1835 - Yate, William. An Account Of New Zealand [2nd ed.] - Chapter 5

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  1835 - Yate, William. An Account Of New Zealand [2nd ed.] - Chapter 5
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"GODLINESS is profitable unto all things; having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come." Such is the doctrine of Revelation, as laid down by the great Apostle of the Gentiles; who had opportunities of confirming his opinion, from actual observation. He knew what the Gospel had done for the Heathen, to whom it had by him been preached; and he knew also what the heathen had been, before they were brought under the influences of redeeming and sanctifying grace.

The same effects which were then manifested in the Church, are visible, in their degree, in New Zealand. The same Gospel as that preached by the Apostle has, in New Zealand, been proved to be the power of God to all that believe; and

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this power has been displayed, in turning them from darkness to light from sin to holiness from ignorance to knowledge and from the spirit of hatred to the spirit of love.

The first thing I would notice is, the adoption of the Christian Sabbath as a day of rest, generally; and, with many, as a day of holy worship of Jehovah. For many years, this institution was totally disregarded: no native cared how its sacred hours were spent. Their usual business was carried on without interruption; and in the settlements of the Society, where they were not allowed to work, they slept or played. Of course, no attention was paid to religious instruction, and sometimes a greater negligence was observable on this sacred day than on any other. But now, how changed the scene! Instead of the noisy merriment, the blustering excitement to mischief, all is peace: Sabbath Schools, in many of the native villages, are established, and regularly carried on; work, of every description, is laid aside; Christian worship is punctually attended; and the day as strictly regarded as in any well-regulated village in England. In this, I am speaking of the Christianized villages in the interior; not of those upon the coast, or in connexion with the shipping; in which, as the sailors, on that day, have frequently liberty to go on shore, the Holy Day is made a season of far greater iniquity than any other.

Various particulars, selected from a copious

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mass of Journals, which I kept on the spot, shall be adduced, in order to illustrate, in this and other instances, the effects attending the introduction of the Gospel into New Zealand: premising, that, in the experience of my valued Fellow-labourers, there are proofs, equally abundant and forcible, of the multiplied blessings vouchsafed to our united exertions.

My first arrival in the island was on Saturday, the 19th January, 1827. I had therefore an almost immediate opportunity of witnessing the respect paid to the Sacred Day. On the morning following, the 20th, at eight o'clock, the bell rang for divine service: the Chapel not being finished at Paihia, our worship was performed in the house of the Rev. Henry Williams. I preached to the Europeans present, from part of 1 John iv. 16: God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. Our hours were breakfast at six o'clock; service at eight; dinner at ten: after this, we went among the natives, to converse with them on religious subjects, from eleven till four; drank tea at five; had English and Native services at six; supped at nine; and retired to rest a little before ten o'clock. Thus was spent my first Sabbath in New Zealand.

It may be well to describe what occurred a short period after, namely, April 13th; as exhibiting the indifference which still continued to mark, for some time, the character of the natives. In

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the morning, I preached to the Europeans, at the Kerikeri. In company with Mr. Kemp, I then visited the natives down the river: we met with three small parties. At one little village, the people were mending their nets; "the place where they were at work was tapued; and, according to custom, they would not allow us to go within the prescribed limits. We called them to us, as we had a message to communicate: they left their nets, and came, and formed a circle around us; but when they heard that our message was from Heaven, and that it concerned the welfare of their immortal souls, they nearly all walked away, one by one; and the few who remained, either fell fast asleep, or began to talk about the work which they had left, to come to listen to us. They all demanded payment for hearing what we had to say: of course they got nothing; and, when they found it was in vain to beg, they returned laughing to their labour, which they pursued with greater diligence than before they were interrupted by our call.

At a considerably later period, how altered was the temper of the natives! Under the date of June 1, 1832, I find the following report of the observance of the Lord's Day, at another of our Stations. Our Chapel at the Waimate is, every Sunday, crowded to excess, with an attentive congregation: numbers cannot find admittance; and we shall be obliged immediately to extend our borders, and to enlarge the curtains of our habi-

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tations. The natives evidently rejoice at the approach of every Sabbath; and though they are, as yet, unacquainted with the expression of the sweet singer of Israel, their language and desires are similar: "I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the House of the Lord." The regularity it may perhaps be called the mechanical regularity with which the whole assembly repeat the responses of our beautiful Liturgy, is most pleasing; and the general quietness and order which prevail, are as great, or even greater, than in many country churches; certainly greater than in many churches in London. Then, with this, we have every reason to believe that the preached word has its due effect upon the souls of many of the hearers. Some are awakened to a sense of their sin and danger, as sinners against God; others are led to the Cross of Christ for salvation; and others, again, add much to their religious knowledge, and are built up in their most holy faith. I had seventeen applications, this morning, to visit the sick: attended personally to eleven of them; and sent medicines to the others. The greatest confidence exists in the native mind toward our proceedings; and they gladly place themselves or their friends under our direction and care. Visiting and nursing the sick, preparing medicines, rousing the idle, and remonstrating with the obstinate all this employs no small portion of my time. I have often upward of fifty patients upon my hands at one time: we

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shall certainly, in time, be obliged to build a Hospital.

Again, in a ten days1 excursion, in various remote parts of the island, from the 5th to the 14th November, 1833, the following was the manner in which "the natives willingly attended to the preaching of the Gospel. On Sunday, the 10th, held service twice with the inhabitants of the village where my tent stood. In the afternoon, I held school for three hours, and catechized the people, both old and young. Ever since my last visit, the people here have observed the Sabbath regularly, and have made some improvement in the knowledge of the Scriptures. In the evening, I held a third service; and, seated at the door of my tent, was surrounded by almost all, both old and young, within two miles of the place. The old chief thought he must say something at the conclusion. "Come, friends," he cried, "let us all believe: it will do us no harm. Believing, what will it do? it will not kill us, for the white people do not die: it will not make us ill, for the white people are not ill: it will not make us ashamed, for the white people are not ashamed: therefore, let us all, all, all, believe; and perhaps it will make the white people's God gracious to us; and our souls will not be any longer devilified, but will be Christified; and we shall all, all, all go to heaven." *

*The night following that day was rendered memorable to me, by my witnessing a most subline scene a forest on fire raging with great fury up the side of a mountain. The night was particularly dark; a brisk breeze was blowing from the south-east, right up the valley. The whole atmosphere was lighted, and warmed for a long way round. I almost fancied I could feel the influence of the flames where I was standing, which was at least three miles from the place where the flames were raging. The natives do much mischief by carelessly throwing burning sticks upon beds of dry fern, which ignite like touch-paper, and set the whole country in a blaze. Houses, cultivations, woods, &c., are thus not unfrequently destroyed; and every thing, which at sun-set wore an appearance of cheerfulness and beauty, in the morning presents nothing but barrenness, desolation, and misery.

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Another instance shall be adduced of the observance of the Sabbath, occurring at a distant part of the island; to which the Rev. W. Williams and myself went, on an exploratory visit, at the commencement of the year 1834. On the morning of January 12th, we assembled the natives of the place, for the services of the Sabbath. The whole city came together, and, with smiling faces, sat down, old and young, high and low, rich and poor, bond and free, indiscriminately, to hear the words of eternal life. I read the Liturgy; and Mr. Williams delivered a short address: the people were arranged in a square, and, for so very large a number, behaved remarkably well. They presented a most grotesque and savage appearance: some were perched on the tops of the houses; others stretched at full length on the ground; others again seated with a child on each knee, and one upon the back but all attentive to what was passing. The old men were dressed in their best; and the young ones were, for the most part,

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naked. Some had their beards plastered with red ochre and oil; others, with blue clay, and a deep mark of red ochre over each eye; which, together with the tattooing, gave them the most ferocious aspect that can well be conceived; strongly resembling some of the pictures of Apollyon, in the older editions of "Banyan's Pilgrim's Progress." After service, the congregation dispersed, and quietly returned to their various squares in the Pa. Mr. Williams and I partook of a few boiled potatoes for dinner; as, during the night, the dogs had found their way into the tent, and run off with all our other food. In the afternoon, all the natives again assembled in the square; and I and my boys instructed them, for two hours, in the Catechisms. I then went round, and held some familiar conversations with the people at their houses; and concluded the day with another full service. The people here seem to understand pretty well that this is the Sabbath: though crowded yesterday and the day before with persons anxious to barter their little curiosities for our more useful or more ornamental articles, not one, this day, made his appearance for that purpose, nor did they engage in any kind of labour or pastime. Scarcely any other sound was heard, except that made by the fern-pounder, who was preparing this species of food; and which was, in fact, a work of necessity, as they had nothing else to eat. I do not mean to say that they observed this sacred day from any principle

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of religion, but merely because they had heard from their friends that we observe it, and that, wherever we go, we request and expect the people of the place to observe it also. "Well," said one very old man, when the services of the day were concluded, "well; we shall never forget to sit still every seventh day. I will count the nights, and remind the tribe when the Sacred Day comes round." Late in the evening, a number of natives came to my tent-door to learn to sing a hymn; and the old men, six in number, who act as priests, and are well versed in all the superstitions of the country, came to me, and said, "At last the words that are straight, and the thoughts that are right, about God, the creation, sin, salvation, man, the devil, heaven and hell, are come to us: you, and Mr. William Williams must either come yourselves, and dwell with us; or send us Missionaries, that we may never forget your sayings, nor turn again to our false thoughts. Till you can come yourselves, or send us others, leave us some of your understanding boys, that they may teach us; and we will learn from them." These expressions were to me very encouraging; as I have no doubt the people are desirous of obtaining knowledge, though more anxious to have Missionaries to dwell with them.*

* I would here add, in a note, some of the simple and affectionate expressions used by a chief, on occasion of our settling at our Fourth Station. When I arrived at Waimate, at the close of 1830, to assist in purchasing the land for the new Station, which had been determined upon at the commencement of that year (see p. 191), the natives were assembled, and were anxiously waiting to receive their payments. They were perfectly satisfied with what they received; and willingly signed the deed of conveyance. As soon as the business of the day was concluded, they fired several volleys of muskets; and one of the principal men rose to make a speech. He was listened to with great attention; and we were much pleased with the advice which he gave to his assembled friends: he said, "Be gentle with the Missionaries, for they are gentle with you: do not steal from them, for they do not steal from you: let them sit in peace upon the ground which they have bought; and let us listen to their advice, and come to their prayers. Though there be many of us, Missionaries and native men, let us be all one, all one, all one. That is all I have got to say." This was the pleasing conclusion of the old man's speech: after which, the assembly broke up, and all returned to their respective homes, well satisfied with the proceedings of the day.

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It may here be observed, that various means have been used to thwart the designs of the Missionaries; and, among other artifices, one was adopted, which would have had the effect of confusing the opinions of the Natives, in respect to the Lord's Day, had the scheme of the impostor succeeded. The particular instance to which I refer, had in it such plain marks of Satanic ingenuity and malignity, that I am induced to digress a little, in order to relate it. A Native had been for some time on board ship, and had taken several voyages with a man acquainted with the art of ventriloquism. The thought occurred to this person, who commanded the ship, that if he could teach this uninstructed man the art, it might, on his return to New Zealand, be turned to some account, and frustrate the plans of the Missionaries for the conversion of the people.

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He was aware that it would excite surprise in the New-Zealand mind, and apprehended that, if properly used, it would awaken their curiosity and fix their superstition: he therefore persuaded this young man to give out, that he was either a god, or a teacher sent from God; and then to prove his mission by throwing his voice into inanimate substances, making it appear that the very stones bore testimony to the truth of his statements: and then to address the people in confirmation of what he was teaching. The young man adopted the plan gave to his god the name of Papahurihia announced the changing of the Sabbath-day from Sunday to Saturday and succeeded in gaining the attention of many who acknowledged him as a teacher: but at the same time, he himself declared that the God whom we worshipped was the great and the Holy God, and that the religion of Jesus Christ, which we taught, was the true religion; only, that we were wrong in the day on which we more particularly required the people to worship God. In the midst of all this, some very strange things were asserted, which, notwithstanding the wonderful display of his ventriloquism, convinced the Natives, almost universally, that he must be an impostor. We thought the better way was, to watch its progress in silence, lest by much interference we should give a notoriety to the subject; convinced, at the same time, that, as it was not of God, it must soon come to nought. I should not even now have related the fact, but to show, by one

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example out of many, the enmity which is manifested towards our work, and the determined hostility of wicked men to the holy and self-denying doctrines of the Cross of Christ.

The remarks concerning religion, which fall from the lips of the natives, how much soever they may be mixed with error, and what to better-informed persons must appear absurd, yet sufficiently bespeak the working of a sacred principle in the hearts of many of them. I will give a few instances of these, as they occurred under my notice, at various periods, between the years 1828 and 1834. The following conversation took place between a chief and myself, on my landing at his residence in Paetai Bay, He commenced by saying, that his old heart was gone, and that a new one was come in its place. "Gone! whither?" "It is buried: I have cast it away from me." "How long has it been gone?" "Four days." " What was your old heart like ?" "Like a dog; like a deaf man; it would not listen to the Missionaries, nor understand." "How long have you had your old heart?" "Always, till now; but it is now gone." "What is your new heart like?" "Like yours: it is very good." "Where is its goodness?" "It is altogether good: it tells me to lie down and sleep all day on Sunday, and not to go and fight" "Is that all the goodness of your new heart?" "Yes." "Does it not tell you to pray to Jesus Christ?" "Yes; it tells me I must pray to Him, when the

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sun rises, when the sun stands in the middle of the heavens, and when the sun sets." "When did you pray last?" "This morning?" "What did you pray for?" "I said, O Jesus Christ, give me a blanket, in order that I may believe." "I fear your old heart still remains; does it not?" "No: the new one is quite fixed: it is here" pointing to his throat. "But the new heart, that comes from God, does not pray in that way." "How then?" I then proceeded to point out to him something of the nature of prayer; what he should pray for; and how ready and willing God was to answer. As I was leaving, he told me that I must ask him, on coming again to his residence, whether he remembered what I had now said; and that, if he had forgotten it, I must tell him all over again.

