TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
Some minor changes to the text are noted at the end of the book.
NEW AND CHEAPER EDITION ILLUSTRATED.
JOHN G. PATON,
MISSIONARY TO THE NEW HEBRIDES.
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
EDITED BY HIS BROTHER.
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY ARTHUR T. PIERSON, D.D.
Two vols. in box, 12mo, cloth, gilt top net $2.00.
Ministerial Commendation.
“I have just laid down the most robust and the most fascinating piece
of autobiography that I have met with in many a day.... John G. Paton
was made of the same stuff with Livingstone.”—_Theodore L. Cuyler, D.D._
“I consider it unsurpassed in missionary biography. In the whole course
of my extensive reading on these topics, a more stimulating, inspiring,
and every way first-class book has not fallen into my hands. Everybody
ought to read it.”—_Arthur T. Pierson, D.D._
Missionary Praise.
“I have never read a romance that was half so thrilling.”—_Lucius C.
Smith, Guanajuato, Mexico._
“I have never read a more inspiring biography.”—_Thomas C. Winn,
Yokohama, Japan._
“The Lord’s work will not go back while there are such men as he in the
church.”—_James A. Heal, Sing Kong, Cheh Kiang, China._
“I think I have never had greater pleasure in reading any book.”—_R.
Thackswell, Dehra, North India._
Press Notices.
“Perhaps the most important addition for many years to the library of
missionary literature is the autobiography of John G. Paton.”—_The
Christian Advocate._
“We commend to all who would advance the cause of Foreign Missions
this remarkable autobiography. It stands with such books as those
Dr. Livingstone gave the world, and shows to men that the heroes of
the cross are not merely to be sought in past ages.”—_The Christian
Intelligencer._
Fleming H. Revell Company,
{ NEW YORK, 30 Union Square, E.
{ CHICAGO, 148 & 150 Madison Street.
[Illustration: MISSION HOUSE AT ANIWA.]
JOHN G. PATON,
MISSIONARY TO THE
NEW HEBRIDES.
An Autobiography.
EDITED BY HIS BROTHER.
_SECOND PART._
New Illustrated Edition.
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK CHICAGO
30 UNION SQUARE, EAST. 148-150 MADISON STREET.
INTRODUCTORY NOTE.
BY ARTHUR T. PIERSON, D.D.
The avidity with which Part I. of Mr. Paton’s remarkable life-story
was received by the public in England has been no surprise. Before
this second part was issued from the press, three thousand copies were
already sold; and the entire edition of five thousand was so soon
exhausted that it has been impossible to cope with the demand.
We have no hesitation in pronouncing this second part the most
fascinating narrative of missionary adventure and heroism and success
that we have ever met. This volume abounds in poetry and pathos,
dramatic incident and thrilling experience, lit up by the golden rays
of a delicate and unique humor. It reminds one of a varied landscape
with bold mountains and modest valleys, where snow-crowned summits look
down on summer gardens; where cascades fall into quiet streams, and
where all the marvels of light and shade at once relieve and diversify
the scene. The twenty-two miles’ gallop through the Australian Bush
on the back of Garibaldi, which made the inexperienced rider drunk
with excitement and fatigue; the Aniwan woman who, judging clothes an
evidence of a new heart, approved her decided conversion by coming into
chapel having her person grotesquely adorned with every article of male
attire which she could beg or borrow, may illustrate the comical side
of this charming story. The three years of progress among cannibals, in
laying foundations of Christian families, schools, churches, and even
social order, may serve as one of the greatest vindications, through
all history, of that Gospel which is still the power of God and the
wisdom of God unto salvation.
PREFACE.
It is a true joy to me, that I am enabled to place Part Second of my
brother’s Autobiography in the hands of the Public without undue delay.
The amount of interesting and precious material, entrusted to me to be
re-written and prepared for the Press, has, by its very abundance and
variety, landed me in the greatest perplexity. Amidst all the toil and
anxiety of producing such a book, my only painful experience has been
the necessity of cutting out page after page, every whit as beautiful
and valuable as any of the pages for which room has been found.
That observation applies very specially to the “Letters,” which
constitute Chapter IX. These I verily regret to publish in mere
fragments, instead of in their own rounded completeness.
Two whole Chapters, as outlined by my brother, I am sorrowfully
necessitated to omit, so that the Life-Story itself may not be too
much enlarged or overloaded. The one refers to “The Kanaka, or Labour
Traffic in the South Seas”; and the other to “Annexation, and the
Future of the New Hebrides.” Both are of vital import among the Public
Questions of the day; and, in the discussion of both, his position and
opportunities have led him to take a not inconsiderable share. But the
claims of what may more properly be regarded as the Personal Narrative
were paramount; and the allotted space, within the limits of this
volume, left me, for the present at least, no other choice.
Readers would think me foolishly uplifted, if I indicated one-hundredth
part of the chorus of approbation, that has reached me regarding Part
First of this Autobiography. My best wish for the Second Volume is that
it may be similarly welcomed; and that it may bring a special blessing
to as many hearts in all quarters of the world. More than that I could
not reasonably anticipate.
JAMES PATON,
_Editor_.
_Glasgow,
October, 1889._
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
_THE FLOATING OF THE DAYSPRING._
PAGE
Preliminary Note 1
Call for a Mission Ship 2
A Brutal Captain 3
Sun-Worshippers, or Slaves? 5
The Lights of Sydney 6
Thrown upon the Lord 7
Mr. Foss’s Open Door 8
Climbing into Pulpits 9
Shipping Company for Jesus 10
The Golden Shower 12
Wanted! More Missionaries 13
Commissioned to Scotland 14
Wayside Incidents of Australian Travel 16
Lost in the Bush 17
Sinking in the Swamp 21
Put through my Catechism 23
“Do for the Parson!” 24
Crossing the Colony on Novel Conditions 25
Pay-Day at a Squatter’s 29
Three Days in a Public House 31
A Meeting among the Diggers 35
Camping Out 37
A Squatter Rescued 39
John Gilpin’s Ride through the Bush 40
CHAPTER II.
_AMONG THE ABORIGINES._
A Fire-Water Festival 47
At Tea with the Aborigines 48
“Black Fellow all Gone!” 50
The Poison-Gift of Civilization 51
The “Scattering” of the Blacks 52
The “Brute-in-human-shape” Theory 54
The Testimony of Nora 55
Nathaniel Pepper and their “Gods” 57
Smooth Stone Idols 58
Rites and Ceremonies 59
“Too Much Devil-Devil” 60
The Quest for Idols 61
Visit to Nora in the Camp 63
Independent Testimonies 65
Nora’s own Letters 68
The Aborigines in Settlements 71
CHAPTER III.
_TO SCOTLAND AND BACK._
Dr. Inglis on the Mission Crisis 73
Casting Lots before the Lord 74
Struck by Lightning 75
A Peep at London 76
A Heavenly Welcome 77
The Moderator’s Chair 78
Reformed Presbyterian Church and Free Church 80
Tour through Scotland 82
A Frosted Foot 83
The Children’s Holy League 84
Missionary Volunteers 85
A God-provided Help-Mate 86
Farewell to the Old Family Altar 88
First Peep at the _Dayspring_ 90
The _Dayspring_ in a Dead-Lock 91
Tokens of Deliverance 93
The _John Williams_ and the _Dayspring_ 95
Australia’s Special Call 98
CHAPTER IV.
_CONCERNING FRIENDS AND FOES._
First of Missionary Duties 100
Maré and Noumea 101
The French in the Pacific 103
The _Curaçoa_ Affair 104
The “Gospel and Gunpowder” Cry 105
The Missionaries on their Defence 106
The Mission Synod’s Report 107
The Shelling of the Tannese Villages 109
Public Meeting and Presbytery 111
Fighting at Bay 114
Federal Union in Missions 115
A Fiery Furnace at Geelong 116
Results of Australian Tour 119
New Hebrides Mission Adopted by Colonies 120
CHAPTER V.
_SETTLEMENT ON ANIWA._
The _John Williams_ on the Reef 123
A Native’s Soliloquy 124
Nowar Pleading for Tanna 125
The White Shells of Nowar 126
The Island of Aniwa 127
First Landing on Aniwa 129
The Site of our New Home 130
“Me no Steal!” 131
House-Building for God 132
Native Expectations 135
_Tafigeitu_ or Sorcery 136
The Miracle of Speaking Wood 138
Perils through Superstition 139
The Mission Premises—a City of God 141
Builders and their Wages 142
Great Swimming Feat 144
Stronger than the “Gods” of Aniwa 145
CHAPTER VI.
