_THE LIGHT THAT SHINETH MORE AND MORE._
My first Aniwan Book.—The Power of Music.—A Pair of Glass
Eyes.—Church Building for Jesus.—The Hanging of the Bell.—Patesa
and his Bride.—An Armed Embassage.—Youwili’s Taboo.—Youwili’s
Conversion.—The Tobacco Idol.—First Communion on Aniwa.—Our
Village Day Schools.—New Social Laws.—A Sabbath Day’s Work on
Aniwa.—Our Week-day Life.—The Orphans and their Biscuits.—“The
Wreck of the _Dayspring_.”—God’s Own Finger-Posts.—God’s Work our
Guarantee.—Profane Swearers Rebuked.—A Heavenly Vision.—On Wing
through New Zealand.—Our Second _Dayspring_.
The printing of my first Aniwan book was a great event, not so much for
the toil and worry which it cost me, though that was enough to have
broken the heart of many a compositor, as rather for the joy it gave to
the old Chief Namakei.
The break-up at Tanna had robbed me of my own neat little printing
press. I had since obtained at Aneityum the remains of one from
Erromanga, that had belonged to the murdered Gordon. But the supply of
letters, in some cases, was so deficient that I could print only four
pages at a time; and, besides, bits of the press were wanting, and I
had first to manufacture substitutes from scraps of iron and wood. I
managed, however, to make it go, and by-and-bye it did good service. By
it I printed our Aniwan Hymn-Book, a portion of Genesis in Aniwan, a
small book in Erromangan for the second Gordon, and other little things.
The old Chief had eagerly helped me in translating and preparing
this first book. He had a great desire “to hear it speak,” as he
graphically expressed it. It was made up chiefly of short passages from
the Scriptures, that might help me to introduce them to the treasures
of Divine truth and love. Namakei came to me, morning after morning,
saying,—
“Missi, is it done? Can it speak?”
At last I was able to answer, “Yes!”
The old Chief eagerly responded, “Does it speak my words?”
I said, “It does.”
With rising interest, Namakei exclaimed,—
“Make it speak to me, Missi! Let me hear it speak.”
I read to him a part of the book, and the old man fairly shouted in an
ecstasy of joy: “It does speak! It speaks my own language, too! Oh,
give it to me!”
He grasped it hurriedly, turned it all round every way, pressed it to
his bosom, and then, closing it with a look of great disappointment,
handed it back to me, saying, “Missi, I cannot make it speak! It will
never speak to me.”
“No,” said I; “you don’t know how to read it yet, how to make it speak
to you; but I will teach you to read, and then it will speak to you as
it does to me.”
“O Missi, dear Missi, show me how to make it speak!” persisted the
bewildered Chief. He was straining his eyes so, that I suspected they
were dim with age, and could not see the letters. I looked out for
him a pair of spectacles, and managed to fit him well. He was much
afraid of putting them on at first, manifestly in dread of some sort of
sorcery. At last when they were properly placed, he saw the letters and
everything so clearly that he exclaimed in great excitement and joy,—
“I see it all now! This is what you told us about Jesus. He opened the
eyes of a blind man. The word of Jesus has just come to Aniwa. He has
sent me these glass eyes. I have gotten back again the sight that I had
when a boy. O Missi, make the book speak to me now!”
I walked out with him to the public Village Ground. There I drew A B C
in large characters upon the dust, showed him the same letters in the
book, and left him to compare them, and find out how many occurred on
the first page. Fixing these in his mind, he came running to me, and
said,—
“I have lifted up A B C. They are here in my head, and I will hold them
fast. Give me other three.”
This was repeated time after time. He mastered the whole Alphabet, and
soon began to spell out the smaller words. Indeed, he came so often,
getting me to read it over and over, that before he himself could read
it freely he had it word for word committed to memory. When strangers
passed him, or young people came around, he would get out the little
book, and say,—
“Come, and I will let you hear how the book speaks our own Aniwan
words. You say, it is hard to learn to read and make it speak. But be
strong to try! If an old man like me has done it, it ought to be much
easier for you.”
One day I heard him read to a company with wonderful fluency. Taking
the book, I asked him to show me how he had done it so quickly.
Immediately I perceived that he could recite the whole from memory. He
became our right-hand helper in the Conversion of Aniwa.
Next after God’s own Word, perhaps the power of Music was most
amazingly blessed in opening up our way. Amongst many other
illustrations, I may mention how Namakei’s wife was won. The old lady
positively shuddered at coming near the Mission House, and dreaded
being taught anything. One day she was induced to draw near the door,
and fixing a hand on either post, and gazing inwards, she exclaimed,
“Awái, Missi! Kái, Missi!”—the Native cry for unspeakable wonder. Mrs.
Paton began to play on the harmonium, and sang a simple hymn in the old
woman’s language. Manifestly charmed, she drew nearer and nearer, and
drank in the music, as it were, at every pore of her being. At last
she ran off, and we thought it was with fright, but it was to call
together all the women and girls from her village “to hear the _bokis_
sing!” (Having no _x_, the word _box_ is pronounced thus.) She returned
with them all at her heels. They listened with dancing eyes. And ever
after the sound of a hymn, and the song of the _bokis_, made them flock
freely to class or meeting.
Being myself as nearly as possible destitute of the power of singing,
all my work would have been impaired and sadly hindered, and the
joyous side of the Worship and Service of Jehovah could not have been
presented to the Natives, but for the gift bestowed by the Lord on my
dear wife. She led our songs of praise, both in the family and in the
Church, and that was the first avenue by which the New Religion winged
its way into the heart of Cannibal and Savage.
The old Chief was particularly eager that this same aged lady, his wife
Yauwaki, should be taught to read. But her sight was far gone. So,
one day, he brought her to me, saying, “Missi, can you give my wife
also a pair of new glass eyes like mine? She tries to learn, but she
cannot see the letters. She tries to sew, but she pricks her finger,
and throws away the needle, saying, ‘The ways of the white people are
not good!’ If she could get a pair of glass eyes, she would be in a new
world like Namakei.” In my bundle I found a pair that suited her. She
was in positive terror about putting them on her face, but at last she
cried with delight,—
“Oh, my new eyes! my new eyes! I have the sight of a little girl. I
will learn hard now. I will make up for lost time.”
[Illustration: “OH, MY NEW EYES!”]
Her progress was never very great, but her influence for good on other
women and girls was immense.
