sickness all through the district. The infants suffered most, and very many died, several being children of our congregations. A girl also died, one of the two belonging to this place who had been to Norfolk Island. She had been declining for about a year, and my attempts to improve her health failed. Her lengthened sickness tried the patience of her friends greatly, and it was suggested once or twice by relatives that her end should be hastened. By these who made this suggestion it was of course believed that the illness was due to some unfriendly person’s charms, who would be rejoicing at seeing her suffering. One of our Catechumens lost his only child, a very engaging little boy, and his account of how he prayed that it might recover, and how he felt when death came, and his prayer seemed to be in vain, was very touching. This child he had been{122} in the habit of bringing frequently for me to see, and when I once gave him some beads for it, he was delighted. These, he told me afterwards, he had buried with him.

On June 5 the Southern Cross returned to me again from the Northern islands, and I went on board to be put on shore at Wonor. It was my intention to go there to stay until the vessel’s return again from the South, which would be in about six weeks’ time. Two boys were to accompany me for the stay, and I took my boat. We could not land until the next day, after spending an unpleasant night on board. On pulling in, the school-house appeared well on to completion, showing that they had been working well at it since my last visit. It was not possible yet to sleep in it, so I spread my rug again in the men’s house, but we assembled the people together in the school-house for such instruction and talking as were found possible. A large party of Ambrym men was weather-bound here. Their home was plainly visible, about seven or eight miles distant, but across a very disturbed passage. They had already been here ten days, and were anxious to return. They had a sorrowful tale to tell. A short time before they had come over from Ambrym to go on an ordinary bartering expedition along our coast, and when the German man-of-war, the Albatross, mentioned above, arrived to avenge the death of the man who was killed in the beginning of the year, they happened to be at the very place. Naturally they thought themselves quite safe from any attack, and sat quietly on the beach awaiting the arrival of the boat. They all knew that the culprit was in a village two or three miles away on the hills, and they were prepared to assist in punishing him. Suddenly however, without any warning, they were fired upon more than once from some of the big guns of the ship. They at once fled in great fear, and did not know until the evening, when they ventured out of the bush again, what had been the result of the firing. One poor fellow had part of one leg blown away, and was found lying in great agony. A day or two after he died. Having thus fired and cleared the place of all people, a large number of men went ashore from the man-of-war, and succeeded in killing a few pigs, and in burning down the large men’s house of the place, which belonged to perfectly innocent and unconcerned people. Such a proceeding is not calculated to induce in the people any thoughts either of the justice or of the courage of the white man. It was a very weary time for them while waiting at Wonor, before reaching home to tell of their missing brother, and it was{123} not pleasant for the people of Wonor, as the vessel had picked up two lads of the place as guides, and they were on board when the firing occurred.

