J O U R N A L. (continued 2)

In the evening I had the teachers, and after that service at which I preached from the gospel of the day, “Except your righteousness exceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees.” They were very attentive during my remarks, so I trust I was understood. I told them God did not want us merely to come to school and church but He wanted the devotion of the heart, it was not outward righteousness He wished for, but inward truth and honesty and straightness. The Pharisees were very good Churchgoers, but their heart was not right with God, &c., &c.

After Service we had singing which they always enjoy, and even now I hear their voices in the School house singing “There’s a friend for little children.” I had intended to have made an excursion to the neighbouring villages to-day but I could not manage the time, the day having gone so rapidly. Now it is very cool and betokens another cold night but Oh! how calm and peaceful!

Monday, August 2nd.—Another peculiarly cold night ushered in a most glorious day. A very heavy dew lay all round, and until the sun was quite high in the heavens the cold was very perceptible, and a flannel coat was very agreeable. I took two photographs early and trust they are good, but it would be very hard to reproduce the original so lovely as it appeared in the morning light. The scene too was animated with the cheery voices of the people, the crowing of the cocks, the merry laughter of the boys, and even the squealing of the pigs as they followed their owners for their morning food, lent additional and characteristic charm to the occasion. All this one cannot photograph, but it is necessary to suppose all this to give an idea of the village as it is on these glorious mornings. Here we are several hundred feet above the sea level, and a good way inland so that a pleasant day breeze always fans the air, and keeps the place gratefully cool under cover of a roof, or in the shade. I believe one could live here quite comfortably all the year round, and for myself I never feel better than I do here. There is such a freedom too about life here that one can carry a light heart and a contented mind in a healthy body. To-day almost without exception the people are off to the beach to windward. At this time of year the tides are very low, and leave the reefs almost entirely uncovered. Fish and crabs and other sea oddities are therefore left exposed, and the first named are shot by the men in the pools, and the women collect the latter, which are looked upon as choice articles of diet. Just now I am left quite solitary, but I have just dismissed a bevy of ladies who came to see the present seven days wonder, my magnetic fish. They cannot fathom the mystery at all why when one point of the fishing rod as they call it, is presented to the fish they eagerly rush at it, and why when the other they rapidly retire. They solve the problem by saying it is a “Wui,” (spirit). And it must seem strange to them as all our belongings must being of an order of art, so far removed from their conceptions or achievements. A kerosene lamp to this day is a marvel to them, and the manipulation equally mysterious, why it should flare up when turned one way, and why it should die when turned the other. One old woman who has been very sick and up to-day for the first time, came with the crowd and greeted me in the most maternal manner, grasping my hand in both her own, and calling me “Baua,” an obsolete word now, but belonging to a district called “Loqala” which was utterly devastated years ago by enemies among whom were these very people of Tanrig. This old lady and her son Samuel, now my head teacher at Tasmouri, are the sole survivors I believe, and she retains the expression or appelation by which a grandmother greets her grandson.

I brought a box of refuse toys from Norfolk Island to which our boys and girls there have grown superior, and the exhibition and distribution of them created quite a furore. One would never suppose in these days of superior enlightenment that any people could be found simple enough to go into ecstacies over a halfpenny toy, but these women and children have gone off perfectly enraptured with their new possessions, and I dare say they will treasure them up for many a day and find pleasure in the contemplation and exhibition of them. One poor young mother has just brought in great distress her infant child which she says is suffering from a pain in its side, and the only remedy I can conceive of is a dose of castor oil. The father comes around to my side of the table, and whispers that it has not been ‘washed’ yet, meaning that it has not been Baptized, and that it has no name. While writing this Samuel appeared with another friend from Tasmouri, and I went with them to the beach where all the population had previously gone. Our path lay through the carefully and skilfully irrigated taro fields, and of course it was very bad in some places. Crossing one place I made a false step and went up to my knees, it was a fitting judgment on my pride for I refused the assistance of a stalwart follower’s back, which had borne me dry and safely over two such places before. I presented a strangely harlequin appearance with white flannel trowsers above the knee, and black mud gaiters below. However appearances are easily pardoned here, and the only grief was at my own discomfort. The people of course all said it was because the roads were so bad, but that was too palpable a truism, and was no relief to my feelings. Bootless and trowserless, these paddy paths make no difference to them, and mud has not the same appearance on a black skin. However we went to the sea-shore and saw the sport which was not much. One very large fish was caught with a hook and line, and the women had great horse-loads of shell fish, but generally the bowmen came off badly. The tide was out to the utmost limit of the reef, and quite half-a-mile from the shore the rocks were entirely exposed. Of course there was some very good reason for the failure and ill luck, and I was somewhat surprised to hear the wind blamed. It so happened that what of that element there was, was off shore, but if it had been only blowing in shore it would have driven in the fish. However there was disappointment depicted on every countenance, and there was some trifling relief to the feelings in putting the blame on the wind. Probably if the wind is all right to-morrow something else will be wrong, and so on. What a wonderful place in the English language those two little words ‘if’ and ‘but’ have, and how they qualify almost every action of mankind, and how usually are they made use of in self-extenuation. How scarcely possible is it to describe a single character without the use of one or other of them! He would be a very nice fellow ‘if.’ She would be an estimable woman ‘but.’ On our homeward road I marched boldly through mud and water taking pride I suppose in revenging myself, and showing my unmentionables that now the pink of their whiteness was off, they might just as well be a little more dirty. However, a refreshing bath was some return for my chagrin and discomfort, and I hastened home for a clean change. The cooks brought me two deliciously cooked fish for dinner, and were very disappointed when I sent them back untasted. I am never very partial to fish, and in these latitudes my digestive organs rebel even against the smell of them. However, the boys very soon picked the bones, and perhaps were not sorry that I had not partaken. There is great feasting going on to-night with both sexes, the men with their fish supper and the women with shell-fish.

Everywhere to-day we saw the bush lit up with the bright red “Rarava,” a gorgeous tree, which flowers at this time of the year, and gives its name to the winter season. The other season is called “Magoto” from a reed of that name which shoots in spring, and these are the only native seasons of the year. There does not seem to be however any very marked distinction or peculiar line of demarcation between summer and winter as regards the heat and cold, but in fact it does seem to be warmer in the “Magoto” and cooler in the “Rarava.” To an Englishman however it is always hot, and he does not detect any material difference. One shivers now to think of ice and snow and of such concomitants of the winter season, for here of course they are absolutely unknown.

Tuesday, August 3rd.—It gets somewhat monotonous to write every day of cold nights, but this last one has been no exception. The cold is so peculiar and penetrating that clad in flannel from head to foot, and covered with a blanket and rug, I failed to keep it out, and slept very badly in consequence. When I did sleep, too, I was troubled with dreams and fancied myself in Ireland hunted by ‘Moonlighters.’ I had proposed to go to a very distant district called “Golvanua” to-day, but at the eleventh hour my escort cried off and I could not go alone. I cannot quite say why it is, but natives when they are about to make an excursion almost invariably start on the spur of the moment without making any previous appointment, or specifying any distinct time. Whether they wish to elude ‘Fate’ and deprive it of the chance of being unpropitious by stealing a march, or whether the fear of material foes induces them to do these things secretly so that they may not be cognizant of their movements, or what it is I do not know, but fact it is that if you want to make a journey, you must abide the native’s time and conveniences for they will seldom assent to yours if premeditated or prearranged.

I quite expect that some fine morning, before I am out of bed perhaps, my escort will be awaiting me outside my door, and anxiously and impatiently desiring to start at once. Natives make no preparation for a journey, they have no impedimenta of travel, and lightly clad, and lightly weighted, they are ready at any moment to start, and a long or short stay is all the same to them. They want no canteens or bedding or change of clothing, and they can lay their heads down in any spot, and rest and refresh themselves, and be ready for any emergency. They do not even need as much as a tooth brush and pair of slippers for their excursions, and marvel at our wanting so much to them unnecessary luggage. I believe I should make many more journeys, if I could accomplish them with so little inconvenience and discomfort.

Samuel went back this morning, and I am to go to Tasmouri on Friday for a week. He gives a very good account of his work there and I am anxious to see and judge for myself. The whole Community there are Baptized, and most exemplary Christians they are. They are very nice lively good-natured people too, but are not very numerous. Indeed these Maewo villages have dwindled down to very few inhabitants, from one cause and another, and a large measure of the decrease is owing to the wide spread practice of infanticide. Now in this district that practice, thank God, is checked and the population is again on the increase. Moses who was here with Samuel to-day asked me to Baptize while at Tasmouri his fourth child, three boys of his are already Baptized, and such mothers as his wife are a blessing to the race. Here two mothers have three children apiece, and several have two. I wish however the mothers would bring up their children a little better, they are the perfect slaves of their offspring, and give into them in everything. Talk about spoilt children, I have to roar every day of my life to some little urchin, screaming his lungs out because his mother does not do at once what he wants. The mother beats at one moment and coaxes at another, and the child grows up anyhow, a burden to himself and a nuisance to his neighbours. I want a good superior minded and well educated mother here to give some practical advice. Arthur’s wife is but a child herself, and as devoid of gumption as the rest of them. Poor people, they do not know what trouble and misery they entail upon themselves and their children from a want of a little firmness, and well timed correction.

