crutches, the trunks without a leg, the sightless eyes, the disfigured
faces, were marks of the ghastly wounds of war. And then the dead
of Gettysburg, Arlington Heights, and other silent hecatombs, the
youth, the strength of the country; the millions that sleep in dust
to be numbered no more among the sons, the fathers, the husbands, the
citizens of our beloved land!
But our country needed this fiery chastisement, and it will be better
in the end if so be that the North and South understand and profit by
the lesson.
Our social intercourse, not only with personal friends and old
acquaintances, but with a multitude of new-formed friends, was
precious and endearing. It would be a great gratification to mention
names, were it possible, and to record our tribute of gratitude and
thanks to God for the many kind and Christian attentions shown us
everywhere--attentions that left impressions on our hearts which time
and space can not eradicate.
My opportunities to meet Christian conventions and associations,
Sabbath-schools, Monday meetings of clergymen, meetings of benevolent
societies, of working-women, etc., were numerous and exhilarating; and
one thing which charmed me, if possible, more than any other, was the
fact that partition-walls were gradually giving way between different
evangelical denominations.
I was glad to be invited by brethren of various denominations to speak
in their assemblies of the love of God and of His wonderful work among
the heathen tribes of the Pacific. More than once I was in the pulpit
and on the platform with beloved ministers of the Episcopal Church.
In Monday morning meetings of pastors for prayers and consultation, I
met Presbyterians, Baptists, Methodists, Congregationalists, and many
others, and my tongue longed to sing with David: “Behold how good and
how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity.”
My talks in large and smaller assemblies during the eleven months we
were in the States numbered two hundred and thirty-nine.
Assuredly the Lord has commanded the blessing to rest on all such
unions of heart among His people. There need be no harm in the varied
organization of Christian workers. There may be a beauty and an
increased efficiency in it, as there is in the organization of armies,
or other corps of officers or laborers, if only there be harmony of
heart, “the unity of spirit in the bonds of peace.”
[Sidenote: _Visit in Washington._]
One of our happiest weeks was spent in the city of Washington.
Every day was full of interest. We looked in upon our institutions,
legislative, civil, literary, benevolent, and religious, and were
cheered to see so much of good sense, philanthropy, and earnest piety
modifying and refining life in the metropolis of the Union.
We visited the Howard University, in company with its President, and
attended one of its commencements in a crowded church in the city. The
exercises did honor to the faculty and the speakers, and the large
and cultivated assembly, in which were seen many if not most of the
clergy of the city, with numbers of the Senators and Representatives
of the nation, manifested a lively interest in all the ceremonies of
the occasion. Several of the students were graduated with honors. The
speeches of the colored students were good, and that of one of the
darkest in his class was not only sensible, but brilliant.
I need not speak of our visits by invitation to theological and female
seminaries--Andover, Bradford, Vassar, Union, Auburn, and Princeton,
and of our great enjoyment on these occasions.
The meeting of the American Board for 1870 was held in Brooklyn,
and for the first time we had the privilege of attending this annual
gathering.
Here we met missionaries and men of distinction from the Orient and
the Occident, from every continent, and from many an island of the
globe. Never shall I forget that great congregation of glowing faces
and earnest listeners. I have seen larger and more compact assemblies
on Hawaii, but they were less responsive. This was like a sea of
shining silver. It was mind and soul looking out of its windows; it was
intelligence, culture, piety, beaming like sunlight from human faces.
I have seen Mauna Kea veiled with the mantle of night, and casting its
gigantic shadow of darkness upon us. Again I have seen it when the
first rays of the rising sun began to gild its summit. Watching it for
a little while, the light poured down its rocky sides, chasing the
night before it, until the mighty pile stood out clothed in burnished
gold, and shining like a monarch arrayed in robes of glory.
And when I gazed upon that platform in Brooklyn, and cast my eyes upon
the great assembly which filled the house, I said in my heart, “When
will Polynesia and Micronesia display such a gathering of wisdom,
piety, and moral power? A brighter than a natural sun begins to illume
the darkness of those lands, chasing away the night of ages; but when
will the full-orbed Sun of Righteousness ascend to the zenith and
pour a flood of light and glory over all our benighted islands?” And
then I reflected that even these lights of the Christian churches were
yet to flicker as distant tapers before the coming glories of Zion, as
predicted in the sixtieth chapter of Isaiah.