On another occasion, I went to speak to a number of natives, just arrived from Mawe. They listened, for nearly an hour, with great attention and patience. The questions which they asked respecting religion were of a very curious, and sometimes of a very pertinent, character; and I was occasionally at a loss how to answer them. They object to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, only because they think it is too good for them, and requires them to be better than they imagine it ever possible for them to be.

Speaking one evening to our natives, from the parable of the Lost Sheep, some of them seemed much affected. One of the boys, after service,

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told me, as a great secret, that all the time of prayers he had been trying to think good thoughts; but that something, he did not know what, always came and pushed them all out. "What," added he, "am I to do? and how is it that a native man's heart is so deceitful, when a white man's, a Missionary's, is so true?" Poor fellow! he little thinks with what we all have to contend; and how many vain and evil thoughts rush in upon us, and spoil our best services.

On one Lord's Day, the subject of my evening discourse had been, the Influences of the Holy Spirit upon the heart: after the sermon, some of our native boys came to me, and said, "Well, if it be true what you have now said, we are none of us Christians;" or, as they express it, "We are none of us christified." They added, "Our thoughts tell us that you are right; but what are we to do? We cannot help our thoughts: our hearts are bad; we were born bad; and there is an end of the matter. Why did not you come before we were born, and make our parents good? then we should have been born good: the fault rests with you, not with us." Of course, I had to correct their erroneous opinions with respect to the sinfulness of our nature.

I recently heard, or rather overheard, a conversation which took place among some of my congregation, when service was concluded. "I say; does that man tell true? are we all bad?" "No; I am no murderer; I only told my slave to knock

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such a person on the head; but I did not do it myself." "True: but did he not say, that he who wished another to die, was a murderer before God?" "Aye." "Then it must be as he says. Besides, we have stolen and told lies and done evil on the Sabbath; and in order that Jehovah may not be angry with us, let us all believe in his Son Jesus Christ, and pray to him for a new heart." The noise among the children prevented me from hearing more of this interesting dialogue.

Yet there is a painful mixture of evil with the good, in these conversations. I took a long round (September 1833) among the natives, and visited the villages extensively, speaking to eleven parties; all very attentive. It is much easier now to visit the natives than it was some time ago; not only on account of the horse-roads which they have made to their respective residences, but because they all meet together to hear our "Message," instead of obliging us to go from house to house. Temorenga, Mr. Marsden's companion in his first visit to the southward, seems in a very pleasing, teachable state. He has heard much; and for many years rejected the Truth; but now he is earnestly seeking after those things which belong to his everlasting peace. Taki, an old man at Ohaiawai, is still hard and stubborn. He said, he was quite satisfied to go to hell, so that he could only get what he wanted in this world, before he went there; as he was quite sure he should never reach heaven. "There was," he added, "too much

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to be done in the road to heaven, for the New Zealanders ever to think of going there."

Being on a visit to the people at Mawe, to converse with them concerning Baptism, and to examine some of the candidates, I could not but remark that they were extremely ignorant; and yet some of them think themselves wise. There is much among the natives that is good; but very much that requires to be pruned, and lopped off. They have latterly taken to a method of speaking in parables; and so, of speaking nonsense. Satan, we fear, will soon be busy with them in another way than he has been wont to be; and our difficulties will increase, as a professing Church is raised in this land.

Reference has been made to the building of churches; and as this is a point which evinces the progress of the Gospel, notice may be taken of one of these simple structures; for simple they must needs be, at the present very early state of civilization.

In the year 1834, they had erected, at Mawe, a large chapel, capable of holding from two to three hundred people. It is, as yet, in an unfinished state, but, for a native building, will be very neat. The roof-beam is painted red and white; the principal rafters are of the same colour, and are carved at the ends; the roof is covered in with rushes; and the inner roof, or what may be called ceiling, is neatly platted with branches of the palm-tree: the sides are finished

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with bark, secured with strong slips of native flax; and, when completed, will be perfectly wind-and-water-tight. The door is placed in the middle of the eastern side; and there is a good-sized window at each end. This is the character of most of the native chapels, as hitherto erected in New Zealand. In this chapel I baptized the two children of James Ngori, a Christian chief of the village. On leaving, I heard the following remark made by one of the natives. "Now persons have been baptized in this place, it is indeed tapu; and we shall not use it for any other purpose than for the service of God."

The importance of ascertaining and fixing the native language was felt from the very commencement of the Mission; and measures for effecting this purpose were early adopted by the Society, who availed themselves of the learned aid of the Rev. Professor Lee. The first steps were necessarily such as would require further revision; but from these, and from the repeated improvements which have been made by the Missionaries, results have at length been attained to, which must affect in no small degree the future prosperity of the New-Zealand Mission. A few remarks on this subject may properly find a place at this part of our description of the effects attending the introduction of the Gospel into the island.

The language of New Zealand is peculiarly soft and sweet; and in the longest speeches, not a harsh sound ever strikes upon the ear. It is

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radically the same with the languages spoken by the people of the Sandwich, the Society, and the Friendly Islands; and is evidently derived from the same source. That a language spoken by a few savages, in so isolated a situation as New Zealand, should be supposed to be very deficient, is no matter of surprise; and that linguists of the first character should assume that the people could have but few modes, and some of those very indefinite ones, of expressing themselves on any abstract subject, is perfectly natural. But the language of New Zealand and, as I have been informed, of most of the South-Sea Islands is remarkably rich, admits of a very varied phraseology, abounds in turns of peculiar nicety, and is capable of being reduced to the most precise grammatical principles. It abounds with words, and with varieties of expression; and the shades of difference in the meaning of words is sometimes so minute, as to render it very difficult to give a correct translation; while, still, that meaning is perfectly understood by a native; and may be equally well understood by a foreigner, though unable to render it correctly into his own tongue; at least, not without much circumlocution. It will scarcely be credited, when stated, that the New Zealanders have a distinct name for every tree and plant in their land; of which there are six or seven hundred, or more, different kinds. I was perfectly astonished, though I ought not to have been so, when a celebrated botanist,

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Baron Hugel, paid us a visit, and made a large collection of plants. We had a native to tell us their names: he gave the names of all without exception, and that too with little hesitation. Some of these plants were so very small, that it might have been supposed that they would have escaped the notice of an individual. But it was not so: not one could be introduced, however minute, or whatever might be the hidden situation in which it had thriven, but a name was found for it: and, lest it should be thought that this man was coining names, another native was called in, the following evening, just as the plants were being placed in fresh paper; and, with one single exception, out of three hundred specimens, he gave the same name to each, as had been given the night before. It is so likewise with respect to birds, fishes, insects, garments, and every thing else which they possess: and I never found a native at a loss to express any of the passions, feelings, sensations; any thing connected with joy, sorrow, good, evil; or any qualities of matter, as broad, long, obtuse, sharp, fluid, solid, &c. In short, there is scarcely any thing which we can imagine, but they have an expression for it, except it be some such words as express the Christian graces of hope, gratitude, charity, &c.; which words, and some few similar ones, always require to be New-Zealandized, and of course to be explained, as to the meaning that is to be attached to them; which is however, in no instance, a difficult task. Some such words have been intro-

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duced into our translations (perhaps from twelve to twenty in number), and are now pretty generally understood by all; certainly by all those who are in the habit of hearing our sermons and expositions: our explanations of terms are carried from one to another, and are universally circulated; and, with no small degree of apparent sagacity, their merits are canvassed, and their probable derivation sought out. *

When the language was in some competent

*Some remarks I here subjoin, which may be regarded as not only curious, but also not without their practical utility. - Nothing can be more truly ridiculous than the errors which Europeans frequently make, when first attempting to speak the New-Zealand language. It is a very easy matter to make such mistakes as these: "The food has swallowed the man," instead of "The man has swallowed the food." Or, "Put the horse on the saddle, "instead of "Put the saddle on the horse." Or, "Yesterday I shall go a journey." Or, "To-morrow, I went to see the houses." Or, "Will you eat me," instead of "Will you eat with me?" The last of these errors is one which has often made a native angry, as it refers to one of the greatest curses you can express: and if one native were to make use of it to another, a satisfaction would be sought, and the individual who spoke the sentence would be severely punished. They know, however, that Europeans make use of it in ignorance; but if a troublesome man wanted an excuse for plundering, this would be abundantly sufficient, according to the laws of the country, to justify him in taking away all that the innocently-offending person happened to possess. Several instances of this kind have occurred: it would therefore be well for all Europeans, who have much dealing with the New Zealanders, to be cautious how they address them about food; and how they call them names, or liken them to any object; for, if it be possible, that object to which they have been compared will be taken away, or destroyed, as a payment. Many of the quarrels that have arisen between the natives and the Europeans residing as settlers in New Zealand, or visiting its shores, have been caused through ignorance of the language, and by a wrong application of words and sentences.

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degree fixed, and a sufficient copiousness of words obtained, the work of translating portions of the Holy Scriptures, and of the Liturgy of the Church of England, was commenced. This was conducted with so much success, under the blessing of God, by those of the Missionaries and Catechists who were specially engaged in it, that, in the former part of the year 1830, I spent upwards of six months in New South Wales, occupied in carrying through the press 117 closely-printed pages of a Selection from Scripture, the Liturgy, Catechisms, and Hymns, translated into the language of New Zealand. Nothing could exceed the gratification with which these books were received on my return, by those who could read them. They were willing to receive them as wages, or to purchase them with any thing they possessed of a saleable nature.

During the two years subsequent to this first successful attempt, the Translating Committee assiduously prosecuted their important labours. At length having ready for the press the whole of the Liturgy of our Church, with all its Services; a number of Hymns, and Catechisms, with the Gospels of St. Matthew and St. John; the Acts of the Apostles, and the Epistles of Paul to the Romans and the Corinthians it was determined that I should visit New South Wales, for the purpose of carrying these works through the press. This, with other matters connected with the Society, occupied me from November 1832

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to August 1833. On my return, being favoured with a prosperous voyage of eight days, I arrived in the Bay of Islands, bringing with me, as the most valuable cargo that ever reached the shores of New Zealand, the above-mentioned books, of which 1800 copies were printed. I was much assisted, in correcting the press, by Edward Parry Hongi, a native youth of pleasing manners; whose conduct was such, as to gain the esteem and love of those who knew him.

The Liturgy of the Church of England, as translated into the language of New Zealand, has been, next to the preaching of the Gospel and the use of the Holy Scriptures, one of the most efficacious means of Christian instruction. It is so simple, expresses so well the wants, both temporal and spiritual, of the people and, like the Bible, from whence a large part of it is derived, it so exactly meets every case that it comes home to the experience, the heart, and the conscience; tends to awaken the unconverted; and is a source of comfort and consolation to the distressed sinner under his convictions, while the more advanced are edified by the spirituality of its petitions. My mind is more than ever convinced, from my Ministerial experience in New Zealand, of the essential value of a Liturgical Service, to a people so uneducated, so unused to prayer, as the New Zealanders. The introduction of this incomparable "form of sound words" among them might be noticed by a great variety

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of extracts from my journals. I shall content myself with the following, in reference to the administration of the Sacraments, and the solemnizing of Marriage.

In the afternoon of September 26, 1830, 1 baptized Taua and Rangi, Waiapu and Anne, married natives; and Wakahihi and Waikari, unmarried. Their deportment during the time of administering the ordinance was very solemn and pleasing; and the conduct of all the natives in the chapel was such as we could wish to see it. Some of the baptized were affected to tears; and all were evidently under the influence of strong religious feeling. May God, of his infinite mercy, grant that this impression may remain! We look to Him for the blessing: and we feel assured that it will not be withheld. In our Liturgy, as well as in Scripture, we are led to place our whole dependence upon a reconciled God, through a crucified Redeemer: Christ, and Christ alone, is there made the foundation of our hope of pardon, and of everlasting blessedness: and I believe that the sacred truths found in our Book of Common Prayer, which are constantly sounding in the ears and falling from the lips of the natives, have been one of the grand means of bringing them to their present state of mind. Translated into the New-Zealand language, our Liturgy is most strikingly beautiful. When any strange natives come into the chapel, and hear it, they say, "Ah! those are not native prayers: if we did as those

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persons pray for us to do, we should be very different from what we are: we should cast away all our sins: we should believe in their God, and be made like them in all their doings."

Shortly before my departure from New Zealand, the following instances occurred: May 4th, 1834, Sunday , I baptized Paparangi, Kutu, Pita, and Timo, four chiefs; and Koutu, a slave of Hau's; with two of Kutu's children, one of Pita's, and one of Timo's. Paparangi is the principal chief of Otuhere, and is between fifty and sixty years of age. He has long been earnestly desiring to become a partaker of that grace which brings salvation, and of the faith which purifies the heart and works by love. In his old age, he has been effectually called; and is, I doubt not, a sincere and faithful follower of that which is good. The other three are young men, sons of chiefs in the neighbourhood of the Waimate: and the poor slave is a lad who possesses an excellent knowledge of Scripture, and has been for many months desirous of being admitted, by baptism, into the Church of Christ. The conduct of them all, during the administration of the ordinances, was most serious and devout.

On the morning of Sunday , June 8, 1834, I baptized thirty-eight adult and sixteen infant natives: the adults have all of them been, for many months, candidates for this Christian ordinance; and, as this is the last Sabbath, but one, which I shall in all probability spend, for a length of time, in this,

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part of the world, I appointed this day for its administration. The greater portion of those admitted this day are chiefs. One, named Atua-haere, (that is "the walking god,") is the great man of Kaikohi: he, and several of his slaves from some of whom he first heard of the Gospel stood side by side, as brethren; and all their distinction of rank was merged at that moment in the name of Christian. Not that his dependants will cast off their duty to their earthly master, in acknowledging a heavenly one; nor that they now think themselves his equal. Such is not the design of the Gospel: it will place all ranks of men in their just relation: it will make servants obedient and faithful, and masters kind and tender; thus enabling every one to fulfil his relative duties in that station of life to which it has pleased God to call him. The chapel was crowded to excess; the attention of all was rivetted during the whole service; and a solemn awe seemed to pervade every bosom, as though each one were saying to himself, "Surely the Lord is in this place!"