_FACE TO FACE WITH HEATHENISM._
Navalak and Nemeyan on Aniwa 149
Taia the “Orator” 150
The Two next Aneityumese Teachers 151
In the Arms of Murderers 152
Our First Aniwan Converts 153
Litsi Soré 153
Surrounded by Torches 155
Traditions of Creation, Fall, and Deluge 156
Infanticide and Wife-Murder 159
Last Heathen Dance 162
Nelwang’s Elopement 163
Yakin’s Bridal Attire 169
Christ-Spirit _versus_ War-Spirit 171
Heathenism in Death Grips 174
A Great Aniwan Palaver 175
The Sinking of the Well 176
Old Chiefs Sermon on “Rain from Below” 189
The Idols Cast Away 192
The New Social Order 194
Back of Heathenism Broken 196
CHAPTER VII.
_THE LIGHT THAT SHINETH MORE AND MORE._
My First Aniwan Book 198
The Power of Music 201
A Pair of Glass Eyes 202
Church Building for Jesus 203
The Hanging of the Bell 206
Patesa and his Bride 207
An Armed Embassage 210
Youwili’s Taboo 212
The Conversion of Youwili 216
The Tobacco Idol 218
First Communion on Aniwa 221
Our Village Day Schools 223
New Social Laws 225
A Sabbath Day’s Work on Aniwa 226
Our Week-Day Life 229
The Orphans and their Biscuits 231
The Wreck of the _Dayspring_ 233
God’s Own Finger Posts 234
“God’s Work our Guarantee” 235
Profane Swearers Rebuked 237
A Heavenly Vision 238
On Wing through New Zealand 239
Our Second _Dayspring_ 240
CHAPTER VIII.
_PEN PORTRAITS OF ANIWANS._
The Gospel in Living Capitals 241
“A Shower of Spears” 243
The Tannese Refugees 244
Pilgrimage and Death of Namakei 245
The Character of Naswai 250
Christianity and Cocoa-Nuts 254
Nerwa the Agnostic 255
Nerwa’s Beautiful Farewell 258
The Story of Ruwawa 260
Waiwai and his Wives 262
Nelwang and Kalangi 268
Mungaw and Litsi Soré 270
The Maddening of Mungaw 271
The Queen of Aniwa a Missionary 275
Surrender of Nasi to Jesus 277
Daylight Prayer Meeting on Aniwa 280
Candidates for Baptism 281
The Appeal and Testimony of Lamu 282
CHAPTER IX.
_LETTERS FROM ANIWA._
Editorial Preface 285
_Letter for 1867_ 286
Not Tanna but Aniwa 287
“Missi Paton _versus_ Teapots” 288
The Humour of Taia 288
Evening Village Prayers 289
“Make Him _Bokis_ sing” 289
My Sewing Class 289
“That No Gammon” 290
“Talk Biritania” 290
The Marriage of Kahi 291
_Letter for 1869_ 292
First Communicants on Aniwa 292
Mungaw and the Mission Boys 293
The Blessing of the _Dayspring_ 294
_Letter for 1874_ 294
Home to Aniwa 295
“Taking Possession” 296
“Another Soul Committed to our Care” 296
Hutshi and her Lover 297
Six Missionaries on Aniwa 298
_Letter for 1875_ 299
Missi Paton and “Joseph,” and the Tannese 300
A Tropical Hurricane 301
The Disgrace and Sale of Hutshi 303
Taia Baited by Nalihi 308
Earthquakes and Tidal Waves 310
Farewells 311
_Letter for 1878_ 312
A Madman at Large 312
The Passing of Yawaci 324
Madness and Death of Mungaw 325
Our Native Elders 334
Music on the Waters 335
A Wicked Vow 335
_Letter for 1879_ 336
New Year’s Day on Aniwa 336
A Miserable Slaver 337
Litsi Married Again 337
Mission Synod on Erromanga 338
Tragic and Holy Memories 339
Daylight at last on Tanna 340
Pigs in Galore 341
Arrowroot for Jehovah 341
CHAPTER X.
_LAST VISIT TO BRITAIN._
“Wanted! A Steam Auxiliary” 342
Commissioned Home to Britain 343
English Presbyterian Synod 344
United Presbyterian Synod 345
The “Veto” from the Sydney Board 345
Dr. Hood Wilson 347
The Free Church Assembly 348
Neutrality of Foreign Mission Committee 349
The Church of Scotland 350
At Holyrood and at Alva House 351
Irish Presbyterian Assembly 352
The Pan-Presbyterian Council of 1884 353
My “Plan of Campaign” 354
Old Ireland’s Response 355
Operations in Scotland 356
Seventy Letters in a Day 358
Beautiful Type of Merchant 359
My First £100 at Dundee 360
Peculiar Gifts and Offerings 361
Approach to London 364
Mildmay’s Open Door 366
Largest Single Donation 367
Personal Memories of London 368
Garden Party at Mr. Spurgeon’s 370
The Hon. Ion Keith-Falconer 371
Three New Missionaries 372
“Restitution Money” 375
The Farewell at Mildmay 376
Welcome to Victoria 377
The Dream of my Life 378
The New Mission Ship Delayed 378
Welcome back to Aniwa 379
Parting Testimony 380
Fare-thee-well 382
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
MISSION HOUSE AT ANIWA _Frontispiece_.
“ALL THE NATIVES WITHIN REACH ASSEMBLED” _To face p._ 129
I WANT YOU TO TRAIN LITSI FOR JESUS ” 153
“OH, MY NEW EYES” ” 203
“I’LL KNOCK THE TEVIL OUT OF HIM” ” 211
CHAPTER I.
_THE FLOATING OF THE “DAYSPRING.”_
Preliminary Note.—Call for a Mission Ship.—A Brutal
Captain.—Sun-Worshippers or Slaves?—The Lights of Sydney.—Thrown
upon the Lord.—Mr. Foss’s Open Door.—Climbing into
Pulpits.—Shipping Company for Jesus.—The Golden Shower.—Wanted
More Missionaries.—Commissioned to Scotland.—Wayside Incidents of
Australian Travel.—Lost in the Bush.—Sinking in the Swamp.—Put
Through My Catechism.—“Do for the Parson!”—Crossing the Colony
on Novel Conditions.—Pay-Day at a Squatter’s.—Three Days in a
Public House.—A Meeting among the Diggers.—Camping Out.—A Squatter
Rescued.—John Gilpin’s Ride through the Bush.
Strange yet gratifying news has reached me. Part First of my
Autobiography has met with a wonderful response from the Public. Within
three weeks of its appearance, a second edition has been called for.
At the Editor’s urgent appeal, therefore, and assured also that the
finger of God is guiding me, I take up my pen to write Part Second,
feeling that I am bound to do so by my promise at the close of the
first volume, and by loyalty to the Lord, who seems thus to use my
humble life-story to promote the glory of His Name both at home and
abroad.
But, oh, surely never any man was called upon to write a book amid
such distracting circumstances! Ceaselessly travelling from Church
to Church and from town to town from one end of Australia to the
other,—addressing a meeting almost every evening of the week, often
also during the afternoons, and several Congregations and Sabbath
Schools every Lord’s Day,—the following pages are the outpourings of
a heart saturated with the subject, but bereft of all opportunity for
quiet thought or studious hours.
Having thus far done my part, I leave all else to the careful
Editorship of my dear brother, whose loving hand will put everything
into shape for the public eyes. This only I can sincerely testify,—The
Lord has called for it, and I lay on His altar the only gift that I
have to offer, believing that He will both accept it and use it as He
sees to be for the best.
* * * * *
Rescued from Tanna by the _Blue Bell_ in the Spring of 1862, I was
landed on Aneityum, leaving behind me all that I owned on Earth, save
the clothes upon my back, my precious Bible, and a few translations
that I had made from it into the Tannese language. The Missionaries
on Aneityum—Messrs. Geddie and Copeland—united, after repeated
deliberations, in urging me to go to Australia in the interests of
our Mission. In this appeal they were joined now by my companions
in tribulation, Mr. and Mrs. Mathieson. A Mission Ship was sorely
needed—was absolutely required, to prevent the needless sacrifice of
devoted lives. More Missionaries were called for, and must somehow be
brought into the field, unless the hope of claiming these fair Islands
for Jesus was to be for ever abandoned.
With unaffected reluctance, I at last felt constrained to undertake
this unwelcome but apparently inevitable task. It meant the leaving of
my dear Islanders for a season; but it embraced within it the hope of
returning to them again, with perhaps every power of blessing amongst
them tenfold increased.
