The scene that met our eyes here was one that I shall never forget. On a rude bench in front of his house sat the chief. A native stood on his left hand, who, from his dress, seemed to be a teacher. On his right stood an English gentleman, who, I at once and rightly concluded, was a missionary. He was tall, thin, and apparently past forty, with a bald forehead, and thin gray hair. The expression of his countenance was the most winning I ever saw, and his clear gray eye beamed with a look that was frank, fearless, loving, and truthful. In front of the chief was an open space, in the centre of which lay a pile of wooden idols, ready to be set on fire; and around these were assembled thousands of natives, who had come to join in or to witness the unusual sight. A bright smile overspread the missionary's face as he advanced quickly to meet us, and he shook us warmly by the hands.
"I am overjoyed to meet you, my dear young friends," he said. "My friend, and your friend, the teacher, has told me your history; and I thank our Father in heaven, with all my heart, that he has guided me to this island, and made me the instrument of saving you."
We thanked the missionary most heartily, and asked him in some surprise how he had succeeded in turning the heart of Tararo in our favor.
"I will tell you that at a more convenient time," he answered, "meanwhile we must not forget the respect due to the chief. He waits to receive you."
In the conversation that immediately followed between us and Tararo, the latter said that the light of the gospel of Jesus Christ had been sent to the island, and that to it we were indebted for our freedom. Moreover, he told us that we were at liberty to depart in our schooner whenever we pleased, and that we should be supplied
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