art of the vast British Empire, it was necessary to educate opinion and
to work through Whitehall. This he set himself to do; but meanwhile he
was so distressed to find the islanders slipping out of his reach, that
in the last months of his life he was planning a campaign in Fiji, where
he intended to visit several of the plantations in turn and to carry to
the expatriated workers the Gospel which he had hoped to preach to them
in their homes.

But before he could redress this wrong he was himself destined to fall
a victim to the spirit of hostility evoked. His best work was already
done when in 1870 he had a prolonged illness, and was forced to spend
some months at Auckland for convalescence. In the judgement of his
friends his exertions had aged him considerably, and the climate had
contributed to break down his strength. Though he was back at work again
before the end of the summer he was far more subject to weariness. His
manner became peaceful and dreamy, and his companions found that it was
difficult to rouse him in the ordinary interchange of talk. His thoughts
recurred more often to the past; he would write of Devonshire and its
charms in spring, read over familiar passages in Wordsworth, or fall
into quiet meditation, yet he would not unbuckle his armour or think of
leaving the Mission in order to take a holiday in England.

In April 1871, when the time came for him to leave Norfolk Island for
his annual cruise, his energy revived. He spent seven weeks at Mota,
leaving it towards the end of August to sail for the Santa Cruz group.
On September 20, as he came in sight of the coral reef of Nukapu, he was
speaking to his scholars of the death of St. Stephen. Next morning he
had the boat lowered and put off for shore accompanied by Mr. Atkin and
three natives. He knew that feeling had lately become embittered in this
district over the Labour trade, but the thought of danger did not shake
his resolution. To show his confidence and disarm suspicion he entered
one of the canoes, alone with the islanders, landed on the beach and
disappeared among the crowd. Half an hour later, for no apparent reason,
an attack was started by men in canoes on the boat lying close off the
shore; and before the rowers could pull out of range, Joseph Atkin and
two of the natives had been wounded by poisoned arrows which, some days
later, set up tetanus with fatal effect. They reached the ship; but
after a few hours, when their wounds had b