J O U R N A L. (continued 4)

Wednesday, October 20th.—I was very glad of a good excuse for a thoroughly quiet day, and this was given me in a perfect downpour of rain, which continued without cessation until past midday, and I could not possibly get out. It cleared, however, in the evening, and I got out to church and to my Catechumen class, after which we had our usual secular singing. These Wednesday evenings are certainly looked forward to, but they do not satisfy me that much is taught by them. The people are very slow at picking up new things, and except occasionally are far from enthusiastic about the performance, yet I suppose they enjoy it or they would not attend in such numbers. I was perfectly inundated afterwards by people coming to wish me good-night. Shaking hands has become quite an institution here now, and you cannot meet or quit anyone except the process of hand grasping be gone through. However, it is a good step to the right direction and I give so much encouragement to it that my own arm runs the risk often of being wrung off.

Thursday, October 21st.—Busy here all the morning, and having got very hot and tired with what I was doing, I came to get my towel to go for a bathe, when lo and behold, down came the rain in a perfect torrent, and I had to swallow my disappointment and stay at home. However, I started again at my picture gallery, and got a good deal done. I must try and finish it at some future time. It is a source of immense diversion to not a few, and some of the boys are never tired of coming to find out what the pictures mean. I was not very well all day, and after the Catechumen Class was very glad to retire for the night.

Friday, October 22nd.—Was very sick all the morning, and went to Ruosi to try and drown my cares in the river, but was only partially successful. Came back appetiteless to an uninviting dinner, and did not feel equal to much during the evening.

Saturday, October 23rd.—Very busy all day with preparations for to-morrow. Anthony came to make final arrangements about his Candidates. Determined to go to “Naruru” for the ceremony. Was not well all day, and everything seemed a business. Final class with Catechumens.

Sunday, October 24th.—A very full but an exceptionally joyous day. We had school before breakfast, but that meal followed directly after. Then came Mattins. Then, followed by all the male population of Tanrig, I went to Naruru. The house there being very small I determined to have the Baptism out of doors. I would have gone to the river-side but it was too far. While Anthony and the others were getting ready the place and the Font, I said a few final words to the Candidates, who were already well prepared. Anthony’s wife was among the number, and a fine, intelligent young woman she is. There were nine Candidates in all, and the service was a very solemn and impressive one. It was the first time I had ever Baptized anyone in the open air, but a great deal of solemnity was not lost by it. The whole service went very nicely, and I hope the Candidates were fully alive to the importance and dignity of the occasion. When it was over I said a few words to the Congregation and Baptized, and soon after we hastened home, having another Baptism at Tanrig. During my absence A. P. Huqe had made a most chastely pretty Font, and brightened up the Church with flowers, &c., until it looked quite charming. The Baptism took place in the evening, and seeing that there were as many as twenty-eight Candidates it was not a short service. It passed off very nicely, and I think made a great impression. I preached afterwards, and told them that this would be my final Baptism for some time to come, and urged them all to remember their Baptismal vows and to try and live more and more up to them, by the grace of God. Tanrig is now a Christian village, and the number Baptized here is considerably over a hundred. There are suburbs, however, which are still lying in comparative heathen darkness, and these we shall now have time, please God, to attack. There is much rejoicing here to-day, and a fresh start has again been made. I have Baptized thirty-seven people to-day, and I thank God and take courage.

Monday, October 25th.—General holiday, and great Christening Feast at Ruosi. All the world turned out from here, and we were joined by many from Naruru. Four large pigs were slaughtered, and a prodigious quantity of yams and taro prepared. It was a most lovely day, and the sunshine overhead seemed to have found its way into every heart, for there was the greatest harmony and good will manifest on all sides. Men and women shared the burden of the day alike, and the result in the evening was a most grand spread of perfectly cooked food, more than sufficient for all the great number present. All shared alike, and the females had great junks of pork as well as the men. Formerly the women ate very little animal food, but now Christianity has broken down the middle wall of partition, and taught them that all are One in Christ. We came home in the evening, and dinnerless I had to go to bed with an attack of ague which lasted me far on into the hours of midnight. I did not go to Prayers, and indeed I don’t know what happened. There was a dance, I believe, but I didn’t hear anything of it.