A _Sandal-wooder_, then lying at Aneityum, was to sail in a few days
direct for Sydney. My passage was secured for £10. And, as if to make
me realize how bare the Lord had stripped me in my late trials, the
first thing that occupied me on board was the making with my own hands,
from a piece of cloth obtained on Aneityum, another shirt for the
voyage, to change with that which I wore—the only one that had been
left to me.
The Captain proved to be a profane and brutal fellow. He professed
to be a Roman Catholic, but he was typical of the coarse and godless
Traders in those Seas. If he had exerted himself to make the voyage
disagreeable, and even disgusting, he could scarcely have had better
success. He frequently fought with the mate and steward, and his
tyrannical bearing made every one wretched. He and his Native wife
(a Heathen—but not more so than himself!) occupied the Cabin. I had
to sleep on boards, without a bed, in a place where they stored the
sandal-wood; and never could take off my clothes by night or day during
that voyage of nearly fourteen hundred miles. The vessel was miserably
supplied. Any food I got was scarcely eatable, and was sent to me in a
plate on deck. There I spent all my time, except at night or in heavy
rain, when I crept in and lay upon my planks.
The poor steward often came rushing on deck from the cabin, with blood
streaming from his face, struck by the passionate Captain with whatever
came to his hand. Yet he appeared to be a smart and obliging lad, and
I pitied him exceedingly. Seeing no hope for redress, I took careful
notes of his shocking treatment, and resolved to bide my time for
exposing this base and cruel inhumanity.
On reaching Sydney, the steward was dismissed without wages,—the
Captain having accused him to his employers of refusing to work on
board. He found me out, and told me, weeping, that he cared more for
his poor aged mother than himself, as his pay was all her support. On
my advice, he informed the Captain that he would summon him, and that
I had consented to appear in Court and produce my notes of what I had
seen, day by day, on the voyage. He was immediately paid in full, and
came to me big with gratitude.
One hesitates to dwell further on this miserable episode. But I must
relate how my heart bled for some poor Islanders also, whom that
Captain had on board. They knew not a word of English, and no one in
the vessel knew a sound of their language. They were made to work, and
to understand what was expected of them, only by hard knocks and blows,
being pushed and pulled hither and thither. They were kept quite naked
on the voyage up; but, when nearing Sydney, each received two yards
of calico to be twisted as a kilt around his loins. A most pathetic
spectacle it was to watch these poor Natives,—when they had leisure to
sit on deck,—gazing, gazing, intently and imploringly, upon the face
of the Sun! This they did every day, and at all hours, and I wept much
to look on them, and not be able to tell them of the Son of God, the
Light of the world, for I knew no word of their language. Perhaps they
were worshippers of the Sun; and perhaps, amid all their misery, oh,
_perhaps_, some ray of truth from the great Father of Lights may have
streamed into those darkened souls!
When we arrived at Sydney, the Inspecting Officer of the Government,
coming on board, asked how these Islanders came to be there. The
Captain impudently replied that they were “passengers.” No further
question was put. No other evidence was sought. Yet all who knew
anything of our South-Sea Island Traders were perfectly aware that
the moral certainty was that these Natives were there practically as
Slaves. They would be privately disposed of by the Captain to the
highest bidder; and that, forsooth, is to be called the _Labour_
Traffic.
About midnight we came to anchor in Sydney harbour. The Captain
condescended to say, “I will not drive you ashore to-night, but you
must be off by daylight.” His orders might have been spared. It was too
great a relief to get away from such coarseness and profanity.
As we came to anchorage, I anxiously paced the deck, gazing towards the
gas-lighted city, and pleading with God to open up my way, and give
success in the work before me, on which the salvation of thousands
of the Heathen might depend. Still I saw them perishing, still heard
their wailing cry on the Islands behind me. I saw them groaning under
blinding superstitions, and imbruing their hands in each other’s blood,
and I felt as if crushed by the awful responsibility of my work and by
the thought of all that hung upon its success or failure. But I felt
also that there must be many of God’s dear people in Sydney who would
sympathize with such work and help me, if only I could get access to
them. At the same time, I knew not a soul in that great city; though I
had a note of introduction to one person, which, as experience proved,
I would have been better without.
Unfortunately, I had not with me a copy of the Resolution of the
Missionaries, commissioning me to plead their cause and to raise funds
for the new Mission Ship. Again and again I had earnestly requested it,
but the Clerk of the meeting, pressed by correspondence, or for some
other reason, gave me instead that note of introduction, which proved
more of a hindrance than a help in launching my work; except that it
threw me more exclusively on the guidance of my Lord, and taught me to
trust in Him, and in the resources He had given me, rather than in any
human aid, from that day till the present hour.
That friend, however, did his best. He kindly called with me on a
number of Ministers and others. They heard my story, sympathized
with me, shook hands, and wished me success; but, strangely enough,
something “very special” prevented every one of them from giving
me access to his pulpit or Sabbath School. At length, I felt so
disappointed, so miserable, that I wished I had been in my grave with
my dear departed and my brethren on the Islands who had fallen around
me, in order that the work on which so much now appeared to depend
might have been entrusted to some one better fitted to accomplish it.
The heart seemed to keep repeating, “All these things are against thee.”
Finding out at last the Rev. A. Buzacott, then retired, but formerly
the successful and honoured representative of the London Missionary
Society on Rarotonga, considerable light was let in upon the mysteries
of my last week’s experiences. He informed me that the highly esteemed
friend, who had kindly been introducing me all round, was at that
moment immersed in a keen Newspaper war with Presbyterians and
Independents. He had published statements and changes of view, which
charged them with being unscriptural in belief and practice. They, of
course, were rigorously defending themselves. This made it painfully
manifest that, in order to succeed, I must strike out a new course for
myself, and one clear from all local entanglement.
Paying a fortnight in advance, I withdrew even from the lodging I had
taken, and turned to the Lord more absolutely for guidance. He brought
me into contact with good and generous-souled servants of His, the
open-hearted Mr. and Mrs. Foss. Though entire strangers, they kindly
invited me to be their guest while in Sydney, assuring me that I would
meet with many Ministers and other Christians at their house who could
help me in my work. God had opened the door; I entered with a grateful
heart; they will not miss their recompence.
A letter and appeal had been already printed on behalf of our Mission.
I now re-cast and reprinted it, adding a postscript, and appending my
own name and new address. This was widely circulated among Ministers
and others engaged in Christian work; and by this means, and by letters
in the Newspapers, I did everything in my power to make our Mission
known. But one week had passed, and no response came. One Lord’s Day
had gone by, and no pulpit had been opened to me. I was perplexed
beyond measure, how to get access to Congregations and Sabbath Schools;
though a Something deep in my soul assured me, that if once my lips
were opened, the Word of the Lord would not return void.
On my second Sabbath in Sydney, I wandered out with a great yearning at
heart to get telling my message to any soul that would listen. It was
the afternoon; and children were flocking into a Church that I passed.
I followed them—that yearning growing stronger every moment. My God so
ordered it, that I was guided thus to the Chalmers Presbyterian Church.
The Minister, the Rev. Mr. McSkimming, addressed the children. At the
close I went up and pleaded with him to allow me ten minutes to speak
to them. After a little hesitation, and having consulted together,
they gave me fifteen minutes. Becoming deeply interested, the good man
invited me to preach to his Congregation in the evening. This was duly
intimated in the Sabbath School; and thus my little boat was at last
launched—surely by the hand of the dear Lord, with the help of His
little children.
The kindly Minister, now very deeply interested, offered to spend the
next day in introducing me to his clerical brethren. For his sake, I
was most cordially received by them all, but especially by Dr. Dunsmore
Lang, who greatly helped me; and now access was granted me to almost
every Church and Sabbath School, both Presbyterian and Independent.
In Sabbath Schools, I got a collection in connection with my address,
and distributed, with the sanction of Superintendents, Collecting
Cards amongst the children, to be returned through the teachers within
a specified date. In Congregations, I received for the Mission the
surplus over and above the ordinary collection when I preached on
Sabbaths, and the full collection at all week-night meetings for which
I could arrange.
I now appealed to a few of the most friendly Ministers to form
themselves into an Honorary Committee of advice; and, at my earnest
request, they got J. Goodlet, Esq., an excellent elder, to become
Honorary Treasurer, and to take charge of all funds raised for the
Mission Ship. For the Public knew nothing of me; but all knew my good
Treasurer and these faithful Ministers, and had confidence in the
work. They knew that every penny went direct to the Mission; and they
saw that my one object was to promote God’s glory in the conversion
of the Heathen. Our dear Lord Jesus thus opened up my way, and now I
had invitations from more Schools and Congregations than I knew how to
overtake—the response in money being also gratifying beyond almost all
expectation.