It has been a most glorious day, and this morning I accepted an invitation from the boys to go to ‘Kerepei.’ The tide was very low and many of the people had preceded us, and were busy searching the reef and rocks for the much prized products of the sea shore. The little fellows got me most deliciously sweet green cocoanuts, and while I was bathing caught me a nice lot of prawns for my tea. Days spent in this way are very pleasant, for we get to know each other all the better, and I can exercise a continual supervision over their actions. I generally carry a paper or portable volume with me, and to-day the Church Times was my companion. The evening was most glorious and peaceful, but when the sun went down peculiarly cold. Now as I write I have a blazing fire in my house, and I feel the comfort of it. The poor ill clad people are shivering all around, and are off to their several domiciles to try and get some heat. The attendance at school to-night was worse than I have known it yet, and the cold was said to be the reason of it.

Wednesday, August 4th.—There seems a perfect rage for fishing just now, when the exceptionally low tides afford such advantages for the pursuit. School was no sooner over to-day, than there was a general exodus seaward of all the able bodied inhabitants of the place. They talk to-day of trying the “Tasigoro” to see what it yields. This Tasigoro is a tabu’d enclosure of so much of the reef as those who make it choose, and it is made in this way—one, two, three or indeed any number of people who have reached the rank of “welu” kill a certain kind of pig, and for ten days the killer or killers are supposed to subsist on pig’s flesh, at the end of ten days they go to the beach, and mark off the chosen portion of the beach with a long bamboo at either end, like a base for football, but on a somewhat larger scale, and tie on to the bamboo the leaf of a certain palm tree; the person or persons then bathe in that part of the sea, and the juice of the pig’s flesh which they have eaten, is supposed to have the effect of sanctifying in some way the place, and no one fishes within the enclosure until the “welus” choose to take the “tabu” off. There is a talk of doing this to-day, and the whole population turns out to it. Of course the whole length and breadth of the reef during these low tides is left high and dry, and the fish have wisdom enough to retire as the tide goes out, but some are dilatory like Lot in his flight from Sodom, and some stop to have a look back like his wife, these are therefore left behind in the several pools that are everywhere dotted about of more or less depth. Some fish again which feed upon the reef have natural channels of escape into deep water, but these are very skilfully guarded by the natives with large nets, and the fish are captured while making a rush to get out into the open sea. All these channels are carefully guarded, and a very large number of fish shut in from escape on the more or less exposed reef. The leaves of a certain shrub are used for the purpose of stupifying the fish in the deeper pools, and they are easily caught when under the influence of the stupification. Others again are shot with bows and arrows, others speared, others caught by hand until at times the haul numbers several thousands, of all sorts, sizes and descriptions. After this great catch of course there is much feasting and rejoicing, and according to their own old heathen superstitious ideas there is something sacred in the fish so caught. ‘Kava’ is largely drunk on these occasions and the festivities are prolonged for many days. After my experience the other day I did not care to go again, and followed Arthur and some others to ‘Rarava,’ whither I took my photographic camera, and shot off a most beautiful picture in nature. I hope it may prove so in development.

William, one of the men, lit a fire and soon produced some fine large bread-fruit which were placed on the embers, and deftly turned over and over so as to be properly cooked all round. The result was that in about a quarter of an hour I was engaged upon a smoking hot loaf of bread, which eaten with scraped cocoa-nut is very nice indeed. Breadfruit is too much like boiled dough to be really very nice, but to me it is very palatable food. The black outside coating peels off very readily when well cooked, and leaves a round puddingy sort of compound to be eaten. Inside are seeds somewhat bigger than a marble, not unlike filberts, and these are generally eaten with the breadfruit, the hard outside husk easily peeling off, and leaving a large bean like kernel. “Duwu” prepared his in quite a new way to me. Having pealed off the outside crust caused by the cooking, he wrapped the whole fruit up in the long dracæna leaves, and tied up the neck very carefully. He then took a small bamboo, and beat the breadfruit into a soft pulp, giving it a few final bangs on the ground, the leaves were opened, and the pudding turned out on leaves resembling very much a squash, and then cut up like a vegetable marrow into slices and eaten with scraped cocoanut. This I think was nicer than the bare breadfruit. We were a little party of twelve of both sexes, and all shared alike, men and women eating together in the most friendly manner, and not only so but the men did the cooking and helped the women in the nicest way. I could not help thinking what a contrast it was to years gone by. There we were sitting every man under his own vine and under his own fig, with no apparent fear or apprehension of evil, and the most perfect harmony of the two sexes existing among us. Here you scarcely ever now see the husband without the wife, and where you see the wife you may know the husband is not far off. Amina and Eliza kindly got me some land crabs which I enjoyed for tea. These and prawns are readily obtainable, and make a nice occasional change.

Thursday, August 5th.—A strong Trade wind blowing fresh all night, and this morning it is still very gusty and disagreeable.

To-morrow there is another house to be thatched, and those who are not crazed about fishing are off getting food. From the commencement to the finish, house building here is a matter of great importance. There are four kinds of houses, of which the ‘gamal’ is the chief. This is the men’s club, and the young men’s sleeping quarters. Within its walls the women may not enter, and there is a certain circumscribed boundary into which they may not trespass. All food cooked in the ‘gamal’ is partaken of by the men only, and a woman may not eat of it under any consideration. ‘Kava’ is prepared and drunk there also, and of this a woman may not drink. Within the gamal are various ovens according to the several degrees of rank, and those of the same grade eat out of one oven, and the rules of precedence are strictly adhered to. Fire used within the gamal may not be used in a private house. After a certain age all boys are supposed to live in the gamal, and that becomes their proper quarters until they marry and build houses of their own. Any man may sleep in the gamal and eat food there.

The next house in importance is the “ima” or married man’s residence. Within this house the cooking of the food for the family is done, and the married couples live. This house is known from the rest, by having the front and back end worked with cane, and more pains are expended on the building of it. The third kind of house is the “vale,” within which there is no fire place for cooking, and this is used mostly as the apartments of the young females before marriage, and for stowing any treasures which may be inconvenient in the “ima.” The front and end of the ‘vale’ are made only of bamboos. A fourth kind of house is the “ima somu” (the Bank). In this house is kept the treasures of the village, and it is always known by a peculiarly neat front of reeds, and by a very curious sort of pallisade of reeds placed in a sort of semicircle around the front door. Within this house a fire is kept continually burning night and day, and the reason for this is that the most prized and valuable article of barter here is the smoked mat, and the blacker it can be smoked the more does it increase in value. As may be supposed, within these houses a most weird and odd sight presents itself. The gross darkness being only relieved by the glowing embers of the undying fire, the fresh black mats look like so many great flying foxes suspended over it.

The importance of the several houses is therefore in this order, the “gamal,” “ima,” “vale,” and “ima somu.” When a building is finished there is always a great ceremony ranging in importance according to the description of the house. For the gamal the ‘house warming’ is a matter of much ceremonial called “nasu,” and a man is supposed to “nasu gamal” with a pig at least. Any live stock may be slaughtered in “nasu ima,” and fowls, or if possible fish, are mostly in requisition. Plain food only is required for the two latter, but all the same there must be some house warming, or the building would not be properly finished. The house I occupy is an “ima,” and being a proprietor of many pigs, I am going to add to the dignity and full completion of my residence, by slaughtering two innocent animals next Thursday (D.V.) and the school will get a general holiday and a pleasant evening. I do this partly because I want to give the boys some slight return for the pains they have been at in building the house, to get a piece of pork myself, and to give a holiday in honour of my return among them. They say they must dig an oven within the ‘ima’ to make the thing complete, but to this I object. To-morrow, all being well, I go to Tasmouri.

Friday, August 6th.—Morning Prayer, school and breakfast at Tanoriki, and then started with three others for Tasmouri. It was a most lovely day, and a fresh Trade wind fanned the air and kept the paths pleasantly cool. Beneath the deep, dark shade of the native forest, the strong burning heat of the morning sun was not oppressive, and the roads and bush were fortunately very dry. However, any exertion in this climate induces perspiration, and that one expects.