Instead of spending six weeks at this place we spent only ten days. They were busy days, as we all worked at the house, and as I could not get about very much to the neighbouring villages, I had to content myself with talking to the people as they came about us. It soon became evident that my two boys from the North were very home-sick. One I discovered sitting in the dark one evening crying, and although they said nothing I could see what they wished. I therefore decided to return with them, and after some little difficulty got a crew together. We started on a not very promising morning, but did not go far before the hearts of the Wonor men failed them entirely. There was a good breeze blowing, and some sea on, and the prospect of a long journey before them, and they formally requested to be allowed to return. It would have been very awkward to get back in the boat, as both wind and sea were dead against us, so I decided to put them ashore at a convenient spot, and continued the journey with the two boys. We had a fair wind, but rain commenced and continued at intervals all through the day. At last we reached our destination as evening came on, and never was home more welcome. Our wonderful journey, as it was thought, with only three in the boat, caused much talk. Had the wind failed us we should have been in a great difficulty, but as it was we did the forty miles without much labour. I hoped to be able to get a crew together, and to go South again to complete my stay, but we were over-ruled. Three or four days after reaching Qatvenua the place was greatly disturbed on hearing that a large canoe, which had left Maewo with Araga people in it more than a week before, had not been seen or heard of. They were either drowned or had been blown over to Opa. After a day or two more of suspense I decided to go to Opa to enquire. It was a relief to everybody when we started, and the people at home rejoiced greatly when they saw our signal fires in the evening to let them know that we had found the missing ones. It was so—they had been blown away from Araga, and could do nothing but steer for Opa. We remained there one night, and a Trader who lives there kindly gave the hospitality, and next day we started on our return with some of the canoe crew. A night had to be spent on the way at Maewo, but early the next morning we reached home. This was on Friday, and on the evening of the next day I commenced to be{124} unwell, and continued so for three weeks. All plans came to nought, as I found it impossible to get rid of the ague and consequent fever, and only now and then could I manage to rise at all. The arrival of the Southern Cross on July 17 was therefore very welcome, and I went on board at once. All plans as regards the Bank’s Islands had to be given up, and instead of my staying for a time in Mr. Palmer’s district at Mota and Motalav, as I had anticipated with great pleasure, I was forced to see the wisdom of remaining on board for the voyage up to the Solomon Islands. Much of great interest occurred during the voyage, but the greatest event was a visit we paid to Nukapu, where the Memorial cross for Bishop Patteson had been erected two years previously. It was found to be well cared for, the people were more than friendly, were most hospitable, and there are bright hopes of something being done ere long in the place where the Martyr’s death occurred.

I improved so much during the trip that on our arrival in the New Hebrides again, I decided to continue my stay in Araga. I was on shore therefore again from September 14 to November 12, and all the places were visited, and I was no more hindered by bad health. Wonor advanced most satisfactorily: my later visit found the house completed and quite fit to sleep in, and I saw much of the surrounding districts and people. At Lamoru we had the only adult Baptism of the year—five men were Baptized after much preparation and a long time of trial. November 18 found us again off Norfolk Island, and the Island Voyages were a thing of the past for 1886.

Ge togatoga ririkqa.	Gana sako na usu maraga,
Mati ni van ran̈ai,	Gana toura na gabe tar,
A lan̈i ni rowo na wia,	Gana tura goro na masi
Tavi dago na tasgoro.	Gana koko betegag.

Wait a little bit longer,	Then we will take bow and arrow,
Wait till the tide is low,	Then we will carry our nets,
Wait till the wind blow fairer,	Then we will stop in the fishes
And then make the tasgoro.	And gather them properly up.

Ta disava qarik	Isei ni tau na as?
Eh? Ron̈o lolora va!	Ki isei qa ni sawu?
Wa sagoro ta sagoro	Ki gida, sem, ta lai ran̈ai!
Ron̈o lolora va!	Toli sagoro rik!
Da! ta sagoro da!	Ge riri betigag!
Ta sagoro tei rik	Ga laia ran̈ai sag!
Kare mawmaw, tei riki vak!	Ge wosawosa limamu!
A wula marama!	Tolina rik ka sem!

Nan ligo asik suri marama,	—I’ll make my song about the moonlight,
Tolina rik sem a wula marama,	—Charming indeed is the light of the moon,

Osoos ti rasu mera na maran,	—Darkness has flown, it is light as the day,
Non eteete ti lita soun na qon̈.	—His brightness chased the night far away.

Nan ligo asik suri marama,	—I’ll make my song about the moonlight,
An̈eisa tea le isi Tamada,	—Some day I ween in our great Father’s land,

Ala na maran vagatewa tau,	—There day unending for ever will be,
Qon tigai ala, moa marama,	—Night is unknown there, light only endless.

JOURNAL OF RESIDENCE IN THE NEW HEBRIDES, S.W. PACIFIC OCEAN.

PREFACE.

J O U R N A L.

Rev. A. BRITTAIN.

JOURNAL
OF RESIDENCE IN THE NEW HEBRIDES,
S.W. PACIFIC OCEAN.