It was now that I began a little plan of interesting the children,
that attracted them from the first, and has since had an amazing
development. I made them shareholders in the new Mission Ship—each
child receiving a printed form, in acknowledgment of the number of
shares, at sixpence each, of which he was the owner. Thousands of
these shares were taken out, were shown about amongst families, and
were greatly prized. The Ship was to be their very own! They were to
be a great Shipping Company for Jesus. In hundreds of homes, these
receipt-forms have been preserved; and their owners, now in middle
years, are training _their_ children of to-day to give their pennies to
support the white-winged Angel of the Seas, that bears the Gospel and
the Missionary to the Heathen Isles.
Let no one think me ungrateful to my good Treasurer and his wife, to
Dr. and Mrs. Moon, and to other dear friends who generously helped me,
when I trace step by step how the Lord opened up my way. The Angel
of His Presence went before me, and wonderfully moved His people to
contribute in answer to my poor appeals. I had indeed to make all
my own arrangements, and correspond regarding all engagements and
details,—to me, always a slow and laborious writer, a very burdensome
task. But it was all necessary in order to the fulfilment of the Lord’s
purposes; and, to one who realizes that he is a fellow-labourer with
Jesus, every yoke that He lays on becomes easy and every burden light.
Having done all that could at that time be accomplished in New South
Wales, and as rapidly as possible, my Committee gave me a Letter of
Commendation to Victoria. But there I had no difficulty. The ministers
had heard of our work in Sydney. They received me most cordially, and
at my request formed themselves into a Committee of Advice. Our dear
friend, James McBain, Esq., now Sir James, became Honorary Treasurer.
All moneys from this Colony, raised by my pleading for the Ship,
were entrusted to him; and, ultimately, the acknowledging of every
individual sum cost much time and labour. Dr. Cairns, and many others
now gone to their rest, along with several honoured Ministers yet
living, formed my Committee. The Lord richly reward them all in that
Day!
As in New South Wales, I made all my own engagements, and arranged
for Churches and Sabbath Schools as best I could. Few in the other
Denominations of Victoria gave any help, but the Presbyterians rose
to our appeal as with one heart. God moved them by one impulse; and
Ministers, Superintendents, Teachers and Children heartily embraced the
scheme as their own. I addressed three or four meetings every Sabbath,
and one or more every week-day; and thus travelled over the length and
breadth of Victoria, Tasmania, and South Australia. Wheresoever a few
of the Lord’s people could be gathered together, thither I gladly went,
and told the story of our Mission, setting forth its needs and claims.
The contributions and collections were nearly all in very small sums.
I recall only one exception,—a gift of £250 from the late Hon. G.
F. Angus, South Australia, whose heart the Lord had touched. Yet
gently and steadily the required money began to come pouring in; and
my personal outlays were reduced to a minimum by the hospitality of
Christian friends and their kindly conveying of me from place to
place. For all this I felt deeply grateful; it saved money for the
Lord’s work.
Each of my Treasurers, to whom all contributions were sent direct, kept
me duly posted as to sums received from time to time. The progress made
soon led on to the resolution to aim at a Ship three times the size of
that originally proposed. We set apart the sum of £3,000 as necessary
for it; and I vowed, in my solitude, that if God sent an additional
£800 within a given time, that would be my Gideon’s fleece, and would
warrant me in going home to Scotland to secure more Missionaries
for the Islands. By this time, I had heard of the death of my dear
fellow-labourers, Mrs. Mathieson on Aneityum, and shortly thereafter
Mr. Mathieson on Maré. I alone was now left to tell the story of the
planting of the Standard on Tanna,—our Mission numbered then only four
agents in the field,—and the thought arose, Why keep a Mission Vessel
for so few? The resolution was, therefore, taken in God’s Name to get
more Missionaries too. But this, as yet, was betwixt my own soul and
the Lord.
The work was unceasingly prosecuted. Meetings were urged upon me now
from every quarter. Money flowed in so freely that, at the close of
my tour, the fund had risen to £5,000, including special Donations of
£300 for the support of Native Teachers. Many Sabbath Schools, and many
ladies and gentlemen, had individually promised the sum of £5 yearly
to keep a Native Teacher on one or other of the New Hebrides Islands.
This happy custom prevails still, and is largely developed; the sum
required being now £6 per annum at least—for which you may have your
own personal representative toiling among the Heathen and telling them
of Jesus.
Returning to Melbourne, the whole matter was laid before my Committee.
I reported how God had blessed the undertaking, and what sums were now
in the hands of the several Treasurers, indicating also what larger
hopes and plans had been put into my soul. Dear Dr. Cairns rose and
said, “Sir, it is of the Lord. This whole enterprise is of God, and
not of us. Go home, and He will give you more Missionaries for the
Islands.” My ever-honoured friends, Dr. and Mrs. Inglis, had just
returned to Melbourne from Britain, where they had been carrying the
complete New Testament in Aneityumese through the press. Dr. Inglis was
present at that meeting, and approved warmly of my going home for more
Missionaries, especially as from want of time and opportunity he had
not himself succeeded in getting any additions to our Missionary staff.
Melbourne held a Farewell meeting. The Governor, Sir Henry Barkley,
took the chair. The Hall was crowded; and the Governor’s sympathetic
utterances arrested public attention and deepened the interest in
our Mission. The fact was emphasized that this work, lying at their
very doors in the Pacific Seas, had peculiar claims on the heart and
conscience of Australia.
Thence I hasted to Sydney, and reported myself also there. The New
South Wales Committee gave their cordial approval to our larger plans.
A Farewell was held there too; and the Governor, Sir John Young, took
the chair. The meeting was a great success. His presence, and his
excellent speech, again helped to fix the eyes of all Australians on
the peculiar claims of the New Hebrides. This was _their_ work, more
than that of any other people on the face of the Earth. The awakening
of this consciousness, and intensifying it into a practical and burning
faith, was a great and far-reaching achievement for Australia and for
the Islanders. It is one of the purest joys of my life, that in this
work I was honoured to have some share, along with many other dear
servants of the Lord.
Of the money which I had raised, £3,000 were sent to Nova Scotia, to
pay for the building of our new Mission Ship, the _Dayspring_. The
Church which began the Mission on the New Hebrides was granted the
honour of building its first Mission Ship. The remainder was set apart
to pay for the outfit and passage of additional Missionaries for the
field, and I was commissioned to return home to Scotland in quest of
them. Dr. Inglis wrote, in vindication of this enterprise, to the
friends whom he had just left, “From first to last, Mr. Paton’s mission
here has been a great success; and it has been followed up with such
energy and promptitude in Nova Scotia, both in regard to the Ship and
the Missionaries, that Mr. Paton’s pledge to the Australian Churches
has been fully redeemed. The hand of the Lord has been very visible in
the whole movement from beginning to end, and we trust He has yet great
blessing in store for the long and deeply degraded Islanders.”
Here let me turn aside from the current of Missionary toils, and record
a few wayside incidents that marked some of my wanderings to and fro
in connection with the Floating of the _Dayspring_. Travelling in the
Colonies in 1862-63 was vastly less developed than it is to-day; and a
few of my experiences then will for many reasons be not unwelcome to
most readers of this book. Besides, these incidents, one and all, will
be felt to have a vital connection with the main purpose of writing
this Autobiography, namely, to show that the Finger of God is as
visible still, to those who have eyes to see, as when the fire-cloud
Pillar led His People through the wilderness.
Twenty-six years ago, the roads of Australia, except those in and
around the principal towns, were mere tracks over unfenced plains and
hills, and on many of them packhorses only could be used in slushy
weather. During long journeys through the bush, the traveller could
find his road only by following the deep notches, gashed by friendly
precursors into the larger trees, and all pointing in one direction.
If he lost his way, he had to struggle back to the last indented tree,
and try to interpret more correctly its pilgrim notch. Experienced
bush-travellers seldom miss the path; yet many others, losing the
track, have wandered round and round till they sank and died. For then,
it was easy to walk thirty or forty miles, and see neither a person nor
a house. The more intelligent do sometimes guide their steps by sun,
moon, and stars, or by glimpses of mountain peaks or natural features
on the far and high horizon, or by the needle of the compass; but the
perils are not illusory, and occasionally the most experienced have
miscalculated and perished.
An intelligent gentleman, a sheep farmer, who knew the country well,
once kindly volunteered to lift me in an out-of-the-way place, and
drive me to a meeting at his Station. Having a long spell before us, we
started at midday in a buggy drawn by a pair of splendid horses, in the
hope of reaching our destination before dusk. He turned into the usual
bush-track through the forests, saying,—
“I know this road well; and we must drive steadily, as we have not a
moment to lose.”