In all my work amongst the Natives, I have striven to train them to be
self-supporting, and have never helped them where I could train them
to help themselves. In this respect I was exceedingly careful, when
the question arose of building their Churches, and Schools. At first
we moved about amongst them from village to village, acquired their
language, and taught them everywhere,—by the roadside, under the shade
of a tree, or on the public Village Ground. Our old Native Hut, when
we removed to the Mission House formerly referred to, was used for all
sorts of public meetings. Feeling by-and-bye that the time had come
to interest them in building a new Church, and that it would be every
way helpful, I laid the proposal before them, carefully explaining
that for this work no one would be paid, that the Church was for all
the Islanders and for the Worship alone, and that every one must build
purely for the love of Jesus.
I told them that God would be pleased with such materials as they had
to give, that they must not begin till they had divided the work and
counted the cost, and that for my part I would do all that I could to
direct and help, and would supply the sinnet (= cocoa-nut fibre rope)
which I had brought from Aneityum, and the nails brought from Sydney.
They held meeting after meeting throughout the Island. Chiefs made long
speeches; orators chanted their palavers; and warriors acted their part
by waving of club and tomahawk. An unprecedented friendliness sprang up
amongst them. They agreed to sink every quarrel, and unite in building
the first Church on Aniwa,—one Chief only holding back. Women and
children began to gather and prepare the sugar-cane leaf for thatch.
Men searched for and cut down suitable trees.
The Church measured sixty-two feet by twenty-four. The wall was
twelve feet high. The studs were of hard iron-wood, and were each by
tenon and mortise fastened into six iron-wood trees forming the upper
wall plates. All were not only nailed, but strongly tied together by
sinnet-rope, so as to resist the hurricanes. The roof was supported
by four huge iron-wood trees, and another of equally hard wood, sunk
about eight feet into the ground, surrounded by building at the base,
and forming massive pillars. There were two doorways and eight window
spaces; the floor was laid with white coral, broken small, and covered
with cocoa-nut tree leaf-mats, on which the people sat. I had a small
platform, floored and surrounded with reeds; and Mrs. Paton had a seat
enclosing the harmonium, also made of reeds, and in keeping. Great
harmony prevailed all the time, and no mishap marred the work. One
hearty fellow fell from the roof-tree to the ground, and was badly
stunned. But, jumping up, he shook himself, and saying,—“I was working
for Jehovah! He has saved me from being hurt,”—he mounted the roof
again and went on cheerily with his work.
Our pride in the New Church soon met with a dreadful blow. That very
season a terrific hurricane levelled it with the ground. After much
wailing, the principal Chief, in a great Assembly, said,—
“Let us not weep, like boys over their broken bows and arrows! Let us
be strong, and build a yet stronger Church for Jehovah.”
By our counsel, ten days were spent first in repairing houses and
fences, and saving food from the plantations, many of which had been
swept into utter ruin. Then they assembled on the appointed day. A hymn
was sung. God’s blessing was invoked, and all the work was dedicated
afresh to Him. Days were spent in taking the iron-wood roof to pieces,
and saving everything that could be saved. The work was allocated
equally amongst the villages, and a wholesome emulation was created.
One Chief still held back. After a while, I visited him and personally
invited his help,—telling him that it was God’s House, and for all the
people of Aniwa; and that if he and his people did not do their part,
the others would cast it in their teeth that they had no share in the
House of God. He yielded to my appeal, and entered vigorously upon the
work.
One large tree was still needed to complete the couples, and could
nowhere be found. The work was at a standstill; for, though the size
was now reduced to fifty feet by twenty-two, and the roof had been
lowered by four feet in order to give the windlass sufficient purchase,
there was plenty of smaller wood on Aniwa, but the larger trees were
apparently exhausted. One morning, however, we were awoke at early
daybreak by the shouting and singing of a company of men, carrying a
great black tree to the Church, with this same Chief dancing before
them, leading the singing, and beating time with the flourish of his
tomahawk. Determined not to be beaten, though late in the field, he
had lifted the roof-tree out of his own house, as black as soot could
make it, and was carrying it to complete the couplings. The rest of the
builders shouted against this. All the other wood of the Church was
white and clean, and they would not have this black tree, conspicuous
in the very centre of all. But I praised the old Chief for what he had
done, and hoped he and his people would come and worship Jehovah under
his own roof-tree. At this all were delighted; and the work went on
apace, with many songs and shoutings.
Whenever the Church was roofed in, we met in it for Public Worship.
Coral was being got and burned, and preparations made for plastering
the walls. The Natives were sharp enough to notice that I was not
putting up the bell; and suspicions arose that I kept it back in
order to take it with me when I returned to Tanna. It was a beautiful
Church bell, cast and sent out by our dear friend, James Taylor,
Esq., Engineer, Birkenhead. The Aniwans, therefore, gave me no rest
till I agreed to have it hung on their new Church. They found a large
iron-wood tree near the shore, cut a road for half a mile through the
bush, tied poles across it every few feet, and with shouts lifted
it bodily on their shoulders—six men or so at each pole—and never
set it down again till they reached the Church; for as one party got
exhausted, others were ready to rush in and relieve them at every
stage of the journey. The two old Chiefs, flourishing their tomahawks,
went capering in front of all the rest, and led the song to which they
marched, joyfully bearing their load. They dug a deep hole into which
to sink it; I squared the top and screwed on the bell; then we raised
the tree by ropes, letting it sink into the hole, built it round eight
feet deep with coral blocks and lime, and there from its top swings and
rings ever since the Church bell of Aniwa.
A fortnight’s cessation of labour at the Church now followed. Their
own plantations were attended to, and other needful duties performed.
Our resumption of operations at the Church gave the opportunity for a
deed of horrid cruelty. The Chiefs son, Patesa, had just been married
to a youthful widow, whom Nasi, a Tanna man living on Aniwa, had also
desired. The people of the young bridegroom’s village agreed to sleep
overnight near the Mission Premises, in order to be ready for the work
early next morning; and they deputed the young couple to return to the
village and sleep there, watching over their property. Nasi and his
half-brother Nouka, knowing they were alone, crept stealthily towards
their hut at earliest daybreak, and removed the door without awaking
either of the sleepers. Next moment a ball struck the young husband
dead. The wife sprang up and implored Nasi to spare her; but he sent a
ball through her heart, and she fell dead upon her dead spouse. Their
people, hearing the double shot, rushed to the scene, and found the hut
flowing with blood. Early that same forenoon the bride and bridegroom
were laid in the same grave, in the sleep of love and death.