The native guide swung along at a rapid pace, and we were not long in reaching “Uta,” where we rested for some time in the neat little school, and Takele regaled us with green cocoanuts, which were very acceptable. Poor Takele, who has only one enlightened friend to help him, finds a difficulty in getting his scholars together on a week day, and no wonder, as I suppose he knows very little more than they do themselves, and it is irksome to old people to spell over their A.B.C. day after day, and get no oral instruction. It is far more in consonance with their feelings and habits to go out for the day, either to the seashore or to their gardens, than to be trammelled with the cares and labour of school. On Sundays he says they turn up in large numbers, and generally some one goes to them from Tanoriki. I promised him a visit for Sunday week, all being well, and I shall try to keep my promise, for he deserves all the help we can extend to him. He has never been away, is a man now of middle age, and entirely self-taught. He is a most excellent, conscientious man, and tries to do all he can for his people, according to his limited amount of knowledge.

He built the school himself and keeps it in most extraordinary order. In many cases he has acted as a deterrent on his countrymen, when they have proposed some heathen act which he has not thought to be within the bounds of strict rectitude, and I believe he tries to lead a good life as far as he knows. As far as morality goes, I do not think anyone would venture to bring an accusation against him. I have always intended to Baptize him, and perhaps this year I may put my intentions into effect. Leaving “Uta” we still marched on in single file, till we reached the brow of the cliff down which, of necessity, we had to descend, Tasmouri being on the other side of the island to windward. A striking and broad prospect greeted us from the hill top, and we saw besides Meralava and the wide expanse of ocean before us, the grand fertile plain belonging to the Tasmouri district, and the church and school visible in the far distance. At the foot of the steep cliff our way lay through the beautifully irrigated taro beds, and of course I had to pick my way to prevent being buried in mud. Leaving the gardens, we had a grand stretch of level country before us, and before long we came upon a merry party of Tasmouri people awaiting our arrival, some distance from their village. Being tired and hungry I pushed on ahead with some of the boys, and enjoyed a refreshing bathe and change of garments. Then came what I suppose I must dignify by the name of dinner, mostly native food, but eaten with the best sauce was as good as the best Lord Mayor’s feast, and I dare say as digestible. The Bishop’s kind present was most useful, and the canteen contained every article requisite for out of the way travellers. After the meal the people came home, and before long we had Evensong. I was quite surprised at the heartiness of the responses, the fluency of the reading, and the general brightness of the singing and service.

The women sang out lustily with a good courage, and although a trifle slow the result was pleasing on the whole. With a little teaching the singing and service will be very nice. I find I have Baptized forty-six people here, two of whom have died, two have gone away in a labour vessel, and forty-two still remain. They are a very nice, genuine, exemplary community, and Samuel has kept them well together. They seem to me beyond the Tanrigese in point of mental ability, and readily take in fresh ideas. One or two of the young men are very superior fellows. This evening I felt the warmth of this place, by comparison with Tanrig, and for the first time for the year I have slept without any kind of covering. The reed bed I found somewhat hard, but one cannot expect everything, and is content with such things as one has. The condition of the people morally, socially and spiritually, simply reconcile one to any amount of bodily inconvenience. I can thank God and take courage.

Saturday, August 7th.—Most beautiful morning at Tasmouri. After Prayers and breakfast we all went for a picnic to a pretty place called “Ron̈o nawo” meaning the sound of the surf, but why I don’t know. It is curious how the Mota word has got in here “nawo.” The word here for surf is “togovi” but nawo comes probably from Meralava. We all turned out for the holiday, men, women and children. The women did the cooking while the men and boys amused themselves in various ways, fishing, shooting, bathing or playing an animated game called “buka,” something between “prisoner’s base” and the old game of “tig.” Some of the young men amused themselves by shooting at a mark about thirty or forty yards distant. They made such good shooting at that distance, that I should be very sorry to give them a shot at me with a good well balanced poisoned arrow. At short distances of course they make very good work, and in their own skirmishes they don’t want to make long shots. I dare say by the side of a good English archer they would cut a sorry figure at a long shot, but for their own purposes they are excellent shots, and custom of course engenders skill. Their arrows are unfeathered, and I don’t expect will carry as true as the better made English arrow. Their bows are very strong and durable, being made curiously enough from a tree called the “Aru” (she oak). I spent my day pleasantly enough in reading and making pencil notes. Crabs and breadfruit was my luncheon, and a green cocoanut. The whole party assembled in the course of the afternoon, and the ovens were opened and their plentiful supply of food disgorged. I said grace and then there was a general fall to. The meal over we made preparation for a start homewards which we reached some time before sunset. On the way home the boys showed me in the water course a cocoanut tree which time had failed to rot or destroy, and the story according to native ideas was that this same tree was coexistant with the upheaval of the island, and had never changed, generation after generation handing on the fact of its existence and whereabouts.

In the evening we had Prayers in the church and a nice hearty Service. Poor “Samuel” the head teacher is sick and has not been able to be with us to-day. I gave a short address at Evensong explanatory mostly of to-morrow’s programme. It is very warm here and one’s thoughts either cease to flow or one’s hand to write, anyhow I find a difficulty in inducing energy to write or my brain to cogitate.

Except for the perpetual boom and surge of the restless ocean all is still and peaceful here at present.

On Saturdays following the general and long prevailing custom of the Mission we have a whole holiday, and consequently this morning we had only the shortened form of Mattins such as we use here. Breakfast followed consisting of yam scraped and cooked in leaves, and the particular kind presented for my discussion this morning is called “laqan̈a.” The natives are great cooks and have a very long list of various dishes on their menu.

There are three principal modes of cooking food, however, such as yams and taro, (1) Roasted on the embers and the outside skin carefully scraped off as it gets hardened, this is called “tutunu,” (2) scraped on the rough edge of the tree fern, then wrapped in leaves like a large pudding and cooked in the hot stones, this is termed “loko,” (3) roasted on the fire until cooked, then beaten on a large wooden dish until as thin about as biscuit pastry, and cocoanut cream poured over, this is named “lutu.” The first two are the most common preparations, and the first perhaps most generally in use.

The different kinds of “loko and lutu” are wonderful, and it would puzzle any one but a skilled native cook, to make any distinct varieties of dishes out of such unpromising materials.

Both sexes are good cooks, and no wonder, as from the time they are able properly to run about, until the infirmities of old age creep on they are accustomed to shift for themselves. An English boy would fare very badly if he had to cook his own dinner, and provide for his own wants as early as some of these native children. But education and habit are everything, the latter of course is second nature.

Sunday, August 8th.—At Tasmouri. Beautiful but very warm morning. After breakfast we had Sunday School, at which every member of the village population was present. I was much pleased with the way four or five classes repeated by heart their catechism, and the collect for the week, and answered general questions on the subject. It showed one that school was a serious and important business both with teacher and pupil. We went from the school into church, where we had full Morning Service but without any Sermon. Service over, I was followed by the whole male population to Tasmate. The day was very hot, and we had been obliged to choose the hottest part of it for our walk. However we tumbled over the same creepers, knocked our heads against the same branches, brushed against the same bristly bushes, that the natives of Maewo have done ever since they peopled the island. No one ever thinks of trying to improve his own or his neighbour’s ways, and from being accustomed so long to the present condition of the paths, they are quite content to experience the discomfort for ever and aye, they were good enough for their own forefathers, why should not they be good enough for them. Being head and shoulders taller than most of our natives, I suffered untold agonies mentally and physically, but I submit to the necessity, knowing that unless I commence to improve matters myself, I may expect the same discomforts to the end of the chapter. My helmet on more than one occasion has saved my head very severe concussions, and to be bonnetted is no uncommon occurence. However, on we swung, I being thankful that the road was so level as it was, and at length arrived at Tasmate more fit to be comforted than to think of administering comfort to others. They have built a nice little school here, and by the way they turned up at the subsequent service it was manifest that they knew the use of it. Augmented by the Tasmouri people the little place was crowded to its fullest capabilities, and the heat and flies were not such as one would choose for ordinary enjoyment, but personal comforts with Missionaries are a secondary consideration. We had a nice service, and I gave a somewhat long address in spite of inconveniences, and when it was over I retired to the cool refreshing shade by the sea shore, and all at once everyone began to feel the heat and followed me there. However, our conversation ran in an edifying course, and I hope some were profited by it. The return home was the next consideration, and I must say it seemed formidable for a Sunday afternoon. We reached a place called “Na Seu,” and there I could not resist a bathe in the natural bathing place, under such a deliciously cool shoot of water. We came home by a new route which was said to be much shorter, but it turned out to be quite as long I think, and not nearly so pleasant walking.

At “Uta riki,” where I formerly remember a good population, one man and a small child are the only surviving remnant. The rest are all scattered or dead. We asked him to come to Tasmouri and live there, but he would not consent on the spur of the moment. His son and relations left are mostly there. In matter of wives he has been a regular Blue Beard, and the last of a long list has just died, and left him a widower.