Our conversation became absorbingly interesting. After we had driven
about three hours, he remarked,—
“We must soon emerge into the open plain.”
I doubtfully replied, “Surely we cannot have turned back! These trees
and bushes are wonderfully like those we passed at starting.”
He laughed, and made me feel rather vexed that I had spoken, when he
said, “I am too old a hand in the bush for that! I have gone this road
many a time before.”
But my courage immediately revived, for I got what appeared to me a
glint of the roof of the Inn beyond the bush, from which we had started
at noon, and I repeated, “I am certain we have wheeled, and are back at
the beginning of our journey; but there comes a Chinaman; let us wait
and inquire.”
My dear friend learned, to his utter amazement, that he had erred. The
bush-track was entered upon once more, and followed with painful care,
as he murmured, half to himself, “Well, this beats all reckoning! I
could have staked my life that this was impossible.”
Turning to me, he said, with manifest grief, “Our meeting is done for!
It will be midnight before we can arrive.”
The sun was beginning to set, as we reached the thinly timbered ground.
Ere dusk fell, he took his bearings with the greatest possible care.
Beyond the wood, a vast plain stretched before us, where neither fence
nor house was visible, far as the eye could reach. He drove steadily
towards a far-distant point, which was in the direction of his home.
At last we struck upon the wire fence that bounded his property. The
horses were now getting badly fagged; and, in order to save them a
long round-about drive, he lifted and laid low a portion of the fence,
led his horses cautiously over it, and, leaving it to be re-erected
by a servant next day, he started direct for the Station. That
seemed a long journey too; but it was for him familiar ground; and
through amongst great patriarchal trees here and there, and safely
past dangerous water-holes, we swung steadily on, reached his home in
safety, and had a joyous welcome. The household had by this time got
into great excitement over our non-appearance. The expected meeting
had, of course, been abandoned hours ago; and the people were all gone,
wondering in their hearts “whereto this would grow!”
At that time, in the depth of winter, the roads were often wrought
into rivers of mire, and at many points almost impassable even for
well-appointed conveyances. In connection therewith, I had one very
perilous experience. I had to go from Clunes to a farm in the Learmouth
district. The dear old Minister there, Mr. Downes, went with me to
every place where a horse could be hired; but the owners positively
refused—they would sell, but they would not hire, for the conveyance
would be broken, and the horse would never return alive! Now, I was
advertised to preach at Learmouth, and must somehow get over the nine
miles that lay between. This would have been comparatively practicable,
were it not that I carried with me an indispensable bag of “curios,”
and a heavy bundle of clubs, arrows, dresses, etc., from the Islands,
wherewith to illustrate my lectures and enforce my appeals. No one
could be hired to carry my luggage, nor could I get it sent after me by
coach on that particular way. Therefore, seeing no alternative opening
in my path, I committed myself once more to the Lord, as in harder
trials before, shouldered my bundle of clubs, lifted my heavy bag, and
started off on foot. They urged me fervently to desist; but I heard a
voice repeating, “As thy days, so shall thy strength be.” There came
back to me also the old adage that had in youthful difficulties spurred
me on, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” And I thought that, with
these two in his heart, a Scotchman would not be easily beaten.
When I found the road wrought into mire, and dangerous, or impassable,
I climbed the fence, and waded along in the ploughed fields—though they
were nearly as bad. My bundle was changed from shoulder to shoulder,
and my bag from hand to hand, till I became thoroughly tired of both.
Pressing on, however, I arrived at a wayside Public House, where
several roads met, and there I inquired the way to Learmouth, and how
far it was. The Innkeeper, pointing, answered,—
“This is the road. If you are on horseback, it might be three to four
miles just now, as your horse is able to take it. If you are in a
conveyance, with a good horse, it might be six miles. And if you are
walking, it might be eight or ten miles, or even more.”
I said, “I am walking. How many English miles is it to Mr. Baird’s
farm?”
He laughingly replied, “You will find it a long way indeed this dark
night, considering the state of the road, fenced in on both sides so
that you cannot get off.”
I passed on, leaving my Job’s comforter; but a surly watch-dog got upon
my track, and I had much difficulty in keeping it from biting me. Its
attacks, renewed upon me again and again, had one good effect,—they
stirred up my spirits and made me hasten on.
Having persevered along the Learmouth road, I next met a company of men
hastening on with a bundle of ropes. They were on their way to relieve
a poor bullock, which by this time had almost disappeared, sinking in
the mire on the public highway! They kindly pointed me to a light,
visible through the dusk. That was the farm at which I was to stay, and
they advised me to clear the fence, and make straight for that light,
as the way was good.
With thankful heart, I did so. The light was soon lost to me, but
I walked steadily on in the direction thereof, to the best of my
judgment. Immediately I began to feel the ground all floating under
me. Then at every step I took, or tried to take, I sank deeper and
deeper, till at last I durst not move either backward or forward. I
was floundering in a deadly swamp. I called out again and again, and
“coo-ee-d” with all my strength, but there came no reply. It grew
extremely dark, while I kept praying to God for deliverance. About
midnight, I heard two men conversing, apparently at no very great
distance. I began “coo-ee-ing” again, but my strength was failing.
Fortunately, the night was perfectly calm. The conversation ceased for
a while; but I kept on crying for help. At length, I heard one voice
remark to the other,—“Some one is in the swamp.” And then a question
came, “Who’s there?”
I answered, “A stranger. Oh, do help me!”
Again a voice came through the darkness, “How did you get in there?”
And I feebly replied, “I have lost my way.”
I heard the one say to the other: “I will go and get him out, whoever
he may be. We must not leave him there; he’ll be dead before the
morning. As you pass by our door, tell my wife that I’m helping some
poor creature out of the swamp, and will be home immediately.”
He kept calling to me, and I answering his call through the darkness,
till, not without peril, he managed to reach and aid me. Once I was
safely dragged out, he got my bag in his hand and slung my clubs on
his shoulder, and in a very short time landed me at the farm, dripping
and dirty and cold. Had God not sent that man to save me, I must have
perished there, as many others have similarly perished before. The
farmer heartily welcomed me and kindly ministered to all my needs.
Though not yet gone to rest, they had given up all hope of seeing me. I
heard the kind servant say to his mistress,—
“I don’t know where he came from, or how far he has carried his
bundles; but I got him stuck fast in the swamp, and my shoulder is
already sore from carrying his clubs!”
A cup of warm tea restored me. The Lord gave me a sound and blessed
sleep. I rose next morning wonderfully refreshed, though arms and
shoulders were rather sore with the burdens of yesterday. I conducted
three Services, and told the story of my Mission, not without comfort
and blessing; and with gratifying results in money. The people gave
liberally to the work.
One day, after this, I was driving a long distance on the outside of
a crowded coach. A grave and sensible-looking Scotchman sat next me.
He had inquiringly marked me reading in silence, while all around were
conversing on matters of common interest. At last, he queried,—“Are you
a Minister?” I answered, “Yes.”
“Where is your Church?”
“I have no Church.”
“Where are you placed?”
“I am not placed in any charge now.”
“Where is your home?”
“I have no home.”
“Where have you come from?”
“The South Sea Islands.”
“What are you doing in Australia?”
“Pleading the cause of the Mission.”
“Are you a Presbyterian?”
“I am.”
Having gone through this Catechism to his satisfaction, a most
interesting and profitable conversation followed. When the time came
for the payment of fares, nothing would please but that I must allow
him to pay for me—some twenty-two shillings—which he did with all his
heart, protesting,—
“A joy to me, Sir, a great joy; I honour you for your work’s sake!”
Thereafter, a Schoolmaster drove me a long distance across the country
to Violet Town, where for the night we had to stay at an Inn. We had
a taste of what Australian life really was, when the land was being
broken in. A company of wild and reckless men were carousing there at
the time, and our arrival was the signal for an outbreak of malicious
mischief. A powerful fellow, who turned out to be a young Medical,
rushed upon me as I left the conveyance, seized me by the throat, and
shook me roughly, shouting,—
“A parson, a parson! I will do for the parson!”
Others with great difficulty relieved me from his grips, and dragged
him away, cursing as if at his mortal enemy.
After tea, we got into the only bedroom in the house, available for
two. The Teacher and I locked ourselves in and barricaded the door,
hearing in the next room a large party of drunken men gambling and
roaring over their cards. By-and-by they quarrelled and fought; they
smashed in and out of their room, and seemed to be murdering each
other; every moment we expected our door to come crashing in, as they
were thrown or lurched against it. Their very language made us tremble.
One man in particular seemed to be badly abused; he shouted that they
were robbing him of his money; and he groaned and cried for protection,
all in vain. We spent a sleepless and most miserable night. At four in
the morning I arose, and was glad to get away by the early coach. My
friend also left in his own conveyance, and reached his home in safety.
