CHAPTER VIII.

_PEN-PORTRAITS OF ANIWANS._

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Missi, where is my father?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I explained to the people, that we would tell our Heavenly Father how anxious we all were to see Ruwawa given back to us strong and well to work for Jesus, and then leave all to His wise and holy disposal. I prayed, and the place became a very Bochim. When I left him, Ruwawa exclaimed,—

“Farewell, Missi; if I go first, I will welcome you to Glory; if I am spared, I will work with you for Jesus; so all is well!”

One of the young Christians followed me and said,—“Missi, our hearts are very sore! If Ruwawa dies, we have no Chief to take his place in the Church, and it will be a heavy blow against Jehovah’s Worship on Aniwa.”

I answered,—“Let us each tell our God and Father all that we feel and all that we fear; and leave Ruwawa and our work in His holy hands.”

We did so, with earnest and unceasing cry. And when all hope had died out of every heart, the Lord began to answer us; the disease began to relax its hold, and the beloved Chief was restored to health. As soon as he was able, though still needing help, he found his way back to the Church, and we all offered special thanksgiving to God. He indicated a desire to say a few words; and although still very weak, spoke with great pathos thus:—

“Dear Friends, God has given me back to you all. I rejoice thus to come here and praise the great Father, who made us all, and who knows how to make and keep us well. I want you all to work hard for Jesus, and to lose no opportunity of trying to do good and so to please Him. In my deep journey away near to the grave, it was the memory of what I had done in love to Jesus that made my heart sing. I am not afraid of pain,—my dear Lord Jesus suffered far more for me and teaches me how to bear it. I am not afraid of war or famine or death, or of the present or of the future; my dear Lord Jesus died for me, and in dying I shall live with Him in Glory. I fear and love my dear Lord Jesus, because He loved me and gave Himself for me.”

Then he raised his right hand, and cried in a soft, full-hearted voice,—“My own, my dear Lord Jesus!” and stood for a moment looking joyfully upward, as if gazing into his Saviour’s face. When he sat down, there was a long hush, broken here and there by a smothered sob; and Ruwawa’s words produced an impression that is remembered to this day.

In 1888, when I visited the Islands, Ruwawa was still devoting himself heart and soul to the work of the Lord on Aniwa. Assisted by Koris, a Teacher from Aneityum, and visited occasionally by our ever-dear and faithful friends, Mr. and Mrs. Watt, from Tanna, the good Ruwawa carries forward all the work of God on Aniwa, along with others, in our absence as in our presence. The meetings, the Communicants’ Class, the Schools, and the Church Services are all regularly conducted and faithfully attended. “Bless the Lord, O my soul!”

I am now reminded of the story of Waiwai, both because it was interesting for his own personality, and also as illustrating our difficulties about the delicate question of many wives. He was a man of great wisdom, and had in his early days displayed unwonted energy. His assistance in finding exact and idiomatic equivalents for me, while translating the Scriptures, was of the highest value.

He had been once at the head of a numerous people, but was now literally a Chief without a tribe. His son and heir was smitten down with sunstroke, while helping us to get the coral limestone, and shortly thereafter died. His only daughter was married to a young Chief. And at last, of all his seven wives only two remained alive.

He became a regular attender at Church, and when our first Communicants’ Class was formed, Waiwai and his two wives were enrolled. At Communion time, he was dreadfully disappointed when informed that he could neither be baptized nor admitted to the Lord’s Table till he had given up one of his wives, as God allowed no Christian to have more than one wife at a time. They were advised to attend regularly, and learn more and more of Christianity, till God opened up their way in regard to this matter; that it might be done from conscience, under a sense of duty to Christ, and if at all possible by peaceable and mutual agreement.