We arrived in due course at Tasmouri, and after dinner all together, which the women had provided in our absence, we had Evensong, a very nice service with a Sermon from me. The women proposed singing afterwards, and this went on till late. At the Evening Service I Baptized the infant daughter of Moses, naming her Anika. Moses, wife, and four children are now a Christian family. His care of, and love for, his children gave me good food for my discourse afterwards, as did the case of ‘Dimeli’ and the remnant of his people migrating from the place where many had died, to a place where all were going to keep well and live, with the result that all have died with the exception of himself. There was no hope of life apart from God.

Monday, August 9th.—Very hot, oppressive day, and I was so ill throughout I did little or nothing. My efforts to get cool were utterly abortive. Great Christening festivities were going on all day. The fatted pig was killed and eaten with much thankfulness and rejoicing in the evening. At Evensong I screwed my courage up to a Sermon which was better listened to than delivered. Afterwards there was a dance.

Tuesday, August 10th.—I saw this morning a beardless youth, who is the tenth husband of a woman in the district. One of her sons is a full-gown man at Tasmouri, himself married many years. There is no accounting for taste, but on which side the love or taste is I do not know. Beauty of face and figure have little weight generally with natives, they think more of utility and position. They seem to me to have no idea of the sublime and beautiful either in woman or in nature according to our ideas, and in a very matter of fact way look to the practical side of the business. Polygamy here is the exception, and there is not so large a percentage of females as is found in some of the islands. However, if they are all as easily satisfied as the youth mentioned above, young girls will be at a premium. There is one man here at Tasmouri who has two wives, and he steadily refuses to divorce one or the other with a view to Baptism, and according to our present practice in the administration of that Holy Rite, we insist on monogamy. Strangely enough the son of this very man had five wives, four of whom he divorced in order to be Baptized. All the four divorced are now married and Baptized at Tasmouri.

It was so intolerably hot in the village, I proposed that we should go to Ron̈onawo, as I was going to Tasmate to sleep and that was about a half-way house. All the population followed me, and there we cooked our dinner and rested. After the meal we had a short service there on the beach which was very quiet and solemn, and then with most of the men I turned my steps towards Tasmate, Samuel and a few others, with the women going back to Tasmouri. There was a great shaking of hands, some profusion of tears among the women, and a great deal of Christian harmony between us all.

Arriving at Tasmate we found another dinner awaiting us, and a hearty welcome. We had Prayers after dinner with a sermon from myself, in which I contrasted the present visit with those they must remember to have known in heathen days. Then the hands were full, but the heart was empty, now the heart was full of love and the hands carried no bow and arrows. We had great Hymn singing afterwards, and the men sat and talked outside about the present and the past. There are a few hearts here I can see being prepared for the good seed which may God sow in His good time, quickly if it may be, and water the plant of grace with the dew of His Holy Spirit.

We were rather late before we thought of retiring, and I was not sorry at length when it was proposed, for without chair or seat, except a native tree, there was no great pleasure in sitting.

Wednesday, August 11th.—Spent a very uncomfortable night at Tasmate. The kind people had done all they could to make me comfortable, but I found the bed very hard, the sleeping quarters very rough, the fleas in large numbers, and the mosquitos very lively. However, I have been more uncomfortable, and I was not unthankful to be brought safely to the beginning of another day. A place was named to me last evening called “Beitabu,” as being a most choice spot for a bathe, and it was said to be near at hand. Having not many toilet requisites with me, I proposed to one “Lulu” a denizen of the place to pilot me there. I was very “breakfasty” and most unrefreshed, but away we started for “Beitabu.” It was a fearful grind to get there, and the distance seemed to me interminable. Of course being well watered there were irrigated taro beds, and I slipped off a bank clean into the mud. Yet when the spot was reached it made up for all difficulties and distresses and proved to be a most marvellous natural bath, a large, clear, deep pool, with water pouring in from a charming little waterfall, and flowing out rapidly over the rocks below. I do not know when I have enjoyed a bath more, or when water had a more invigorating and refreshing effect on me. Fortunately my host had what breakfast there was ready for me when I got back, and in my state of exhaustion it did not much matter what it was. After breakfast we had Morning Prayer with a short address from me instead of school. Not long after “sail oh!” was cried and my boat appeared to bring me back here to Tanrig, and heartily glad am I to be back here again in comparative comfort. We had a pleasant but rather heavy row up the coast, our party on board numbering twenty-eight. Fortunately the sea was very smooth, and not much wind, or probably we should not have fared so well. All my Tasmouri friends came on with me and are spending the night. All were well here and the place looked much as usual. One little baby had died unbaptized during my absence, a matter of great regret to everybody, and very much so to me. I had known of the child’s illness, and it was better before I left. I had therefore postponed its Baptism until I could make it convenient to Baptize three or four more infants now waiting for the Rite.

Thursday, August 12th.—General holiday. Arthur took occasion to “nasu ima” at the same time with me, and the great event of two house warmings drew together a large concourse of people. Fire was lit in my house, and part of a pig and two fowls were cooked in the oven. It is the custom here to have as many kinds of flesh as possible on these occasions, and as many kinds of vegetables, representing I suppose all the different sorts of food that will hereafter be cooked therein. There has been great preparation for this day, and great excitement to-day. Every household added its mite to the feast, and in the evening when the feast was spread out there was a grand display. Everyone had huge pieces of yam and taro and banana cake, and a large piece of fish, fowl and pork. The pork takes precedence, but the fish costs the greatest pains in provision, not being so easily within their reach or means of acquisition. Fish in these countries do not seem to take hook and bait readily, and the poor natives have to resort to all manner of odd expedients to secure them. There were many strangers here, and quite 150 people or more must have partaken. The pork was very nice and most beautifully cooked in the native oven. The females presided over the cutting up, but Arthur as co-host with myself gave directions as master of the feast. He gave a sigh of relief when he came into my house after it was all over, and said “there, what a poor return for so much labour.” That always strikes me as the most pitiable thing about a feast, it is all over in the twinkling of an eye, and what have you for your pains?

This evening there is a great dance, a vast crowd of people has already congregated, and it is to go on till morning light. It is done as a special compliment to myself, and I do not like to stop them. The patient endurance of some of the dancers is wonderful. From the start to the finish, say from 8 p.m. to 4 a.m., they never leave the ranks of the dance but keep at it all the time, singing, clapping the hands and dancing. There is no rest for a good supper at midnight, but the dance is carried right through to the bitter end. I am going to attempt sleep, but I fear the noise will prove too much for me. They have certainly a most beautiful night for their dance, but I should be sorry to be one of the performers. The songs are certainly very pretty, and they show wonderful power of memory to keep up the succession all through the night, without a book of words or musical score.

I can imagine too, as the enthusiasm of the dance increases, that there must be a sort of fascination about the performance.

Friday, August 13th.—The dance was kept up till daylight, and I got little or no sleep before that. When I did get to sleep, I slept so soundly that it was late on in the morning before I awoke, and then I was driven to it. Arthur Huqe appeared at my bedside and asked me if he should ring the bell for prayers, and I was obliged to consent. The whole day afterwards was somewhat of a blank to me, and I went no whither and did little till evening. The duties of the day however, were carried on as usual.

Saturday, August 14th.—The usual holiday. We had Prayers very early, and before breakfast I took a picture of most of the congregation in front of the church, which I hope will turn out good. It was not a pleasant day indoors, there was a strong wind blowing, and clouds of dust penetrating my house from all quarters, and I was not sorry to accept Arthur’s offer to go with himself and most of the people to the riverside. There it is always cool and pleasant, and the luxury of a bathe, although almost a daily occurence, is always appreciated. I took my photographic Camera with me, and after almost burying myself in mud, succeeded in getting a good view of the pretty taro gardens. On our way to Rarava the monotony of the road was relieved by our starting a “malau,” the ornithological name of which I know not, but it is a kind of bush turkey, it has a red head, yellow legs and black feathers, and is really like a common hen in shape and appearance. The poor thing was evidently startled from her peculiar nest, where she was about to deposit her eggs. These strange birds after securing a favourable spot, lay their eggs some depth beneath the upper soil, and leave them there uncared for until the young ones hatch themselves, and when strong enough burst their earthly tenement, and come forth to the light of day. Some say the parent comes occasionally back to her nest to see how matters are progressing, and even digs at the earth to find out how the process of hatching goes on. If she finds her progeny ready to walk, she drives them on before her to a place of security, but the general belief is that she allows them to shift for themselves. These curious birds are said to feed principally on the large ants here called “gandee.”

In Savo and some of the Solomon Islands, these birds are tamed and fenced in, to lay their eggs in the hot sand, but here they are wild and rare. Their eggs which are very numerous are esteemed a great delicacy. This poor bird in question tried very hard to get away by flight, but getting entangled in the thick bush, was shot by a cruel arrow. The capture was the food for conversation throughout the day, and I listened to the relation and re-relation of the narrative of it times without number, with all the little details with which natives are wont to embellish and amplify their narration of the smallest fact. It is perfectly wonderful how the smallest matter affords pasture for native conversation, and what a wonderful faculty they have of making multum out of parvum. In powers of conversation and flow of language, I think natives are far before our European working classes. A native never seems at a loss for something to say, and certainly never fails to express himself from lack of words.

