Life of John Coleridge Patteson : Missionary Bishop of the Melanesian IslandsYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Religion
Life of John Coleridge Patteson : Missionary Bishop of the Melanesian Islands
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Missions -- Melanesia; Patteson, John Coleridge, 1827-1871
and simple, but singing again good, and congregation of fifty-one,
attentive. At Panmure, about three miles off, in the afternoon, a tiny
wooden church--where Abraham took all the duty. In the evening, in the
chapel, he read prayers, and I preached to about thirty-five or forty
people. We left the chapel just as you were getting ready for breakfast,
and so passed my first Sunday in New Zealand. To-day I have had hard
work; I walked with Abraham to Auckland--six miles of rough work, I
promise you, except the two last.
I believe it was in the course of this walk that Patteson experimented
on his Maori, a native whom they visited, and who presently turned upon
the Archdeacon, and demanded, 'Why do you not speak like Te Pattihana?'
Such a compliment has seldom been paid on so early an attempt at
colloquialism in a new language. Journal continues:--
'Lugged down boxes, big empty ones, from the Judge's house to the beach.
Went with the Bishop to the old ship, packed up books, brought away
all our things almost, helped to pack them in a cart and drag, and then
walked back to the College, which I reached in the dark at 7.30. It is
delightful to see the delight of the natives when they see the Bishop.
"E--h te Pikopa!" and then they all come round him like children,
laughing and talking. Two common men we met on Friday from Rotoma, 150
miles off, who said that their tribe had heard that the Queen of England
had taken away his salary, and they had been having subscriptions for
him every Sunday. They are of various shades of colour, some light
brown, some nearly black, and some so tattooed all over that you can't
tell what colour they are. I was talking to-day to the best of my power
with a native teacher upon whose face I could not see one spot as big as
a shilling that was not tattooed, beautifully done in a regular pattern,
one side corresponding to the other. Each tribe, as it is said (I
know not how truly), has a pattern of its own; so they wear their
coats-of-arms on their faces, that is all. The young Christian natives
are not tattooed at all, and I have been to-day with Sydney, whose
father was the great fighting man of Honghi (miscalled Shanghi) who was
presented to George IV. This young man's father helped to exterminate a
whole tribe who lived on a part of the College property (as it is now),
and he is said to be perhaps the first New Zealander who was baptized
as an infant. I find it hard to understand them; they speak very
indistinctly--not fast, but their voices are thick in general. I hope to
learn a good deal before October. My first letter from the ends of the
world tells of my peace of mind, of one sound and hearty in body, and, I
thank God, happy, calm, and cheerful in spirit.'
'July 11, 1855; St. John's College, Auckland.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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