Waiwai professed to be willing, but found it terribly hard to give up either of his wives. They had houses far apart from each other, for they quarrelled badly, as is usual in such cases. But both were excellent workers, both were very attentive to the wants of Waiwai, and he managed to keep on affectionate terms with both. After all the other men on the Island had, under the influence of Christianity, given up all their wives save one, Waiwai began to feel rather ashamed of being the conspicuous exception, or thought it prudent to pretend to be ashamed; and so he publicly scolded them both, ordering one or other to go and leave him, that he might be enabled to join the Church and be a Christian like the rest. But I learned privately that he did not wish either to go, and that he would shoot the one that dared to leave him. I remonstrated with him on his hypocrisy, warning him that God knew his heart. At last he said, that since neither of them would depart, he would leave them both and go to Tanna for a year, ordering one or other of them to get married during his absence. He did go, but on his return found both still awaiting him at their respective stations. He pretended to scold them very vigorously _in public_; but his duplicity was too open, and I again very solemnly rebuked him for double dealing, showing him that not even men were deceived by him, much less the all-seeing God. He frankly admitted his hypocrisy. He loved both; he did not want to part with either; and both were excellent workers!

In process of time the younger of the two women bore him a beautiful baby boy, about which he was immensely uplifted; and a short while thereafter the elder woman died. At her grave the inveterate talking instinct of these Islanders asserted itself, and Waiwai made a speech to the assembled people in the following strain:—

“O ye people of Aniwa, I was not willing to give up either of my wives for Jesus; but God has taken one from me and laid her there in the grave; and now I am called to be baptized, and to follow Jesus.”

The two now regularly attended Church, and learned diligently at the Communicants’ Class. Both seemed to be very sincere, and Waiwai particularly showed a very gentle Christian spirit, and seemed to brood much upon the loss of family and people and tribe that had befallen him. His had been indeed a crushing discipline, and it was not yet complete. For, shortly before the Communion at which they were to be received into fellowship, his remaining wife became suddenly ill and died also. At her grave the old man wept very bitterly, and made another speech, but this time in tones of more intense reality than before, as if the iron had entered his very soul:—

“Listen, all ye men of Aniwa, and take warning by Waiwai. I am now old, and ready to drop into the grave alone. My wives kept me back from Jesus, but now they are all taken, and I am left without one to care for me or this little child. I tried to deceive the Missi, but I could not deceive God. When I was left with only one wife, I said that I would now be baptized and live as a Christian. But God has taken her also. I pretended to serve the Lord, when I was only serving and pleasing myself. God has now broken my heart all to pieces. I must learn no longer to please myself, but to please my Lord. Oh, take warning by me, all ye men of Aniwa! Lies cannot cheat the great Jehovah God.”

Poor broken-hearted Waiwai had sorrow upon sorrow to the full. We had agreed to baptize him and admit him to the Lord’s Table. But a terrible form of cramp, sometimes met with on the Islands, overtook him, shrinking up both his legs, and curving his feet up behind him. He suffered great agony, and could neither walk nor sit without pain. In spite of all efforts to relieve him, this condition became chronic; and he died at last from the effects thereof during our absence on furlough.

His married daughter took charge of him and of the little boy; and so long as I was on Aniwa during his illness, I visited and instructed and ministered to him in every possible way. He prayed much, and asked God’s blessing on all his meals; but all that I could say failed to lead him into the sunshine of the Divine Love. And the poor soul often revealed the shadow by which his heart was clouded by such cries as these,—“I lied to Jehovah! It is He that punishes me! I lied to Jesus!”

Readers may perhaps think that this case of the two wives and our treatment of it was too hard upon Waiwai; and those will be the most ready to condemn us, who have never been on the spot, and who cannot see all the facts as they lie under the eyes of the Missionary. How could we ever have led Natives to see the difference betwixt admitting a man to the Church who had two wives, and not permitting a member of the Church to take two wives after his admission? Their moral sense is blunted enough without our knocking their heads against a conundrum in ethics! In our Church membership we have to draw the line as sharply as God’s law will allow betwixt what is Heathen and what is Christian, instead of minimising the difference.