I have frequently heard an European confess that he had a great deal to say, but he could not express himself for want of words. The fluency of speech, and powers of conversation are not confined here to the weaker sex, and I think the men have quite as long tongues as the women, although I do not think they chatter so much or make such a clatter. Some of the men are great wits, and make fun for the multitude, but I do not think this applies to the women. The Maewo folks are great “laughers,” and go off into fits of cacchination at the smallest joke. They are a most simple, good-natured race certainly, and it is hard to conceive of their being such depraved savages, so gentle are they in their ways.

After school with the teachers in the evening, during which we discussed our Sunday programme, we had Evensong, and afterwards a long singing practice. Miss Mount’s generous gift is a most welcome addition to our singing, and Arthur Huqe begins to play the harmonium very nicely at the services. Our singing is very fair on the whole, but there is room for improvement, and we have the ability if I could get the girls to use their very nice voices. In the old familiar hymns and chants they sing out lustily, but when we attempt anything new, they shut up altogether, without making a trial to join in.

Sunday, August 15th.—There are two very homely sounds which break the stillness of the early morning here, and the first is the cock which seems to have a peculiar faculty for crowing in these latitudes, he starts his chant before commerce is awake and he keeps religiously at it all day long. Here at Maewo, too, these birds are in prodigal abundance, their flesh is esteemed very delicate food, and is kept for great and exalted occasions. Here the male takes precedence of the female even in the matter of dumb animals, and sows and hens are looked upon as only fit food for women. The crow of the first cock is a signal for a general chorus, and then the natives begin to stir. As soon as they appear on the threshold of their doors another chorus takes up the morning song, and the pigs begin their squealing. Whether it is that one looks for more peace on Sunday morning, or whether one perchance is a trifle more inclined to take a little more sleep or a little more slumber, whatever the actual cause may be, I always notice that on Sundays there is always a greater noise from the domestic animals than on ordinary days. The pigs here are hand fed, and will not be denied, they squeal to their hearts’ content until they have their morning meal, and being in considerable numbers the noise is not sleep producing. In old days these animals were kept for their heathen feasts, but as of late these have fallen into disuse, so the pigs have increased until they have become one of the features of the place. At a Baptism or any great Church Festival such as Christmas, Easter, Pentecost, one or more male animals have to die, and although the possession of a flock is as much valued as an Englishman’s stud, no one ever grumbles to kill his animal when his turn comes round.

Being very hot this morning, and there being a prospect of the repetition of the Egyptian plague of flies, who always add to the discomfort of a congregation, we had school very early. Our numbers were slightly augmented by outsiders, but not quite to my satisfaction. After a hasty breakfast I started for Uta. This is a good long distance from here, and I was in a state of dripping perspiration when I arrived there. I found everyone keeping a Sabbath, but very few appreciating the idea of a Christian Sunday.

However, I had quite a large congregation in the neat little school but the ladies preponderated in point of numbers. We had quite a nice hearty little service, and they listened patiently to an address from myself. I wish from my heart I had a good teacher to place here, for I know he would be the means of doing much good work to God’s glory. The present teacher is a very good, conscientious fellow, but his own knowledge is not much above that of his own countrymen, and they grow weary of hearing continually the same thing. I was quite pleased with my visit, and amply rewarded for any discomfort I experienced in the journey. I do not expect that any immediate result will issue from such spasmodic efforts, but there is no knowing the power of grace, and God’s ways are not as our ways. Often it is that the last becomes first, and the first last. At all events I keep the door open, and I hope before long someone else may be raised up to settle among them as a permanent teacher. After resting awhile I took my homeward journey, escorted according to custom by the denizens of the village beyond their own boundary. I returned by way of “Na Ruru,” where “Anthony” one of our Norfolk Island trained boys has a school. He seems to be doing fairly well there, and has a nice school. After sitting with him for some time, the shades of evening began to close in, and I to feel somewhat famished, having had but little since morning. Bidding him goodbye I started for Tanrig, where I arrived in due course. After dinner I baptized three children, Maida, Victoria and Matthew respectively. The Font was very prettily arranged and decorated by Arthur Huqe, and the service generally, very nice. Later on we had Evensong, quite a refreshing and stirring service, at which I preached, and never before do I remember to have secured more attention. These children I Baptized this evening make up the number of Christians here to 100, under God, the fruits of my own, and my teacher’s work, and I feel that by the orderly and consistent lives of most of them, I can thank God and take courage.

I took as the basis of my remarks, our Lord’s last command to His Disciples, and I urged those who had already been admitted into the fellowship of Christ’s religion, to eschew all those things which were contrary to their profession, and to follow all such things as were agreeable to the same, and those still without the pale to lose no time in applying for that rite, the absence of which our Lord declared must be condemnation. Those words have a strong sound here for Missionary and heathen—“He that believeth and is Baptized shall be saved, but he that believeth not shall be dammed.” One realizes here their full weight, and solemnity, and power. Quite three parts of the congregation have dropped in to wish me good night, and by the hushed stillness over the place I can tell that God’s Word has not fallen to the ground. God grant that it may minister grace to hearer and preacher.

Monday, August 16th.—The night was made perfectly hideous by the howling of the fiendish curs which are dignified with the name of dogs, the squealing of hungry swine, and the cackling of a poor forlorn goose whose kith and kin have left her a solitary representative of her species, and who seems to find her only solace in sitting outside my door and calling to her lost companions. The dogs are simply a pest to the place, they keep up their incessant bark all the day long, and all night they howl and prowl around. They are hideously ugly, undersized creatures, and are the more loathsome because they are the acknowledged scavengers of the place. They are not worthy to be called dogs, and any one except he was assured of the fact, would scarcely believe that they were dogs. They are supposed to be useful in catching wild pigs, but from their appearance you would fancy that it must be a poor specimen of a pig they would dare to tackle. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and all these sounds rending the still night air simultaneously drove sleep from my eyes, and produced such inward irritation and disgust that if a thought could have killed the lot, none of them would have troubled the world again with their noises. A most glorious morning enticed me up very early, and certainly the early dawn was very fresh and beautiful. We had Prayers very soon after daylight and even then the blue bottles had collected in great numbers and were by no means a help to devotion. These pests spring into existence at once as soon as any number of human bodies are congregated together, and are particularly active in church and school. The idea of them apart from their propensities is very nasty and disgusting, and when in a country like this without the concomitants of devotion, one wants all the solemnity one can possibly obtain, their presence and irritation are the more odious and nauseating.

To-day, according to custom, we kept the Christening Feast of the children who were Baptized last night. The parents of the children gave a most beautiful pig, and the women attended to the cooking, the men dispersing in many directions each in quest of his own business or pleasure. I went with a party to Ruosi where we bathed, and got back in time for the opening of the ovens, and the division of the feast. I said grace and then each one partook of his or her share of the plentiful repast, all eating together in the most harmonious fashion, and not as in old days the sexes keeping religiously apart. This middle wall of separation has been almost entirely broken down, and family life and sociability have taken the place of the old seclusion and division. It was a most glorious night but the people were too tired to dance, and we all retired early to our houses. I kept busy till very late writing up arrears of correspondence and reading, and was the last in the village out of bed.

Tuesday, August 17th.—The most glorious day from earliest morning till now at night, the evening one of the most beautiful I ever saw, when the moon rose it was a most perfect night above and below, the sky studded with myriads of stars and absolutely cloudless, here everything hushed in peaceful slumber, except the restless, ever-singing crickets, whose buzz is continuously kept up by night and day. At the heathen end of the village there was a sort of Irish wake kept up to-day, but there was no “tangi” or any ceremony except a pig being killed, and a great feast being prepared. Formerly, death days were kept with great strictness, and the day of death and the 100th were observed with great festivities. I have seen nothing of the kind now for years, and I fancied the custom had quite died out. It was supposed in old days when the people were still heathen, that the disembodied spirit, after it left its earthly tenement, hung about hungry and restless on the thick creepers in the bush, and on the day of death a great feast was prepared for it, after which it retired to the place of departed spirits called Banoi. This same Banoi is near Tasmouri, but I have never seen it. The idea, I believe, is that when the spirit is at length at rest, its stone is placed in a certain cave or pit there exists there, and the people who have seen the place, tell me that certainly there far inland are smooth seaside stones laid in wonderful regularity, and in old days supposed to be put there by successive spirits in order as they died. Until quite recently, no one ventured into this ghostly place, and it was regarded as eminently sacred. Some day I hope to go there and examine it for myself.

I cannot find out the rationale of the subsequent death days, but they seem to have more to do with the living than the dead, and are supposed to show the departed one that he or she is still kept in faithful and affectionate memory.