[Sidenote: _The Old Home Revisited._]
Our visit to Killingworth, my native town, was full of interest. Tender
memories of childhood and youth often drew tears. Sixty-nine years
had swept along the flood of time since my eyes first saw the light
of day, and forty-four since I had left the home where I was born and
nourished. The homestead where my father taught his boys to plow and
harrow, to plant and hoe, to sow and reap, to cradle and bind, to mow
and rake, and pitch and gather into the barn the winter’s feed for
cattle, was there. The orchard, where we children gathered apples and
other fruits, was there; but many of the choice trees were gone, and
the great sugar-maple and the nut-bearing trees where we had contested
with the squirrel for our winter stores had disappeared. The cottage,
where eight children had been reared, and where, as years passed on, we
gathered at our annual thanksgivings, was desolate and silent, and no
living voice came up from lawn and meadow and field which once echoed
with the shout and merry laughter of childhood. The cool waters of the
well were unruffled, and the sweep and “the old oaken bucket” were
no more. The “Cranberry Brook” sung and babbled amidst the alders
and witch-hazels, but with no response from eager, gleesome anglers
and bathers. Birds built their nests and sang and reared their broods
without disturbance.
The old school-house, with its broad fire-place, and its benches
of slabs; the round side-down, with rough wooden legs and lacking
supports for the children’s backs, were replaced by a convenient room,
with stove, and easy seats, and other improvements. The barn-like
meeting-house, with its high galleries and lofty sounding-board, and
the little foot-stoves which comforted the mothers, while the fathers
sat chilled on bleak, wintry Sundays, had disappeared, and a new
building was in its stead. I went to it; there was a new pastor, and
the congregation was mostly new. Here and there a white-crowned head
in the assembly revealed a schoolmate or a friend and companion of my
youthful days. Ah, memories how tender, how dear, how deathless! I went
to the cemetery, where friends once near to me had been gathered one by
one, and where each of the departed ones slept alone unconscious of his
proximity to the dust of his dearest earthly friend. On the marble I
read the sober epitaph of father, mother, sister, neighbor, and friend.
Stones in other grave-yards already marked the resting-places of all my
brothers save one, and he has since that time departed.
Thankful for one more view of my boyhood’s home, with chastened
reflections I turned from it for the last time.
[Sidenote: _Fidelia Church Coan._]
* * * * *
On our return to Hilo we met a cordial welcome from all, and the church
and people were in a prosperous state. But a heavy shadow darkened over
our home. The dear one who had been its light and joy for thirty-six
years was growing feebler day by day, and the signs of her departure
could not be mistaken.
Calmly she began to set her house in order, to be ready to welcome the
coming messenger. She assured us of her unshaken faith in Christ, and
prepared farewell suggestions for the dear ones she was soon to leave.
On Sunday, Sept. 29, 1872, the faithful spirit took its flight upward.
Her sojourn on the earth was three-score and two years; her life above
is “where eternal ages roll.”
There were tender and solemn funeral services in our church on Monday,
but the day was stormy, and it was not till the following morning
that the dust of our beloved one was laid to rest in the cemetery on
Prospect Hill, where hers was the first grave. On the marble that marks
the spot, these words are inscribed:
“‘Faithful unto death,’
Crowned with life.”
The cemetery is in a beautiful place; the towering mountains are upon
the west and south. East and north stretches the ocean, and a glorious
emerald landscape is on every side. The soft breezes that rustle the
leaves, and the murmurs of the distant surf, do not wake the sleeping
form that awaits the behest of Him who is “the Resurrection and the
Life.” The soul unfettered, unchained, has drawn nearer than they to
the throne.
The dear one was an extensive and eclectic reader, a clear and logical
thinker. Her mind and heart were well prepared to take an active part
in the literary and religious discussions and activities of the age,
but she freely chose the life of a missionary to the heathen. To me
she was a peerless helper. Her self-denial was marvelous. The same
self-abnegation which led her to say to me, in answer to the question,
“Shall I go to Patagonia?” “My dear, you must go!” controlled her whole
life. She never objected to my going on my most severe or perilous
expeditions along the shores or on the mountains of Hawaii; or held me
back when duty called me to the Marquesas Islands. When I expostulated
with her against remaining alone in the house, as she sometimes did,
she would answer, “I am not afraid.”