For a week all our work was suspended. Men and boys went about fully
armed, and all their talk was for revenge. Nasi had a number of
desperate fellows at his back, all armed with muskets, and I feared the
loss of many lives. I implored them for once to leave the vengeance in
the hands of God, and to stand by each other in carrying forward the
work of Jehovah. But I solemnly forbade the murderers to come near the
Mission House, or to help us with the Church. My counsel was so far
accepted. But every man came to the work armed with musket, tomahawk,
spear, and club, and the boys with bows and arrows; and these were
piled up round the fence at hand, with watchmen stationed for alarm.
Thus, literally with sword in one hand and trowel in the other, the
House of the Lord was reared again on Aniwa.
Coral was secured, as described in a preceding chapter; lime was
prepared therefrom by burning it in extemporized kilns; and each
village vied with all the rest in plastering beautifully its own
allocated portion—the first job of the kind they had ever done. The
floor was covered with broken coral and mats, but the Natives are now
(1889) furnishing it with white men’s seats. Originally they had a
row of seats all round it inside, made of bamboo cane and reeds. The
women and girls enter by one door, and the men and boys by another; and
they sit on separate sides,—except at the Lord’s table, when all sit
together as one family. It was a Church perfectly suitable for their
circumstances, and it cost the Home Committees not a single penny. It
has withstood many a hurricane. A large number of the original builders
are gone to their rest; but their work abides, and witnesses for God
amongst their children. On its rude walls I could see the glorious
motto—“Jehovah Shammah.”
One of the last attempts ever made on my life resulted, by God’s
blessing, in great good to us all and to the work of the Lord. It was
when Nourai, one of Nasi’s men, struck at me again and again with the
barrel of his musket; but I evaded the blows, till rescued by the
women—the men looking on stupefied. After he escaped into the bush, I
assembled our people, and said,—
“If you do not now try to stop this bad conduct, I shall leave Aniwa,
and go to some island where my life will be protected.”
Next morning at daybreak, about one hundred men arrived at my house,
and in answer to my query why they came armed they replied,—“We
are now going to that village, where the men of wicked conduct are
gathered together. We will find out why they sought your life, and we
will rebuke their Sacred Man for pretending to cause hurricanes and
diseases. We cannot go unarmed. We will not suffer you to go alone. We
are your friends and the friends of the Worship. And we are resolved to
stand by you, and you must go at our head to-day!”
In great perplexity, yet believing that my presence might prevent
bloodshed, I allowed myself to be placed at their head. The old Chief
followed next, then a number of fiery young men; then all the rest,
single file, along the narrow path. At a sudden turn, as we neared
their village, Nourai, who had attacked me the Sabbath day before, and
his brother were seen lurking with their muskets; but our young men
made a rush in front, and they disappeared into the bush.
We took possession of the Village Public Ground; and the Chief, the
Sacred Man, and others soon assembled. A most characteristic Native
Palaver followed. Speeches, endless speeches, were fired by them at
each other. My friends declared, in every conceivable form of language
and of graphic illustration, that they were resolved at any cost to
defend me and the worship of Jehovah, and that they would as one man
punish every attempt to injure me or take my life. The orator, Taia,
exclaimed,—
“You think that Missi is here alone, and that you can do with him as
you please! No! We are now all Missi’s men. We will fight for him and
his rather than see him injured. Every one that attacks him attacks us.
That is finished to-day!”
[Illustration: “I’LL KNOCK THE TEVIL OUT OF HIM.”]
In the general scolding, the Sacred Man had special attention, for
pretending to cause hurricanes. One pointed out that he had himself a
stiff knee, and argued,—
“If he can make a hurricane, why can’t he restore the joint of his own
knee? It is surely easier to do the one than the other!”
The Natives laughed heartily, and taunted him. Meantime he sat looking
down to the earth in sullen silence; and a ludicrous episode ensued.
His wife, a big, strong woman, scolded him roundly for the trouble
he had brought them all into; and then, getting indignant as well as
angry, she seized a huge cocoa-nut leaf out of the bush, and with the
butt end thereof began thrashing his shoulders vigorously, as she
poured out the vials of her wrath in torrents of words, always winding
up with the cry,—
“I’ll knock the Tevil out of him! He’ll not try hurricanes again!”
The woman was a Malay, as many of the Aniwans were. Had a Papuan woman
on Tanna or Erromanga dared such a thing, she would have been killed on
the spot. But even on Aniwa, the unwonted spectacle of a wife beating
her husband created uproarious amusement. At length I remonstrated,
saying,—
“You had better stop now! You don’t want to kill him, do you? You seem
to have knocked ‘the Tevil’ pretty well out of him now! You see how he
receives it all in silence, and repents of all his bad talk and bad
conduct.”
They exacted from him a solemn promise as to the making of no more
diseases or hurricanes, and that he would live at peace with his
neighbours. The offending villagers at length presented a large
quantity of sugar-cane and food to us as a peace-offering; and we
returned, praising God that the whole day’s scolding had ended in talk,
not blood. The result was every way most helpful. Our friends knew
their strength and took courage. Our enemies were disheartened and
afraid. We saw the balance growing heavier every day on the side of
Jesus; and our souls blessed the Lord.
These events suggest to me another incident of those days full at
once of trial and of joy. It pertains to the story of our young
Chief, Youwili. From the first, and for long, he was most audacious
and troublesome. Observing that for several days no Natives had come
near the Mission House, I asked the old Chief if he knew why, and he
answered,—
“Youwili has _tabooed_ the paths, and threatens death to any one who
breaks through it.”
I at once replied: “Then I conclude that you all agree with him, and
wish me to leave. We are here only to teach you and your people. If he
has power to prevent that, we shall leave with the _Dayspring_.”
The old Chief called the people together, and they came to me,
saying,—“Our anger is strong against Youwili. Go with us and break down
the _taboo_. We will assist and protect you.”
I went at their head and removed it. It consisted simply of reeds
stuck into the ground, with twigs and leaves and fibre tied to each in
a peculiar way, in a circle round the Mission House. The Natives had
an extraordinary dread of violating the _taboo_, and believed that it
meant death to the offender or to some one of his family. All present
entered into a bond to punish on the spot any man who attempted to
replace the _taboo_, or to revenge its removal. Thus a mortal blow was
publicly struck at this most miserable superstition, which had caused
bloodshed and misery untold.
One day, thereafter, I was engaged in clearing away the bush around
the Mission House, having purchased and paid for the land for the very
purpose of opening it up, when suddenly Youwili appeared and menacingly
forbade me to proceed. For the sake of peace I for the time desisted.
