six months; but I was pleased to see some of his
trophies still exposed, and looked upon them with a smile: the tribute
(if I have read this cheerful character aright) which he would have
preferred to any useless tears. Disease continued progressively to
disable him; he who had clambered so stalwartly over the rude rocks of
the Marquesas, bringing peace to warfaring clans, was for some time
carried in a chair between the mission and the church, and at last
confined to bed, impotent with dropsy, and tormented with bed-sores and
sciatica. Here he lay two months without complaint; and on the 11th
January 1888, in the seventy-ninth year of his life, and the
thirty-fourth of his labours in the Marquesas, passed away.

Those who have a taste for hearing missions, Protestant or Catholic,
decried, must seek their pleasure elsewhere than in my pages. Whether
Catholic or Protestant, with all their gross blots, with all their
deficiency of candour, of humour, and of common sense, the missionaries
are the best and the most useful whites in the Pacific. This is a
subject which will follow us throughout; but there is one part of it
that may conveniently be treated here. The married and the celibate
missionary, each has his particular advantage and defect. The married
missionary, taking him at the best, may offer to the native what he is
much in want of--a higher picture of domestic life; but the woman at
his elbow tends to keep him in touch with Europe and out of touch with
Polynesia, and to perpetuate, and even to ingrain, parochial decencies
far best forgotten. The mind of the female missionary tends, for
instance, to be continually busied about dress. She can be taught with
extreme difficulty to think any costume decent but that to which she
grew accustomed on Clapham Common; and to gratify this prejudice, the
native is put to useless expense, his mind is tainted with the
morbidities of Europe, and his health is set in danger. The celibate
missionary, on the other hand, and whether at best or worst, falls
readily into native ways of life; to which he adds too commonly what is
either a mark of celibate man at large, or an inheritance from mediaeval
saints--I mean slovenly habits and an unclean person. There are, of
course, degrees in this; and the sister (of course, and all honour to
her) is as fresh as a lady at a ball. For the diet there is nothing to
be said--it must amaze and shock the Polynesian--but for the adoption of
nativ