On the Lord's Day following, I felt that I could no longer delay admitting the Kerikeri Christian natives to the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper. They had been candidates for many months; but I had deferred their admission from time to time, that I might be satisfied as to their walking consistently since their baptism. I, as well as their employers, have had every cause to be satisfied

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with their conduct; and every reason to believe that they are Christians in heart and affection, as well as in profession. Previously to admitting them, I delivered an address on the subject and nature of the ordinance; to which they all listened, with breathless attention. *

In the next fact which I shall mention, it will be seen that the celebration of one of our beautiful services was interrupted, in a slight degree, by the ruder usages of the natives. On the morning of October 19th, 1830, I married my lad Pahau to Rea, a young female from the Pa of the Ngai-te-wake: the wedding was well furnished with guests; upwards of three hundred strangers were present; and three or four times this number were outside the chapel, unable to gain admittance: all of them were feasted on the occasion. There was a little opposition to the wedding; but not till it was over, as is always the custom here. The bride's mother came to me, the preceding afternoon, and said, she was well pleased in her heart that her daughter was going to be married to Pahau; but that she must be angry about it with her mouth, in the presence of her tribe, lest the natives should come and take away all her possessions, and destroy her crops. This is customary upon all great occasions: if a chief meets with an accident, he is stripped, as a

* There will be found, in a subsequent part of this Chapter, a variety of letters from the natives, expressive of their feelings and desires, relative to Baptism and the Lord's Supper.

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mark of respect: if he marries a wife, he has to lose all his property: and this is done out of respect not from disrespect, as it was once printed, inadvertently, in an official publication. A chief would think himself slighted, if his food and garments were not taken away from him upon many occasions. To prevent this, Manga, the old mother, acted with policy. As I was returning therefore from church, with the bridegroom and bride, she met the procession, and began to assail us all furiously. She put on a most terrific countenance, threw her garments about, and tore her hair like a fury; then said to me, "Ah, you white Missionary, you are worse than the devil: you first make a slave-lad your son, by redeeming him from his master; and then marry him to my daughter, who is a lady. I will tear your eyes out! I will tear your eyes out!" The old woman, suiting the action to the word, feigned a scratch at my face; at the same time saying to me, in an under tone, that it was "all mouth," and that she did not mean what she said. I told her I should stop her mouth with a blanket. "Ha, ha, ha!" she replied; "that was all I wanted: I only wanted to get a blanket, and therefore I made all this noise." The whole affair, after this, went off remarkably well: all seemed to enjoy themselves; and every one was satisfied. I subsequently married another couple: they were from two distinct tribes: and four hundred natives, at least, were assembled in the chapel,

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PUBLIC THANKSGIVING-DAY. to witness the ceremony; many of whom were seated on the shoulders of their friends. At this wedding I was prepared for a disturbance; for although the parents on either side had given their consent, it is contrary to the usage in this land for a man to marry out of his own tribe: but, by breaking through this custom, we gained a point uniting those tribes which would otherwise, in all probability, have been envious or jealous of each other. I was agreeably surprised to find that nothing occurred, but a little talk; without which nothing is ever done in New Zealand. I gave every publicity to the measure, some weeks before the ceremony was performed.

As illustrative of the influence of our Public Religious Services, I will only add the following account of an occasion much to be remembered by our Missionary friends, for the signal instance of the Divine favour, in averting the horrors of war. On the 8th of August 1832, two sermons were preached to the Europeans, and two to the natives; the day having been set apart for the purpose of returning thanks to Almighty God for His great mercy, in bringing back the Ngapuhi in safety, without permitting them to effect their bloody purposes with respect to Tauranga. Many of the people who headed this expedition were present; and after the conclusion of the service, they said, that they had all along attributed it to our prayers, and to the interference of our God,

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that they were not able to effect any thing. They said, they felt themselves unnerved and unmanned; and their hearts, instead of swelling with bravery, turned round, jumped up, and sank down with fear. It was a strange sight, to behold the very persons, who had been disappointed, listening to us while returning thanks to God, in their own language, for having frustrated their purposes.

Next to the blessings of a more spiritual nature, thus far described, may be noticed the thirst for knowledge, which has been excited among the New Zealanders. Every one now wishes to learn to read and write; and those who are sincere in their professions are willing to pay for the requisite materials; that is, to purchase books and slates, for the purpose of instruction. Many native villages have two schools established, under the direction of a lad who has previously received his instruction from the Missionaries themselves. It is scarcely to be expected that there should be much order or classification in a school commenced and conducted by an untutored man, whose whole previous life has been disorder and irregularity, and where the visits of a superintendent must generally be "few and far between." But let the plan upon which they have conducted their schools be what it may, very many, some hundreds, have learned to read and write in them; to read so as to understand and to be understood; and to write a good bold hand upon a slate.

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Much may be expected from these schools: they are an inquiring people in this country; and the knowledge thus obtained is easily communicated from one to another: sometimes it is carried to a great distance, to tribes whom we thought to be in perfect ignorance. Persons who have been made prisoners of war, and enslaved by the Bay-of-Islanders, have been educated in the Mission Schools; and then, having by some means obtained their freedom, or having received permission, from the chief to whom they belonged, to depart for a season, have visited their friends; and, carrying with them their little stock of knowledge, have at once commenced the work of instruction, and have been readily and eagerly attended to by the whole people. In this way, in some of our distant journeys, we have met with the most agreeable surprises. When we have been telling them of some of the first principles or truths of our holy religion, what has been our astonishment, to hear them say, "We know all that!" and, upon examination, to find that they really had obtained no contemptible degree of knowledge. The cause has, however, soon been explained: their friends, one, or two, or more, had returned from slavery, and had again and again told them all the wonders they had heard; and had willingly communicated to them all the religious and other knowledge they possessed. And when the remoter natives became acquainted with the other acquirements of their returned

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countrymen; when they found that they were blacksmiths, or carpenters, or brick-makers; and knew other simple arts, and could render essential assistance in erecting their houses, or in otherwise adding to their comforts; they more readily received, as truth, the lessons which they taught of the religion of Jesus, and the descriptions they gave of what He did and suffered for the salvation of the world.

A great change has been effected by the Gospel in the domestic character and conduct of those who have embraced it. All the effects of sin are perceptible enough to the eye and ear the rags of lazy poverty; the insubordination of the uneducated; and the strife of tongues, in undisciplined families Formerly, a parent would never correct a child for any thing it might do; it was allowed to run riot in all that was vile, and to have its own way in every thing. The evil of this was palpable: in New Zealand, as in every other country, a spoiled child is a great plague; but if the pest was in any one place more severely felt than in another, it was here. Brought up in evil, and without the restraint of law in their youth, it could be no great wonder if, as men, they indulged in every vice, and gave the reins to all their licentious passions. Another domestic improvement is the abolition of polygamy, in so far, that those who do not now possess more than one wife are determined not to seek for more; nor to allow others to do so, those at least

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over whom they have authority or influence. Husbands and wives do not quarrel as formerly; nor is it probable that domestic brawls will rise any more to the height to which they were formerly carried.

The suppression of many inhuman and superstitious practices is, further, one of the effects that may be traced to the influence of the Gospel in this land. Reference has been already made (p. 175) to the death of the warrior Hongi. I find the following remarks on the occasion, in my Journal, March 9th, 1828: "Hongi, New Zealand's most brave and illustrious warrior, is dead: he died on the 6th; and all, as yet, is peace. He strongly recommended those by whom he was surrounded, to live at peace with the Europeans, and to protect the Missionaries. The conduct of the natives on this occasion has been very pleasing. It is customary, in this benighted land, for the relations or friends of a departed chief to kill a slave, or a number of slaves, male or female, as a satisfaction to his manes, that they may accompany and wait upon him in the world of spirits. The Missionaries have often remonstrated with them upon the folly, cruelty, and wickedness of this savage custom. It was expected, that when Hongi died, a more than usually large number of slaves would be murdered: so complete, however, is the change in the mind and conduct of the natives, that not one individual has been slain. We cannot refrain from hoping that the example of

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mercy thus set, at the death of this great warrior, will be universally followed." *

Another effect of the Gospel, even when partially embraced, is, that their tapus and other superstitious observances fall into disuse. In many places, they are altogether thrown aside, and on no account regarded. When it is considered what a hold these tapus had upon their minds, and to what they sometimes led, the abolition of them must be considered as a great point gained. Instead now of being terrified at every marvellous tale which they hear, they are led to question the truth of the fables which they formerly believed. I will here relate a few instances of the superstitious practice of tapus

* How bitterly hopeless, as well as atrociously cruel, were the feelings of those bereaved of their dearest relatives by death, may be gathered from the following description, extracted from my Journal, under date of December 4th, 1830: "I went up the hill, to endeavour to administer consolation to Mawe; but he refused to be comforted, because his child ' was not'; it having died about two hours before. The scene was most melancholy. Here was the corpse, placed up in a corner, and gaudily dressed with feathers and other finery: there was the father, prostrate at its feet, weeping bitterly, and bleeding in many places from self-inflicted wounds. Next to him sat the mother, singing a mournful lamentation over the dead body of her son, and accompanying every stanza with a deep gash across her neck or arms, with a piece of glass. Around, were three friends and relatives, falling in with the chorus, and wounding themselves in a dreadful manner. At a little distance was a man preparing to kill a slave, as a satisfaction to the manes of the departed. I reasoned with him upon the subject, and he promised to desist from his bloody purpose: whether he will or not, remains to be proved. The scene altogether was most agonizing: there seemed to be no hope, no consolation, for the bereaved parents.

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(already referred to at page 84), describing also the manner in which we endeavoured to break up the system.

Being on a visit to Takou, a large native residence, about twelve miles from Kerikeri, I found that the chief, Wata, had gone from home, leaving his wife, who was under a strict tapu. All the food of which she partook was placed at her feet; when, putting her hands behind her, she leaned forward and took up as much as she required, with her mouth. At this place, I spoke to five parties of natives, and declared to them the unsearchable riches of Christ. On my return home, I met Titore, on his way to Takou: he was carrying, on a spear, a small stick, as a memento of the departed Paru; and also the sacred food which was to be eaten by Wata. He, as the bearer, was tapued, and dared not eat until he had delivered his burden into the hands of the person for whom it was intended. I offered him the food which I had in my pocket; but he fled from it, as from the face of a serpent. He however said, that I must keep it for him; and he would call for it on his return to the Kerikeri, which would be the next day; when he might eat any thing, as the tapu would be taken off.

At length, on the following occasion, circumstances led us to attempt to force a passage through this most embarrassing system of prejudice. In the month of September, 1829, I went down nearly to Rangihoua, intending to visit

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Mrs. Shepherd, who was very ill. When within a few hundred yards of the settlement, I saw a great number of natives on the beach, busily engaged in preparing a new net. They would not allow me to pass; as the sea, for a great distance round, was tapued, on account of the work in which they were engaged. I had, therefore, to turn back; having only a boat's crew of little boys, and they were afraid: I, however, determined to return the next day, and to pass, let them make what opposition they would; as it will never do to allow them, without opposition, thus to tapu the sea, and block up our way. The next day, September 22d, with Mr. Kemp, Mrs. Hamlin, and her baby, I left Kerikeri for Rangihoua. We took with us a strong boat's crew: the first opposition we met with, was in the river; but the natives soon gave way here, and allowed us to pass unmolested. When we arrived off Rangihoua, the people there began to prepare for opposing us. We would not listen to them; but told our boys to row with all speed, that we might arrive at the beach before the natives could come round upon us. The moment we landed, they made a rush upon the boat; fought with our crew; snatched up Mrs. Hamlin's infant, and ran up the hill with it; took a bottle of medicine which I had with me for Mrs. Shepherd, and drank it; and ran away with a pot of preserves, the contents of which they swallowed. One of Mr. Shepherd's boys received a severe wound on the head. Mrs. King fainted on the beach; and

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I was running from one to another, endeavouring to prevent mischief. It ended in the natives returning every thing which they had taken away, with the empty bottle and jar. The sails, which were torn in the scuffle, and set on fire, they promised to come up to the Kerikeri and mend. * I think this will be the last time they will allow their tapus to interfere with any of our proceedings. Many of them have already given way; and, next to those connected with the dead, those of the nets are the most sacred.

The effect of this incident was apparent: a fortnight afterwards, when the tribe Ngai-te-waki came down to Kerikeri to prepare their nets, they tapued the ground opposite the Settlement, but allowed me to go and see them, and even to put my hands upon their work. They had heard of the affair at Rangihoua; and had determined that all their tapus may, for the future, be disregarded by Europeans with impunity.

Generally speaking, it is no small matter to find that the wandering, warlike, thievish practices of the natives are giving way to more settled, honest, and peaceful habits, wherever the Gospel prevails. They are beginning to be inclined to build themselves better habitations, that with more comfort they may stay at home. A native naturally soon tires of one situation; his mind always requires something new; his habits

* The natives afterwards made most ample restitution for the injury which they did us.

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of going from one residence to another are formed in youth, and they cling to him as pertinaciously as any other of his propensities. But the Gospel has led them to think: it has reformed their minds; and has taught them, that comfort may be found at home, and that it is not necessary to gratify their vagrant inclinations in order to make themselves happy. It is but rarely, now, that we find a deserted village: the men are either making improvements in their houses, erecting chapels, fencing, or cultivating; and the women are employed, in some way likely to be beneficial to themselves or to their families. I would not willingly produce a false impression: I do not mean to say that they are much more industrious than they were, or that they are always employed: far from it: to a European they must still appear idle, and great wasters of their time: but their real and imaginary wants are increased; and the Bible, which they read, has told them, that he who will not work, shall not eat; and that the hand of the diligent man maketh rich: and we have told them, that it is their duty to attend to the precepts of the Gospel; and that they cannot expect to have their wants supplied, unless they make an effort to supply themselves, and labour diligently, working with their hands. This has, in some measure, been attended to; and I am happy to say, that industry, regularity, and a desire to make improvements in their land, their habits, and customs, are upon the increase,

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among a great body of the people. No doubt can, for a moment, be entertained, but that this will eventually be of great benefit to the country; being the first grand step towards the civilization of New Zealand, the improvement of which was once thought to be beyond all hope.