Again, we found that the Heathen practices were apparently more destructive to women than to men; so that in one Island, with a population of only two hundred, I found that there were thirty adult men over and above the number of women. As a rule, for every man that has two or more wives, the same number of men have no wives and can get none; and polygamy is therefore the prolific cause of hatreds and murders innumerable.

Besides all this, to look at things in a purely practical light, as the so-called “practical men” are our scornful censors in these affairs, it is really no hardship for one woman, or any number of women, to be given up when the man becomes a Christian and elects to have one wife only; for every one so discarded is at once eagerly contended for by the men who had no hope of ever being married, and her chances of comfort and happiness are infinitely improved. We had one Chief who gave up eleven wives on his being baptized. They were without a single exception happily settled in other homes. And he became an earnest and devoted Christian.

While they remain Heathen, and have many wives to manage, the condition of most of the women is worse than slavery. On remonstrating with a Chief, who was savagely beating one of his wives, he indignantly assured me,—

“We must beat them, or they would never obey us. When they quarrel, and become bad to manage, we have to kill one, and feast on her. Then all the other wives of the whole tribe are quiet and obedient for a long time to come.”

I knew one Chief, who had many wives, always jealous of each other and violently quarrelling amongst themselves. When he was off at war, along with his men, the favourite wife, a tall and powerful woman, armed herself with an axe, and murdered all the others. On his return he made peace with her, and, either in terror or for other motives, promised to forego and protect her against all attempts at revenge. One has to live amongst the Papuans, or the Malays, in order to understand how much Woman is indebted to Christ!

The old Chiefs only brother was called Kalangi. Twice in Heathen days he tried to shoot me. On the second occasion he heard me rebuking his daughter for letting a child destroy a beautiful Island plant in front of our house. He levelled his musket at me, but his daughter, whom we were training at the Mission House, ran in front of it, and cried,—“O father, don’t shoot Missi! He loves me. He gives us food and clothing. He teaches us about Jehovah and Jesus!”

Then she pled with me to retire into the house, saying,—“He will not shoot you for fear of shooting me. I will soothe him down. Leave him to me, and flee for safety.”

Thus she probably saved my life. Time after time he heard from this little daughter all that we taught her, and all she could remember of our preaching. By-and-bye he showed a strong personal interest in the things he heard about Jesus, and questioned deeply, and learned diligently. When he became a Christian, he constituted himself, along with Nelwang, my body-guard, and often marched near me, or within safe distance of me, armed with tomahawk and musket, when I journeyed from village to village in the pre-Christian days. Once, on approaching one of our most distant villages, Nelwang sprang to my side, and warned me of a man in the bush watching an opportunity to shoot me. I shouted to the fellow,—

“What are you going to shoot there? This is the Lord’s own Day!”

He answered, “Only a bird.”

I replied, “Never mind it to-day. You can shoot it to-morrow. We are going to your Village. Come on before us, and show us the way!”

Seeing how I was protected, he lowered his musket, and marched on before us. Kalangi addressed the people, after I had spoken and prayed. In course of time they became warm friends of the Worship; and that very man and his wife, who once sought my life, sat with me at the Lord’s Table on Aniwa. And the little girl, above referred to, is now the wife of one of the Elders there, and the mother of three Christian children,—both she and her husband being devoted workers in the Church of God.

Litsi, the only daughter of Namakei, had, both in her own career and in her connection with poor, dear Mungaw, an almost unparalleled experience. She was entrusted to us when very young, and became a bright, clever, and attractive Christian girl. Many sought her hand, but she disdainfully replied,—

“I am Queen of my own Island, and when I like I will ask a husband in marriage, as you told us that the great Queen Victoria did!”

Her first husband, however won, was undoubtedly the tallest and most handsome man on Aniwa; but he was a giddy fool, and, on his early death, she again returned to live with us at the Mission House. Her second marriage had everything to commend it, but it resulted in indescribable disaster. Mungaw, heir to a Chief, had been trained with us, and gave every evidence of decided Christianity. They were married in the Church, and lived in the greatest happiness. He was able and eloquent, and was first chosen as a deacon, then as an Elder of the Church, and finally as High Chief of one half of the Island. He showed the finest Christian spirit under many trying circumstances. Once, when working at the lime for the building of our Church, two bad men, armed with muskets, sought his life for some revenge or another. Hearing of the quarrel, I rushed to the scene, and heard him saying,—

“Don’t call me coward, or think me afraid to die. If I died now, I would go to be with Jesus. But I am no longer a Heathen; I am a Christian, and wish to treat you as a Christian should.”

Others now coming to the rescue, the men were disarmed; and, after much talk, they professed themselves ashamed, and promised better conduct for the future. Next day they sent a large present as a peace-offering to me, but I refused to receive it till they should first of all make peace with the young Chief. They sent a larger present to him, praying him to receive it, and to forgive them. Mungaw brought a still larger present in exchange, laid it down at their feet in the Public Ground, shook hands with them graciously, and forgave them in presence of all the people. His constant saying was,—

“I am a Christian, and I must do the conduct of a Christian.”

In one of my furloughs to Australia I took the young Chief with me, in the hope of interesting the Sabbath Schools and Congregations by his eloquent addresses and noble personality. The late Dr. Cameron, of Melbourne, having heard him, as translated by me, publicly declared that Mungaw’s appearance and speech in his Church did more to show him the grand results of the Gospel amongst the Heathen than all the Missionary addresses he ever listened to or read.

Our lodging was in St. Kilda. My dear wife was suddenly seized with a dangerous illness on a visit to Taradale, and I was telegraphed for. Finding that I must remain with her, I got Mungaw booked for Melbourne, on the road for St. Kilda, in charge of a railway guard. Some white wretches, in the guise of gentlemen, offered to see him to the St. Kilda Station, assuring the guard that they were friends of mine, and interested in our Mission. They took him, instead, to some den of infamy in Melbourne. On refusing to drink with them, he said they threw him down on a sofa, and poured drink or drugs into him till he was nearly dead. Having taken all his money (he had only two or three pounds, made up of little presents from various friends), they thrust him out to the street, with only one penny in his pocket.

On becoming conscious, he applied to a policeman, who either did not understand or would not interfere. Hearing an engine whistle, he followed the sound, and found his way to Spencer Street Station. There he stood for a whole day, offering his penny for a ticket by every train, and was always refused. At last a sailor took pity on him, got him some food, and led him to the St. Kilda Station. Again he proffered his penny, only to meet with refusal after refusal, till he broke down, and cried aloud in such English as desperation gave him,—

“If me savvy road, me go. Me no savvy road, and stop here me die. My Missi Paton live at Kilda. Me want go Kilda. Me no more money. Bad fellow took all! Send me Kilda.”

Some gentle Samaritan gave him a ticket, and he reached our house at St. Kilda at last. There for above three weeks the poor creature lay in a sort of stupid doze. Food he could scarcely be induced to taste, and he only rose now and again for a drink of water. When my wife was able to be removed thither also, we found dear Mungaw dreadfully changed in appearance and in conduct. Twice thereafter I took him with me on Mission work; but, on medical advice, preparations were made for his immediate return to the Islands. I entrusted him to the kind care of Captain Logan, who undertook to see him safely on board the _Dayspring_, then lying at Auckland. Mungaw was delighted, and we hoped everything from his return to his own land and people. After some little trouble, he was landed safely home on Aniwa. But his malady developed dangerous and violent symptoms, characterized by long periods of quiet and sleep, and then sudden paroxysms, in which he destroyed property, burned houses, and was a terror to all.

On our return he was greatly delighted; but he complained bitterly that the white men “had spoiled his head,” and that when it “burned hot” he did all these bad things, for which he was extremely sorry He deliberately attempted my life, and most cruelly abused his dear and gentle wife; and then, when the frenzy was over, he wept and lamented over it. Many a time he marched round and round our House with loaded musket and spear and tomahawk, while we had to keep doors and windows locked and barricaded; then the paroxysm passed off, and he slept, long and deep, like a child. When he came to himself, he wept and said,—

“The white men spoiled my head! I know not what I do. My head burns hot, and I am driven.”

One day, in the Imrai, he leapt up with a loud-yelling war-cry, rushed off to his own house, set fire to it, and danced around till everything he possessed was burned to ashes. Nasi, a bad Tannese Chief living on Aniwa, had a quarrel with Mungaw about a cask found at the shore, and threatened to shoot him. Others encouraged him to do so, as Mungaw was growing every day more and more destructive and violent. When a person became outrageous or insane on Aniwa,—as they had neither asylum nor prison, they first of all held him fast and discharged a musket close to his ear; and then, if the shock did not bring him back to his senses, they tied him up for two days or so; and finally, if that did not restore him, they shot him dead. Thus the plan of Nasi was favoured by their own customs. One night, after family worship,—for amidst all his madness, when clear moments came, he poured out his soul in faith and love to the Lord,—he said,—

“Litsi, I am melting! My head burns. Let us go out and get cooled in the open air.”

She warned him not to go, as she heard voices whispering under the verandah. He answered a little wildly,—

“I am not afraid to die. Life is a curse and burden. The white men spoiled my head. If there is a hope of dying, let me go quickly and die!”

As he crossed the door, a ball crashed through him, and he fell dead. We got the mother and her children away to the Mission House; and next morning they buried the remains of poor Mungaw under the floor of his own hut, and enclosed the whole place with a fence. It was a sorrowful close to so noble a career. I shed many a tear that I ever took him to Australia. What will God have to say to those white fiends who poisoned and maddened poor dear Mungaw?

After a while the good Queen Litsi was happily married again. She became possessed with a great desire to go as a Missionary to the people and tribe of Nasi, the very man who had murdered her husband. She used to say,—

“Is there no Missionary to go and teach Nasi’s people? I weep and pray for them, that they too may come to know and love Jesus.”

I answered,—“Litsi, if I had only wept and prayed for you, but stayed at home in Scotland, would that have brought you to know and love Jesus as you do?”

“Certainly not,” she replied.

“Now then,” I proceeded, “would it not please Jesus and be a grand and holy revenge, if you, the Christians of Aniwa, could carry the Gospel to the very people whose Chief murdered Mungaw?”

The idea took possession of her soul. She was never wearied talking and praying over it. When at length a Missionary was got for Nasi’s people, Litsi and her new husband placed themselves at the head of a band of six or eight Aniwan Christians, and planted themselves there to open up the way and assist as Native Teachers the Missionary and his wife. There she and they have laboured ever since. They are “strong” for the Worship. Her son is being trained up by his cousin, an Elder of the Church, to be “the good Chief of Aniwa”; so she calls him in her prayers, as she cries on God to bless and watch over him, while she is serving the Lord in the Mission field. Many years have now passed; and when lately I visited that part of Tanna, Litsi ran to me, clasped my hand, kissed it with many sobs, and cried,—

“O my father! God has blessed me to see you again. Is my mother, your dear wife, well? And your children, my brothers and sisters? My love to them all! O my heart clings to you!”

We had sweet conversation, and then she said more calmly,—

“My days here are hard. I might be happy and wealthy as Queen on Aniwa. But the Heathen here are beginning to listen. The Missi sees them coming nearer to Jesus. And oh, what a reward when we shall hear them sing and pray to our dear Saviour! The hope of that makes me strong for anything.”

