be highly fructifying; and in particular those who have learned and who go forth again to teach them offer an example to the world.  The best specimen of the Christian hero that I ever met was one of these native missionaries.  He had saved two lives at the risk of his own; like Nathan, he had bearded a tyrant in his hour of blood; when a whole white population fled, he alone stood to his duty; and his behaviour under domestic sorrow with which the public has no concern filled the beholder with sympathy and admiration.  A poor little smiling laborious man he looked; and you would have thought he had nothing in him but that of which indeed he had too much—­facile good-nature.

It chances that the only rivals of Monseigneur and his mission in the Marquesas were certain of these brown-skinned evangelists, natives from Hawaii.  I know not what they thought of Father Dordillon:  they are the only class I did not question; but I suspect the prelate to have regarded them askance, for he was eminently human.  During my stay at Tai-o-hae, the time of the yearly holiday came round at the girls’ school; and a whole fleet of whale-boats came from Ua-pu to take the daughters of that island home.  On board of these was Kauwealoha, one of the pastors, a fine, rugged old gentleman, of that leonine type so common in Hawaii.  He paid me a visit in the Casco, and there entertained me with a tale of one of his colleagues, Kekela, a missionary in the great cannibal isle of Hiva-oa.  It appears that shortly after a kidnapping visit from a Peruvian slaver, the boats of an American whaler put into a bay upon that island, were attacked, and made their escape with difficulty, leaving their mate, a Mr. Whalon, in the hands of the natives.  The captive, with his arms bound behind his back, was cast into a house; and the chief announced the capture to Kekela.  And here I begin to follow the version of Kauwealoha; it is a good specimen of Kanaka English; and the reader is to conceive it delivered with violent emphasis and speaking pantomime.

’"I got ’Melican mate,” the chief he say.  “What you go do ’Melican mate?” Kekela he say.  “I go make fire, I go kill, I go eat him,” he say; “you come to-mollow eat piece.”  “I no want eat ’Melican mate!” Kekela he say; “why you want?” “This bad shippee, this slave shippee,” the chief he say.  “One time a shippee he come from Pelu, he take away plenty Kanaka, he take away my son.  ’Melican mate he bad man.  I go eat him; you eat piece.”  “I no want eat ’Melican mate!” Kekela he say; and he cly—­all night he cly!  To-mollow Kekela he get up, he put on blackee coat, he go see chief; he see Missa Whela, him hand tie’ like this. (Pantomime.) Kekela he cly.  He say chief:- “Chief, you like things of mine? you like whale-boat?” “Yes,” he say.  “You like file-a’m?” (fire-arms).  “Yes,” he say.  “You like blackee coat?” “Yes,” he say.  Kekela he take Missa Whela by he shoul’a’