At that period, it was not only painful but dangerous for any decent
traveller to stay at many of these wayside Inns, in the new and rough
country. Every man lived and acted just as he pleased, doing that which
was right in his own eyes; and Might was Right.
After this, I made a Mission tour, in a somewhat mixed and original
fashion, right across the Colony of Victoria, from Albury in New South
Wales to Mount Gambier in South Australia. I conducted Mission Services
almost every day, and three or more every Sabbath, besides visiting
all Sunday Schools that could be touched on the way. When I reached a
gold-digging or township, where I had been unable to get any one to
announce a meeting, the first thing I did on arriving was to secure
some Church or Hall, and, failing that, to fix on some suitable spot in
the open air. Then, I was always able to hire some one to go round with
the bell, and announce the meeting. Few will believe how large were
the audiences in this way gathered together, and how very substantial
was the help that thereby came to the Mission fund. Besides, I know
that much good was done to many of those addressed; for I have always,
to this hour, combined the Evangelist’s appeal with the Missionary’s
story, in all public addresses, whether on Sabbath or other days. I
tried to bring every soul to feel personal duty and responsibility to
the Lord Jesus, for I knew that then they would rightly understand the
claims of the Heathen.
Wheresoever railway, steamboat, and coach were available, I always used
them; but failing these, I hired, or was obliged to friends of Missions
for driving me from place to place. On this tour, having reached
a certain place, from which my way lay for many miles across the
country where there was no public conveyance, I walked to the nearest
squatter’s Station and frankly informed the owner how I was situated;
that I could not hire, and that I would like to stay at his house all
night, if he would kindly send me on in the morning by any sort of trap
to the next Station on my list. He happened to be a good Christian
and a Presbyterian, and gave me a right cordial welcome. A meeting of
his servants was called, which I had the pleasure of addressing. Next
morning, he gave me £20, and sent me forward with his own conveyance,
telling me to retain it all day, if necessary.
On reaching the next squatter’s Station, I found the master also at
home, and said,—
“I am a Missionary from the South Sea Islands. I am crossing Victoria
to plead the cause of the Mission. I would like to rest here for an
hour or two. Could you kindly send me on to the next Station by your
conveyance? If not, I am to keep the last squatter’s buggy, until I
reach it.”
Looking with a queer smile at me, he replied,—“You propose a rather
novel condition on which to rest at my house! My horses are so employed
to-day, I fear that I may have difficulty in sending you on. But come
in; both you and your horses need rest; and my wife will be glad to see
you.”
I immediately discovered that the good lady came from Glasgow, from a
street in which I had lodged when a student at the Free Normal College.
I even knew some of her friends. All the places of her youthful
associations were equally familiar to me. We launched out into deeply
interesting conversation, which finally led up, of course, to the story
of our Mission.
The gentleman, by this time, had so far been won, that he slipped out
and sent my conveyance and horses back to their owner, and ordered his
own to be ready to take me to the next Station, or, if need be, to the
next again. At parting, the lady said to her husband,—
“The Missionary has asked no money, though he sees we have been deeply
interested; yet clearly that is the object of his tour. He is the first
Missionary from the Heathen that ever visited us here; and you must
contribute something to his Mission fund.”
I thanked her, explaining, “I never ask money directly from any
person for the Lord’s work. My part is done when I have told my story
and shown the needs of the Heathen and the claims of Christ; but I
gratefully receive all that the Lord moves His people to give for the
Mission.”
Her husband replied, rather sharply, “You know I don’t keep money here.”
To which she retorted with ready tact and with a resistless smile, “But
you keep a cheque book; and your cheque is as good as gold! This is the
first donation we ever gave to such a cause, and let it be a good one.”
He made it indeed handsome, and I went on my way, thanking them very
sincerely, and thanking God.
At the next Station, the owner turned out to be a gruff Irishman,
forbidding and insolent. Stating my case to him as to the others, he
shouted at me, “Go on! I don’t want to be troubled with the loikes o’
you here.”
I answered, “I am sorry if my coming troubles you; but I wish you every
blessing in Christ Jesus. Good-bye!”
As we drove off, he shouted curses after us. On leaving his door, I
heard a lady calling to him from the window: “Don’t let that Missionary
go away! Make haste and call him back. I want the children to see the
idols and the South Sea curios.”
At first he drowned her appeal in his own shoutings. But she must
have persisted effectually; for shortly we heard him “coo-ee-ing,” and
stopped. When he came up to us, he explained: “That lady in my house
heard you speaking in Melbourne. The ladies and children are very
anxious to see your idols, dresses, and weapons. Will you please come
back?”
We did so. I spent fifteen minutes or so, giving them information about
the Natives and our Mission. As I left, our boisterous friend handed me
a cheque for £5, and wished me great success!
The next Station at which we arrived was one of the largest of all.
It happened to be a sort of pay day, and men were assembled from all
parts of the run, and were to remain there over night. The squatter and
his family were from home; but Mr. Todd, the overseer, being a good
Christian and a Scotchman, was glad to receive us, arranged to hold a
meeting that evening in the men’s hut, and promised to set me forward
on my journey next day. The meeting was very enthusiastic; and they
subscribed £20 to the Mission—every man being determined to have so
many shares in the new Mission Ship. With earnest personal dealing, I
urged the claims of the Lord Jesus upon all who were present, seeking
the salvation of every hearer. I ever found even the rough digger, and
the lowest of the hands about faraway Stations, most attentive and
perfectly respectful.
To the honour of Australia I must here record, that anything like
uncivil treatment was a rare exception in all my travels. Sometimes,
indeed, I have suspected that people were acting as if to say, Let
us treat him kindly, do as little for his cause as we can, and get
rid of him as quickly as possible! But, as a rule, almost without an
exception, I have met with remarkable kindness, hospitality, and help
from all the Ministers and people of Australia. Scarcely ever, at any
place visited, was I without one or more invitations to be guest of
some of the Lord’s people; and I was there treated as a dear friend
of the family, rather than a passing stranger. Colonials, indeed, are
proverbial for the open door and the generous hand to pilgrims by the
way. May the Divine Master grant them evermore of His own Spirit, with
His ever-enriching blessings on their Souls and in their homes!
Disappointments and successes were strangely intermingled. Once I
travelled a very long way to conduct a meeting at a certain township.
I had written pleading with the Minister to make due intimation; but
he had informed no person of my intended visit, neither had he written
to me, which he could easily have done. When I arrived, he met me on
horseback, said, “I have arranged no meeting here,” and instantly rode
away. Only two coaches weekly passed that way, so I had to remain
there at a Public House for the next three days. Drinking and noise,
of course, abounded; but they kindly gave me a small back room, as far
away as possible, and looking out into a quiet garden. It was to cost
me thirteen shillings and sixpence per day; and there I sat patiently
and somewhat sadly working up my heavy correspondence. The district was
rich, and I knew that there were pious as well as wealthy people there,
who could have been interested in our Mission and would have helped
me,—hence my keen disappointment.
On the afternoon of the second day, I saw a beautiful garden from my
bedroom window, wherein a considerable party of ladies, gentlemen,
and handsomely dressed children were disporting in happy amusements.
Thinking that they were growing tired, and might not object to a little
variety, I summoned courage to walk up and ask for the gentleman of
the house. I told him that I was a Missionary from the South Sea
Islands and had come here to address a meeting, and how I had been
disappointed; that I was staying at the Public House till the next Mail
passed inland, and that I had there some Heathen idols, clubs, dresses,
and “curios,” which perhaps the ladies and children would like to see,
and to hear a little about the Lord’s work on the Islands. I explained
also that I asked no money and received no reward, but only wished an
opportunity of interesting them in this work of God. He consulted the
company. They were eager to see what I had got, and to hear what I had
to say.
On returning with my bundle of “curios,” I found them all arranged
under the verandah, and a chair placed in front for me and my articles
of mystery. They eagerly examined everything, and listened to my
description of its uses. I gave them a short account of the Islanders
and of our efforts to carry to them the Gospel of Jesus. I pressed on
them the blessings and the advantages of the great Redemption, and the
peace and joy of living for and walking daily with God here, in the
assured hope of eternal glory with Him hereafter; and I urged one and
all to love and serve the Lord Jesus. Having stated how I came to be
there, and how I had been disappointed, knowing that many would have
sympathized with and helped my Mission if only I could have addressed
them, I intimated that I would not ask any contributions, but I would
leave a few of the Collecting Cards for the new Mission Ship; and if,
after what they had heard, they chose to do anything, all money was to
be sent to the Treasurer at Melbourne.