But he went straight to my fence, and with his tomahawk cut down the
portion in front of our house, also some bananas planted there,—their
usual declaration of war, intimating that he only awaited his
opportunity similarly to cut down me and mine. We saw the old Chief and
his men planting themselves here and there to guard us, and the Natives
prowling about armed and excited. On calling them, they explained the
meaning of what Youwili had done, and that they were determined to
protect us. I said,—
“This must not continue. Are you to permit one young fool to defy us
all, and break up the Lord’s work on Aniwa? If you cannot righteously
punish him, I will shut myself up in my House and withdraw from all
attempts to teach or help you, till the Vessel comes, and then I can
leave the Island.”
Now that they had begun really to love us, and to be anxious to learn
more, this was always my most powerful argument. We retired into the
Mission House. The people surrounded our doors and windows and pleaded
with us. After long silence, we replied,—
“You know our resolution. It is for you now to decide. Either you must
control that foolish young man, or we must go!”
Much speech-making, as usual, followed. The people resolved to seize
and punish Youwili; but he fled, and had hid himself in the bush.
Coming to me, the Chief said,—
“It is left to you to say what shall be Youwili’s punishment. Shall we
kill him?”
I replied firmly, “Certainly not! Only for murder can life be lawfully
taken away.”
“What then?” they continued. “Shall we burn his houses and destroy his
plantations?”
I answered, “No.”
“Shall we bind him and beat him?”
“No.”
“Shall we place him in a canoe, thrust him out to sea, and let him
drown or escape as he may?”
“No! by no means.”
“Then, Missi,” said they, “these are our ways of punishing. What other
punishment remains that Youwili cares for?”
I replied, “Make him with his own hands, and alone, put up a new fence,
and restore all that he has destroyed; and make him promise publicly
that he will cease all evil conduct towards us. That will satisfy me.”
This idea of punishment seemed to tickle them greatly. The Chiefs
reported our words to the Assembly; and the Natives laughed and
cheered, as if it were a capital joke! They cried aloud,—
“It is good! It is good! Obey the word of the Missi.”
After considerable hunting, the young Chief was found. They brought him
to the Assembly and scolded him severely and told him their sentence.
He was surprised by the nature of the punishment, and cowed by the
determination of the people.
“To-morrow,” said he, “I will fully repair the fence. Never again will
I oppose the Missi. His word is good.”
By daybreak next morning Youwili was diligently repairing what he had
broken down, and before evening he had everything made right, better
than it was before. While he toiled away, some fellows of his own rank
twitted him, saying,—
“Youwili, you found it easier to cut down Missi’s fence than to repair
it again. You will not repeat that in a hurry!”
But he heard all in silence. Others passed with averted heads, and he
knew they were laughing at him. He made everything tight, and then
left without uttering a single word. My heart yearned after the poor
fellow, but I thought it better to let his own mind work away, on its
new ideas as to punishment and revenge, for a little longer by itself
alone. I instinctively felt that Youwili was beginning to turn, that
the Christ-Spirit had touched his darkly-groping soul. My doors were
now thrown open, and every good work went on as before. We resolved to
leave Youwili entirely to Jesus, setting apart a portion of our prayer
every day for the enlightenment and conversion of the young Chief, on
whom all our means had been exhausted apparently in vain.
A considerable time elapsed. No sign came, and our prayers seemed to
fail. But one day, I was toiling between the shafts of a hand-cart,
assisted by two boys, drawing it along from the shore loaded with coral
blocks. Youwili came rushing from his house, three hundred yards or so
off the path, and said,—
“Missi, that is too hard work for you. Let me be your helper!”
Without waiting for a reply, he ordered the two boys to seize one rope,
while he grasped the other threw it over his shoulder and started
off, pulling with the strength of a horse. My heart rose in gratitude,
and I wept with joy as I followed him. I knew that that rope was but a
symbol of the yoke of Christ, which Youwili with his change of heart
was beginning to carry! Truly there is only one way of being born
again, regeneration by the power of the Spirit of God, the new heart;
but there are many ways of conversion, of outwardly turning to the
Lord, of taking the actual first step that shows on whose side we are.
Regeneration is the sole work of the Holy Spirit in the human heart
and soul, and is in every case one and the same. Conversion, on the
other hand, bringing into play the action also of the human will, is
never absolutely the same perhaps in even two souls,—as like and yet as
different as are the faces of men.
Like those of old praying for the deliverance of Peter, and who could
not believe their ears and eyes when Peter knocked and walked in
amongst them, so we could scarcely believe our eyes and ears when
Youwili became a disciple of Jesus, though we had been praying for his
conversion every day. His once sullen countenance became literally
bright with inner light. His wife came immediately for a book and a
dress, saying,—
“Youwili sent me. His opposition to the Worship is over now. I am to
attend Church and School. He is coming too. He wants to learn how to be
strong, like you, for Jehovah and for Jesus.”
Oh, Jesus! to Thee alone be all the glory. Thou hast the key to unlock
every heart that Thou hast created.
Youwili proved to be slow at learning to read, but he had perseverance,
and his wife greatly helped him. The two attended the Communicants’
Class together, and ultimately both sat down at the Lord’s Table. After
his first Communion, he waited for me under an orange-tree near the
Mission House, and said,—
“Missi, I’ve given up everything for Jesus, _except one_. I want to
know if it is bad, if it will make Jesus angry; for if so, I am willing
to give it up. I want to live so as to please Jesus now.”
We feared that it was some of their Heathenish immoralities, and were
in a measure greatly relieved when he proceeded,—
“Missi, I have not yet given up my pipe and tobacco! O Missi, I have
used it so long, and I do like it so well; but if you say that it makes
Jesus angry with me, I will smash my pipe now, and never smoke again!”
The man’s soul was aflame. He was in tremendous earnest, and would have
done anything for me. But I was more anxious to instruct his conscience
than to dominate it. I therefore replied in effect thus,—
“I rejoice, Youwili, that you are ready to give up anything to please
Jesus. He well deserves it, for He gave up His life for you. For my
part, you know that I do not smoke; and from my point of view I would
think it wrong in me to waste time and money and perhaps health in
blowing tobacco smoke into the air. It would do me no good. It could
not possibly help me to serve or please Jesus better. I think I am
happier and healthier without it. And I am certain that I can use the
time and money, spent on this selfish and rather filthy habit, far
more for God’s glory in many other ways. But I must be true to you,
Youwili, and admit that many of God’s dear people differ from me in
these opinions. They spend time and money, and sometimes injure health,
in smoking, besides setting a wasteful example to lads and young men,
and do not regard it as sinful. I will not therefore condemn these, our
fellow Christians, by calling smoking a _sin_ like drunkenness; but I
will say to you that I regard it as a foolish and wasteful indulgence,
a bad habit, and that though you may serve and please Jesus with it,
you might serve and please Jesus very much better without it.”
