CHAPTER VII.

_THE LIGHT THAT SHINETH MORE AND MORE._

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

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

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

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

“Missi, is it done? Can it speak?”

At last I was able to answer, “Yes!”

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

I said, “It does.”

With rising interest, Namakei exclaimed,—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Illustration: “OH, MY NEW EYES!”]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I answered, “No.”

“Shall we bind him and beat him?”

“No.”

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

“No! by no means.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Missi, we are very hungry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I said,—“What did I promise you?”

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

“Forgot what?” inquired I.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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