In 1866 a man-of-war, the _Mutine_, called at the island, bringing letters from relatives and friends on Norfolk Island, the first word that had been received from them since the parting, nearly three years before. The day was a stormy one in November—so stormy that the ship was delayed only long enough to deliver the mail, one canoe with two men in it having successfully passed through the heavy breakers and the tossing sea to reach the ship. The news brought was mostly sad, for the deaths of several dear friends were recorded, but that which more than any other affected the people deeply was the tidings of the death of Edwin Nobbs and Fisher Young, who had been shot by the natives of Santa Cruz, when, with the bishop of Melanesia, they visited that place. Although the two young men had been dead two years before the tidings reached them, the loss of their firstborn son came upon the parents of Fisher Young with all the shock of a sudden and unexpected bereavement, and the heartrending cries of the mother bespoke the grief felt for her son. He had been consecrated to God before his birth, and his chosen path was that of a missionary, nor was it small comfort to his parents that his last dying message was, “Tell my father that I died in the path of duty.” Great sorrow prevailed among the little community when the sad news was received, and many tears were shed for those who had gone, especially for the two young men, who were loved and respected by all. The Rev. G. H. Nobbs, Edwin’s father, wrote a hymn on the sad occasion, which was frequently sung by the people of Norfolk Island, to the tune Jerusalem the Golden (Ewing). A copy of the words and music was sent to their friends on Pitcairn Island. Following is the hymn, which was soon learned and frequently sung:— “O Lord, the heathens’ madness Has caused our tears to flow; Yet still, amid our sadness, This thought assuages woe,— There’s naught on earth progressing That’s hidden from Thy sight, Correcting, as in blessing ‘Shall not our God do right?’ “Our loved ones’ toils are over, Life’s transient journey sped, Till earth her slain discover, And ocean yields her dead; Then at their Lord’s appearing, Decked with the martyrs’ crown, And spotless raiment wearing, Shall as His seed be known. “We kiss the hand that smote us, And bow before the rod; Thou hast in mercy taught us To know that Thou art God. With undisguised submission We would approach Thy throne, Presenting this petition, ‘Thy will, O Lord, be done.’” There had been two deaths on the island since the second party arrived, and those took place within a few weeks of each other. The first was that of Hannah Young, John Adam’s youngest daughter, in her sixty-third year; the other a young girl, both victims of consumption.