He looked very anxious, as if weighing his habit against his
resolution, and then said,—
“Missi, I give up everything else. If it won’t make Jesus angry, I will
keep the pipe. I have used it so long, and oh, I do like it!”
Renewing our advice and counsel, but leaving him free to do in
that matter so as to please Jesus according to his own best light,
Youwili departed with a conscience so far greatly relieved, and we
had many meditations upon the incident. Most of our Natives, on their
conversion, have voluntarily renounced the Tobacco Idol; but what
more could I say to Youwili, with thousands of white Christians at
my back burning incense to that same idol every day of their lives?
Marvellous to me, in this connection, has often been the working of
a tender conscience, asking itself how to serve and please Jesus, or
how to do more for Jesus. Some years ago, for instance, I met a State
School Teacher in Victoria, who had been lately brought under the power
of the Gospel. In his fresh love, he wanted to do something to show
his gratitude to Jesus. He had a young family, and the way was barred
to the Mission field. His dear wife and he calculated over all their
expenditure, to find out how much they could save to support the work
of Jesus at home and abroad. Little or nothing could be spared from
what appeared necessary claims. He fell upon his knees, and in tears
implored God to show him how he could do something more to save the
perishing. A voice came to him like a flash,—
“If you so care for Me and My work, you can easily sacrifice your pipe.”
He instantly took up his pipe, and laid it before the Lord, saying,—
“There it is, O my Lord, and whatsoever it may have cost me, shall now
from year to year be Thine!”
He was not what is called a heavy smoker,—anything under one shilling
per week being considered “moderate,” as I am informed. But he found
that he had been spending thirty-one shillings per annum on tobacco;
and every year since he has laid that money upon the altar to Jesus,
and prayed Him to use it in sending His Gospel to Heathen lands. I
wonder which soul is the richer at the end of a year—he who lays his
money, saved from a selfish indulgence, at the feet of Jesus, or he who
blows it away in filthy smoke?
And this leads me to relate the story of our First Communion on Aniwa.
It was Sabbath, 24th October, 1869; and surely the Angels of God and
the Church of the Redeemed in Glory were amongst the great cloud of
witnesses who eagerly “peered” down upon the scene,—when we sat around
the Lord’s Table and partook of His body and blood with those few souls
rescued out of the Heathen World. My Communicants’ Class had occupied
me now a considerable time. The conditions of attendance at this early
stage were explicit, and had to be made very severe, and only twenty
were admitted to the roll. At the final examination only twelve gave
evidence of understanding what they were doing, and of having given
their hearts to the service of the Lord Jesus. At their own urgent
desire, and after every care in examining and instructing, they were
solemnly dedicated in prayer to be baptized and admitted to the Holy
Table. On that Lord’s Day, after the usual opening Service, I gave a
short and careful exposition of the Ten Commandments and of the Way of
Salvation according to the Gospel. The twelve Candidates then stood
up before all the inhabitants there assembled; and, after a brief
exhortation to them as Converts, I put to them the two questions that
follow, and each gave an affirmative reply,—
“Do you, in accordance with your profession of the Christian Faith, and
your promises before God and the people, wish me now to baptize you?”
And,—“Will you live henceforth for Jesus only, hating all sin and
trying to love and serve your Saviour?”
Then, beginning with the old Chief, the twelve came forward, and I
baptized them one by one according to the Presbyterian usage. Two
of them had also little children, and they were at the same time
baptized, and received as the lambs of the flock. Solemn prayer was
then offered, and in the name of the Holy Trinity the Church of Christ
on Aniwa was formally constituted. I addressed them on the words of
the Holy Institution—I Corinthians xi. 23—and then, after the prayer
of Thanksgiving and Consecration, administered the Lord’s Supper,—the
first time since the Island of Aniwa was heaved out of its coral
depths! Mrs. McNair, my wife, and myself along with six Aneityumese
Teachers, communicated with the newly baptized twelve. And I think, if
ever in all my earthly experience, on that day I might truly add the
blessed words—Jesus “in the midst.”
The whole Service occupied nearly three hours. The Islanders looked
on with a wonder whose unwonted silence was almost painful to bear.
Many were led to inquire carefully about everything they saw, so new
and strange. For the first time the Dorcas Street Sabbath School
Teachers’ gift from South Melbourne Presbyterian Church was put to
use—a new Communion Service of silver. They gave it in faith that we
would require it, and in such we received it. And now the day had come
and gone! For three years we had toiled and prayed and taught for this.
At the moment when I put the bread and wine into those dark hands, once
stained with the blood of Cannibalism, now stretched out to receive and
partake the emblems and seals of the Redeemer’s love, I had a foretaste
of the joy of Glory that well nigh broke my heart to pieces. I shall
never taste a deeper bliss, till I gaze on the glorified face of Jesus
Himself.
On the afternoon of that Communion Day, an open-air Prayer Meeting was
held under the shade of the great banyan tree in front of our Church.
Seven of the new Church members there led the people in prayer to
Jesus, a hymn being sung betwixt each. My heart was so full of joy
that I could do little else but weep. Oh, I wonder, I _wonder_, when I
see so many good Ministers at home, crowding each other and treading
on each other’s heels, whether they would not part with all their
home privileges, and go out to the Heathen World and reap a joy like
this—“the joy of the Lord.”
Having now our little Aniwan book, we set about establishing Schools
at every village on the Island. Mrs. Paton and I had been diligently
instructing those around us, and had now a number prepared to act as
helpers. Experience has proved that, for the early stages their own
fellow-Islanders are the most successful instructors. Each village
built its own School, which on Sabbath served as a district Church.
For the two most advanced Schools I had our good Aneityumese Teachers,
and for the others I took the best readers that could be found. These
I changed frequently, returning them to our own School for a season,
which was held for them in the afternoon; and, to encourage them, a
small salary was granted to each of them yearly, drawn from what is
known throughout the Churches as the Native Teachers’ Fund.
These village Schools have all to be conducted at daybreak, while the
heavy dews still drench the bush; for, so soon as the dews are lifted
by the rising sun, the Natives are off to their plantations, on which
they depend for their food almost exclusively. I had a large School at
the Mission Station also at daybreak, besides the afternoon School at
three o’clock for the training of Teachers. At first they made very
little progress; but they began to form habits of attention; and they
learned the fruitful habit of acknowledging God always, for all our
Schools were opened and closed with prayer. As their knowledge and
faith increased, we saw their Heathen practices rapidly passing away,
and a new life shaping itself around us. Mrs. Paton taught a class of
about fifty women and girls. They became experts at sewing, singing,
plaiting hats, and reading. Nearly all the girls could at length cut
out and make their own dresses, as well as shirts or kilts for the men
and clothing for the children. Yet, three short years before, men and
women alike were running about naked and savage. The Christ-Spirit is
the true civilizing power.
