Ngakuku was not an avowed Christian, but he had sent his little daughter, Tarore, to live with Mrs. Brown—one of the ladies whom we found sheltering by the river bank in their flight from Matamata. In the mission house the child Tarore had learned to read, and had been given a copy of the Gospel of St. Luke. In the middle of October her father took her and a younger brother on a journey to Tauranga. The party consisted of several Maoris, and an Englishman who was connected with the mission. At night they encamped at the foot of Wairere, where a magnificent cascade falls from the high forest land above. After their meal, Ngakuku offered prayers to the God whom he was just beginning to know, and when they laid down to rest, Tarore pillowed her head upon her precious Gospel. But their fire had been noticed by a party of Rotoruas far up the valley. These crept down during the night, and just before daylight made a sudden attack upon the camp. The Englishman's tent was the first to be entered, and while it was being stripped, Ngakuku had time to seize his little son and to escape into the bush. He tried to arouse Tarore also, but the child was heavy with sleep and had to be abandoned. When the enemy departed, the agonised father came down from his retreat and found lying in the hut the mangled corpse of his little girl. He carried it to Mr. Brown at Matamata, with the words, "My heart is sad, for I do not know whether my child has gone to heaven or to the Reinga." After evening prayers in the chapel, he rose and spoke to those present from the words so new to him, "In my Father's house are many mansions." Next day Tarore was buried amidst a scene of the deepest solemnity. The father spoke at the close with strong feeling: "There lies my child; she has been murdered as a payment for your bad conduct. But do not you rise up to obtain satisfaction for her. God will do that. Let this be the conclusion of the war with Rotorua. Let peace be now made. My heart is not sad for Tarore, but for you. You wished teachers to come to you: they came, but now you are driving them away."
"God will obtain satisfaction," said Ngakuku. Bishop Williams remarks on the notable circumstance that, in an attack made upon Matamata some weeks afterwards, out of five Rotorua natives who were killed, four were concerned in this tragedy. Higher satisfaction still was made some years afterwards when Uita, the man who led the attack, having a desire to embrace Christianity, first sought reconciliation with Ngakuku. Nor did the effects of the little maiden's death stop even here. What had become of her Gospel? Who could tell?
The moment when the refugees arrived in the Bay of Islands was a particularly interesting one. Samuel Marsden was making his last visit to New Zealand. He had come, as he came ten years before, to bring cheer to his missionaries in a time of war and confusion. But the conditions in 1837 were very different from those of 1827. Then, there was darkness everywhere; now, in spite of the troubles in the south, there was gladness and a feeling of success. The older stations had indeed joyful tales to tell concerning the work of the last five years. Whatever might have been the fate of the forward movement, it had certainly coincided with a real religious awakening at the base in the north. At Waimate this was especially evident. Richard Davis could tell of days when he had over a hundred people coming to him with anxious enquiries about their souls. Numbers of converts had been admitted, after most stringent tests, not only to Baptism but to the Holy Communion. At Paihia the schools had undoubtedly suffered through the withdrawal of the teachers for the southern stations, but their work had been done. Large numbers of the people could now read, and those who had learned at the mission schools were teaching others in the villages far and wide. And, above all, a printing press had been received at Paihia in 1835. This event aroused extraordinary interest. The Maoris danced before the ponderous case as it was drawn up the beach, and acclaimed Colenso, the printer, as if he had been a victorious general. Distant chiefs came bringing bags of potatoes for the precious books. Two thousand copies of the Epistles to the Ephesians and the Philippians were the first books to be published in this country; then came the Gospel of St. Luke. This booklet was so eagerly sought for that the printers could not bind the copies fast enough. Into regions previously inaccessible the gracious words of divine wisdom penetrated. Tarore's copy was not the only one that found its way into the wild southern lands.
Hence it was that Marsden's last visit bore the aspect of a triumphal progress. Landing at the Wesleyan station on the Hokianga River at the end of February, he was received with the utmost joy by the missionaries, who remembered his constant kindness to them, especially at the time of their flight from Whangaroa. From Hokianga he was carried on a litter by a procession of 70 men for 20 miles to Waimate, where he was met by Messrs. W. Williams, Davis, and Clarke. With pride they showed him the products of native workmanship in various departments—the church, the mill, the flourishing farm, the road to Kerikeri with its solid bridges. Marsden had always believed in the capacity of the Maori for industrial pursuits: now the evidences of this capacity were before him. But more grateful still to him was the sight of people everywhere reading the Scriptures and the Prayer Book. Wherever he went he was received with the utmost veneration. The heathen fired off muskets and executed war dances; the Christians showed their feelings in gentler ways. One chief sat upon the ground gazing upon him in silence, without moving a limb or uttering a single word, for several hours. "Let me alone," he said, when urged to move away; "let me take a last look; I shall never see him again." At Kaitaia, Marsden held a constant levee, sitting in an arm-chair, in an open field before the mission house. More than a thousand Maoris came to see him there, some of them having travelled for many miles.
During this tour the old hero visited all the stations, except those which had been abandoned in the south. John King was the one link of connection between this farewell visit and the first. He had removed his dwelling in 1832 from its original position in the historic bay of Rangihoua to a more suitable spot at Te Puna, on the other side of the hill. His work had been greatly interrupted by a curious sabbatarian sect which had arisen among his little flock; nor had the faithful man any striking success to show; but he had held the fort amidst manifold discouragements, and he had gained the respect of the people around.
At the departure of the patriarch from our shores, the feelings of his converts reached their climax. From Kerikeri and from Waimate they came in crowds to the Bay to bid him farewell, and the scene on the beach resembled that at Miletus when the people of Ephesus "fell on Paul's neck, and kissed him." A warship conveyed Marsden to Australia, and during the voyage he spoke much of his lately-deceased wife, and of the many friends who had preceded him to the eternal world. On a friend remarking that the separation would not be for long, "God grant it," he replied; and lifting his eyes to the bright moon, which laid a shining pathway across the heaving waters, he exclaimed with intense feeling:
Prepare me, Lord, for Thy right hand,
Then come the joyful day!
That day indeed was not far distant, for he died some nine months later, on May 12th, 1838, and was buried in his family vault in the cemetery at Parramatta. Seldom, surely, has it been granted to anyone to see such a rich result of his labours before his death. The New Zealand mission, be it remembered, was only one of the fields of his activity: the Tahitian mission of the London Missionary Society was almost equally indebted to his care and generosity; while his own proper work among the convicts of New South Wales was enough to try the most ardent faith. Yet, in every field, he lived to see enormous difficulties overcome, and a plentiful harvest gathered in. Next to his heroic faith must be placed his almost boundless liberality. No one ever discovered the amount of money he provided from his own private funds for the New Zealand work, but it was known to be very great. As to his whole career we may quote the words of Saunders, who would not be likely to show any favour: "He was not a great preacher, nor a great writer, nor a great actor; but he was a good man and wrought righteousness. His patience and courage were unbounded; his unselfish purity was brilliant; his benevolence was universal. He obtained no title, he acquired no landed estate, no monument was erected to his memory, his bones rest not in New Zealand soil; but the blessing of those who were ready to perish has come upon him; and the proud and secure position which the Maori now holds in civilised society is mainly due to the stedfast faith and trust in his ultimate capability, which nothing could drive from the breast of Samuel Marsden."