Tuesday, October 26th.—Very weak and seedy all day—did not go out anywhere. However, I had lots of little things to do here at home, and I busied myself over them. Visitors from Uta came in the evening. The people told me they wanted to take away one of our women whose husband is just dead, but I refused and told them they had women enough already. They were very frightened I believe, and I don’t care, I trust they were, for I meant what I said. They are quite enough as they are to live and die in heathen darkness, while here the poor woman will have a chance at all events of hearing and living.

Wednesday, October 27th.—Beautiful day, but I was not particularly well to enjoy it. I was up betimes though, and got through our morning duties before breakfast.

Perhaps this is not a wise plan, but it is more convenient and therefore I submit to it. You certainly get leisure and quiet afterwards, which one would fail to secure previously to Prayers and school. I like to give the people every opportunity of getting away early to their gardens, and therefore, perhaps, I sacrifice myself. Many people could not stand this going without breakfast so long, but it is a meal I was never very hearty at, and the want of which very strangely I feel the least.

Our “Bush” friends brought down some prints for sale this morning, and there has been a tremendous competition for them. There were six yards of Turkey red handkerchief stuff, which were finally bought by a young married lady, “Ann,” for a large pig. The Bushmen still go “clothesless,” and returned Labourers find a ready market here for their linen goods, which they bring home from Queensland or Fiji. Pigs are of much more value to them, for of course they still keep up the old native custom of purchasing rank by means of these animals, while here now they are only looked upon as so much meat. I have been long trying to get a proper hold on these people, but I cannot flatter myself that I have yet succeeded very far. They live a long distance off, and the road is very inaccessible, but I trust in time they may be reached from hence. They are very amiable and very friendly, but they are somewhat terrified at anything new. However, they come here very often, and I don’t think they go away unprofited.

Thursday, October 28th.—Fine day with strong fresh Trade wind blowing. I was busy all day here at home doing little odds and ends of things preparatory to my anticipated visit from Mrs. Selwyn. The people were all away busy at their gardens, and I was left alone most of the day. I could not find time to get to Ruosi, so I went without my customary dip in the river.

The people were all back in the evening, and their lively chatter and merriment were a pleasing contrast to the ghostly stillness which had reigned throughout the day. We had Prayers late because the people were late with their dinner.

Friday, October 29th.—Not a very fine day, and threatening for rain. Directly after school the people were away to their gardens, but three or four boys were working for me here. They felt the slight shock of an earthquake, but I did not perceive it. The undivided opinion here is that earthquakes are the precursors of rain, and often indeed I have known it so to result, but it seems rather an extraordinary law to lay down. However, there are abundant signs of a no very distant downpour, and the prophets may have a chance of being right in their present conjecture. We were very busy all day, but towards evening snatched time enough to go to Ruosi for a bathe. The rain kept off well, but there was a sprinkle in the evening, and evident signs of a great deal more before very long. I have felt the heat here very oppressive for the last few days, and by the appearance of the sky we must soon have some dirty weather with thunder.

Saturday, October 30th.—The storm came on us with a vengeance this morning at daylight, and kept on for a long time. At times the flashes and thunder peals seemed simultaneous, and the crashes were peculiarly heavy. I have never known a more severe storm in the Tropics, and as for the rain it simply poured down in torrents.

I did not get up till late, and Mattins were later than usual. However, being a holiday it did not so much matter. In my house it was as dark as night, and all day it has been very sombre and dull. Rain has kept on continuously all the time, and it has been impossible to move out. The people, however, in spite of wet and dirt are up and about, and do not seem to mind the weather. Many here, indeed, prefer the rain to the sun for making journeys and doing certain works. Rain does not seem to give them cold or ague, and I suppose that custom has become second nature.

I could not get out all day except to my duties, and these wet days at home are somewhat trying, especially when you are anxious to be about. It was somewhat finer in the evening at Prayer time, and we had a good congregation, but it did pour down while we were at service, and this gave us a good excuse for a long singing practice.