The new Social Order, referred to already in its dim beginnings, rose
around us like a sweet-scented flower. I never interfered directly,
unless expressly called upon or appealed to. The two principal Chiefs
were impressed with the idea that there was but one law,—the Will of
God, and one rule for them and their people as Christians,—to please
the Lord Jesus. In every difficulty they consulted me. I explained
to them and read in their hearing the very words of Holy Scripture,
showing what appeared to me to be the will of God and what would
please the Saviour; and then sent them away to talk it over with their
people, and to apply these principles of the word of God as wisely as
they could according to their circumstances. Our own part of the work
went on very joyfully, notwithstanding occasional trying and painful
incidents. Individual cases of greed and selfishness and vice brought
us many a bitter pang. But the Lord never lost patience with us, and we
durst not therefore lose patience with them! We trained the Teachers,
we translated and printed and expounded the Scriptures, we ministered
to the sick and dying; we dispensed medicines every day, we taught them
the use of tools, we advised them as to laws and penalties; and the
New Society grew and developed, and bore amidst all its imperfections
some traces of the fair Kingdom of God amongst men.
Our life and work will reveal itself to the reader if I briefly outline
a Sabbath Day on Aniwa. Breakfast is partaken of immediately after
daylight. The Church bell then rings, and ere it stops every worshipper
is seated. The Natives are guided in starting by the sunrise, and are
forward from farthest corners at this early hour. The first Service is
over in about an hour; there is an interval of twenty minutes; the bell
is again rung, and the second Service begins. We follow the ordinary
Presbyterian ritual; but in every Service I call upon an Elder or a
Church Member to lead in one of the prayers, which they do with great
alacrity and with much benefit to all concerned.
As the last worshipper leaves, at close of second Service, the bell is
sounded twice very deliberately, and that is the signal for the opening
of my Communicants’ Class. I carefully expound the Church’s Shorter
Catechism, and show how its teachings are built upon Holy Scripture,
applying each truth to the conscience and the life. This Class is
conducted all the year round, and from it, step by step, our Church
Members are drawn as the Lord opens up their way, the most of them
attending two full years at least before being admitted to the Lord’s
Table. This discipline accounts for the fact that so very few of our
baptized converts have ever fallen away—as few in proportion, I verily
believe, as in Churches at home. Meantime, many of the Church members
have been holding a prayer meeting amongst themselves in the adjoining
School,—a thing started of their own free accord,—in which they invoke
God’s blessing on all the work and worship of the day.
Having snatched a brief meal of tea, or a cold dinner cooked on
Saturday, the bell rings within an hour, and our Sabbath School
assembles,—in which the whole inhabitants, young and old, take part,
myself superintending and giving the address, as well as questioning on
the lesson, Mrs. Paton teaching a large class of adult women, and the
Elders and best readers instructing the ordinary classes for about half
an hour or so.
About one o’clock the School is closed, and we then start off in our
village tours. An experienced Elder, with several Teachers, takes one
side of the Island this Sabbath, I with another company taking the
other side, and next Sabbath we reverse the order. A short Service is
conducted in the open air, or in Schoolrooms, at every village that can
be reached; and on their return they report to me cases of sickness, or
any signs of progress in the work of the Lord. The whole Island is thus
steadily and methodically evangelized.
As the sun is setting I am creeping home from my village tour; and
when darkness begins to approach, the canoe drum is beat at every
village, and the people assemble under the banyan-tree for evening
village prayers. The Elder or Teacher presides. Five or six hymns are
joyously sung, and five or six short prayers offered between, and thus
the evening hour passes happily in the fellowship of God. On a calm
evening, after Christianity had fairly taken hold of the people, and
they loved to sing over and over again their favourite hymns, these
village prayer-meetings formed a most blessed close to every day, and
set the far-distant bush echoing with the praises of God.
At the Mission House, before retiring to rest, we assembled all the
young people and any of our villagers who chose to join them. They sat
round the dining-room floor in rows, sang hymns, read verses of the
Bible, and asked and answered questions about the teaching of the day.
About nine o’clock we dismissed them, but they pled to remain and hear
our Family Worship in English:—
“Missi, we like the singing! We understand a little. And we like to be
where prayer is rising!”
Thus Sabbath after Sabbath flowed on in incessant service and
fellowship. I was often wearied enough, but it was not a “weary” day
to me, nor what some would call Puritanical and dull. Our hearts were
in it, and the people made it a weekly festival. They had few other
distractions; and amongst them “The Worship” was an unfailing sensation
and delight. As long as you gave them a chance to sing, they knew not
what weariness was. When I returned to so-called civilization, and saw
how the Lord’s Day was abused in _white_ Christendom, my soul longed
after the holy Sabbaths of Aniwa!
Nor is our week-day life less crowded or busy, though in different
ways. At grey dawn on Monday, and every morning, the _Tavaka_ (= the
canoe drum) is struck in every village on Aniwa. The whole inhabitants
turn in to the early School, which lasts about an hour and a half,
and then the Natives are off to their plantations. Having partaken my
breakfast, I then spend my forenoon in translating or printing, or
visiting the sick, or whatever else is most urgent. About two o’clock
the Natives return from their work, bathe in the sea, and dine off
cocoa-nut, bread-fruit, or anything else that comes handily in the
way. At three o’clock the bell rings, and the afternoon School for
the Teachers and the more advanced learners then occupies my wife and
myself for about an hour and a half. After this, the Natives spend
their time in fishing or lounging or preparing supper,—which is amongst
them always _the_ meal of the day. Towards sundown the _Tavaka_ sounds
again, and the day closes amid the echoes of village prayers from under
their several banyan trees.
Thus day after day and week after week passes over us on Aniwa; and
much the same on all the Islands where the Missionary has found a home.
In many respects it is a simple and happy and beautiful life; and the
man, whose heart is full of things that are dear to Jesus, feels no
desire to exchange it for the poor frivolities of what calls itself
“Society,” and seems to finds its life in pleasures that Christ cannot
be asked to share, and in which, therefore, Christians should have
neither lot nor part.
The habits of morning and evening family prayer and of grace at meat
took a very wonderful hold upon the people; and became, as I have shown
elsewhere, a distinctive badge of Christian _versus_ Heathen. This was
strikingly manifested during a time of bitter scarcity that befell us.