Some offered me donations, but I declined, saying, “I am a stranger to
you all. The Minister has cast suspicion on me by refusing to intimate
any meeting. In the circumstances, I can in this case receive nothing.
But I will rejoice if you all do whatever you can for the precious
work of our Lord Jesus among the Heathen, and send it on to Melbourne,
whence every penny will be acknowledged in due time.”
Many took cards and became eager collectors for the Mission; and I
knew, ere I returned to the Public House that day, that the Lord’s
finger was here also, and that the trial of disappointment through the
Minister was being already over-ruled for good.
This was even more remarkably manifested on the evening of that same
day, and within the said Public House itself. A very large number of
men were assembled there, some at tea, and others drinking noisily,
on their return from a great cattle market and show. I tried to get
into conversation with some of the quieter spirits, and produced and
explained to them the idols, clubs, and dresses, till nearly all
crowded eagerly around me. Then I told them the story of our Mission,
in process of which I managed to urge the Gospel message on their own
hearts also; and invited them to ask questions at the close. The rough
fellows became wonderfully interested. Several took Collecting Cards
for the _Dayspring_ fund. And the publican and his wife were thereafter
very kind, declining to take anything from me either for bed or
meals—another gleam out of the darkness!
It is my conviction that in these ways the Lord helped me to gain as
much, if not, more for the Mission than all that was lost through
lack of a meeting; and it is certain that I thus had opportunity of
speaking of sin and salvation, and of setting forth the claims of
Jesus before many souls that never could have been reached through
any ordinary Congregation. Again I learned to praise the Lord in all
circumstances—“Bless the Lord _at all times_, O my soul.”
A lively and memorable extemporized meeting on this tour is associated
in memory with one of my dearest friends. The district was very remote.
He, the squatter, and his beloved wife were sterling Christians, and
have been ever since warmly devoted to me. On my arrival, he invited
the people from all the surrounding Stations, as well as his own
numerous servants, to hear the story of our Mission. Next day he
volunteered to drive me a long distance over the plains of St. Arnaud,
his dear wife accompanying us. At that time there were few fences in
such districts in Australia. The drive was long, but the day had been
lovely, and the fellowship was so sweet that it still shines a sunny
spot in the fields of memory.
Having reached our destination about seven o’clock, he ordered tea at
the Inn for the whole party; and we sallied out meantime and took the
only Hall in the place, for an extemporized meeting to be held that
evening at eight o’clock. I then hired a man to go through the township
with a bell, announcing the same; while I myself went up one side of
the main street, and my friend up the other, inviting all who would
listen to us to attend the Mission meeting, where South Sea Island
idols, weapons, and dresses would be exhibited, and stories of the
Natives told.
Running back for a hurried cup of tea, I then hasted to the Hall, and
found it crowded to excess with rough and boisterous diggers. The hour
struck as I was getting my articles arranged and spread out upon the
table, and they began shouting, “Where’s the Missionary?” “Another
hoax!”—indicating that they were not unwilling for a row. I learned
that, only a few nights ago, a so-called Professor had advertised a
lecture, lifted entrance money till the Hall was crowded, and then
quietly slipped off the scene. In our case, though there was no charge,
they seemed disposed to gratify themselves by some sort of promiscuous
revenge.
Amidst the noisy chaff and rising uproar, I stepped up on the table,
and said, “Gentlemen, I am the Missionary. If you will now be silent,
the lecture will proceed. According to my usual custom, let us open the
meeting with prayer.”
The hush that fell was such a contrast to the preceding hubbub, that I
heard my heart throbbing aloud! Then they listened to me for an hour,
in perfect silence and with ever-increasing interest. At the close
I intimated that I asked no collection; but if, after what they had
heard, they would take a Collecting Card for the new Mission Ship,
and send any contributions to the Treasurer at Melbourne, I would
praise God for sending me amongst them. Many were heartily taken, and
doubtless some souls felt the “constraining love,” who had till then
been living without God. Next morning, I mounted the Mail Coach, and
started on a three days’ run, while my dear friend returned safely to
his home.
It was really very seldom, however, that I found myself thus driven to
extemporize my meetings. Some Christian friend, if not the Minister of
the place, arranged all, and advertised my coming. And the Lord greatly
helped me in carrying on the burdensome correspondence thereanent, and
keeping it always three weeks ahead.
I travelled thus over the length and breadth of New South Wales,
Victoria, Tasmania, and South Australia, telling the story of our
Mission, and delivering the Lord’s message, not only in great centres
of population, but in almost every smaller township; and not only
thereby Floating the _Dayspring_, but sowing, by God’s help, seeds of
far-reaching blessing, whose fruits will ripen through the years to
come. Blessed be His holy Name!
And here let me recall what happened at Penola, a border town between
Victoria and South Australia. In the flooded, swampy country and bad
bush-track between it and Mount Gambier the roads were impassable,
and the coach broke down. The Mail was sent forward on horseback. I
had waited for nearly a week, in the hope of getting to the Mount for
the Sabbath Services that had been arranged. At length I succeeded in
engaging a man, with a pair of horses and a light spring cart, to drive
me there for £4 10_s._ He declared the horses to be fresh, and able
for the journey. We started about mid-day; but, ere many miles had
been covered, he began to whip them severely. The horses looked utterly
exhausted, and the truth at once flashed on me. I was pleading with him
not to flog them so, when, on reaching a higher piece of ground, he
pulled up, and said,—
“I am ashamed to tell you that my horses are done! They had just come
off a journey of forty miles when we started. I have told you a lie;
but I hope you will forgive me. I was sorely in need of the hire, and
I deceived you. There is no help for it now. We must camp out for the
night on this dry ground. I do hope you won’t catch cold. You shall
sleep in the cart; I can rest under it. I will set fire to this large
fallen tree to keep us warm. I have brought a loaf of bread, and a
billy (= a bushman’s can for boiling water). We can have some tea; and,
rest assured, I shall land you there in time for the Sabbath Morning
Service.”
So saying, while I listened dumbfounded, he turned aside, unyoked the
horses, “hobbled” them, and let them go upon the grass. He made the
black tea which bushmen drink, and appeared to enjoy it. The conveyance
was drawn near to that burning tree, and I got located into it, and
was expected to rest. I sat there wide-awake during weary hours! Time
passed at a dreadfully slow pace, and sleep refused to come near me.
Kangaroos, wallabies, with other nameless wild creatures and screaming
birds, kept loud festival all around; and mosquitoes tortured me,
apparently in thousands. Towards midnight I saw a light in the distant
bush, and, awaking my companion, inquired if he could say what it might
be. He had heard that a Wesleyan farmer from near Adelaide had come
into that region to take up a sheep and cattle Station there, as in
that swampy country the grass was excellent. It might be their light,
or it might be that of some benighted party camping out like ourselves.
He assured me that he could find our way to that light, and back again
to our burning tree, and, partly to pass the time, I resolved to try.
We found the Wesleyan farmer there, living in a large bush-shed,
surrounded by a still larger enclosure wherein horses, cattle, and
sheep were kept for the night all together upon the dry ground,
awaiting the erection of houses and fencing, with which they were
busily engaged. Unseemly as was our hour of call, the dogs had
loudly announced our approach, and we got a cordial greeting, being
immediately surrounded by all the family. They eagerly listened to
everything about the Mission. We had worship together. They gave us a
hearty tea, besides a loaf of bread and a jug of milk for our breakfast
next morning—the jug to be left by us beside the burning tree, whither
they could send for it after we departed. Their regrets were genuine
and profuse that their circumstances prevented them from offering us
a bed, but we exceedingly enjoyed our intercourse with them, and felt
them to be dear Christian friends. How delightful and responsive is
the communion of those who love the Lord Jesus, wherever they meet;
and oh, what will it be in Glory, when, made like unto the Saviour, we
shall “see Him as He is!” At daybreak we were off again on our weary
journey, and reached the destination safely and in good time. A hearty
welcome awaited us from dear Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell, who had long since
despaired of my appearing. All the Services were largely attended, and
the Lord led the people to take a deep interest in our Mission, many
generous and devoted friends to it arising there, where the Minister
and his wife struck the right key-note, and were so highly and justly
esteemed.
Returning to Penola, we found that the Mail coach would not try to run
for some time. I had to reconcile myself to wait there for several
days. Every day I beheld a man staggering about at all hours under
the influence of drink. I learned that he had been a wealthy and
open-handed squatter, had lost everything, had recently laid his wife
in the grave, and now, followed about by his three little girls, was
trying to drown his sorrows in whisky. Overcome with irresistible pity,
I followed him day after day, and again and again remonstrated with
him on the madness of his conduct, especially appealing to him for his
children’s sake. At last he turned upon me, with an earnest gaze, and
said, “If you take the pledge with me, God helping me, I will keep it
for life.”
