NAITDI. 541 human bodies for the feasts of cannibalism. I stood, I say, upon the ' dancing-grounds,' and under the shade of a large sail-mat, fastened to three poles standing in the ground. Before me were nine other similar awnings. At a given signal, a wooden drum, which stood by my side, and resembled a barrel with both ends in, and a few staves out, was beaten ; and a large conch-shell, whose notes had been wont to call the tribes to the battle-field, was blown ; and then those large canoes appeared to be alive with men, and hundreds were seen wading to the shore, and then gathering around the Missionary. Who are these '? They are the once bloodthirsty warriors of Mbau, headed by their King. No longer is their hand filled with the death-striking club ; but it grasps the * book of peace.' No longer are their features bedaubed with blackness, nor their swarthy nakedness uncovered ; but they come with washed faces, and shaved chins, and garments extending from the waist to the knee. But why do they come ? They were only wont to tread these shores when ' their feet were swift to shed blood,' and their fiend- like cravings cried for human victims. It was an errand of peace that brought them here, and to listen to the words of life they come. But, see ! who are these coming from the village, with the * sacred Chief,' with his hoary head, and white flowing beard, and the high priest of Heathenism, at their head ? Who are these descending yonder hill ? Who are these coming in every path 1 They are the heathen tribes of Nasavusavu, coming up, tribe by tribe, to join together, and for the first time to bow the knee to the God of heaven, and listen to the life-givmg word of peace and holiness. And now they throng around me, and seat themselves on the green sward beneath the canopy of heaven, and fix upon me their earnest eyes, whilst, with a heart strung to an intensity of feeling, I tell them of * the Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of the world.' It was a bright and blessed Sabbath morn. Other men, one of whom is in heaven, had laboured, and I, too, had gone forth there weeping ; and now the harvest time had come. " From this place I proceeded to Nandi, to confer with Mr. Fordham about sending a Teacher to the tribes of the Boiling Springs, and to weep over the grave of the absent one. A fine promising young man, of the name of Watson, was sent ; and a few days ago I received a letter from my brother in Fiji, telling me that poor Watson had fallen a martyr to peace. He visited two contending tribes, and interposed as mediator ; but they refused to be reconciled, and, excited and mad- dened 'by the passions of war, they clubbed to death the mediator Poor Watson ! He had stood firm and faithful in many an hour of trial ; and he was one of my instruction class. He was not of distin-