I heard a father, for instance, at his hut door, with his family around
him, reverently blessing God for the food provided for them, and for
all His mercies in Christ Jesus. Drawing near and conversing with them,
I found that their meal consisted of fig leaves which they had gathered
and cooked,—a poor enough dish; but hunger makes a happy appetite, and
contentment is a grateful relish.
During the same period of privation, my Orphans suffered badly also.
Once they came to me, saying,—
“Missi, we are very hungry.”
I replied,—“So am I, dear children, and we have no more white food till
the _Dayspring_ comes.”
They continued,—“Missi, you have two beautiful fig trees. Will you let
us take one feast of the young and tender leaves? We will not injure
branch or fruit.”
I answered,—“Gladly, my children, take your fill!”
In a twinkling each child was perched upon a branch; and they feasted
there happy as squirrels. Every night we prayed for the vessel, and
in the morning our Orphan boys rushed to the coral rocks and eagerly
scanned the sea for an answer. Day after day they returned with sad
faces, saying,—
“Missi, _Tavaka jimra_!” (= No vessel yet).
But at grey dawn of a certain day, we were awoke by the boys shouting
from the shore and running for the Mission House with the cry,—“_Tavaka
oa! Tavaka oa!_” (= The vessel, hurrah!)
We arose at once, and the boys exclaimed,—“Missi, she is not our own
vessel, but we think she carries her flag. She has three masts, and our
_Dayspring_ only two!”
I looked through my glass, and saw that they were discharging goods
into the vessel’s boats; and the children, when I told them that boxes
and bags and casks were being sent on shore, shouted and danced with
delight. As the first boat-load was discharged, the Orphans surrounded
me, saying,—
“Missi, here is a cask that rattles like biscuits! Will you let us take
it to the Mission House?”
“I told them to do so if they could; and in a moment it was turned into
the path, and the boys had it flying before them, some tumbling and
hurting their knees, but up and at it again, and never pausing till it
rolled up at the door of our Storehouse. On returning I found them all
around it, and they said,—
“Missi, have you forgotten what you promised us?”
I said,—“What did I promise you?”
They looked very disappointed and whispered to each other,—“Missi has
forgot!”
“Forgot what?” inquired I.
“Missi,” they answered, “you promised that when the vessel came you
would give each of us a biscuit.”
“Oh,” I replied, “I did not forget; I only wanted to see if you
remembered it!”
They laughed, saying,—“No fear of that, Missi! Will you soon open the
cask? We are dying for biscuits.”
At once I got hammer and tools, knocked off the hoops, took out the
end, and then gave girls and boys a biscuit each. To my surprise, they
all stood round biscuit in hand, but not one beginning to eat.
“What,” I exclaimed, “you are dying for biscuits! Why don’t you eat?
Are you expecting another?”
One of the eldest said,—“We will first thank God for sending us food,
and ask Him to bless it to us all.”
And this was done in their own simple and beautiful childlike way; and
then they _did_ eat, and enjoyed their food as a gift from the Heavenly
Father’s hand. (Is there any child reading this, or hearing it read,
who never thanks God or asks Him to bless daily bread? Then is that
child not a _white_ Heathen?) We ourselves at the Mission House could
very heartily rejoice with the dear Orphans. For some weeks past our
European food had been all exhausted, except a little tea, and the
cocoa-nut had been our chief support. It was beginning to tell against
us. Our souls rose in gratitude to the Lord, who had sent us these
fresh provisions that we might love Him better and serve Him more.
The children’s sharp eyes had read correctly. It was not the
_Dayspring_. Our brave little ship had gone to wreck on 6th January,
1873; and this vessel was the _Paragon_, chartered to bring down our
supplies. Alas! the wreck had gone by auction sale to a French slaving
company, who cut a passage through the coral reef, and had the vessel
again floating in the Bay,—elated at the prospect of employing our
Mission Ship in the blood-stained _Kanaka_-traffic (= a mere euphemism
for South Sea slavery)! Our souls sank in horror and concern. Many
Natives would unwittingly trust themselves to the _Dayspring_; and
revenge would be taken on us, as was done on noble Bishop Patteson,
when the deception was found out. What could be done? Nothing but cry
to God, which all the friends of our Mission did day and night, not
without tears, as we thought of the possible degradation of our noble
little Ship. Listen! The French Slavers, anchoring their prize in the
Bay, and greatly rejoicing, went ashore to celebrate the event. They
drank and feasted and revelled. But that night a mighty storm arose,
the old _Dayspring_ dragged her anchor, and at daybreak she was seen
again on the reef, but this time with her back broken in two and for
ever unfit for service, either fair or foul. Oh, white-winged Virgin of
the waves, better for thee, as for thy human sisters, to die and pass
away than to suffer pollution and live on in disgrace!
Dr. Steel had chartered the _Paragon_, a new three-masted schooner,
built at Balmain, Sydney, to come down with our provisions, letters,
etc.; and the owners had given a written agreement that if we could
purchase her within a year we would get her for £3,000. She proved in
every way a suitable vessel, and it became abundantly manifest that
in the interests of our Mission her services ought to be permanently
secured.
I had often said that I would not again leave my beloved work on the
Islands, unless compelled to do so either by the breakdown of health,
or by the loss of our Mission Ship and my services being required to
assist in providing another. Very strange, that in this one season
both of these events befell us. During the hurricanes, from January to
April, 1873, when the _Dayspring_ was wrecked, we lost a darling child
by death, my dear wife had a protracted illness, and I was brought very
low with severe rheumatic fever. I was reduced so far that I could not
speak, and was reported as dying. The Captain of a vessel, having seen
me, called at Tanna, and spoke of me as in all probability dead by that
time. Our unfailing and ever-beloved friends and fellow Missionaries,
Mr. and Mrs. Watt, at once started from Kwamera, Tanna, in their open
boat and rowed and sailed thirty miles to visit us. But a few days
before they arrived I had fallen into a long and sound sleep, out of
which, when I awoke, consciousness had again returned to me. I had
got the turn; there was no further relapse; but when I did regain a
little strength, my weakness was so great that I had to travel about on
crutches for many a day.
Being ordered to seek health by change and by higher medical aid,
and if possible in the cooler air of New Zealand, we took the first
opportunity and arrived at Sydney, anxious to start the new movement
to secure the _Paragon_ there, and then to go on to the Sister Colony.