We entered the house together, signed a pledge, and solemnly invoked
God in prayer to enable us to keep it till death. For his sake, I
renewed the vow of my youthful days; and he, by my sympathy, took this
vow for the first time, and, by God’s help, he kept it. He left Penola
next day, shaking off old associates, and started a humble business
where he had once owned much of the land. He became a Christian out and
out, and has been an Elder of the Church for many years. I have often
been laughed at by whisky drinkers, and also by so-called “temperance”
men, for being a Total Abstainer; but even one case like that (and,
thank God, there are many) is an eternal reward, and can sustain us to
smile down all ridicule.
Dear reader, can you measure the effect of the example which you are
setting? Are you to-day amongst the ranks of the moderate drinkers?
Remember that from that class all drunkards have come; and ask yourself
whether you would not act more nobly and unselfishly to abstain, for
the interests of our common Humanity, for loyalty to our Lord Jesus
Christ, and for the hope of leading a pure and unstained life yourself,
as well as helping others to do so, whom Jesus died to save?
The crowning adventure of my tour came about in the following manner:
I was advertised to conduct Services at Narracoort on Sabbath, and at
a Station on the way on Saturday evening. But how to get from Penola
was a terrible perplexity. On Saturday morning, however, a young lady
offered me, out of gratitude for blessings received, the use of her
riding horse for the journey. “Garibaldi” was his name; and, though
bred for a race-horse, I was assured that if I kept him firmly in hand,
he would easily carry me over the two-and-twenty miles. He was to be
left at the journey’s end, and the lady herself would fetch him back. I
shrank from the undertaking, knowing little of horses, and having vague
recollections of being dreadfully punished for more than a week after
my last and almost only ride. But every one in that country is quite at
ease on the back of a horse. They saw no risk; and, as there appeared
no other way of getting there to fulfil my engagements, I, for my part,
began to think that God had unexpectedly provided the means, and that
He would carry me safely through.
I accepted the lady’s kind offer, and started on my pilgrimage. A
friend showed me the road, and gave me ample directions. In the bush,
I was to keep my eye on the notches in the trees, and follow them.
He agreed kindly to bring my luggage to the Station, and leave it
there for me by-and-bye. After I had walked very quietly for some
distance, three gentlemen on horseback overtook me. We entered into
conversation. They inquired how far I was going, and advised me to
sit a little “freer” in the saddle, as it would be so much easier for
me. They seemed greatly amused at my awkward riding! Dark clouds were
now gathering ahead, and the atmosphere prophesied a severe storm;
therefore they urged that I should ride a little faster, as they, for
a considerable distance, could guide me on the right way. I explained
to them my plight through inexperience, said that I could only creep
on slowly with safety, and bade them Good-bye. As the sky was getting
darker every minute, they consented, wishing me a safe journey, and
started off at a smart pace.
I struggled to hold in my horse; but seizing the bit with his teeth,
laying back his ears, and stretching out his eager neck, he manifestly
felt that his honour was at stake; and in less time than I take to
write it, the three friends cleared a way for us, and he tore past
them all at an appalling speed. They tried for a time to keep within
reach of us, but that sound only put fire into his blood; and in an
incredibly short time I heard them not; nor, from the moment that he
bore me swinging past them, durst I turn my head by one inch to look
for them again. In vain I tried to hold him in; he tore on, with what
appeared to me the speed of the wind. Then the thunderstorm broke
around us, with flash of lightning and flood of rain, and at every
fresh peal my “Garibaldi” dashed more wildly onward.
To me, it was a vast surprise to discover that I could sit more easily
on this wild flying thing, than when at a canter or a trot. At every
turn I expected that he would dash himself and me against the great
forest trees; but instinct rather than my hand guided him miraculously.
Sometimes I had a glimpse of the road, but as for the “notches,” I
never saw one of them; we passed them with lightning speed. Indeed, I
durst not lift my eyes for one moment from watching the horse’s head
and the trees on our track. My high-crowned hat was now drenched, and
battered out of shape; for whenever we came to a rather clear space, I
seized the chance and gave it another knock down over my head. I was
spattered and covered with mud and mire.
Crash, crash, went the thunder, and on, on, went “Garibaldi” through
the gloom of the forest, emerging at length upon a clearer ground with
a more visible pathway. Reaching the top of the slope, a large house
stood out far in front of us to the left; and the horse had apparently
determined to make straight for that, as if it were his home. He
skirted along the hill, and took the track as his own familiar ground,
all my effort to hold him in or guide him having no more effect than
that of a child. By this time, I suspect, I really had lost all power.
“Garibaldi” had been at that house, probably frequently before; he knew
those stables; and my fate seemed to be instant death against door or
wall.
Some members of the family, on the outlook for the Missionary, saw
us come tearing along as if mad or drunk; and now all rushed to the
verandah, expecting some dread-catastrophe. A tall and stout young
groom, amazed at our wild career, throwing wide open the gate,
seized the bridle at great risk to himself, and ran full speed, yet
holding back with all his might, and shouting at me to do the same.
We succeeded,—“Garibaldi” having probably attained his purpose,—in
bringing him to a halt within a few paces of the door. Staring at me
with open mouth, the man exclaimed, “I have saved your life. What
madness to ride like that!” Thanking him, though I could scarcely by
this time articulate a word, I told him that the horse had run away,
and that I had lost all control.
Truly I was in a sorry plight, drenched, covered with mud, and my
hat battered down over my eyes; little wonder they thought me drunk
or mad! Finally, as if to confirm every suspicion, and amuse them
all,—for master, mistress, governess, and children now looked on from
the verandah,—when I was helped off the horse, I could not stand on my
feet! My head still went rushing on in the race; I staggered, and down
I tumbled into the mud, feeling chagrin and mortification; yet there
I had to sit for some time before I recovered myself, so as either to
rise or to speak a word. When I did get to my feet, I had to stand
holding by the verandah for some time, my head still rushing on in the
race. At length the master said, “Will you not come in?”
I knew that he was treating me for a drunken man; and the giddiness was
so dreadful still, that my attempts at speech seemed more drunken than
even my gait.
As soon as I could stand, I went into the house, and drew near to an
excellent fire in my dripping clothes. The squatter sat opposite me in
silence, reading the newspapers, and taking a look at me now and again
over his spectacles. By-and-bye he remarked, “Wouldn’t it be worth
while to change your clothes?”
Speech was now returning to me. I replied, “Yes, but my bag is coming
on in the cart, and may not be here to-night.”
He began to relent. He took me into a room, and laid out for me a suit
of his own. I being then very slender, and he a big-framed farmer,
my new dress, though greatly adding to my comfort, enhanced the
singularity of my appearance.
Returning to him, washed and dressed, I inquired if he had arranged
for a meeting? My tongue, I fear, was still unsteady, for the squatter
looked at me rather reproachfully, and said, “Do you really consider
yourself fit to appear before a meeting to-night?”
I assured him that he was quite wrong in his suspicions, that I was a
life-long Abstainer, and that my nerves had been so unhinged by the
terrible ride and the runaway horse. He smiled rather suggestively, and
said we would see how I felt after tea.
We went to the table. All that had occurred was now consummated by my
appearing in the lusty farmer’s clothes; and the lady and other friends
had infinite difficulty in keeping their amusement within decent
bounds. I again took speech in hand, but I suspect my words had still
the thickness of the tippler’s utterance, for they seemed not to carry
much conviction,—“Dear friends, I quite understand your feelings;
appearances are so strangely against me. But I am not drunken, as ye
suppose. I have tasted no intoxicating drink, I am a life-long Total
Abstainer!”
This fairly broke down their reserve. They laughed aloud, looking at
each other and at me, as if to say, “Man, you’re drunk at this very
moment.”
Before tea was over they appeared, however, to begin to entertain the
idea that I _might_ address the meeting; and so I was informed of the
arrangements that had been made. At the meeting, my incredulous friends
became very deeply interested. Manifestly their better thoughts were
gaining the ascendancy. And they heaped thereafter every kindness upon
me, as if to make amends for harder suspicions.
Next morning the master drove me about ten miles further on to the
Church. A groom rode the race-horse, who took no scathe from his
thundering gallop of the day before. It left deeper traces upon me.
I got through the Services, however, and with good returns for the
Mission. Twice since, on my Mission tours, I have found myself at
that same memorable house; and on each occasion a large company of
friends were being regaled by the good lady there with very comical
descriptions of my first arrival at her door.