To her tender love, her faithful care, her wise counsels, her efficient
help, and her blameless life, I owe under God the chief part of my
happiness, and of my usefulness if I have had any, as a laborer in the
Master’s vineyard.
XVI.
_Notes on the Stations--Hawaii--Governor Kuakini--Maui--Crater of
Hale-a-ka-la--Molokai--The Leper Settlement--Oahu--Kauai--The
State of the Church._
A few notes on other parts of the Hawaiian Islands may not be
irrelevant in this narrative.
The great awakening of which I have written so fully was felt in a
greater or less degree over all the islands of the group, and the
ingatherings into all the churches, from the beginning to the present
day, have been more than 70,000. My visits to the different islands
and stations, my fraternal communion with the faithful laborers, and
the cordial interest I have found among many thousands of Hawaiians in
the things pertaining to the kingdom of God, have been “as the dew of
Hermon, and as the dew that descended upon the mountains of Zion” to my
soul.
On the north of Hawaii I have met my earnest brother Lyons, full of
poetic fire; have passed several times through Hamakua, once a populous
district of his field, and have seen the gathering thousands in their
places of worship. I have visited at his cool and elevated station in
Waimea, surrounded like Jerusalem by mountains, having Mauna Kea on
the east, Mauna Loa on the south-east, Hualalai on the south, and the
mountains of Kohala on the north, and all these towering heights in
full view. In the midst of this amphitheater of hills stood his great
stone church, where 1,000 or 2,000 natives would assemble on special
occasions to hear the Gospel, to worship the Lord, and to unite in
happy festivals.
During one of my visits at Waimea I was prostrated by fever, and for
two Sundays was unable to occupy the pulpit; the only time, according
to my recollection, that I have been prevented by sickness from going
to the sanctuary of the Lord since I came to these islands.
On one occasion I went with Mr. Lyons over the northern hills to
Kohala, the most northerly district of our Islands, once a part of
his parish, where we spent a week in religious services, and where we
saw many penitents asking the way to Zion. And I have visited this
field again, since the arrival of its present faithful and successful
occupant, the Rev. Elias Bond, and rejoiced in all its fruit-bearing
prosperity.
I have descended into the deep and grand valley of Waipio, filled like
a bee-hive with human beings, garmented in the living green of its
vegetation, shining with its running streams, with its silvery cascade
leaping from a precipice 1,500 feet in height, and thundering forever
in the deep basin below.
[Sidenote: _Glimpses of the Island._]
I have stood on the very summit of Mauna Kea, 14,000 feet above my
Hilo home, and looked down upon the three neighboring mountains, over
the great valley of Waimea, upon the green fields and shining bay of
Hilo, and right opposite upon the calm waters of Kawaihae, and over and
beyond the thirty miles’ channel upon the sleeping mountain of Maui,
and the quiet heights of Lanai and Kahoolawe.
On the coast at Kawaihae I have seen and measured the last great
_heiau_ or heathen temple, of the renowned Kamehameha I., where human
sacrifices were offered to the gods that can not save or destroy. I
have also visited other heathen temples in Kona, Puna, Hilo, on Molokai
and in other places. In the forest under the shadow of Mauna Kea, I
have seen the bullock-pit where the dead body of the distinguished
Scotch naturalist, Douglass, was found under painfully suspicious
circumstances, that led many to believe that he had been murdered
for his money. A mystery hangs over the event which we are unable to
explain.
Leaving Northern Hawaii, let us glance at the western coast. Here
lies the extended and once populous district of Kona, sheltered from
the trade winds by the great mountains, with a smooth and glassy sea
lapping its shores, with many a quiet boat-landing in little bays and
coves along its coast; and with the deep and safe harbor Kaawaloa, near
the center of the coast-line. On the Kaawaloa side of this bay is the
place where Capt. Cook fell under the blows of the enraged Hawaiians.