The very language which the natives themselves use, expresses what eventually will be the effect of the preaching of the Gospel. On one of my latest tours in the island, the following instance of this occurred. As we descended the hills, and returned to Kopu, we found that Horeta, a chief who was expected, had arrived; and the people had just begun to sing his welcome. He stood in the centre of a circle, and gently murmured his good wishes toward the people of the place; whilst they, with the most extravagant expressions of joy, bade him welcome. The women cut themselves most frightfully; and the men seemed to vie with each other, who should roar and cry the loudest. When this was over, Horeta commenced a speech of a very pleasing character. It all respected the Mission just established among them. It consisted of questions put to the body of people, but which he answered himself. One remark is worthy of notice. "What," he asked," what are these Missionaries come to dwell with us for? They are come to break our clubs, and to establish peace here." Then, following up the idea, in a second speech, he said, "They are come to break in two our clubs to blunt the

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points of our spears to draw the bullets from our muskets and to make this tribe and that tribe, this tribe and that tribe, love one another, and sit as brothers and friends. Then, 11 he added, "let us give our hearts to listening, and we shall dwell in peace." I really thought this was a very correct idea of the effect, which the Gospel of peace is likely to produce among this people. *


In order both to cultivate, and to draw out, the feelings of those among whom I was labouring, it appeared to be one very useful plan to induce

* An illustration of the vagrant curiosity and thievish disposition of some of the New Zealanders is here subjoined, extracted from my Journal of May 13th. and 14th, 1833: " Rewa, and several chiefs, came this morning to pay us a visit, and to wonder, as they expressed it, at the buildings which have been erected, and at the progress which has been made in the New Settlement at the Waimate. They were all very particular in their inquiries, and wished to know how it was that so much more work was done by Missionaries, and by natives living with them, than by natives living at their own residences? I told them, that "white people work with their hands, and that New Zealanders only work with their mouth" They assented to the truth of this; but left us, wondering how it was.

The next day, I went to visit the chiefs who came to see us yesterday. Fell in with a party of the tribe Wakatohea, a sad wicked set from the southward, who are come to place themselves under the protection of Rewa and his brothers: they are perfect strangers to these parts, and are very thievish. While I was talking to them, they cut away part of my bridle; and when I accused them, they instantly, but unblushingly, restored it. The same people, a short time ago, picked the nails out of the camp forge-bellows; and when we searched for them, these fellows could not speak: the reason of it was, that the nails were concealed in their mouths.

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them to commit their ideas to writing. In pursuance of this method, the Christian Natives, and those desirous of becoming Christians, have at different times, during the last four or five years, addressed Letters to me; which have accumulated at length to a somewhat bulky mass of correspondence. From these, as illustrative of the workings of natural feeling, and in no small degree, also, of the operations of Divine Grace, I have selected a considerable variety. The translation of them is made as close and literal as sense and English idiom would allow: they relate to the following subjects Baptism, the Lord's Supper, the Holy Scriptures, and the experience of the power of Religion on their hearts. One or two are added on perfectly general topics; and these are followed by a few more, sent after me since my leaving New Zealand for this country. The following refer principally to the desire of some of the Natives to be admitted by baptism into the Christian Church.

Sir, Mr. Yate Listen to my speech to you. Great is my heart toward God, because He has taken care of me all my days, and has shown the greatest extent of love for me. It is good for me to be sanctified by Him, and, by being baptized, to be let go into His holy Church on earth; in order that, when I die, I may be taken into His Church above in the heavens.

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Who can bear the pain of the fire which burns for ever? I want to make haste to Jesus Christ, that I may be saved from it. As the wind digs up the waves of the sea, so the devil digs up sin in my heart: he is always, always, this day and that day, at work there. If I wake in the middle of the night, he wakes also, to contend with me, and to hold fast my soul, that I may not fly to the Saviour; or to stop my mouth, that I may not pray to Him.
This is all my Letter to you. Mr. Yate, I love you, even I.

Mr. Yate It is true, it is very true, that it is good to tell to Jehovah all that is in our heart, whether it is good, or whether it is evil. My desire is, that my soul may be saved in the Day of Judgment. It will not be long before Jesus Christ appears to judge mankind; and I also shall be judged. It is right that I should be judged, and that I should be condemned; for my heart is very wicked, and will not do one good thing not one, not one, not one, that Jesus Christ, and God, and the Holy Spirit say is good: if I am angered by them, it will be just. But will not the Son of God save me? You say He will; and I believe it. You say that, bad as it is, He will wash my soul in His blood, and make it good and clean. That is what I want. I want to be admitted into His Church, and to be made His Child, and to be taught His lessons out of His Book; and to be taken care of by Him, and to be done what with, done what with, done what with Thou, O Lord Jesus, say what!
Mr. Yate, listen: this is all from me, from

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Sir, Mr. Yate My heart is desirous of being permitted to enter the Church of Jesus Christ. I wish altogether to turn to our Father which is in heaven, and to cast away all the evil-speaking of this world, and the evil-acting. I am thinking inside me what can be the reason I have two hearts, which are always struggling, one with the other. The one is a very good heart; the other altogether bad. I am wondering which will be thrown down, and put undermost at last perhaps the good one; perhaps the bad one. Oh, how they fight! Will you baptize me, or will you not? As I have two hearts, perhaps you will not; and, perhaps, you will.
My writing to you this time is finished.
From me, from your son,

[He has been with him upwards of six years. ]
Sir, Mr. Yate Listen to my thoughts. I am seeking a heart for the good things of God. I have heard with my ears His glad words, but I am not able to make myself His child, because I struggle so for sin. We have all heard his good news out of His Book. They are good, and gracious, and loving words; and are signs from the Holy Spirit, to guide the spirit of man. When I think upon the writing, my heart is glad within me: when they are fixed in my soul, joy wakes me in the very middle of the night, to think about it. How are your thoughts toward us? Are they as they were? If they

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are, we have heard them. You say our souls must feel pain, for having, by our sins, crucified the Lord of life and glory, the Son of God, our Saviour Jesus Christ. I say to you, that my heart has been pained long ago; and is pained now, because I have wasted the blood of Him who died for me. And now my thoughts, and my heart, are very great, to be made one of the Baptized. I am very proud: I walk in pride; and sometimes say, "Ha! what are all the things of God to me? I am only a New Zealander: they will do very well for white and learned people; but as for us !" This is the devil, hardening and tempting me, that I may fall into his evil and burning residence. You tell us we must pray. So we do. But what have our prayers done? Have they christified our hearts, or made us love and serve God, and do His will? Mr. Yate, I am one; and here I am sitting, and wishing to be by you baptized I, your old companion in the boat to Paihia and Rangihoua,

Friend, Mr. Yate My heart is very dark and sad; and the reason is, because God is not there. God resting in the heart, causes the heart to be glad; because, when he is there, evil is driven away. My will is, to have nothing more to do with evil, but to forsake it altogether, and live as God and Jesus Christ say we must. I wish to talk with you, and for you to talk with me. I wish to ask you how I can be brought to stand nearest to the presence of the Saviour? Perhaps, by baptism I may be brought near: perhaps, by praying for a new

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heart. Mr. Yate, you say how. Let me take upon me a new name: for though the native chiefs scoff at me, and say, "Who is Kaheke, that he should believe? it is all nonsense;" I am not ashamed of saying to everybody that Jesus died for my sins, and is my Saviour and my God.
This is all to you, Mr. Yate, from your friend, from

Father From me, from Paru, is this Letter. Great is the grace of God within my heart: therefore my heart is large with love, and is pricked on account of sin. The words of Jehovah are good; and they cause a desire in my heart to pray to Him, and to stick close to Him. This is my thought, that I should heap up the words of the Lord within me, and not forget them by day nor by night. Sir, Mr. Yate, listen. When will a good heart be deep within me, not to go away again? Sometimes I say within myself, my thoughts shall be fixed on God: then I think about sawing, and the payment I am to have for sawing, when I have" finished my tree. This is the way I am, this day, and this day, and this day. Mr. Yate, what are your thoughts? perhaps, Yes; perhaps, No.
From me, from your man, from
PARU, is this Letter to Mr. Yate.

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To Mr. Yate, the parson at the Waimate. Atua Haere, the chief of the Ngatitautahi, at Kaikohi, is he, who is writing by his son's hand to you. These are my words, which my son marks with a pen upon a slate to you. Thirty-seven of us in this residence have, many moons, been wishing to be baptized. I am the old man, and the old chief of this tribe; and all my sons say, Atua Haere write Atua Haere, speak Atua Haere, be urgent before Mr. Yate goes on board ship, for all the we cannot tell how great way to England. You know us, and the thoughts of our hearts: you have erected your tent by my house at Kaikohi, and you know all our desires. We think within us, and our mouths say, it is good to believe, it is good to pray, it is good to listen, it is good to work. Our Church, our House of Prayer, is not finished. We native men are foolish; and took the props from under the roof before it was secured, and it fell in; and we took the sides, and the ends, and all down. And when the House of Prayer was down, that I thought, in my thoughts, would be ready in two weeks for you and Mr. Davis to come, and Mr. Clarke and Mr. Hamlin to come and instruct us in, I cried; and my heart and my people's hearts were pained, and became dark; and we said, "It is no use, we cannot build a house large enough": and then you sent Kohuka, your son, whom you redeemed from slavery, to come and help us, and show us how; and our hearts became light, and we went to work again, and the roof is now fast. Mr. Yate, you must come to Kaikohi. Mura, and Wahanga, and Kaha, will come and carry your cloth-house [meaning, a tent],

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and clothes. Waha is gone into the wood, to shoot some pigeons and tuis for you. I have a little pig, that I will kill when your horse appears in sight; and Piro's wife will wash your potatoes, because you do not have them cooked with the skin scraped. Come, and point out, and call those who are to go to Waimate, that you say you will baptize. No more writing from Atua Haere to Mr. Yate. Sit in peace. By Mura is this slate written: the words were spoken by ATUA HAERE, sitting by the side of Kekeao, from Pukenui.

Mr. Yate If you are willing to permit me to enter the sacred Church of Christ by baptism, my heart is very desirous to be baptized. I altogether believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God; and that He died for my sins, and for the sins of the world. Here I am: and have been, of old, a very wicked woman; but now my heart is sore on account thereof. I have been thinking of Jesus Christ's love for me, though I am such a sinful woman; and that makes me sorrowful. It is my desire, for the future, to act as the Bible says, and to forsake all my sins, and to repent before God, for all I have done wrong; and to love Jesus Christ, because he loved me. These are my thoughts to you, Mr. Yate, from me, from Raru, who was so bad a woman as to be always quarrelling with her husband Paru, and teazing him; and who twice beat her mother for scolding her child; and who once stole things out of Mrs. Hamlin's place for food.
It is not a desire to have a new name, but because I love the Saviour, makes me wish to be baptized. This is all.

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Sir, Mr. Davis Though I am here, and you are there, very near me, I have not had many thoughts about the conversation I had with you. I have not gone backwards and forwards very often to you, to talk about the things of God, because the heart within me is evil, and I have no thoughts towards Him. I am only evil I am altogether sin. Sin is in my head and sin is in my heart. The works the words the thoughts the all things in my mind, are sin. And I love lying words more than truth. I cannot help sometimes crying at the sinfulness of my heart against God; and because my heart is inclined to teaze the Saviour every day, and not to do His bidding. Do you remember telling me, in the blacksmith's shop, when you and Mr. Clarke were making the plough, and when Pompey was kicking, in the yard, that my heart was more stubborn than that horse's? I was angry then, and I thought Mr. Davis tells lies; but no, it is true: I am stubborn to my teachers; I am stubborn with God; I am stubborn to do evil; I am deaf to good: how shall I escape the anger of God, for the evil of my heart! 1 am not able to write; for I have no thoughts towards Jesus Christ; my thoughts turn more towards the father of lies. Will you not pray, that Jesus would pour out His Holy Spirit upon me, that I may watch, and pray, and believe, altogether believe, and have belief fastened in my heart. I wish to sit in peace with men; I wish to do the bidding of God; I desire to be made a true believer, by God's Spirit. Will you say to Mr. Yate, to let me enter the Church, and be baptized.
No more writing from Warerau, at Torangatira, to Mr. Davis, and to all the Missionaries at Waimate. By

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PIRIKOTAHA, in this book, carried from Torangatira. Sit in peace.
Perhaps Mr. Yate will say, Aye; perhaps, No. Do you say to him, to say Aye.

The following are Letters from some of the baptized Natives, expressive of their desire to be admitted to the Holy Communion.

Sir, Mr. Yate It is now many moons since I and Mary were baptized by you, in the Chapel at Kerikeri: and since then, I have been thinking many things, and doing many things. Sometimes I think of the things of this world, and sometimes I think of the things of God: sometimes I do right, and then I do wrong. Does anybody, who has the love of Jesus Christ in his heart, ever do wrong, and laugh when he sees others do wrong? I do so: here am I, and I do so. It is when we two do not remember the love of the Saviour, that we sin. When I and Mary think of His love, we love Him, and try to do what he says in His Holy Book. If you let me, and my wife Mary, come to the sacred table, perhaps we shall remember more of Jesus5 death and love. Say Yes, Mr. Yate; or perhaps say, No. There are many mistakes in our two's Letter: and Mary says, "Do not send it: wait, and talk when he comes to the Kerikeri." Here are we writing to you, your friends,

* These two have long been an ornament to the Christian profession, and are bringing up their children in the fear of God

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Father, Mr. Yate Is the sacred Supper a remembrance of Jesus the Saviour's dying upon a tree for us for me, and for my wife Rebecca, and for you? My soul is happy, because it knows something of the love of God: and I wish to know more, and to remember more of the great and good things which God hath done for me by Jesus Christ; and I want more to fulfil His will, and to do His bidding. My old heart is not carried away yet; it remains inside me: and when I am on my bed at night, my heart says, "Henry, do something that is not good to-morrow": and then my thoughts think about it; and then to-morrow I think about it again; and my native heart says, "Do it": and I think again, and then I do it: and then my thoughts tell me I was wrong; and my heart tells me I am an unbelieving, bad man: and then Satan comes, and tells me I am none of Jesus Christ's, but of his, and shall go to his place, and do his work for ever, and ever, and ever. Mr. Yate, what do you think? You have brought the Scriptures, printed, from the other side of the water, and I have got a book: and Rebecca says, I must read it to her when she is ill, bringing to the birth; and I must look into it every day, every day, and pray more to God when I am reading; and I shall soon altogether know what I am to do, or to be done with. Your heart, and Mr. Kemp's, and Mr. Davis's, and all of yours, are always thinking good; but, as for ours ! Rebecca says, this is to be Her letter and My letter; for they are our two's thoughts, and our hearts are one. This is all from us two, from HENRY WAHANGA, and REBECCA WAHANGA, to our father, Mr. Yate, living at the Waimate.

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My Teacher I have been many moons thinking about the holy feast which Jesus Christ gave to his disciples, and told every body to eat in remembrance of Him. It is not a natives' feast; for in New Zealand every body eats as much as he is able, and as fast as he is able; but this is a feast of belief. If my body were hungry, I should not be satisfied with a piece like a crumb, nor with a drop that will go in a cockle-shell; but my soul is satisfied, my heart is satisfied, though it be a crumb, and a drop. The thoughts within me yesterday were perhaps right, and perhaps wrong. I said to myself, I am going to eat and to drink, at a table placed before us by the Great Chief of the world. I must be very good, and must make myself good within; or, when He sees me, He will show that He is angry. And then I thought, I will not think any thing that is not right, nor do any thing that is not straight to-day; and then, God will see that my heart is becoming good. But Mr. Yate, perhaps you will, and perhaps you will not, believe it: I thought no good thoughts, and I did no good works, all the day: and yet I was still, and not angry with myself, no, not at all. Now, my Teacher, you say what I am to do, before the next day of the Lord's Supper. I think I must pray to God for a new heart, and for His Holy Spirit.
This is my writing to Mr. Yate, my father, mine.

The preceding Letters, relating to the Sacraments, have necessarily described something of the power of experimental Religion in the hearts of the writers. The following are expressive of

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such feelings, yet further. The last of these has a reference to the copies of Scriptural Translations printed for the natives.

I send one of my slaves with this book, written for me by Thomas Reo, for Mr. Yate, at the Waimate. Finished is the road through the wood, for your horse and you to come to my residence at Mangakahia. Come, come, come: we are waiting to hear you say, "It is a good road." Perhaps, you will say it is good perhaps, bad. We were thirty-five men, three weeks and four days, and we all say, "No, no payment must we have for this work." It is a road for the Teachers to come to teach us, and tell us about Jesus Christ. This is our payment: this is our satisfaction. You have only been four times to Mangakahia: but now the road is made, you must come every moon, that we may not forget your words nor your books, nor the Catechism, which you teach us. Come soon, and hastily, our friend Mr. Yate. I have taken care of your axe and piece of soap.
No more writing from HOTAIWA to the Preacher of the Gospel, sometimes at Mangakahia, and sometimes at the Waimate.

From Temorenga is this writing to Mr. Yate. My two friends carry on their back, in two baskets, nine two's of fowls. They are a gift-for-nothing from me to you, for you to eat on board the man-of-war, when on the great sea. Be jealous and careful of the waves on

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the great sea. Oh, how great they were, when I went up to Mr. Marsden's, at Port Jackson ! Remember, that it was Temorenga, who sat in your verandah, at your house-door, and told you all about native men's ways. Do not forget who I am, and what I have said to you. Bring out one, two, three, perhaps more, Missionaries to go to the Southern Tribes, that there may be no more fighting between us here and them there. Bring your sister in the ship with you; and do not forget what I, Temorenga, have said, that you shall have a house at the Manawenua, if the other natives should ever be turned against you, and they should not let the Missionaries live in the land. A native man's heart is very deceitful, and very joking. Let my men, who carry the fowls for you to eat on board the man-of-war, carry me back one fig of tobacco, as my pipe is empty. Go in peace, and see your friends in England. Go in peace, Mr. Yate; so says TEMORENGA, at Manawenua, his residence, where he sits.

My Father Health to you. Rest in peace here, in this native man's land; and do not go to England. Let your European friends write letters, and send boxes; but as for you, sit at the Waimate, and come here to this place every week, to teach us. The time is arrived, when light is coming into our hearts, and light is passing all through New Zealand. Sit here, our Teacher, and do not go away. These are our thoughts at the Manawenua; and all the men say, and every body says, Mr. Yate is going, and he will go; and we shall all be dead, altogether swept away, before he comes back; and when

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he comes to his residence, the houses will be burnt down, and fern will cover the place, and all here, everywhere, will be a wilderness. Go, go to England, and bring back with you a great many, let them be many Teachers, that every native residence may have a Missionary to tell them what is right, and to hold them from evil. Perhaps you will come back again perhaps not.
This is all my book to you this is all my writing1, mine, the son of TEMORENGA, sitting in the verandah of his house at the Manawenua. Perhaps you can read this book perhaps not. Bad are my fingers for writing, mine.

My altogether friend, Mr. Yate I do not know whether to say my heart is hot or cold: it is both. I am grieved, because it is hot toward the things of this passing world, and cold towards God and the things of that there world where His residence is. I have more love for earth than for heaven: I think more of my body, which must soon die, and melt to nothing, than of my spirit, which is to live for ever. We native men all knew, before you came to our land, that the spirit lives after the body is dead; but our thoughts, and our words, were not straight about it. I will say what my thoughts now are. If I believe on Jesus Christ, and lean on Him, and altogether inside of my heart believe Him, and then do His bidding, my spirit will not be driven into darkness at last. But if I believe jokingly, and my belief does not make me do the bidding of Jesus Christ, then I think I shall not see God: I shall be full of fear to look at Him, and no joy will ever come to my heart. This is

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my thought about the last. Now, my father, who art good to me, and to my two children, Caroline and Cosmo, say you, is this right? I want every day to be taught, and to have my heart more christified, as I shall not live long: my sickness in my throat is killing me; and before you come back from England to this New-Zealand land, I shall die. Remember, I have been your boy ever since the day you first came to the Kerikeri; and if I die before you come back, my children are to be yours; and you are to teach them all about God and Jesus Christ; that, if I go to hell, I may not see them there; and if I go to heaven, as I have thoughts in me which say I shall, I may see them, and you, in that light, and tearless, and not-sickly place; when I shall not say my neck is bad, nor my heart cold towards God. This is my farewell Letter to you, before you go to England. Tell the English Mr. Watkins*, that I think of him, as he is my name; and give him this Rewarewa-box, for his wife to put her needles and thread in. Tell him, a New Zealander has no locks, nor hinges, nor fastenings; and he must put them on for his wife himself. This is all I write to you, my father and friend, mine.
To Mr. Yate, sitting at Mr. Clarke's house till he goes in the Buffalo at Wangaroa, to England.

Our old Teacher and Friend I will be your companion on the way to Wangaroa, to the Buffalo. When will the Buffalo sail? You were the man who said to

* The Rev. H. G. Watkins, M. A., Rector of St. Swithin's, London Stone; to whom this Youth has written two Letters.

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Mr. Kemp, "Send Henry Kemp to England. "Do not forget him; and do not let him be angered by you, when on the sea. Remember, he was my little playing companion: and when I say farewell to him and you, I shall cry; and we shall all cry; and Henry's mother will always, this day and that day, this day and that day, and every day, be saying, "Oh, where is Henry? when shall I hear from him?" Go, Mr. Yate, to England, and see your friends, and hear either of their sickness or their health. Remember native men, and this native land: say to God, when you pray to him, to be very merciful to ignorant native men: say to Jesus Christ, to make himself native men's Saviour: say to the Holy Spirit, to cause himself to be native men's teacher, and leader, and to show the way above to heaven. Mr. Yate, this is my last saying to you. Hurry back again; and come and talk to us, and make our hearts light and glad. This is all my book. Here am I, and Titohea my wife, to whom you married me, and my child, whom you baptized last sacred day. Go, Mr. Yate: farewell: go to England, and leave our hearts to be pained while you are away.
From me is this writing, from THOMAS REO, sitting at Mr. Kemp's house, and saying, "I will go to Wangaroa with Mr. Yate and Henry Kemp."

Sir, Mr. Yate Is it indeed true? Is the Waimate not to see you again for how many moons perhaps fifty, perhaps one hundred? I said, when you went to Port Jackson, "Oh, he will come back soon. It is only two weeks' journey there; and his father does not live in that place, nor his sister, and he will not stay." But, as to

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this, Henry says, "We shall not see you any more;" and Cosmo says, "We shall;" and Edward says, "Do not be in a hurry, and the wind will cause the sails of the ship to be filled, which will bring him to Waimate;" and George says, "He shall die before Mr. Yate comes again." But I say, perhaps God will say, Come; and perhaps he will say, Do not. I am very dark, and sorry within me that a ship is going to sail with you in her from this native land. My wife has made some bands for parsons; and a pair of something for the wrists of English women, such as Mrs. Matthews and Mrs. Busby wear. You must give them, in England, to them that your heart says you love. Go in peace, Mr. Yate: go, and do not be overtaken by storms and hurricanes. Go in peace to England, and leave us all to cry when you are gone. This is all my last slate to you, from me,
From PARU, whom you sometimes call POKE.

To the man whose name is Yate, and who comes to teach us here.
Here am I, sitting in the verandah of my house at Ohaiawai, thinking within me, that I shall not see your face again, nor hear the sound of your horse's feet. The soles of his feet, with you upon his back, will not leave a mark behind them on my ground again, till I am dead, and Paitaro* is become the head Chief of Mangakauakaua. Perhaps I shall die; perhaps not. You say you shall return; but I am thinking, no: you will not leave

* Paitaro died a happy Christian death, the latter end of last year (1834).

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again your good country, for this bad country, and this very bad and unbelieving people. You will love your own friends more than the New Zealanders, and will not again leave them for this. These are our thoughts. We have love in our hearts for you; we have love in our words; and all our thoughts to you are one, at this residence. We are not good to your going; we are not satisfied with the Buffalo for sailing from Wangaroa, when you are within. Go in peace, Mr. Yate, and see your friends in Europe; and say my How-do-you-do to the whole of them, not passing over one. This is all, from him who was once your boy, but is now married to a wife at Mangakauakaua, me

Our father, Mr. Yate Be strong in contention with your friends in England, whom you say you are going to ask to build us a House of Prayer at the Waimate. Why are English people loving in their hearts to us native men, whom they have not seen? Why do they wish us to have a large House of Prayer here? Is it God that makes them love us, and give their money to help us? We will cause the sweat to run down our bodies, when making bricks to build God's House with; and we will work by day and by night to build it and make it large, if you will say how, and Mr. Clarke will say how. Go in peace, Mr. Yate, go to England, and pray for us, while we pray for ourselves. Perhaps we shall forget to pray for ourselves; perhaps not. This is all, from your son,
HAMO KOHI RAWITI, at the Waimate.

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Mr. Clarke, and Mr. Yate This is the beginning of my saying any thing to you in a book. How is it that I am so deaf to what you say? If I had listened to your various callings, I should many times have done the things which God bids us do; and should not have obeyed my heart, which is a deaf and a lying heart, and very joking: and my heart sometimes ridicules me for saying, I wish to believe right, and to do right. How is it? How is it? Sometimes I say Aye, and sometimes the thoughts within me cause me to say No, to the things of God: and then, there is a grumbling and a contention within, whether Aye or No is to be the greatest, or which is to be overturned. The more I turn my eyes within, and continue looking, I the more wonder, and think perhaps I have never prayed, perhaps I have. I have this day, and many days, kneeled down, and my mouth has whispered and has said loud prayers: but I wish to know, and am saying within me, if I have prayed with my heart. Say you, if I have prayed to God with my heart, should I say No, and not do His bidding, as the Bible says we must, and tells us how? And should I flutter about here like a bird without wings, or like a beast without legs, or like a fish whose tail and fins a native man has cut off, if I had love in my heart towards God? Oh ! I wish that I was not all lip and mouth in my prayers to God. I am thinking that I may be likened to stagnant water, that is not good, that nobody drinks, and that does not run down in brooks, upon the banks of which kumera and trees grow. My heart is all rock, all rock, and no good thing will grow upon it. The lizard and the snail run over the rocks, and all evil runs over my heart.

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Mr. Clarke, and Mr. Yate, teach me more of the Gospel of God, that I may try if I cannot do good, and not do evil. Perhaps God does not listen to native speaking; perhaps He does not open his ears to the native language; and therefore he does not hear my prayers. Perhaps, if I talked English, he would listen to what I ask; perhaps he would not I am jealous of my sayings: I am fearful that I say wrong. I know that I do wrong. Tell me how to work right, and to think straight My book is covered with writing.
No more writing from me, from WARIKI to Mr. Clarke, at the Waimate; and to Mr. Yate, sitting at Mr. Clarke's house. Let me not be angered by you two for this book, written with my pencil at the Ahuahu. This is all.

To our friend, our teacher, the person who comes on Selim, to talk to us. There are two things in our hearts at Mawekairangi this day joy and sorrow, light and darkness. We are glad that you are going to beg for other Missionaries to come out from England, to teach the New Zealanders down at the southward all the same things of God that you have taught us. Perhaps their hearts will not be so like stones as ours have been; perhaps they will. Perhaps they will listen, perhaps not. We are all dark and sorry within us, that you are going over furlongs of water, more than we native men can count; and will be so many moons from the land of us natives. Hurry, Mr. Yate hurry there; be altogether in a hurry to get to England, and be altogether in a hurry to come back again. Pray to your God now, us native men's God to give you always a straight wind, and

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no watery mountains. I have dug up a bundle of best fern-root, which all, every body, white people and native men, say is very good, when sick with the ship's rocking. Go, Mr. Yate, go in peace, and take God in your heart; and we native men will ask our Saviour to send you back again. Go, go in peace.
So write JAMES and ROBERT, whom, last sacred day, you baptized.

Mr. Clarke Do you ask Mr. Yate for some medicine for my child, and for Paparazzi's shoulder. All a native man's thoughts are about the body; which to-morrow perhaps, or perhaps next year, will be nothing. How great are our hearts towards the things of this world! and how our desires are tied on to possessions here ! Does not the Bible say, "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth," &c.; and behold I have more love for my child than for God; more thoughts about my child than about God. Say you, is this right? perhaps it is; perhaps it is not. I have very great desires for another book: my wife always wants to read mine, when I am reading it myself; and she reads it in the morning, in the middle of the day, and all day. I have said to her, I must tie my Bible in my garment, and take it to all places that I go to; and when I am tired, I sit down in the fern, and read it. Do you say, if you will let me have another Bible for my wife, and one for Paparangi, who can now read. Paparangi has a large pig for a payment, and I will work for my wife's book.
Ashamed am I of this writing on a slate to you: this is all from,

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The next two Letters are upon subjects of a more general nature: they sufficiently speak their own meaning.

King William Here am I, the friend of Captain Sadler: the ship is full, and is now about to sail. I have heard that you, aforetime, were the captain of a ship. Do you therefore examine the spars, whether they are good, or whether they are bad. Should you and the French quarrel, here are some trees for your battle-ships. I am now beginning to think about a ship for myself: a native canoe is my vessel, and I have nothing else. The native canoes upset, when they are filled with potatoes, and other matters for your people. I have put on board the Buffalo a mere pounamu and two garments: these are all the things which New Zealanders possess. If I had any thing better, I would give it to Captain Sadler for you.
This is all mine to you mine,
TITORE, to WILLIAM, the King of England.

Mr. Yate How do you do? Sick is my heart for a blanket. Yes, forgotten have you the young pigs I gave you last summer? My pipe is gone out, and there is no tobacco with me to fill it: where should I have tobacco? Remember the pigs which I gave you: you have not given me any thing for them. Forgotten have you the ornaments that I took off my boy's neck, and threw at your feet? Mr. Yate, I do not forget you: my pipe is empty, there is nothing in it: give some tobacco to me, and give me a blanket also. I am your friend, and you

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are my friend; and I fed you with sucking-pigs; therefore, I say, do not forget. Speak my name to King William; and tell him I am sitting in peace, and listening to you. Go, go to England; and speedily come back again to your house at the Waimate, that you may come on your horse Selim, and talk to us about the things of God. Here am I sitting in my house; and Hongi is writing my letter to you, from me, from your friend, that permitted his daughter to be married to your boy Henare. From ATE, at Mangakauakaua, to Mr. Yate, at the Waimate: this is all.


A few other Letters are added, which I have received since my return from New Zealand to this country.

Sir, Mr. Yate How do you do? and how are all of you? On one of the days of September, in the fourth week of it, on the Monday, I began to write this speech to you. I am going to write about what has happened in New Zealand, and to the men of the school, ill or well, alive or dead. Some are well, and some are lying sick, some of the men, and some of the women: but all the children in the school, both Natives and Europeans, are well; and so am I alive and well. In this month we are all sitting at the Waimate, working and playing, and talking and reading, and writing and listening; but, in the midst of all this, thoughts of love frequently rush into our hearts for our loving father, Mr. Yate: and all the boys, and every body, says, "Ngapuhi must write a book, and tell our father all about us; and that

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will make his heart glad in England. "Truly, indeed, very great is the love we all have for you: and all the Waimate says, they will go to England to see Mr. Yate, and to look once again, only once, upon his face. Mr. Yate, are you well? and are the children, that you took with you, well? We were very jealous at the rising of a great wind, a few days after you left here: we said, "Oh the great waves upon the great sea!" we thought of the rocking of the vessel upon the sea; and said, "They are all sick they are all overturned they are all gone to the bottom of the sea!" Are you well? and have you overcome your sickness? And have you as yet escaped the great many evils of this world in which we live? Great is our love for you: do you make haste back again, and make our hearts run over with gladness. Perhaps you will not return very soon; and when you come, you will cry over the many that are consumed by death, or that are pained by sickness. This is all from your boy, from

To Mr. Yate Sir, Mr. Yate, how do you do you, who permitted us to enter the Church of Christ? This is the thing, Sir if, from our baptism, we walk uprightly before you, then the words of God will spring up within us: for you desire us to live as in the presence of God. But I am writing to you that you may hear my thoughts. If the grace of God should cause us, the evil, the deaf, the hard-hearted people, to hear and obey the callings of God, then all will be well; but we are more inclined to listen to evil than to good: perhaps this is the reason, perhaps it is not, that we have not in truth received the

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things of Jesus Christ. Ah, Sir, we are not yet jealous enough of the deceitfulness of our hearts, which are yet native and ignorant, and blind and deaf, and hard and covered over with sin; and the sinfulness of our hearts confuses all the words of everlasting life, which we hear with our ears, and read out of the Word of God. The thoughts of our native heart sometimes say, "By and bye listen: do not listen to-day: to-morrow will do for you to be thoughtful about the soul to-morrow, or by and bye." How is it to be? and how am I to be rid of this distracting native heart? Think you about it and do you say. Sir, Mr. Yate, listen to my speech. I am very well, as I am writing this book to you; but before you return here again, perhaps I shall be returned to dust, perhaps I shall not; for God has said, that every man who lives in this world must die; but he has not said when. Sir, Mr. Yate, listen to me, and I will tell you all about those who have died since you left New Zealand. Many who believe in Christ have died; and it is well that his believing people should go to Him, and not (sit here for ever. Kape Kohine's younger sister was one: i Tuwakawaha's daughter was another; the elder brother of Mere Hemara, Tangiwai; the wife of your boy Toa-taua, and Toa has been crying1 ever since she died; Kohine Rangi her name was Mere, for she was baptized, and she partook of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper; and Mr. Henry Williams is come up from Paihia for the purpose; Mr. Clarke sent a messenger for him she died; and she died believing, and she is gone to heaven. Another also, as I am writing this book, is dying Koihuru, the wife of your good boy Henare; one at the village of Ngai-te-wiu, a believing woman; another, Pekapeka, the wife of Hako; all these are

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dead; and before you come back we shall be all swept away. Hurry back again altogether; hurry back again to this native land! Mr. Yate, how do you do? Waru and I are to go to the Lord's Supper next week: pray for us, that God would cause us rightly to go. Mr. Yate, health to you, and to all your friends. I am well, and George; and Caroline and Cosmo are well: and I am thinking, that though, before you come back here, my body may die, my spirit will live, and it will live happy with God for ever. This is all my speech to you, Sir, mine,

My friend, Mr. Yate How do you do? Sir, here are we all sitting; some of us well, and some ill. My friend, Mr. Yate, we altogether think about you. You are cut away by the sea from your sons here, and from the people of this native world. Oh, how great is our love to you! because, Sir, it was you who made yourself our godfather, who permitted us to enter the Church of Christ: it was you who preached to us the Gospel of God, to us the people of the School-house, and to the people of the native residences also. Sir, be very mindful to pray to God for us for the people of New Zealand, and for all the dark islands of this world. Pray to Him for the sick, and that He would spare, and be gracious to those who are lying upon the bed of sickness, and cause their hearts to understand all his gracious works. I write this book to you that you may altogether hear my thoughts: I say, that if with a joking heart I hear and receive the Word of God, pain will be reserved

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for my spirit for ever, and no joy will be for ever mine. Friend, my children are well. Caroline has been ill; sickness stuck fast to her: it began soon after you left, and her body was soon fleshless; and I cried. My friend, I have finished your room; and your bed-room is finished, all but the finishing round the doors and round the top: the mantle-piece is done, and the grate is fastened in. Perhaps you will say it is well, perhaps not. I am now working at Mr. Clarke's bed-room, Friend, I am going to tell you something: shall I? Mr. Clarke and I have been talking, and I am thinking of going to my residence at the Ngai-te-wiu, to sit. I write this book, that you may know about it. I am going, if you say Yes to it. Mr. Clarke has said Yes; and has a desire for me to go; but, my friend, should I be overtaken by death ! well, then my plans will be ended. If I live, I shall work as a carpenter, and shall teach my own people all that I learned about carpentering, and other things which I learned when with you. I shall teach them to build houses, and all that I know. What shall I not teach them? Now, do you altogether listen to me. Will not you be pleased with my going? I know that my father, Mr. Yate, will be pleased for me to go to the native village, and to sit there and teach the people. My friend, Mr. Yate, I have very great love for you. Say to all your friends to pray with you to God for us; and let your prayers be one, that we may not lay hold of that which is evil, but that the truth of God may be altogether fastened upon our hearts. This is all my speech to you. Do not forget that you have a friend, George. By me is is this written, by
To Mr. Yate, in England.

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Mr. Yate, how do you do? Sir, have you outlived your sailing across the sea, to your residence; or are you dead? Perhaps, Mr. Yate, you will not return to this land again, till we are all dead. Ah, Sir! pray for us: we are a wicked and a dying people in New Zealand: and ask your friends to pray with you, and to let your prayers be all one for us. Mr. Yate, here am I, and my wife and children, sitting in my house. All my work is to take medicine; and all Caroline's work is, to rub my back. Oh ! how the bone in my back burns, when I attempt to sit up; and when I lie down, then the burning passes from my back inside me, and I cry with pain: and then, when full of pain, I hear the Spirit of Peace speaking to me; and then I am strong to pray to the Lord my Saviour to take care of me, and, if it is good to Him, to take away the pain, but always to preserve me from the evil of this world, and from being angry in my heart at Him for doing this thing and making me ill. Sir, it was almost immediately after you left that I became sick: as I was carrying fire-wood, a pain struck in the long bone of my back; and now I am crooked, and cannot stir without help, and my head touches my knees; and I am ashamed to give so much trouble to others, and to take medicine, and to eat without working to pay for it. Sir, Mr. Yate, my wife is very kind to me; she gives me my medicine, and sits all day by my side, and looks at me; and a tear comes in her eye, and she says, "Alas! Pahau will soon die!" and she is good to my children: and all this is a cause of great gladness

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to my heart my wife is so good to me. Do you remember, Mr. Yate, do you remember. Mr. Yate, how do you do? and how are all your friends, and all your play-fellows, and all your thinking friends? My father, Mr. Yate, my love for you is great, though you are at such a distance from us; but my love will soon be ended in this world; my spirit will for ever love you. Be strong in prayer for us all. The end of my love for you is, How do you do? How many moons shall you be before you return? perhaps one year, perhaps two: let it be one.
From COSMO GORDON PAHAU, at the Waimate, to his father, Mr. Yate, in England, 1834.
Ngapuhi and Unahanga hold me up, while I write this book to you; and George puts the ink in my pen. Mr. Yate, how do you do?

Sir, Mr. Yate, how do you do, my friend? This is my speech to you. Perhaps you will not again see Koihuru; she is very ill; and all my work, by night and day, is to watch her and take care of her: perhaps she will live, perhaps die. Mr. Clarke says she will die. I am scarcely able to say any thing to you on account of the pain in my heart for the sickness of my wife, who will not live. But our Father says, This world is not to be the abiding place of His people, but that heaven is their rest. Oh! how many things there are which cause wonder to us in the Book of God! Christ says, he that doeth the will of my Father, the same is to Him a brother and sister, and father and mother. He will not leave me all alone, nor

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let me sit as a widower, or as an orphan, when my loving Koihuru dies. This is my saying to you Do you be very courageous in prayer for me, and for every body in New Zealand; for the good and for the bad; for the unbelieving and for the believing people: and quickly let your prayers be offered up from the Waimate, that our own ears may hear that you do indeed ask God to be gracious and merciful unto us and to bless us, and to let us hear and see and feel His love. Finished is this my saying to you. Listen again: Many, who were here when you were at the Waimate, will not see this place again they are dead and they are buried, and their spirits have returned to the Judge of all men Kape, and Mere Kohine Rangi, and Tangiwai, and Paitaro. If these all died believing in Jesus Christ, they are gone to heaven, and there will find eternal rest for their spirits. You have often said to us to turn quickly to the Saviour, and to our Father in heaven, as we know not how soon we may die: you said true, we know not how soon we may die. Kape was a child, and Kohine only just a woman; and where are they? I think New Zealanders will all begin to think by and bye. Many come to Mr. Clarke's house every Monday, to read, and to hear him explain to us; but I am fearful it is all ear, and little or no heart. Do you make haste back again: come, and make plain the parables and hard things in the Word of God. God will teach us; but we want you to tell us every day about it; and to let us ask you, as we formerly did, the meaning of this and the meaning of that. This is all my saying to you. How do you do, how do you do? and how do all your friends do?
From me is this; from HENARE PIRIPI UNAHANGA, at the Waimate, to Mr. Yate.

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Sir, how do you do? this is my speech to you. The sacred day was the day in which this book was written. One Sabbath ago, all the baptized natives at the Waimate assembled at the Waimate to eat the Supper of the Lord. This is also my saying to you: we are all alive and well here; Samuel, and my children, and my wife, and my friends, my brothers, and my fathers, and my elder brothers, all, all, all are well. God's grace makes us all altogether pray for you, whilst you are absent from us. Do you also pray to God for us. How great is the love we bear for you; we pray every day to our God for you. When, when shall you come back again? will you not return very shortly to us? and will you not write a book to us, that we may hear all about you, and all about your residence in England? Here are we, all sitting quietly; we are not troublesome; and all in the fortification are sitting in peace. The time is arrived when a native's heart can be a long time glad. Here is a peck of wheat springing up in my ground. My father, Mr. Davis, gave me the wheat, and my father, Mr. Clarke. Our earth is now bringing forth new things, and new things are growing in our hearts. Some of the great Chiefs are beginning to believe. Moka has laid hold of the words of God, and so has Warerahi also: by and bye, a House of Prayer will be built at Kororareka, Mr. Busby says so. George Waru will presently come to this native residence, and will sit with me; and Edward Hongi is going to Wangaroa to live, and to saw trees. Richard, and Abraham, and Temorenga, and Cosmo, are all ill; and it will not be long before they are called to go to God. We are very desirous of gathering ourselves

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together, and going to the White People to read the Bible, and to hear from them the straight things contained in it There we hear of the Sacrament, that good ordinance, that powerful remembrancer of Christ, and of the death of Christ There we hear and feel the good which those believing people obtain, who rightly eat of the body, and who rightly drink of the blood of Christ Listen to this my speech to you. How do you do, Mr. Yate This book is words about nothing; it is my lips which speak to you: perhaps it is not my heart; perhaps it is my lips only. This is all my speech to you; mine,
WILLIAM MARSHALL HAU, at the Waimate. *


In no situation is the happiness of the believer, and the misery of the infidel, more strikingly portrayed than on the bed of sickness and death. At that moment, all earthly things are fading from the sight, and a long unknown eternity presents itself through the dark portal of the grave. Thousands, who all their life have derided Christianity, and persecuted its professors, would most gladly lay hold of its consolations, when they feel the powers of nature sinking, and death folding them in his cold embrace. I have witnessed the agonizing roll of the eye of the infidel, as he has thought upon an hereafter; and the expression of his countenance has been such, as would lead you to imagine he was saying to his conscience, "Begone! Art thou come to torment me before

* Several of my brethren in New Zealand hare received letters of a character similar to the foregoing.

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the time?" From these horrors the believer in Christ is delivered. He has built his hope on the Rock of Ages; and finds, that though every thing else is giving way beneath and around him, this foundation standeth sure. These remarks will be amply illustrated by the following narrations of the deaths of some of the New Zealanders; who have scarcely yet learned so much of the ways of civilized man as to conceal or disguise their sentiments, when about to leave this world. Some of these appeared to die in their sins, clinging to the last to their native superstitions; whilst the sins of others, we trust, had been washed away in the blood of the Redeemer. I shall for the most part confine myself to a description of their latter days: and some of their expressions will in a measure disclose their previous character and conduct.

Paru, a chief of much influence and authority amongst the tribe Ngai-te-waki, was a man of a bold and daring spirit; savage in his disposition; and reckless of the consequences of any of his actions, either to himself or others. He always had the appearance of a man verging on consumption; and his tendency to this disorder was much increased by his having been exposed to severe cold and wet, in a predatory excursion to the southward. The excursion, in which Paru formed one of the party, was undertaken in the winter: some of those engaged in it were

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drowned; others were starved to death by cold and hunger; and the greater portion, who lived to return home, had laid the foundation of diseases which rendered their future days miserable, or brought them to an untimely grave. The young man of whom I am now speaking began visibly to decline in the spring of the year 1829; and a very short time proved that his disease was too deeply fixed ever to be eradicated. He could scarcely ever be prevailed upon to take medicines; never, indeed, except at the earnest persuasion of one of the Missionaries. He placed his whole confidence for his recovery in the superstitious rites of the priests, whose tapus and other observances and requirements, in the end, greatly hastened his death. He had heard many times of the truths of our holy religion; and had been entreated again and again, while in comparative health, to lay hold of the hope of everlasting life set before him in the Gospel; but he rejected every overture of mercy. I visited him several times during his illness; and took with me many little comforts, which he had no opportunity of procuring. I always found him stretched on a bed of fern, under a miserable shed, that could not screen him from the scorching rays of the mid-day sun; nor from the cold, raw air of midnight; nor yet from wind and rain. Here he lay, the picture of despair; an old tapued woman at his side, wiping, with a roll of flax, the sweat that streamed down his fleshless, tattooed

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face; and a whole host of friends, at a little distance, talking loudly, and with seeming gladness, at the prospect of the removal of him who lay before them. Their conversation was of the most unfeeling character; such as, where he should be buried; how many muskets or blankets should be buried with him; how they would act at the final removal of his bones; and the probable size of the coffins he would require, at his first burial, and after his exhumation. On my visit to him, the day of his death, I found the usual noisy company; and the above were the common topics of conversation in which these "miserable comforters" engaged. I spoke to them of the cruelty of such conduct; but they laughed at the idea. I then turned to the forlorn patient, and found him struggling hard for breath, whilst the sweat of death was upon him. He retained the full use of his senses to the last; but this was to him, emphatically, the valley of the shadow of death. I spoke to him of a Saviour, able and willing to save him even then, if he would only call upon him for salvation; but he grew angry; the expression of his countenance was changed; and he told me, that "from his birth he had lived a native man, and a native man he would die." He became more calm when I asked him where he expected his spirit would go, after death; and, whether he thought he should be happy or miserable, in the world which is to come. The doctrine of a future existence is one in which all the New Zealanders

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most firmly believe, but their ideas respecting it are most absurd. The answer which I received from Paru to this important question was rather a lengthy one: they were the last words he ever spoke the last earthly sounds he ever uttered, except the long, deep, hollow groan of death. "I shall go to hell," said he, with terrible emphasis, "I shall go to hell. Wiro* is there, and I shall be his companion for ever. I have not killed men enough to have my eyes made stars, as Hongi's are: I am not an old man, but a youth, I shall go to hell: where else where else where else should I go?" He sank down exhausted; and seemed to slumber for a short time. I left him; and before I had ridden half a mile from the place where he was lying, a long fire of musketry announced his departure to that place where his state is for ever fixed. Thus died Paru, a chief of great name and importance with the Ngai-te-waki. I dare not pronounce what his state now is: man is not the judge. He has passed the tribunal of the Judge of quick and dead, who must needs do right, and will render to every man according to his deeds. This only, so far as it appeared to us, we know that poor Paru, to the very last, turned his back upon the only way of salvation.

Coleman Davis Aoheke is an instance of a very different kind. How gladly do I turn to the scene

* That is, The Evil-one: see page 145.

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of the dying Christian, whose redeemed and sanctified spirit was borne through the portals of death, "on angels1 wings, to heaven;" and who rejoiced in the prospect of eternal glory, which was, in a manner, revealed to him, even before he had done for ever with time ! Aoheke was a youth who had been taken, in the days of his infancy, and made a prisoner of war, by the Bay-of-Islanders. He was permitted by his master to reside in the Mission Settlement at Paihia, where his conduct recommended him as one whom the Society might with advantage redeem from slavery. The tyrant to whom he formerly belonged soon came to terms; and the price of his redemption was paid. There was nothing in his conduct at this period, nor for some years afterwards, that would justify the opinion that he was under any serious religious impressions. His general conduct, as a native lad, was good; he was attentive to the school; and was easily taught the art of carpentry, in which capacity he was particularly useful to Mr. Davis. A few months after the battle of Kororareka, Aoheke first began to manifest a serious feeling towards the things which belong to his peace. The religious knowledge which he possessed he began to put into practice, and a general change for the better was observable in his whole conduct. He became a candidate for baptism; and at the Waimate, on Sunday, November 13, 1831, he, together with six other adult natives, was admitted into fellow-

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ship with the Church of Christ He was a strong, healthy lad; and, to all appearance, was likely to live to a good old age. But "in the midst of life we are in death." Coleman, in an incautious moment, seated himself, while in a state of profuse perspiration, upon the cold, damp ground. He was taken ill the following day; and was soon confined to a bed of sickness, without a hope of his ever being removed from it alive. He seemed to be all resignation to the will of Him, by whom he was afflicted; he always appeared grateful for any little attentions paid to him; and was remarkably pleased when any of his friends visited him for the purpose of reading to him the Scriptures, or of conversing with him upon religious subjects. The nature of his disorder was such as to allow him time and opportunity to read, and hear much; and to meditate upon what he heard and read. His mind was very serene: and there is ground to believe that it was the serenity which the Gospel imparts, when it assures the sinner that his sins are forgiven, and that he is accepted in the Beloved. In some of my conversations with this youth, (I call him youth, though a husband and a father, ) he expressed himself in the most pleasing and satisfactory manner. "Is it true," he one day asked me, "is it indeed true, that Christ is willing to save sinners; and that He is desirous of saving sinners?" My answer was "Yes; he is able and willing to save to the uttermost all that come unto God by him." "Ah, ah!" said

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he, "it is good, it is good; then I shall be saved! Jesus will not send my soul to hell. Ah, ah! my heart is light now: it was dark before, but now it is light: fear made my heart dark; and sin made me afraid afraid of God; afraid of you; afraid of death; afraid of judgment. Oh, Mr. Yate! since I have thought at all, I have always been afraid." I repeated this text to him: "Jesus Christ came to deliver them who, through fear of death, were all their life-time subject to bondage." His reply was: "Oh, Mr. Yate! why did not you tell me that before? But you did tell it me: I remember it now: you spoke to us in the chapel, one day a long time ago, about that. Aye, I remember it now: why did not I remember it before, and ask Jesus Christ to deliver me?"

He continued in this teachable frame of mind to the very last. His only anxiety was, to see his wife and child baptized before his death. A day was appointed for that purpose; and he was desirous, and expected to be able to bear being carried to the chapel, to witness the baptism of those whom he held most dear on earth. But, when the day arrived, he was so weak, so ill, arid so near to death, that he could not be removed. He was only permitted to hear of, and not to see, that for which he had so earnestly longed. His last hours were peace. He died in a full persuasion that his sins were washed away in the blood of Jesus. No cloud seemed to overshadow his path to glory; and no thoughts of this world

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seemed to banish, for a moment, the thoughts which possessed his mind, of the world which is to come. Thus died Coleman Aoheke, redeemed by the servants of God from the slavery of an earthly master; and redeemed by God himself from the still more dreadful slavery of sin, the world and the devil. He was attended to the grave by Mr. Davis and his family, and by all the natives in the settlement; many of whom were much affected at the recollection of what he once was the view of what he was now and the thought of what he will be for ever. The burial of a Christian Native, in New Zealand, is always a season of deep solemnity; and we endeavour to make it as impressive as possible to the living, by singing a hymn, and delivering an address at the grave, in addition to the Burial Service.

Naonao, was another of the unhappy victims of war, dragged in his early days from the home of his fathers, to take up his abode, as a slave, among a strange people. He was one of those permitted by his master to reside in one of our Mission Stations, on condition of giving up the greater portion of the wages which he might earn. It was upon these conditions alone that any slaves were allowed to reside with us, before we had redeemed them. Naonao was a youth, weak in body, but strong in spirit. He was never afraid of undertaking any thing that appeared practicable; and when his health would permit him, he was always first at his work. He could read and

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write well, and was correctly acquainted with the first four simple rules of arithmetic. In his conduct, he was as steady as the generality of the natives living in the stations could be expected to be: but when I have said thus much in his favour, I have said all. Alas! to the day of his death, we never saw any thing in him, but hardness of heart, unbelief, and contempt of God's word and commandments. The Truth, which makes man free, never appeared to make the least impression upon him. His last illness, occasioned by the bursting of a blood-vessel, was one of great wretchedness. Many a time have I stood by his side, and endeavoured to lead his mind to the contemplation of his state as a sinner before God, and of the willingness of God to forgive him his sins. All I could ever obtain from him was, that he had never done any harm that he would not believe or, that he did not want a Saviour. His mind was exceedingly gloomy; and for days together he would preserve an obstinate silence to any questions; whether those questions regarded his bodily wants, or the wants of the soul. At such times, the lineaments of despair were strongly pictured upon his countenance: his lustreless eye would roll unmeaningly about, and his emaciated frame would writhe in agony. My heart has bled over his sufferings, and gladly would I have poured balm into his wounds; but he refused to be healed; he refused to be comforted. No efforts that could be made were of

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any avail; and with his burdened and troubled spirit continually pressing upon him, the maladies of his body were increased, and his sufferings rendered yet more severe. He died as he had lived; apparently without God, and without hope.

James Wakaihi, the companion and friend of Naonao, was one of those pleasing instances of the effects of the grace of God upon the hearts of some of these people, which have strengthened our faith, and encouraged us to go on our way rejoicing in the faithfulness of our Heavenly Master. James was a lad of a very sprightly form and disposition, though naturally obstinate and self-willed. At times, his temper was so trying, as to cause his employer to send him to his native residence, and altogether to dismiss him from his service. But he never was happy, except when residing with an European. In the year 1830, it was apparent that he was under some religious impressions, and it soon became more evidently marked in the change of his behaviour. He was always a free and willing working lad; but now it was evident that he was, from principle, desirous to be employed. On Sunday, the 26th September 1830, he was admitted to the ordinance of baptism, after which he continued long to adorn the religion he professed. He had a very obstinate temper to struggle against; and a disappointment, in not being married to the person upon whom he had set his affections, soured his mind, made him careless and thoughtless,

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and had in other respects a very injurious effect on him. Those, however, whom the Lord hath once loved, he loves unto the end; and not one of the sheep whom the Father hath given to the Son does he allow to be plucked out of His hands. Poor James was one of these; and, having strayed for a season, still, that he might not be lost for ever, a bed of sickness was prepared for him. Many months was he stretched upon it, racked and agonized with pain, before he was prepared, by the grace of the Saviour and the sanctifying influences of the Spirit, to meet his God. He clung for a long time, with much eagerness, to his own poor and imperfect righteousness; but at length he cast off all hope of being saved by any thing he could do himself, and rested entirely on the goodness and mercy of Christ. His faith was simple, his professions sincere. He was not a youth who indulged in many words; and it was but seldom that any of us could engage him in a conversation of any length, till near the closing scenes of his earthly career: then it was that he began to speak of what the Lord had done for his soul, and of the many mercies which he had received at his hands. Redeeming love was his theme; and, much time as he had upon his hands, he seemed to find no time for other thoughts no space for other words. I visited him, almost daily, for many weeks previous to his death; and though his cough was exceedingly troublesome, and his pain great, I

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never once heard him murmur. He could scarcely find breath to articulate what he wished to say; and when, at length, his speech nearly failed him, he would write on a slate what he desired to express. "Mr. Yate," he one day said, "are you sure that, when I die, my spirit will go to heaven, and not to hell? are you sure that Jesus Christ will not send me away, as a wicked man who has often denied him? Are you sure that God will not be angry with me, and condemn me when he is my Judge?" This question, or rather this series of questions, put with great earnestness and simplicity, I endeavoured at some length to answer. When I told him, that if he believed in Christ, he would assuredly go to heaven when he died, and would be happy for ever; and that Jesus never denied any one who loved him; and that God was not angry, and never would be angry, with those he found believing in his dear Son; his eyes sparkled with joy, and he exclaimed, "Tell me again tell me again! I want to hear more about it!" The bell at this moment rang for evening prayers; and I was obliged to leave him, with a promise to see him again, and sit longer with him, on the morrow: but the morrow came, and, with it, so great an alteration in him for the worse, that he did not know who was present, or what was said. The weakness of the body overcame the strength of the mind; and he remained in a wandering or insensible state, till all sin and sorrow, all pain and sickness, were for ever gone.

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I buried him, at Waimate, on the 4th of December 1833, in sure and certain hope of a joyful resurrection at the Last Day; and with a thankful acknowledgment of God's mercy, in adding another seal to our ministry, from among this people; thus putting beyond all controversy, that the New Zealanders are neither too ignorant nor too savage to be made the subjects of the saving and sanctifying influence of the Gospel.

Rapu, the brother of Titore, was a man of great consequence in his tribe; he was of a disposition rather peaceable and mild, compared with many other of the natives: but he was sly and designing, and would not stick at any actions, however mean, by which he could promote his own views, or aggrandize himself or his party. He was a bitter adversary to the Truth, always ridiculing the Gospel when an opportunity presented itself. He had a lame hand, which prevented him from using the musket with any effect; and he was thus kept out of many broils, in which doubtless he would otherwise have been engaged. He was another of those persons who laid the foundation of fatal disease, during a war expedition to the southward: he was ever, after his return, subject to repeated and frequent attacks of cough; and his last illness was one in which he suffered the most excruciating agonies. I first became aware of the serious nature of his disorder, on my return to the Kerikeri, from an excursion among the natives in the interior. I met him, carried on the

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shoulders of four men; and I turned back with them to their resting-place, and endeavoured to enter into conversation with the sick man. He listened, but it was evidently with the expectation, that, if he did not listen, I should not go to his residence on the morrow, to administer medicine, or to give him tea and other things that would promote his comfort. I said but little, thinking that I might find a more suitable opportunity than the present, as night was coming on, and the person to whom I was addressing myself had a long way to be carried on an open couch. I visited him several times before his death: he was living nearly ten miles from the Kerikeri, and my visits could not therefore be so frequent as I wished. He did not, however, die till after the establishment of the settlement at the Waimate; where, in his last days, I had opportunities of paying him more frequent visits, and of giving him "line upon line, and precept upon precept." I never observed that he paid the least attention: even to the last, his heart seemed as hard as the nether millstone; and he was much encouraged, in his opposition, by the jeers of those by whom he was surrounded. "If God can cure my body, why does he not do so? and then I would believe what you tell me about my soul" was an expression he made use of, the last day I saw him. "Let your God take away the pain out of my hand, and head, and side; let him make me well; and that will be such a sign, that every body will then

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believe. What you say is too good for us, and we native men had better live as we are: your prayers require too much more than we can do, if we tried. 11 "Yes, yes, yes!" was the universal cry of his companions; "the truth is with Rapu; we cannot do it: we can talk about God, but we have no heart to try to do what is written. We will sit as we are. Rapu! do not listen: turn away: cover your ears, do not listen!" And the poor man obeyed the voice of the scorners, and turned away from the grace offered to him. A week after this, he was a corpse; and the sound of the Pihi, or funeral ode, with which his remains were accompanied to the tomb, ringing in my ears, told me, that, whatever was become of the dead, the living were still devoted to their vain and superstitious customs.

Ann Waiapu, the last whom I shall mention, was for many years an inmate of the family of Mr. Kemp, at the Mission Station at Kerikeri. She was not what is generally termed a slave; but was treacherously detained, when in company with her parents and other friends, on a teretere, or visit, to the Bay-of-Islanders. At her own request, when quite a little girl, she was taken into the family of Mr. Kemp; and was for many years a diligent, faithful, and affectionate servant; remarkably neat in her person, and industrious in her habits. Notwithstanding all the Christian instruction which she received in the school and in the family, she

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clung to her native superstitions with a frightful eagerness: the message of mercy and the invitations of grace passed by unregarded: it seemed as though they would eventually prove "a savour of death unto death," instead of a "savour of life unto life" to her soul. In 1828, she was married to Waiapu, a steady lad who had been long in the employ of the Mission, to whom she was sincerely attached, and by whom she had two children a boy and a girl. As a mother, she was a pattern of affection and care; as a wife, a model of kindness and submission: and even when in her native state, before she came under the influence of the Gospel, she was still far from exhibiting those independent and lawless feelings, which wives generally manifest towards their husbands, in this savage land.

At the commencement of the year 1830, Waiapu was enticed to Kororareka; where he was engaged in the battle that took place between some of the neighbouring tribes, for the possession of that village and harbour. He was spared in the midst of slaughter; and returned in safety, though covered with shame, to the Mission, and to his home. Not many days elapsed after this, ere he was visited with strong and overwhelming compunctions of conscience, on account of his conduct in the battle. His heart was smitten; and the arrows of the Almighty, which to him felt as though their barbs were poisoned, stack fast in him. They were, however, not the shafts of death, as he

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thought them to be, but the forerunners of mercy; they drove him to the cross of Christ, where he found pardon for all his sins, and balm for the deepest and most painful wounds of his soul. His conduct answered to his professions; and he, together with his wife, who had at length learned a salutary lesson in the afflicting and humbling school of Christ, made a public confession of faith, being both baptized on Sunday the 26th August, 1830. The convictions of sin in the mind of his wife had been very gradual: it was only as she discovered the fallacy, one by one, of her native superstitious observances, that she gave them up, and embraced the doctrines of the Gospel. With the truth as it is in Jesus she was, verbally, well acquainted; and when she experienced its power in her heart, she found the benefit resulting from that acquaintance.

Always of a delicate constitution, the birth of her second child confirmed a disorder, the symptoms of which had before frequently made their appearance, and had been cause of much anxiety to the friends with whom she was living. Her disorder was consumption, to which the New Zealanders are very subject. Flattered, as persons labouring under this complaint frequently are, with moments of ease and comparative health, she had scarcely a thought that she was so soon to be removed from this world of sorrow and suffering, to the world of eternal happiness and joy.

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Her mind was calm and peaceful: and, under all she had to endure, no murmuring escaped her lips. She frequently showed anxiety to be employed; and expressed her shame that she should receive so much, and do nothing in return for Mrs. Kemp. Her thoughts were much turned towards her infant children. Her conversation, when not more immediately engaged in speaking of the mercy of her Saviour, was directed to James her husband; and respected the eternal welfare of her children. One day, as I was standing in the next room, I heard her thus address him: "James, do not keep my children from going to heaven. I think now I must die; but do not keep Sarah and William from going to heaven. Take them to church: never take my girl on board ship; but let them both go to God, the great and the good." She began gradually to grow weaker. Her days were well nigh spent; but she was becoming more meet to be translated to the immediate presence of her God and Saviour. The burden of her song, now, was praise praise for that everlasting love, wherewith Christ had loved her. "Ah. Mrs. Kemp," said she, as that kind woman was smoothing her pillow, "alas! Mrs. Kemp, good bye. I am going to Jesus Christ, who loves me. I shall see him now. I have seen him with my heart; and now I love him with my heart. It is not my lips only that believe, but belief is firmly fixed within me."

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I one day explained to her the nature of the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper, for which she had some time been a candidate. She listened very attentively, till near the conclusion; and then said: "Yes, Jesus did indeed die upon the cross for me I and but for Him, I should now die a native death, and go to a place of darkness and punishment." "Mr. Yate, do you tell me, Shall I be carried up to the House of Prayer on the next sacred day? and will you let me and James eat of the bread and drink of the cup, concerning which the Saviour said, 'Do this in remembrance of me?" She then added, "What are we to remember?" I replied, "That Christ loved us, and died for our sins." "Ah! I shall never forget that," was her quick reply. "But," I said, "Jesus sometimes, at his Supper, reveals Himself more clearly to his children; they see more of his love; he is set forth crucified among them; and when they see this, they love him more, and try to serve him better." "Then, James," was Ann's expression, "get a litter ready, that I may be carried up to the House of God on Sunday; for I desire to try his love." The Sabbath arrived, and it was the last she ever spent in an earthly sanctuary. She was brought up carefully, during the middle of the service; and, as she was laid down near the table upon which were spread the sacred elements, I could not help giving vent to my tears, as I imagined she was brought by her husband, and laid at the feet of her Saviour, to

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be healed of the worst malady that ever affected human beings the malady of sin. The Sacramental Service was very solemn: it was the first time I had ever administered it to natives, or in the New-Zealand language; and the circumstances altogether were of such a nature, as to lead to painful, though joyful feelings; one of our little number tasting of the cup just before she was about to drink it new with her Redeemer in the kingdom of heaven. A short time, and her earthly course was to terminate her tabernacle of clay to mingle with its kindred dust. She now became fully aware that she could not recover; and from the moment that a conviction of the truth of her state flashed upon her mind, her affection for all around seemed much to increase. She loved to have her infants sleeping on the same bed, or by her side; she longed for the company of her husband; she rejoiced in the frequent visits paid her by Mr. and Mrs. Kemp and myself; and nothing appeared to give her so much delight, as to hear of the love and mercy of her Heavenly Father.

Never was the Gospel more triumphant, nor its power more manifest, than in the case of poor Ann. "Jesus Christ is mine, Mr. Yate," she said, "and I am Jesus Christ's. I know him now; I know him now: he is come here" fixing her hand upon her heart "and he will not go away again any more." I asked her if she wished to return to the world, and be restored to health: "What!"

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was her reply, "and Jesus Christ sometimes with me, and sometimes not; and I sometimes thinking evil, and sometimes thinking good ! No, no, no ! Mrs. Kemp will be a better mother to my babies than I shall be. I will go." A growing insensibility to every earthly object marked the progress of her disease; and not less surely did her composure mark her advances in grace and holiness, and submission to the Divine will. It was a sacred pleasure to spend a few moments by the side of her death-bed so much we saw of what the love of Christ can impart; such earnest solicitude for the welfare of others; such tender affection beaming to the very last in her countenance. Just before that total insensibility took place which preceded her death, she called for her children; and committing them to God her Saviour, she wept over them, and delivered them up to her husband. She said much about her Husband, and Saviour and Friend in heaven: her last words were, "James, I am going. I am full of pain: I am going above, away from pain;" and some such expression as might be not unaptly rendered by the opening words of that beautiful Hymn

"When languor and disease invade
This trembling house of clay,
'Tis sweet to look beyond my cage,
And long to fly away!"

She became at length insensible: all around her were aware that she was dying. Her head

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rested on the knees of Mary Taua, who had ever been her companion and friend. At her feet sat her disconsolate husband, nursing her babes, weeping over them, and refusing to be comforted: by her side was seen her father, shortly to become childless: and in various places within and around the house were many natives of the settlement, mingling their tears, and accompanying with sighs to heaven the spirit of their friend. The scene was too much for me: I could bear it no longer; but retired to my room; and there indulged the feelings which I had before such difficulty to restrain.

With respect to this saint of God, we can only say "Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto Thy name be the praise!" I was never more persuaded of the happiness of any departed spirit than of that of our departed sister; nor can I entertain a doubt of her eternal state. From the very time when she first acknowledged her sinfulness, and her belief in the merits of Christ for the remission of sin, she lived a Christian life. Her temper, always mild, became still more gentle; and her religious experience was, in its character, more smooth and unruffled than usually falls to our lot. When death approached, he was altogether divested of his terrors; he bare towards her no frowning countenance; he was no unwelcome guest. He arrived, and was acknowledged as a long-expected friend; a friend, who came to break the fetters that had bound her soul to earth;

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and to set her spirit at liberty, to take its willing flight to everlasting glory. Since the death of poor Ann, her infant son has joined her, having imbibed from his mother's breasts the disease which carried her off. She could not be persuaded to wean her child; and the effects were soon visible in its constitution. Her surviving daughter is under the care of Mrs. Kemp; and will be brought up by her in that holy religion, whose ways, from the experience of the lamented mother, have been proved to be "pleasantness and peace."


May not the reader of these pages, as well as the author of them, reviewing the improvements already in progress, and the spiritual blessings actually enjoyed in New Zealand, be encouraged to believe that the time is not far distant, when that nation will be acknowledged as a Christian nation; and when all the blessings of Christianity will be spread over the whole country; when wise and salutary laws, based upon the Law of God, will be instituted, and universally regarded? That there is such a day fast approaching, I cannot doubt; for it is the subject of sure prophecy, in the volume of Divine Truth. Some may deny it; others may ridicule the idea; but the day will come, when "every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess, that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the

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glory of God the Father;" when, "from the rising to the setting sun, His name shall be glorious," and "the kingdoms of this world shall become the kingdoms of our Lord and of His Christ." Well may Missionaries and their friends take encouragement, therefore, to be "steadfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord; forasmuch as WE KNOW THAT OUR LABOUR SHALL NOT BE IN VAIN IN THE LORD."

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