In old days everyone was careful to have one good pig at least, in readiness for the day of his death, and any others which he might possess at the time of his departure, his friends were careful to kill in his honour.

They carefully kept the days, principally the tens, I think, and religiously observed the 100th, after which remembrance seemed no longer necessary, but before that, I am afraid, there was a large amount of selfishness about the death days, and more was thought of the living in them than of the dead. The people tell me how strictly these days were kept formerly, they dispensed with their regular ordinary food sometimes for the whole 100 days, and ate only such roots and fruits as grow wild in the bush, religiously abstaining from all garden produce until the full time had expired. Some went even beyond this when a very particular person died, and for the whole 100 days ate only one kind of root, and that the most difficult to obtain, strenuously refusing to partake of food in common with others. I have known a man myself adhere to this rigid, self-imposed abstention, in the case of the death of a son, and of a wife, not here however, but at Opa. A man once came into my house over there, tired and hungry after a long fast and a laborious journey, but he strictly refused a biscuit or other food which I ventured to offer him, and when or where he ate I do not know, for the particular food he had chosen to eat was most rare in the neighbourhood, I doubt even if it was obtainable at all. Yet no privation or distress would force him to break his rule, and eat promiscuously until the proper time had elapsed. In the keeping of their days they are wonderfully accurate, and you seldom find them wrong in their calculations. Their fingers are their ready reckoners, and they have to do a great deal more work than ours in assisting a weak memory, where the use of slate and pencil are unknown. I very often ask people to count over the names of persons in the place or neighbourhood, just to see how clever and correct they are with their numbers. Here the whole ten fingers are used, at Opa only the left hand, five fingers down being five, the first finger up and the rest down six, and so on until all are up which makes ten, then two tens, three tens, up to ten tens or one hundred. In the distribution of food, too, it is wonderful how accurate they are, and it is very rarely that any one is left out of the count. Of course, where the science of numbers is unknown, nature teaches by a more roundabout, but scarcely less accurate process. For all practical purposes and uses, their fingers help them a great deal, indeed almost as far as their requirements go, for their lives are very simple and their ways uncomplicated. The leaves of a certain palm, however, lends them some assistance, especially in the distribution of food, and as the person is seen, or his name thought of, a leaf is broken off, and then the broken leaves are counted. I have never heard of the toes being used as assistants, although one might fancy their being of service.

Wednesday, August 18th.—About midnight as I lay reading in bed, and a perfect stillness reigned around, we experienced a very sharp shock of an earthquake. My house shook so uncomfortably, that I really feared it was coming down, and I had the sort of feeling as of some one trying to upset it, and I felt as if I must say “Oh! do not, please leave off, you will have it down.” My neighbour’s fence was shaken so, that I fancied some considerable damage had been done. The vibration lasted a good long time, some seconds I should say, after the real shock was over, and I felt myself, a sort of palpitation for some considerable period. I was not afraid, but no one can feel an earthquake without some instinctive dread. Nothing, I think, makes one feel one’s littleness and helplessness and insecurity more, and there is such a solemnity attached to it, that you are very thankful when it is fairly over. Man, bird and beast were roused into action at once, and there was quite an excitement here for a time. Curiously enough, in the evening there was a very bright and exceedingly beautiful after-glow, and I remarked to the boys how like it was to the time when the terrible destruction was caused in the gulf of Sunda, and I said casually, that I should not be surprised if we had more earthquakes soon. The natives have a firm idea that they are the precursors of rain, and certainly this morning we have had a very heavy downpour. This is the first rain we have had for the whole month I have been here, and the first day I have been kept to solitary confinement. Most of the day I have been absolutely alone, and my pen has been kept very busy writing letters and hymns and songs. With the latter I have been very successful, and have managed four. One, particularly successful, goes to the chorus of “Wait till the clouds roll by,” and is as follows:—

Ge togatoga ririkqa.Gana sako na usu maraga,

Mati ni van ran̈ai,Gana toura na gabe tar,

A lan̈i ni rowo na wia,Gana tura goro na masi

Tavi dago na tasgoro.Gana koko betegag.

of which the translation is:—

Wait a little bit longer,Then we will take bow and arrow,

Wait till the tide is low,Then we will carry our nets,

Wait till the wind blow fairer,Then we will stop in the fishes

And then make the tasgoro.And gather them properly up.

The tasgoro I have before described. Part of beach enclosed, tabu’d, and after lapse of time opened again to the public.

This evening we have sung this chorus with grand effect, and high as I was previously in popular estimation as a poet, I have gone still higher now. What a little thing wins popularity, how little is a thing so easily purchased worth the having! One other song goes very prettily and smoothly to “Home sweet Home,” and is much appreciated. It is, as far as I could adapt it, the reproduction of the English song into Maewo. “Dream Faces” supplied me with another very pretty little song, which runs very well, the theme of which is the “moonlight.” “Our Jack’s come home to-night,” lent me the music of a fourth song, which is peculiarly native in expression, and slightly more comic than the two above mentioned.

The production of this last was received with such peals of laughter, that for a time confusion and merriment took the place of composure and perfect gravity. It would lose its charm and half its meaning if I were to attempt to translate it into English. Here, however, is the Maewo:—

Ta disava qarikIsei ni tau na as?

Eh? Ron̈o lolora va!Ki isei qa ni sawu?

Wa sagoro ta sagoroKi gida, sem, ta lai ran̈ai!

Ron̈o lolora va! Toli sagoro rik!

Da! ta sagoro da!Ge riri betigag!

Ta sagoro tei rikGa laia ran̈ai sag!

Kare mawmaw, tei riki vak!Ge wosawosa limamu!

A wula marama!Tolina rik ka sem!

The “Dream Faces” song is as follows:-

Nan ligo asik suri marama,—I’ll make my song about the moonlight,

Tolina rik sem a wula marama,—Charming indeed is the light of the moon,

Osoos ti rasu mera na maran,—Darkness has flown, it is light as the day,

Non eteete ti lita soun na qon̈.—His brightness chased the night far away.

Nan ligo asik suri marama,—I’ll make my song about the moonlight,

An̈eisa tea le isi Tamada,—Some day I ween in our great Father’s land,

Ala na maran vagatewa tau,—There day unending for ever will be,

Qon tigai ala, moa marama,—Night is unknown there, light only endless.

The light called “marama,” is looked upon by natives as the perfection of light, because it is, I suppose, unaccompanied by the burning heat of the sun. I therefore use it as illustrating better the idea of heaven’s light. Maran is the light of day.

Thursday, August 19th.—The village was hushed in the stillness of slumber again about midnight, and I was preparing for bed, too, and kneeling down to say my prayers, when another quite sharp earthquake shock was felt, and the sensation came upon me very solemnly and impressively while so engaged. I cannot say why I trembled, but I did, and it was quite instinctive. However, I went to bed and slept profoundly. We have had another slight shock of domestic earthquake here this morning, and Ann, one of our young married women, after rating her husband, started off for Naruru, and we were quite in a ferment here for a short time. However, this evening, her parents went for her, and I have had to give her a scolding. I told her that anger was like a charge of dynamite, it not only exploded itself, but it produced destructive effects far and wide, indeed there was no knowing what the extent of its mischief might be. She seemed penitent, and was utterly ashamed of her unchristian conduct. I am thankful to say that scenes of domestic warfare are uncommon here, and, generally speaking, a great deal of harmony prevails, but of course there are clouds in the most perfect day, and the smoothest ocean is at times ruffled by the sudden breeze. Beyond this, our day has been like most other days, except for the thatching of Peter’s “gamal,” which has brought together a large concourse of people, and has been the occasion of a great festivity this evening. Arthur, Patrick and myself walked down to Ruosi in the afternoon, where we bathed, and returned in the evening. Our evening duties as usual.

Friday, August 20th.—Certainly we are blessed with the most glorious weather. This morning was simply perfect, and one almost wishes one could keep some of its coolness for the middle of the day, when the heat is very great.

After school and breakfast this morning, some of the people invited me to go with them eel catching. As the performance was new to me, I gladly assented. The scene of the sport lay in the direction of the water fall, and I took my camera, hoping to get a good view of it.

We followed the course of the stream, and waded through the taro gardens, and finally found ourselves in the most advantageous position for a photograph. It ought to be good, after all my efforts to secure the picture, but I could not get far enough away. While I have been writing this, since I began the last sentence, an earthquake shock has shaken the place very perceptibly, and, why I know not, has left a tremour all over me, which I cannot explain. The picture being shot off, I hastened back to where the eel catching was going on. The water was cleverly dammed off above two large pools, and then one pool “teemed” out with buckets. In the first pool nothing was discovered, and the next proceeding was to empty the full pool into the now empty one. This took some time, but it was finally accomplished, and one large eel was captured, the sole occupant of the pool, and the only sport afforded after a long day’s work. Disappointment was depicted on all countenances, and I was rather disgusted too, having expected to see some sport. I comforted myself with a most glorious bathe in the broad flowing river, and hastened home to drown my disappointment in a cup of tea.