Being scarcely able to walk without the crutches, we called privately
a preliminary meeting of friends for consultation and advice. The
conditions were laid before them and discussed. The Insurance Company
had paid £2,000 on the first _Dayspring_. Of that sum £1,000 had
been spent on chartering and maintaining the _Paragon_; so that we
required an additional £2,000 to purchase her, besides a large sum
for alterations and equipment for the Mission. The late Mr. Learmouth
looked across to Mr. Goodlet, and said,—
“If you’ll join me, we will at once secure this vessel for the
Missionaries, that God’s work may not suffer from the wreck of the
_Dayspring_.”
Those two servants of God, excellent Elders of the Presbyterian Church,
consulted together, and the vessel was purchased next day. How I
did praise God, and pray Him to bless them and theirs! The late Dr.
Fullarton, our dear friend, said to them,—“But what guarantee do you
ask from the Missionaries for your money?”
Mr. Learmouth’s noble reply was, and the other heartily re-echoed
it,—“God’s work is our guarantee! From them we will ask none. What
guarantee have they to give us, except their faith in God? That
guarantee is ours already.”
I answered,—“You take God and His work for your guarantee. Rest assured
that He will soon repay you, and you will lose nothing by this noble
service.”
Having secured St. Andrew’s Church for a public meeting, I advertised
it in all the papers. Ministers, Sabbath School Teachers, and other
friends came in great numbers. The scheme was fairly launched, and
Collecting Cards largely distributed. Some of our fellow-Missionaries
thought that the Colonial Churches should now do all these things
voluntarily, without our personal efforts. But in every great emergency
some one must take action and show the way, else golden opportunities
are apt to slip. Committees carried everything out into detail, and all
worked for the fund with great goodwill.
I then sailed from Sydney to Victoria, and addressed the General
Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in session at Melbourne. The work
was easily set agoing there, and willing workers fully and rapidly
organized it through Congregations and Sabbath Schools.
Under medical advice, I next sailed for New Zealand in the S.S. _Hero_,
Captain Logan. A large number of fast men and gamblers were on board,
returning from the Melbourne Races, and their language was extremely
profane. Having prayed over it, I said on the second day at the dinner
table,—
“Gentlemen, will you bear with me a moment? I am sure no man at this
table wishes to wound the feelings of another or to give needless pain.”
Every eye stared at me, and there was a general cry as to what I meant.
I continued,—
“Gentlemen, we are to be fellow-passengers for a week or more. Now I
am cut and wounded to my very heart to hear you cursing the name of my
Heavenly Father, and taking in vain the name of my blessed Saviour.
It is God in whom we live and move, it is Jesus who died to save us,
and I would rather ten times over you would wound and abuse me, which
no gentleman here would think of doing, than profanely use those Holy
Names so dear to me.”
There was a painful silence, and most faces grew crimson, some with
rage, some perhaps with shame. At last a banker, who was there, a man
dying of consumption, replied with a profane oath and with wrathful
words. Keeping perfectly calm, in sorrow and pity, I replied, looking
him kindly in the face,—
“Dear Sir, you and I are strangers. But I have pitied you very
tenderly, ever since I came on board, for your heavy trouble and
hacking cough. You ought to be the last to curse that blessed Name,
as you may soon have to appear in His presence. I return, however, no
railing word. If the Saviour was as dear to your heart as He is to
mine, you would better understand me.”
Little else was said during the remainder of that meal. But an hour
later Captain Logan sent for me to his room, and said,—
“Sir, I too am a Christian. I would not give my quiet hour in the Cabin
with this Bible for all the pleasures that the world can afford. You
did your duty to-day amongst these profane men. But leave them and
their consciences now in the hands of God, and take no further notice
during the voyage.”
I never heard another oath on board that ship. The banker met me in New
Zealand and warmly invited me to his house!
My health greatly improved during the voyage, but I was sorely
perplexed about this new undertaking. A sum of £2,800 must be raised,
else the vessel could not sail free for the New Hebrides. I trembled,
in my reduced state, at the task that seemed laid upon me again. One
night, after long praying, I fell into a deep sleep in my Cabin, and
God granted me a Heavenly Dream or Vision which greatly comforted me,
explain it how you will. Sweetest music, praising God, arrested me and
came nearer and nearer. I gazed towards it approaching, and seemed to
behold hosts of shining beings bursting into view. The brilliancy came
pouring all from one centre, and that was ablaze with insufferable
brightness. Blinded with excess of light, my eyes seemed yet to behold
in fair outline the form of the glorified Jesus; but as I lifted
them to gaze on His face, the joy deepened into pain, my hand rose
instinctively to shade my eyes, I cried with ecstasy, the music passed
farther and farther away, and I started up hearing a Voice saying, in
marvellous power and sweetness, “Who art thou, O great mountain? Before
Zerubbabel thou shalt become a plain.” At this some will only smile.
But to me it was a great and abiding consolation. And I kept repeating
to myself, “He is Lord, and they all are ministering Spirits; if He
cheers me thus in His own work, I take courage, I know I shall succeed.”
Reaching Auckland, I was in time to address the General Assembly of the
Church there also. They gave me cordial welcome, and every Congregation
and Sabbath School might be visited as far as I possibly could. The
ministers promoted the movement with hearty zeal. The Sabbath Scholars
took Collecting Cards for “shares” in the new Mission Ship. A meeting
was held every day, and three every Sabbath. Auckland, Nelson,
Wellington, Dunedin, and all towns and Churches within reach of these
were rapidly visited; and I never had greater joy or heartiness in
any of my tours than in this happy intercourse with the Ministers and
People of the Presbyterian Church in New Zealand.
I arrived back in Sydney about the end of March. My health was
wonderfully restored, and New Zealand had given me about £1,700 for the
new ship. With the £1,000 of insurance money, and about £700 from New
South Wales, and £400 from Victoria, besides the £500 for her support
also from Victoria, we were able to pay back the £3,000 of purchase
money, and about £800 for alterations and repairs, as well as equip and
provision her to sail for her next year’s work amongst the Islands free
of debt. I said to our two good friends at Sydney,—
“You took God and His work for your guarantee. He has soon relieved you
from all responsibility. You have suffered no loss, and you have had
the honour and privilege of serving your Lord. I envy you the joy you
must feel in so using your wealth, and I pray God’s double blessing on
all your store.”
Our agent, Dr. Steele, had applied to the Home authorities for power
to change the vessel’s name from _Paragon_ to _Dayspring_, so that the
old associations might not be broken. This was cordially granted. And
so our second _Dayspring_, owing no man anything, sailed on her annual
trip to the New Hebrides, and we returned with her, praising the Lord
and reinvigorated alike in spirit and in body.