On the south, or Kealakeakua side of the bay, we see the little _heiau_
built for Opukahaia, or Obookaia, and the cocoa-palm which his young
hands planted, before he was taken to the United States.
A few miles south of this bay we find, perhaps, the largest and most
renowned idol temple in this group, with a house and yard attached
called “Hale a Keawe”--House of Keawe. This house was once filled with
grim idols, and in this heiau the most obscene and bloody rites were
observed. It was also called _Puuhonua_, meaning place of refuge, and
resembled, in some of its features and uses, the old Hebrew cities of
refuge. No place on the Islands was considered more sacred and awful
than this. Life and death hung on the wills of the kings and priests
who worshiped in this temple. When I first visited the place, many of
the old idols remained, some standing within, others on the outside, in
front of the house, as guardians and to blast the lawless wight whose
temerity led him to approach the habitation of the gods. These idols
were blackened and blear, and ready to depart like frightened ghosts,
and I understand that they have all disappeared, as was long ago
predicted by Isaiah, “The idols He shall utterly abolish.”
[Sidenote: _Father Thurston--Governor Kuakini._]
At Kailua, with my now sainted companion, I visited the venerable
father and mother Thurston in the days of their strength, and also
the good and kind-hearted Artemas Bishop, and our hearts burned with
love and veneration for those devoted servants of the Lord Jesus. Mr.
Thurston was a man of great power, both physical and spiritual. He
wielded a battle-axe, and yet he was meek and modest to a fault. He
was often invited and advised to visit the United States before his
earthly course was finished, and we have heard that he replied, “No, I
had rather die than to return to the fatherland.” His good wife was a
“mother in Israel,” full of wisdom and grace.
In Kailua one would see the gigantic chief Kuakini, or John Adams. His
weight was near four hundred pounds. He was governor and lord of all
Hawaii, with an iron will, fearing neither man nor monarch, proud to
call out a thousand men to build a causeway, or a dam for enclosing
fish, to cut sandal-wood in the mountains, or to build a large church
edifice. A member of the Kailua church, he often visited Hilo, and he
sat in his arm-chair, under shelter, to superintend the building of
the vast native church in the days of Mr. Goodrich. He loved power and
flattery, and, like Jehu, “he took no heed to walk in the law of the
Lord with all his heart.” He sometimes refused to obey his king, saying
that on Hawaii his power was supreme. He was somewhat oppressive of the
people. For example; he would occasionally make the tour of the whole
island, sending messengers before to command the natives to build him
large houses at all places where he would spend a night or a day or
two, and also to prepare large quantities of fish, fowls, pigs, eggs,
poi, potatoes, etc., against his arrival. When he swept around the
island his attendants would number two or three score of men, women,
and children, all to be fed by the people where he lodged. In some
favorable place he would sometimes encamp for a month, consuming almost
all the eatables within a radius of two or three miles. He loved money;
and when his pastor advised his people not to plant tobacco and _awa_,
he would say to those on his own lands: “Listen to your teacher; do
what I tell you. I tell you to plant tobacco.”
I had testimony that he would sometimes purchase a barrel of rum or
whisky, put it in a secret place, and order appointed agents to sell
it out for two dollars a bottle secretly. Some of these acts came to
the knowledge of his pastor, Mr. Thurston, at whose kind and faithful
efforts to reform him the Governor took offense, and retorted with
abusive language. Finally, he was suspended from the church, and in
this state he remained for a long time, when he fell ill and died.
[Sidenote: _Brothers in the Field._]
I was in Kailua, and visited him on his death-bed, conversing and
praying with him, with his consent. His mind was dark and gloomy, and
he said: “I am a great sinner, and I do not think the Lord will care
for me or save me.” There we leave him, thankful for all the good he
did, and sorrowful that his light did not shine brighter.
At Kealakeakua we visited our good friends, the Rev. C. Forbes and
his wife, and here we rejoiced in the good work of the Lord. As in
Kailua, the people were numerous, and the Sabbath congregations large.
All things looked promising at this station, and our fellowship with
the teachers and the people was of the most happy character. Mr. and
Mrs. Van Duzee were assistants in missionary work. And after all had
left, the Rev. J. D. Paris, whose first station was in Kau, was located
there, and labored in that field for many years.