After school this evening, I was sitting here alone, when four men came in, in whispers, and shut the door behind them, and when they had sat down, they said, still in the lowest accents, “we wish to see your Eucharistic vessels.” I proceeded to exhibit them, and they seemed quite awe struck. Miss Patteson would have been pleased to have seen how her noble gift was valued and appreciated. The exhibition of the beautiful vessels gave me much food for conversation with these men, and I told them I hoped the day was not far distant when they would be regularly used in the Church here, and they themselves be partakers from them of the Blessed Tokens of Redeeming Love, the bread of the world in mercy broken, the wine of the soul in mercy shed.

Saturday, August 21st.—General holiday as usual. Nothing of particular importance marked the day, except the visit of three nice fellows from Uta. The British Workman’s Almanac adorns my walls, and they were particularly struck with the picture of Lord Shaftesbury which occupies the centre. Curiously, many others have admired this same picture, why I do not know, except perhaps from its size. I told these visitors all about the late Earl, of his philantrophy and the goodness of his life, and I told them too, of the philantrophy and goodness of a greater than he, “who went about doing, and healing all manner of diseases and sicknesses among the people.” They asked me if I had heard the earthquake of late, to which I responded in the affirmative, and told them of the terrible outburst of volcanic power at Tarawera, and the fearful and alarming results, and I said there was no knowing but it might be our turn next, and we ought to try and be prepared for whatever lay before us. I urged them to fly, while they had the opportunity, to the Higher Rock, for there we should find shelter and protection until the tyranny were overpast, and any such visitation would be but to bring us the quicker to a haven of rest and safety, whither such things never come. They asked me if I could not spare some regular teacher to come and live with them, to teach them the wonderful things of God’s law, and expound more fully to them, the things concerning the Kingdom of God. I promised them a weekly service, but I could do no more just yet.

Sunday, August 22nd.—A most glorious Sabbath morning. We had school before breakfast, both because it was cooler and also on account of the blue bottle flies, which become very troublesome in the heat of the day, where people are congregated together. Before our school duties were over, they became very numerous, and I was not sorry to get back to the refuge and quiet of my own house. After breakfast we had Morning Prayer, a very nice service, but not rendered more solemn by the presence, in crowds, of those disgusting pests, the flies. However, they are an inevitable worry, from which there seems no chance of escape. After Prayers I went to the Unduna villages, and talked to the few people I found there. They were keeping Sunday, they said, i.e. they were doing no work and were generally idling. I asked why they did not come to Church as formerly, and they said it was too far. I asked why then did not they build a school there, and I would be responsible for the teaching in it. They so far assented as to say that they would see about it, when they had got through with their yam planting. There is a nice little population there, and I have always had it on my conscience that nothing practical or definite had been done for them. Natives do not care to go to the trouble of a few yards more or less for religion, so I suppose the alternative is that religion must go to them. One very nice man called “Vangoro,” was most energetic about the building, in promising to get it done and helping all he could, he is a leading man there too, and I hope my desire will be accomplished.

It was very hot coming back, and I was in a liquid state when I got home. The evening was deliriously cool and fine, and I enjoyed it outside my house with several of the people.

Evensong was a very nice quiet service, and I preached on the subject of the Collect (9th Sunday after Trinity), the “spirit to think and do always such things as were rightful.” I hope I got intelligent attention. We had some nice singing afterwards, and the people went very quietly home.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday.—Blank days.

On Monday there were great festivities here, and a dance till morning. I began to feel ill in the evening, and spent a most wretched night. On Tuesday I was unwell all day, and could do nothing. On Wednesday I was fearfully ill all day with a severe attack of fever and ague, and lay down under all the wraps I could secure, until the hot fit came on with a very severe headache. In the evening the boys surprised me by saying there was a white man outside, and I was glad to welcome Mr. Blackburne, Government agent of the Sybil, from Queensland. The vessel anchored at the watering place, and the boys told him “Missionary he plenty sick.” He therefore very kindly came up and spent the night with me. He has just left me now, and I have not strength to go with him to the ship. However, I am better to-day, and hope after a big dose of Quinine he has given me, that I shall be better.

Tuesday, August 31st.—I have wasted a whole week, and only to-day feel equal to doing anything or going anywhere. To-day for the first time for a week, I have moved out of the village boundaries, and have been to the river with the boys and bathed.

It has been a sickly time here all together, and many besides myself have been laid by. It is bearably pleasant to be pent up day by day within doors when feeling well, but almost unbearably so when one feels ill and out of sorts. However, I trust it is all over now, please God, and I must endeavour to make up for lost time. Several of the people, Arthur included, have been quite ill through eating a certain eel, caught somewhere in the sea and very poisonous. They all detected the burning, stinging sensation on their lips, tongue and palate as soon as they had eaten it, but fancied it was the taro. From that time till the end of the week, they have been all laid up, and one or two have been very bad indeed. They have experienced not only burning, sharp pains internally, and pricking, poignant stabbing pains in the palms of the hands and soles of the feet, but have suffered a great deal also from strong and utter prostration with an abhorrent distaste for food. Several others were warned betimes from partaking, or the poisoning might have been more general. This particular eel was caught by a heathen on a Sunday, and therefore its peculiarly deleterious and poisonous qualities have been traced by the more virtuous to that fact, of which no cognizance was taken before it was cooked and eaten, nor would have been afterwards, but for its effects. The really admitted fact, however, I believe, is that certain fish caught at certain parts of the beach at particular seasons of the year, have all a more or less poisonous effect on those who eat them. The people themselves say it is the feed they find there which makes them poisonous, but it may be inherent in the nature of the particular fish. I remember on many occasions on board the Southern Cross, the natives looking askance at some very tempting looking fish which had been caught, and pronouncing them dangerous to eat. On one very memorable occasion, when dinner was over, one of the senior boys being cook, and one of the most poisonous of fish having been served and partaken of by all, this youth without a change of feature saying to some remark that was passed, “Oh! Yes, we die in our country if we eat that fish.” This was reassuring after what had passed, and we eyed one another with wistful and anxious faces, thinking whether or not perchance our end may have been hastened by our wilful inadvertence in thus partaking of deadly poison. But we neither swelled, nor fell down dead, and felt no ill effects. Many a time, too, since, I have eaten the same fish with the like happy and successful result. This particular kind of eel, however, has played the same post mortem tricks before, and taken his revenge for wrongs received before going into the oven. The people tell me that those who have eaten, have become like mummies, their hair and skin have changed to a ghastly leaden hue, and have fallen off like a snake’s skin. How far this is true or fable, I know not, but it may be partially credible. Nothing of the sort has happened fortunately, at this present crisis, and the sufferers are about again.

A dull, dark evening ushered in a blustery, rough night, and the coughs and sneezings and other demonstrative sounds peculiar to people who do not carry pocket handkerchiefs, bore testimony to the fact of an epidemic catarrh, contracted during a very inclement week. Like the Norfolk Islanders, they look for the source of such things in the world without, and accuse my friend Mr. Blackburne of having brought it here, all the way from Queensland. In what part of his luggage he secreted so desirable a communication I know not, but they are decidedly of opinion that he it was who ‘gave them’ the cold, and they were unwise enough to ‘catch it’ from him. He ‘had’ the cold, they said, when he came here, and certainly said I, I believe he took it away again. However, as colds are catching, I suppose they must be left content with their belief, and to ‘bless him,’ I hope, every time they sneeze.

Wednesday, September 1st.—Another full month past and gone, and leaving I fear, but a poor memory of much good done behind it. The days here certainly fly past one after another in rapid flight, and the very monotony of existence speeds their departure. One day is so like another that it passes unmarkedly by, and one finds oneself, all at once, at the end of the week, and is brought to final consciousness of the rapid rotation of time’s wheels at the end of the month. What has been done in the month? I fear there is but a poor record. God grant that I myself may have, by His Grace, made one step forward, and have been instrumental in leading others also onward to a higher and better life, and to that final epoch where the flight of time is unmarked by days and weeks and months and years, for time itself will be swallowed up in eternity.