Sunday, October 31st.—Another wet and intensely disagreeable day. However, there were spells of fine weather, and during those we performed our duties. School came first with a full house, the elder classes saying the Collect for the day and the Church Catechism, and answering questions on the former, the juniors reading from school books and large printed sheets. When school was over I was quite prepared for breakfast, and eschewed rice for once in a way for prawns which the boys brought me. Sometime after breakfast we had Mattins, a very nice service and especially well attended. I experienced much distress of mind from the illness of my friend “Virelumlum,” the Opa chief who came over with me. He has been very ill all day with acute inflammation of the lungs, and we have had to keep hot water applications going, off and on, all day. He moans for home, too, and there is no chance of getting him there. While at Opa, A. P. Huqe was so ill, and here now I have my other visitor a patient on my hands. In the evening I was down myself with ague and could not go to Church, and had no dinner.

Monday, November 1st.—Terribly stormy, rough night, and a most unpleasant day, the disagreeableness of which was not decreased by the continued serious illness of my visitor Virelumlum. All day yesterday and again to-day it has been a continual anxiety and care to me, and I have been dabbling about in the mud and wet dancing attendance upon him. He has quite a serious attack of inflammation of the lungs, and I have had to keep hot flannels going almost continuously, and rack my brains to find out what to give him to keep up his rapidly decreasing strength. In addition to his sickness he has developed a craving for home, and a strong impression that he is going to die here, which with natives sometimes is actually equivalent to mean that they will not recover, and when a native makes up his mind to die, he in most cases does die. There is no remote possibility of getting my friend home in such weather as we are having, and he is killing himself with worry. If the weather were fine I would willingly take him across to Opa in my boat, but that is scarcely possible in a gale of wind and a downpour of rain. On the whole it has been a most anxious and unpleasant day. Being “All Saints’” Day I gave an address in the evening instead of School, and no one, I fancy, was sorry to be indoors out of the cold and wet. I had to paddle off after every one was quietly within doors to feed my patient and make him comfortable for the night.

Tuesday, November 2nd.—A most terrible night, wherein it blew with almost hurricane violence in the squalls, with a perfect deluge of rain accompanied by heavy thunder and lightning. I was not sorry or ungrateful to be brought safely to the beginning of another day. My first business when I got up, was to trudge off to my patient, whom, thank God, I found better, but all day long since I have had to look after him, for he is no exception to the idiocy of all natives, who when they feel a bit better, rush off and do some extraordinarily foolish thing. It was a terrible day throughout, and I was so fortunate in keeping my man within doors, that this evening he was visibly on the mend, and likely to make a good and I hope a rapid recovery. I read him a most strong lecture this morning about his craving for home, and told him he could not possibly get there in this weather, and that he was better where he was even if he could. I said he never would recover if he went on distressing himself about getting home, and told him that he was killing me too, by continually crying for what he could not possibly obtain. And what a lot of spilt milk I have cried over these last few days in my regret at having brought a big man here at all. But the inutility of weeping is more apparent to me than his crying for home is to him. I can hardly say what I have done to-day either to benefit anyone else or myself. This evening I have turned away from my dinner, leaving it untasted, and I feel that I must go to bed.

Wednesday, November 3rd.—An attack of ague last night has made me feel weak and good for nothing this morning. However, I had to get up, and the prospect outside was as dismal as ever. Rain and wind and gloominess. My patient, thank God, is most decidedly better, and if he takes care of himself will do very well now. I have had a fire in my house all day, and with Dr. Codrington’s book on the Melanesian languages, have got on very pleasantly. I should like, however, to see a little sunshine, and one has a right to expect it now in the height of summer. I am dreadfully afraid Mrs. Selwyn’s visit to me will be impossible, when the ship arrives the roads will be so impassable. Towards evening it cleared a bit and I was able to move out, but generally speaking, everyone has been kept close prisoner to-day. The people who always seem to me to love paddling about in the wet, expressed a strong disinclination to move from their houses, and in the absence of other occupation or amusement, have been asleep most of the day I fancy. A native’s capacity for sleep is unbounded, and perhaps a fortunate thing for him, but he can wake at any time, day or night, and get up straight away. We had our usual Evensong and singing class, the weather keeping fairer until we had all got indoors again in our several houses, when down came the rain. There is a sweet, lulling, comfortable sound in rain when you are safe indoors, or perchance in bed, and sleep seems to come unwooed. I practice here what I seldom do anywhere else, read in bed, and far on in the stillness of the solemn night, I read on and on with keen enjoyment and a sense of rest, for one gets tired of sitting in a land devoid of easy chairs and sofas. The usual posture of a native is to squat on his heels or else to recline, naturally our high seats are foreign and uncanny to them. I cannot myself squat for any length of time, and at times I sigh for the comfort of a good easy chair.

Thursday, November 4th.—Very wet, dispiriting morning, and threatening for another stormy day. It cleared off, however, and barring showers we have had a fine day.

A most interesting ceremony took place here to-day called “uli meroana,” (i.e. “untieing war.”) The event ought to have come off long ago, but the chief actors in the sad drama which led to its necessity have been somewhat dilatory. Sometime since the natives of “uta” (the inland as distinguished from the shore) attacked a village in our district and killed three people. They were the agressors and the sole actors—the people did nothing but pack up their goods and clear out, some flying in one direction and some in another. The majority took refuge in this part of the island and have never done anything in the way of retaliation, but have always gone armed since and been on the alert, not with the object of revenging their injuries, but from fear of further attack.

However, thank God, all has been quiet since, and the Uta people have the fire coals so heavily heaped on their head, that being first in agression they have been the first to make amends. They came down yesterday in great numbers, all armed, of course, and bringing three pigs with them. Our people were all present too, very fully armed, and also bringing three pigs. The chief man on the Uta side and the attacker stood out in the open with his pig, and the chief among the injured stepped out, and walking around the pig took it from the other, first passing his hand over the pig’s back and head and the rope he was held with, and then delivering the scape pig to the injured. This was done thrice, i.e. with each several pig. Then the ceremony was changed to our side and the like performance gone through, and the pigs delivered one by one to the attackers. There was thus a mutual exchange and no one was the loser, indeed so far from it that had the pigs been made for the occasion and cast in the same mould, they could scarcely have been more of a size, shape, and colour. It would seem, according to our ideas, as if the aggressors ought to have paid all the pigs without receiving any in exchange, but no, native custom seems to be different, and a fair exchange must be made. After the pigs had been delivered, there was some speechifying and a good deal of after talkey-talkey, and the quondam enemies became the best of friends. I hope they will continue so, I am sure, and I think they will. I made a little speech, in which I glorified peace and good-will, and denounced fighting and bloodshed. I have never seen such a concourse of people in Maewo, certainly, and the place perfectly bristled with guns and poisoned arrows. The natives, although they seem somewhat careless with these weapons, are really very careful, and an accident seldom or never happens through carelessness. I do not like the poisoned arrows, and keep clear always of them, for the smallest prod from one would most probably prove fatal. Very soon the vast concourse had dispersed, and the pigs, the mediators, were escorted off to their new places of residence, but I do not fancy they felt the weight of the aggressor’s repentance, or the forgiveness of the attacked. A small coal of inward anger would very soon kindle again the blaze of war, for after all I fancy there is not much love lost between the two parties. With one of my Opa boys I came back here to get my towels, and then made a start for Ruosi and Kerepei, being anxious to bathe, and also to see the road the boys have made for Mrs. Selwyn’s feet to tread in. I must say after my observation of it, that if her anticipated visits everywhere have the same effect of causing people to mend their ways, she may well be satisfied with her trip down here. The road was not good before, neither is it perfect now, but the boys have certainly made a most passable track, the question is whether a lady can manage the first steep climb. In anticipation of this, they have strained a strong climbing reed, like the rail of a balustrade, and by this it is hoped she may be able to ascend. The road otherwise is now very good. A delicious bath at Ruosi was made doubly delicious by some days’ privation, and my present liquid condition.

We got home here in the evening, and I dined very late, but with much more of an appetite than I have had for some time. In the evening A. P. Huqe being laid up, I gave an address at Evensong, instead of school.

Friday, November 5th.—The glorious 5th November, Guy Fawkes, of unhappy memory! Very wet night, but fairly fine day. People very busy to-day, so they asked me to relinquish school, which I did. I made preparations for photographing a pretty part of the river, but the rain came down and I had to give it up. However, my dry plates are at an end, and the few I have left I must keep for a peradventure of something good before I leave.

Saturday, November 6th.—Squally, unsettled sort of day, after a very rough night. Great preparations were being made here in the morning, for the Bishop’s and Mrs. Selwyn’s advent. When it was done I went with the boys to Ruosi, where I sat and watched their sports and gambols in the water, and thought how the one touch of nature makes the whole world kin. Human nature and boy nature is the same everywhere, and these boys are just like every other boy except in colour. They had a great spur of fun and frolic, and boy-like pleasure produced no languor or tediousness. I made a descent to “Wosawosa,” and looked in vain for the ship.

Back and dined, and everything as usual.

Sunday, November 7th.—The Mission schooner arrived with all on board well. After Morning Prayer I went down to the vessel, but it was too dirty for Mrs. Selwyn to come up to the village, but in the evening Mr. Cullwick came back to Tanrig and spent the night with me. The account of the work in the islands farther North, was very cheering, and it had a fresh and charming meaning, as told by Mrs. Selwyn in the full enthusiasm of her first voyage into these new but beautiful regions. The evening services in our little native Church was a sad and solemn one, for I said my public farewell to the people, in prospect of my leaving them for a long time, inasmuch as it was decided for me to go to England. Mr. Cullwick was very much struck with the beauty of the service, and the devotion of the worshippers. When we bid them “Good night” they all said, “Ah! this will be the last good night for a long, long time.”

Monday, November 8th.—The Bishop and Mrs. Selwyn came to stay with me at Tanrig. It was fortunately a most beautiful day, and Mrs. Selwyn, partly carried and partly on foot, made the journey without any great fatigue. Of her visit, she herself no doubt will write.

Tuesday, November 9th.—We stood across to Opa, distant about twenty-five miles from this part of Maewo. The people were in floods of tears at the final parting, and a general wail went up from all, as the boat drew off from the shore. At Opa we anchored for the night.

Wednesday, November 10th.—The Bishop and I were rowed ashore early, and examined the school at Lotahimamavi. This is as yet in embryo, but the people were very nice and most friendly, and seemed quite in earnest about their school duties. A proper school house has yet to be built, but this they have undertaken to do as soon as they have dug their yams. Their yam digging answers to our harvest. Leaving this place we went on board the Southern Cross to breakfast, and afterwards to examine the school at Tavolavola. The Bishop was much pleased with the state of this school, and the great proficiency attained to by some of the young scholars. Prizes of knives, calico, beads, fish-hooks, &c., were distributed and then we went to Lobaha, another school. Before leaving Tavolavola, Mrs. Selwyn was anxious to see how the natives got up the coconut trees. There are no branches of course, to hold on to, and many natives tie a cord around their feet, and some use an ingenious arrangement with cord for their hands. But these natives go up hand over hand without any help or assistance. The lad in question was up the tree, had thrown down green coconuts, and descended again with wonderful and astonishing rapidity, with nothing on his hands or feet.

Before we got to Lobaha it began to rain heavily, and I was overtaken with a fit of ague, and had to lie shivering on the beach while the Bishop went alone to examine the school. It poured in torrents all the way home, and I was very miserable.

Thursday, November 11th.—Away early from Opa and started for Araga, distant over twenty miles from this part of Opa. There the school was examined, and we left in the evening for the South end of the island. This we reached on

Friday, November 12th, the Bishop going ashore in a strong gale of wind, and in pelting rain, to examine the school and bring off Mr. Brittain, who had been spending some days there. They were not long before both were on board, and Mr. Brittain, thank God, quite well.

When the boat was hauled up we stood out to sea, and so on our homeward journey for Norfolk Island, which we reached after a stormy but quick passage on November 18th, and found all well at home. “Praise thou the Lord Oh! my soul, and forget not all His benefits.”