My heart often says within itself—When, _when_ will men’s eyes at home be opened? When will the rich and the learned and the noble and even the princes of the Earth renounce their shallow frivolities, and go to live amongst the poor, the ignorant, the outcast, and the lost, and write their eternal fame on the souls by them blessed and brought to the Saviour? Those who have tasted this highest joy, “the joy of the Lord,” will never again ask,—_Is Life worth living?_ Life, any life, would be well spent, under any conceivable conditions, in bringing one human soul to know and love and serve God and His Son, and thereby securing for yourself at least one temple where your name and memory would be held for ever and for ever in affectionate praise,—a regenerated Heart in Heaven. That fame will prove _immortal_, when all the poems and monuments and pyramids of Earth have gone into dust.

Nasi, the Tannaman, was a bad and dangerous character, though some readers may condone his putting an end to Mungaw in the terrible circumstances of our case. During a great illness that befell him, I ministered to him regularly, but no kindness seemed to move him. When about to leave Aniwa, I went specially to visit him. On parting I said,—

“Nasi, are you happy? Have you ever been happy?”

He answered gloomily,—“No! Never.”

I said,—“Would you like this dear little boy of yours to grow up like yourself, and lead the life you have lived?”

“No!” he replied warmly; “I certainly would not.”

“Then,” I continued, “you must become a Christian, and give up all your Heathen conduct, or he will just grow up to quarrel and fight and murder as you have done; and, O Nasi, he will curse you through all Eternity for leading him to such a life and to such a doom!”

He was very much impressed, but made no response. After we had sailed, a band of our young Native Christians held a consultation over the case of Nasi. They said,—

“We know the burden and terror that Nasi has been to our dear Missi. We know that he has murdered several persons with his own hands, and has taken part in the murder of others. Let us unite in daily prayer that the Lord would open his heart and change his conduct, and teach him to love and follow what is good, and let us set ourselves to win Nasi for Christ, just as Missi tried to win us.”

So they began to show him every possible kindness, and one after another helped him in his daily tasks, embracing every opportunity of pleading with him to yield to Jesus and take the new path of life. At first he repelled them, and sullenly held aloof. But their prayers never ceased, and their patient affections continued to grow. At last, after long waiting, Nasi broke down, and cried to one of the Teachers,—

“I can oppose your Jesus no longer. If He can make you treat me like that, I yield myself to Him and to you. I want Him to change me too. I want a heart like that of Jesus.”

He took the ugly paint patches from his face; he cut off his long Heathen hair; he went to the sea and bathed, washing himself clean; and then he came to the Christians and dressed himself in a shirt and a kilt. The next step was to get a book,—his was the translation of the Gospel according to St. John. He eagerly listened to every one that would read bits of it aloud to him, and his soul seemed to drink in the new ideas at every pore. He attended the Church and the School most regularly, and could in a very short time read the Gospel for himself. The Elders of the Church took special pains in instructing him, and after due preparation he was admitted to the Lord’s Table—my brother Missionary from Tanna baptizing and receiving him. Imagine my joy on learning all this regarding one who had sullenly resisted my appeals for many years, and how my soul praised the Lord who is “Mighty to save!”

On my recent visit to Aniwa, in 1886, God’s almighty compassion was further revealed to me, when I found that Nasi the murderer was now a Scripture Reader, and able to comment in a wonderful and interesting manner on what he reads to the people! When I arrived on a visit to the Island, after my last tour in Great Britain in the interests of our Mission, all the inhabitants of Aniwa seemed to be assembled at the boat-landing to welcome me, except Nasi. He was away fishing at a distance, and had been sent for, but had not yet arrived. On the way to the Mission House, he came rushing to meet me. He grasped my hand, and kissed it, and burst into tears. I said,—

“Nasi, do I now at last meet you as a Christian?”

He warmly answered, “Yes, Missi; I now worship and serve the only Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Bless God, I am a Christian at last!”

My soul went out with the silent cry, “Oh, that the men at home who discuss and doubt about conversion, and the new heart, and the power of Jesus to change and save, could but look on Nasi, and spell out the simple lesson,—He that created us at first by His power can create us anew by His love!”

My first Sabbath on Aniwa, after the late tour in Great Britain and the Colonies, gave me a blessed surprise. Before daybreak I lay awake thinking of all my experiences on that Island, and wondering whether the Church had fallen off in my four years’ absence, when suddenly the voice of song broke on my ears! It was scarcely full dawn, yet I jumped up and called to a man that was passing,—

“Have I slept in? Is it already Church-time? Or why are the people met so early?”

He was one of their leaders, and gravely replied,—“Missi, since you left, we have found it very hard to live near to God! So the Chief and the Teachers and a few others meet when daylight comes in every Sabbath morning, and spend the first hour of every Lord’s Day in prayer and praise. They are met to pray for you now, that God may help you in your preaching, and that all hearts may bear fruit to the glory of Jesus this day.”

I returned to my room, and felt quite prepared myself. It would be an easy and a blessed thing to lead such a Congregation into the presence of the Lord! They were there already.

On that day every person on Aniwa seemed to be at Church, except the bedridden and the sick. At the close of the Services, the Elders informed me that they had kept up all the Meetings during my absence, and had also conducted the Communicants’ Class, and they presented to me a considerable number of candidates for membership. After careful examination, I set apart nine boys and girls, about twelve or thirteen years of age, and advised them to wait for at least another year or so, that their knowledge and habits might be matured. They had answered every question, indeed, and were eager to be baptized and admitted; but I feared for their youth, lest they should fall away and bring disgrace on the Church. One of them, with very earnest eyes, looked at me and said,—

“We have been taught that whosoever believeth is to be baptized. We do most heartily believe in Jesus, and try to please Jesus.”

I answered,—“Hold on for another year, and then our way will be clear.”

But he persisted,—“Some of us may not be living then; and you may not be here. We long to be baptized by you, our own Missi, and to take our place among the servants of Jesus.”

After much conversation I agreed to baptize them, and they agreed to refrain from going to the Lord’s Table for a year; that all the Church might by that time have knowledge and proof of their consistent Christian life, though so young in years. This discipline, I thought, would be good for them; and the Lord might use it as a precedent for guidance in future days.

Of other ten adults at this time admitted, one was specially noteworthy. She was about twenty-five, and the Elders objected because her marriage had not been according to the Christian usage on Aniwa. She left us weeping deeply. I was writing late at night in the cool evening air, as was my wont in that oppressive tropical clime, and a knock was heard at my door. I called out,—

“_Akai era?_” (= Who is there?)

A voice softly answered,—“Missi, it is Lamu. Oh, do speak with me!”

This was the rejected candidate, and I at once opened the door.

“Oh, Missi,” she began, “I cannot sleep, I cannot eat; my soul is in pain. Am I to be shut out from Jesus? Some of those at the Lord’s Table committed murder. They repented, and have been saved. My heart is very bad; yet I never did any of those crimes of Heathenism; and I know that it is my joy to try and please my Saviour Jesus. How is it that I only am to be shut out from Jesus?”

I tried all I could to guide and console her, and she listened to all very eagerly. Then she looked up at me and said,—

“Missi, you and the Elders may think it right to keep me back from showing my love to Jesus at the Lord’s Table; but I know here in my heart that Jesus has received me; and if I were dying now, I know that Jesus would take me to Glory and present me to the Father.”

Her look and manner thrilled me. I promised to see the Elders and submit her appeal. But Lamu appeared and pled her own cause before them with convincing effect. She was baptized and admitted along with other nine. And that Communion Day will be long remembered by many souls on Aniwa.

It has often struck me, when relating these events, to press this question on the many young people, the highly privileged white brothers and sisters of Lamu, Did you ever lose one hour of sleep or a single meal in thinking of your Soul, your God, the claims of Jesus, and your Eternal Destiny?

And when I saw the diligence and fidelity of these poor Aniwan Elders, teaching and ministering during all those years, my soul has cried aloud to God, Oh, what could not the Church accomplish if the educated and gifted Elders and others in Christian lands would set themselves thus to work for Jesus, to teach the ignorant, to protect the tempted, and to rescue the fallen!