Kau was only seventy miles from Hilo, and he was our nearest neighbor.
Here I have visited frequently, meeting at different times the various
mission families who succeeded one another as vacancies in the field
occurred through removal or death. The Rev. Messrs. Paris, Hunt,
Kinney, Gulick, Shipman, and Pogue, with their wives, have all been
laborers in this district.
In the six districts or counties of Hawaii the native population has
greatly decreased, and of the numerous missionaries of the American
Board who have occupied the several stations, none remain except at
Kohala, Waimea, and Hilo. We who still hold on are soon to pass away,
leaving the churches in the hands of Hawaiian pastors.
As I have visited the churches and missionaries on the other islands of
the group, and felt a deep interest in the pastors and the people, I
will give a brief sketch of most of them.
Lahaina, the capital of Maui, was once full of natives. The large
stone church, with galleries, was full on every Lord’s day, morning
and afternoon, and the things of the kingdom of God seemed prominent
in the minds of the people. The beloved Mr. and Mrs. Richards were
highly esteemed, and their doors and hearts were ever open to their
missionary brethren and sisters who landed feeble and faint from the
sluggish Hawaiian craft on their way down from Hawaii to attend the
annual meeting in Honolulu or on their return voyage. What relief, what
comfort, what cheer we all found in the hospitality of this half-way
station! It was like an oasis in the desert, and a fountain of cold
water amidst burning sands. Here our children gamboled under the
waving palms and the spreading hau-trees, eating delicious grapes and
cocoanuts, while the parents conversed on themes of paramount interest.
[Sidenote: _Lahaina and Lahainaluna._]
We have met here not only the patriarch Richards, but the active
seaman’s chaplain, Spaulding, the faithful Dr. Alonzo Chapin, and the
hospitable brother and sister Baldwin, he being the last missionary
pastor of that church. There were several distinguished native
Christians in this place with whom we held pleasant intercourse. Well
do we remember the good and noble Governor Hoopili and his wife.
They were the soul of kindness and Christian friendship. Whenever we
approached their neatly-kept dwelling, their doors were opened at once
with a warm welcome, and with outstretched hands and benignant smiles
they would call out, “Aloha! komo mai”--love to you! come in!
But most of those with whom we took sweet counsel in Lahaina, have long
since gone the way of all the earth; the population of the town has
decreased, and the place has become a cane-field, with a crushing-mill
and boiling-house in the center of the village, a large amount of sugar
being made there. A native pastor has charge of the church.
Lahainaluna, or Upper Lahaina, is about two miles back of Lahaina,
and elevated several hundred feet above it. This is the seat of our
Hawaiian College, established, and for many years sustained, by
the American Board. It was designed as a training-school of high
grade for preparing young men for teachers, preachers, and for the
occupation of the more important stations in the nation. This school
was in operation when we arrived at the Islands, under the care and
instruction of the Revs. Lorrin Andrews, E. W. Clark, and Sheldon
Dibble. All these brethren and their wives are dead. The institution
has been transferred to the Hawaiian Government, and a large number of
teachers has been employed there since the first corps removed.
In early years we usually paid an annual visit to this seminary, on
our way to or from Honolulu. These visits were always refreshing, on
account of the height, coolness, and grand scenery of the station, the
cordial welcome of the teachers, and the profound interest we felt in
the prosperity of the school.
The views from Lahainaluna are beautiful and sublime. Inland rise the
serrated mountains, and the deep valleys of West Maui; in front are
the placid roadstead and shining channel separating Maui from Lanai;
the latter name signifying veranda or porch, and so called because it
stands like a portico directly in front of Maui. To the right we look
across a channel some twelve miles wide, separating Maui from Molokai.
This channel is often disturbed by strong trade winds which lash the
waters into white foam, rendering the passage for boats difficult and
sometimes dangerous.
[Sidenote: _The Hana Station._]
We have been several times at Hana, a station on the eastern shore of
East Maui, and looking directly across the wide Hawaiian channel upon
Kohala. It is a beautiful and romantic little place, but very difficult
of access. On one side are numerous and deep gulches, with rapid
streams of water, often dangerous to cross. On the other side there are
extended fields of sun-heated lavas, without water or human habitations.