Nothing much happened to-day. A bright morning seemed likely to usher in a fine and brilliant day, but in the forenoon the rain pelted down, and for some hours we had a glorious downpour. The “blue bottles” gave indication of this at Prayers and morning school, and I have never known them in such numbers or so troublesome. One perfectly loathed oneself, but escape from them was impossible, they crowded my house, which is generally free from their incursions, and the poor people seemed quite distracted. This is the great yam planting season, and everyone was away after school busy at his garden. The heavy rain, however, drove them home, and some took refuge here with me. Natives are not great hands for introducing originality into their conversation, nor do they go much beyond the sight of their eyes, or the hearing of their ears for their subject matter. Any prominent object which attracts their attention is made the subject of remark. This is a specimen of the sort of conversation which goes on. I was writing when my friends came in, “Oh! you are writing!” “Yes, what else did you suppose I should be doing with pen, ink and paper?” “Oh! this is a curious tin, what is in it? Meat?” “You are the 101st person who has asked that self-same question, I answered the 100 before you with the monosyllabic negative, No, and I give you the same answer.” “What then is in it? Fish?” “No.” “Fruit?” “Yes, I hope you are satisfied.” “Oh! I see you have a “kove” (native flute) up there in the thatch, who gave it you?” “You yourself have asked that same question ten times before, and I have always given the same answer, ‘Arthur,’ next time perhaps you will know without asking.” “You have a bow and arrow there, where did you get them?” “Considering that every person in the village knows from whence they came, and has made them the subject of general conversation for weeks, I wonder you should be the only person ignorant of their origin, especially as you were here when I brought them from Tasmouri.” This is the style of thing which goes on, and except that one is glad to accede to any means for introducing conversation, one would soon weary of it. They themselves do not seem to mind going over and over again the same conversation, and wading through the same minutiæ of detail, and they expect one to be equally patient. The rain gave me a good opportunity of planting my new fence, and I planted, as a start, a number of oranges around my house. The evening was fine, and the moon already quite sizeable. We had the usual singing school after Prayers, with very good success. When the practice was over, I asked the older men to sing some of their own songs, and they readily complied. Old blind Daniel is the great leader, and knows all the songs. There are three parts to the native song, (1) the person who starts and sings the air as in a Gregorian tone, and then follows (2) a chorus, then (3) a single voice takes up the air again, and this is followed by the chorus. The first singer is said to “tau” the song, the second to “sawu,” and the chorus to “lai.” The songs are very pretty, and they kept them up with spirit for quite an hour. Some of the singers beat a weird kind of accompaniment with bamboos, and kept most excellent time. When the performance was over, it was time to retire, and soon quietness warned me that it was time for me, too, to be going to rest.

Thursday, September 2nd.—How the days seem to chase one another in ever too hasty flight! It seems no sooner morning than the night is here again. We tried the experiment to-day of having prayers even earlier than usual, to be rid of the noxious blue bottles, but only partially succeeded in anything like freedom from them. At the school subsequently they were more troublesome, I think, than ever, and it was not an easy matter to keep one’s own or one’s pupils’ attention, with these hideous creatures buzzing about. After Prayers and school one is fairly ready for breakfast, and by the time that is over the day has already worn on towards Noon.

It is the commencement of planting time now, and the people are very busy day after day in their yam gardens preparing the soil. It is by no means easy work, and they certainly make a very good show by the end of the day.

I always like to get out somewhere if I can every day, for I find my health is better for the constant out-door exercise. This morning the people were all going shrimping, and I accepted an invitation to go with them to a place called ‘Niewotu.’ I had never been there before, and I was charmed with the picturesque beauty of it. A clear, flowing river is utilized for the purpose of irrigation, and there one saw again the quaint little taro beds so deftly laid out, and the showy crotons and dracænas ornamenting the immediate view, while all round the bush was thickly matted with innumerable, and almost impenetrable creepers with masses of white and pink flowers. In the direct foreground one got a peep of the bright blue sea sparkling in the midday heat. A bathe, and green cocoanuts were very agreeable and most refreshing. The boon of abundance of water in these hot countries is inestimable, and this island is rich in its water supply. Araga again on the other hand is very badly off, and Opa not much better.

Evening duties as usual, and some hymn singing afterwards.

Saturday, September 4th.—After Prayers and breakfast, the boys and I started for a long meditated journey up the coast. It was a most glorious day, but very hot, the sun scorching down with pitiless heat. We embarked at Kerepei, sixteen of us all told, and rowed away against the Trade wind which was blowing strong down the coast. We were a merry party, and the shore view was very beautiful as we coasted along. From the point of embarkation to Tanrowo, a distance of eight or ten miles, there is not a single “salt water” native, and it seems a great pity to see so much valuable land lying fallow, when it might be utilised for almost any purpose. As we rounded the Point between us and Tanrowo, called “Vaturowa,” we saw a vessel at anchor in the distance. The heat on the water was intense, and I felt myself being scorched about the face and hands. The natives, hatless and clotheless, did not seem to mind it, and their exuberant spirits were proof against almost any outer evil. We saw some people along the coast, and conversed with them at several places. Arriving at “Beitarara,” we saw a number of people we knew. We of course asked about the “schooner” at anchor, and they said they did not know what she was, as she had only just a short time before come to her anchorage. However, the boat painted red was coming towards us, and soon we were within speaking distance. I asked where she was from, and what was her errand. As they came close to us, I heard my name called, and found myself shaking hands with Captain Martin of the schooner “Idaho” from Noumea. I met him years ago when he was in charge of the “John S. Lane,” Captain McCleod owner, and he very kindly then towed me across from Opa to Pentecost Island. He seemed very glad to see me, and invited me on board. He now belongs to the “Nouvelles Hebrides” Company, and was recruiting labour for “Port Sandwich” in Mallicollo. The Company had bought land here at “Beitarara,” and he just dropped in to see the people. He was very kind and amiable, and I spent some time on board, and made some purchases.

The boat then started for our destination, where we found many amiable, friendly people awaiting us, and although they had sold their land, they had very hazy notions as to how much had been purchased, or what was to be done with it. After spending some time with them, we gave them some presents, and then found it was time to be getting homeward. A strong favourable breeze took us rapidly to the Kerepei. Arriving at “Ruosi,” we found a large number of our people awaiting us, with a smoking hot supper they had cooked for us there. We arrived here tired and sunburnt just before dark. Evensong followed, and a singing practice for Sunday.

Sunday, September 5th.—School very early on account of the blue bottles. I took all the old men into the Church and talked to them there. They paid good attention, and I hope remembered something of what they were taught. I tried to explain how God declared His Almighty Power most chiefly in showing mercy and pity. There were times when He revealed Himself as a consuming fire, but that was in His attitude towards sin, but the whole being and essence of God was love. After breakfast I started with Patrick for “Mandurvat” by way of “Naruru.” Anthony had already had Morning Prayer, so I did not stay long there, but pushed on for my destination. It was very hot walking, and I was very liquid when I arrived at Mandurvat. Sunday travelling here is much more tiring than week-day work, for you are obliged to respect the day a little, as regards the clothing you wear. I had not a very large congregation, and when service was over I asked the reason. The people then told me that a certain man called “Ala” had “tabu’d” (i.e. made sacred) the school, and prevented the people of his village from attending service. I protested against this, and when I had said my say, the plucky young teacher “Tarione” at once went to the village, and broke the “tabu,” rendering himself liable to a fine of pigs or perhaps a knock on the head. “Ala” was not at home or I would have gone to see him. However, I believe Tarione did all I could do, and perhaps more. I was very much pleased with the way some of the scholars had been taught, and two females especially, took me quite by surprise. These people have no baptized teacher, and the efficiency of the school is entirely owing to the exertion and perseverance of two young men, Tarione aforementioned and “Livotari.” The latter requested Baptism for himself, wife and child, and Tarione has previously expressed the same wish. Now that the tabu is taken off, or at least broken, no doubt the scholars will increase, but it reflects great credit on these young fellows that they have built the school themselves, taught themselves to read, and do their best to teach their people. They are a most friendly, good-natured people, and act up to their limited light and knowledge. They have prayers and school every day, and this is very wonderful, when one considers the few advantages they have had. “Masa,” the leading man of the district, was present at the service, and was very enthusiastic in the after conversation. They gave us a sumptuous luncheon of various kinds of “loko,” and we started for Tanrig when the sun’s rays began somewhat to decline. At “Naruru” we stopped some time, and I addressed the people. Anthony afterwards came on with me to Tanrig. Here, in the evening, I preached on the subject of the Gospel, the Pharisee and the Publican, and tried to adduce some healthful lessons from the parable. We were somewhat inclined by nature to think more highly of ourselves than we ought to think, and not to be sober and humble in our self consideration. Because we attended service regularly, and were very accurate in our daily lives, we were apt to despise others around us, who were not so exact, and were still living heathen lives. When we came before God, our thought ought not to be of our own worthiness or goodness in His sight, still less of the depravity and wickedness of others, but our attitude and our language should be that of our own utter unworthiness and sinfulness, we should imitate the action and adopt the words of the Publican rather than that of the Pharisee, and smite our breasts and say, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” What we sought from all our services was to go down to our houses justified, and the only road to justification and righteousness was humility. That was the only road for white and black people alike, for teacher and taught, for Priest and people. How many of us would be justified that night? How many of us were growing day by day in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ?