The light called “marama,” is looked upon by natives as the perfection of light, because it is, I suppose, unaccompanied by the burning heat of the sun. I therefore use it as illustrating better the idea of heaven’s light. Maran is the light of day.
Thursday, August 19th.—The village was hushed in the stillness of slumber again about midnight, and I was preparing for bed, too, and kneeling down to say my prayers, when another quite sharp earthquake shock was felt, and the sensation came upon me very solemnly and impressively while so engaged. I cannot say why I trembled, but I did, and it was quite instinctive. However, I went to bed and slept profoundly. We have had another slight shock of domestic earthquake here this morning, and Ann, one of our young married women, after rating her husband, started off for Naruru, and we were quite in a ferment here for a short time. However, this evening, her parents went for her, and I have had to give her a scolding. I told her that anger was like a charge of dynamite, it not only exploded itself, but it produced destructive effects far and wide, indeed there was no knowing what the extent of its mischief might be. She seemed penitent, and was utterly ashamed of her unchristian conduct. I am thankful to say that scenes of domestic warfare are uncommon here, and, generally speaking, a great deal of harmony prevails, but of course there are clouds in the most perfect day, and the smoothest ocean is at times ruffled by the sudden breeze. Beyond this, our day has been like most other days, except for the thatching of Peter’s “gamal,” which has brought together a large concourse of people, and has been the occasion of a great festivity this evening. Arthur, Patrick and myself walked down to Ruosi in the afternoon, where we bathed, and returned in the evening. Our evening duties as usual.
Friday, August 20th.—Certainly we are blessed with the most glorious weather. This morning was simply perfect, and one almost wishes one could keep some of its coolness for the middle of the day, when the heat is very great.
After school and breakfast this morning, some of the people invited me to go with them eel catching. As the performance was new to me, I gladly assented. The scene of the sport lay in the direction of the water fall, and I took my camera, hoping to get a good view of it.
We followed the course of the stream, and waded through the taro gardens, and finally found ourselves in the most advantageous position for a photograph. It ought to be good, after all my efforts to secure the picture, but I could not get far enough away. While I have been writing this, since I began the last sentence, an earthquake shock has shaken the place very perceptibly, and, why I know not, has left a tremour all over me, which I cannot explain. The picture being shot off, I hastened back to where the eel catching was going on. The water was cleverly dammed off above two large pools, and then one pool “teemed” out with buckets. In the first pool nothing was discovered, and the next proceeding was to empty the full pool into the now empty one. This took some time, but it was finally accomplished, and one large eel was captured, the sole occupant of the pool, and the only sport afforded after a long day’s work. Disappointment was depicted on all countenances, and I was rather disgusted too, having expected to see some sport. I comforted myself with a most glorious bathe in the broad flowing river, and hastened home to drown my disappointment in a cup of tea.
After school this evening, I was sitting here alone, when four men came in, in whispers, and shut the door behind them, and when they had sat down, they said, still in the lowest accents, “we wish to see your Eucharistic vessels.” I proceeded to exhibit them, and they seemed quite awe struck. Miss Patteson would have been pleased to have seen how her noble gift was valued and appreciated. The exhibition of the beautiful vessels gave me much food for conversation with these men, and I told them I hoped the day was not far distant when they would be regularly used in the Church here, and they themselves be partakers from them of the Blessed Tokens of Redeeming Love, the bread of the world in mercy broken, the wine of the soul in mercy shed.
Saturday, August 21st.—General holiday as usual. Nothing of particular importance marked the day, except the visit of three nice fellows from Uta. The British Workman’s Almanac adorns my walls, and they were particularly struck with the picture of Lord Shaftesbury which occupies the centre. Curiously, many others have admired this same picture, why I do not know, except perhaps from its size. I told these visitors all about the late Earl, of his philantrophy and the goodness of his life, and I told them too, of the philantrophy and goodness of a greater than he, “who went about doing, and healing all manner of diseases and sicknesses among the people.” They asked me if I had heard the earthquake of late, to which I responded in the affirmative, and told them of the terrible outburst of volcanic power at Tarawera, and the fearful and alarming results, and I said there was no knowing but it might be our turn next, and we ought to try and be prepared for whatever lay before us. I urged them to fly, while they had the opportunity, to the Higher Rock, for there we should find shelter and protection until the tyranny were overpast, and any such visitation would be but to bring us the quicker to a haven of rest and safety, whither such things never come. They asked me if I could not spare some regular teacher to come and live with them, to teach them the wonderful things of God’s law, and expound more fully to them, the things concerning the Kingdom of God. I promised them a weekly service, but I could do no more just yet.
Sunday, August 22nd.—A most glorious Sabbath morning. We had school before breakfast, both because it was cooler and also on account of the blue bottle flies, which become very troublesome in the heat of the day, where people are congregated together. Before our school duties were over, they became very numerous, and I was not sorry to get back to the refuge and quiet of my own house. After breakfast we had Morning Prayer, a very nice service, but not rendered more solemn by the presence, in crowds, of those disgusting pests, the flies. However, they are an inevitable worry, from which there seems no chance of escape. After Prayers I went to the Unduna villages, and talked to the few people I found there. They were keeping Sunday, they said, i.e. they were doing no work and were generally idling. I asked why they did not come to Church as formerly, and they said it was too far. I asked why then did not they build a school there, and I would be responsible for the teaching in it. They so far assented as to say that they would see about it, when they had got through with their yam planting. There is a nice little population there, and I have always had it on my conscience that nothing practical or definite had been done for them. Natives do not care to go to the trouble of a few yards more or less for religion, so I suppose the alternative is that religion must go to them. One very nice man called “Vangoro,” was most energetic about the building, in promising to get it done and helping all he could, he is a leading man there too, and I hope my desire will be accomplished.
It was very hot coming back, and I was in a liquid state when I got home. The evening was deliriously cool and fine, and I enjoyed it outside my house with several of the people.
Evensong was a very nice quiet service, and I preached on the subject of the Collect (9th Sunday after Trinity), the “spirit to think and do always such things as were rightful.” I hope I got intelligent attention. We had some nice singing afterwards, and the people went very quietly home.