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Chapter XXIII.

The building of the church served, in some measure, to occupy Lucy's attention, and fill up the vacant place left by Tom. It was so closely connected with her brother, too, that she got into the way of thinking of it as Tom's church; then, from thinking to talking, and, from her talking in this way, somehow, everybody began to call it Tom's church; so much so, that at last even their neighbours, instead of asking how the church was going on, asked “How Tom's church was doing?”

Well, by working very hards and accepting the voluntary help of all who could lend a hand during a spare hour, the gentleman who had the contract got the building on in a truly marvellous way; and there was every hope of having it ready to be consecrated the following Christmas—a season which seemed peculiarly applicable.

The Bishop had heard, with great interest, of the event, and preached a beautiful sermon, in which he introduced the subject of the old sailor's death and legacy,—and had, from time to time, sent to inquire how it was progressing.

Lucy, who had never seen a Bishop, was very anxious to go to Christchurch, in order that she might get “just one peep” at him; at last he gave notice, that he would hold a confirmation, and their friend, the clergyman at Christ-church, sent a message off directly, begging Mrs. Graham page 162 to let Lucy and Beatrice come and spend a fortnight under his roof, so that they might attend the class he was forming, and also the confirmation. The opportunity, involving such a sacred duty, was not to be neglected,—so the invitation was gladly accepted; and preparations were made for the journey.

You may fancy it caused, both Lucy, and the more sedate Beatrice, a great deal of anxiety and excitement. Neither of them had ever left home on a visit, and this, going to Chrtchurch, was, in their eyes, quite as important an event as going to London or Paris would be, to many others among my friends.

Lucy was now quite a tall girl, and though still, in reality and heart, a perfect child, was painfully conscious that people took her for older than she was, and expected more of her than she could do. While Beatrice, who was little and slight, was always called a child, and never expected to do anything; while the truth was, she could do everything better than most grown-up young ladies, having a sort of disposition that would not be beaten; and whatever she tried, she never rested content with until she had mastered it, and could do it perfectly.

Poor Lucy could never understand how this was done; and many a time, when she was puzzling, with tears in her eyes, over a difficult lesson or piece of work, she would turn to Beatrice, and beg her to teach her how to learn; but, long before she could really make out the difficulty that perplexed her, she would get a slight ray of the true meaning, and, dashing off with it, fancy she had overcome the whole task, and thus waste her time and trouble, as, of course, she forgot the whole thing before another day was page 163 past, or remembered it so imperfectly, and clothed with such a different dress from the true one, that it would have really been better not to remember it all.

The only thing she ever settled steadily to, and persisted in, was teaching the native children; and, in that, no one could find a fault with her. Even Beatrice sometimes wondered at her patience, as she sat hour after hour, going over and over some single sentence or idea with a native.

At first Mrs. Graham had taken care to be present at these lessons, not liking to trust her children alone in such an important matter; but she soon found, with pride and happiness, that she might safely trust the girls.

When the news was told, that the school was to have a holiday for a fortnight, great were the expressions of sorrow, and many the petitions to be sure, and not stay away longer, which met the girls’ ears proving to them the pleasure of being useful, and the gratification every one must feel in knowing their absence will leave a blank.

As Captain Graham was obliged to go to Christchurch on business, he took the girls with him, and gave them into the charge of the clergyman's wife; telling her, with a sly look at Lucy, that they were as wild as natives, and would require constant looking after.

Before he left, next day, he came back to see them, bringing a large brown paper parcel, which, on being opened, was found to contain two very pretty dresses, and these, he told the girls, he intended as a reward for their perseverance in teaching. Now, both of them appreciated the gift more than you might imagine : they knew that, hitherto, their dear papa, who never went away without bringing presents to every one, always brought them books, work, music, etc, and, to their mamma only, dresses, or page 164 things of that kind; and, for this reason, both of them felt themselves of greater importance from that moment, and “Papa's first dress” remained a marked epoch in their lives.

The class they attended was composed of all the young people in or near Christchurch, who desired to be confirmed, and was consequently very large, and the beginning of many friendships, that lasted after the confirmation was over.

The Bishop was very unlike what Lucy had imagined, and, had it not been for his little apron, she was not sure that she would have believed him to be such a dignified personage; and one evening, actually forgot all about it, in the excitement of telling him about the natives near her home, and how anxious they were to learn to read the Bible. She only remembered, the next morning, what she had been saying the night before, and was in great distress until Beatrice told her the Bishop had been quite pleased, and said, to some one, that if “all his teachers were like her, he should soon fill his schools and churches.”

When Lucy returned home, this praise, added to the higher and holier thoughts raised by the ceremony she had just gone through, gave her redoubled energy. She seemed to instil her spirit into every one who attended the school, and the children learned so quickly and easily, that they scarcely knew how they did it themselves.

The native Pah was, as I have said, within a short distance of the farm; and, although the children all attended the school, and brought their parents to hear Mr. Graham read prayers upon Sunday, they kept up most of their curious customs, and clung to their old superstitions, perhaps all the more closely, that they saw the time was page 165 coming when they would cast them voluntarily aside, and worship the true God in purity and sincerity.

Long before the English visited New Zealand the natives had made a considerable advance in agriculture, and this was owing, partly, to the fact that there were no animals larger than rats which they could eat, and, of course, from eating so many of these, even rats were disappearing, and soon became very scarce. The kurmara, or sweet potatoe, was not originally found on the islands, but was brought by the inhabitants when they came; and one of their legends, of which they have great numbers, states, that when the boat, in which the strangers were, arrived, they found nothing to eat: so the chief's wife said, she would go back and fetch the kurmara—which she did.

The places where they plant it are very carefully prepared, by digging up the earth with a sharp-pointed stick. The seed is put in, and the place tabued, as, indeed, are the people engaged in planting it; they make these fields in any sheltered or sunny spots, and sometimes an immense way from their regular habitations. The tribe I am writing of now, returned to the neighbourhood of the mountains at the time, and did not all come back until they brought the harvest with them, as they continued their journey (after the planting) to the coast, where they built temporary huts, caught, and preserved fish for food. When they returned, they always celebrated it by a great feast, and it is one of these I am about to describe.

The Pah was surrounded by gardens, in which the natives cultivated English vegetables, and especially gourds, which they use in various ways. The huts were built so as to form a square, leaving a large empty space in the middle, where they used to play at different games, per page 166 form their dances, etc.; one side of it, however, was devoted to cooking, and, from the piles of lighted wood which Captain Graham and his family saw, on arriving, it was evident great preparations were on hand.

No sooner did the natives catch sight of their guests, than they crowded round to welcome them, and shake hands, after the European fashion; then they led them to a large house, kept on purpose for public occasions, and belonging to the chief. This was ornamented with a great quantity of carving; the ends of the beams, even, were deeply carved, to represent human figures or faces; the posts, also, and the doorway; while, directly over the door was a gigantic figure cut out of a solid block, and supposed to be the likeness of a great warrior defying his enemies. Every house is ornamented, or, I might say, guarded, by one of these; and, if you go into a Pah by moonlight, you will naturally, at first, think all these figures are living sentinels. Now, as the native manner of shewing contempt, and defying an enemy or adversary, consists in making horrible grimaces, these figures are all represented in some hideous attitude, and with their tongues out; some of them stretching down to their feet.

Beside the house of entertainment were a number of things looking like very large chests, some supported by a single carved figure, others by four; the roofs were slanting. They had small images above the little doorway and at the corners, while every part of them was richly carved; these were store-houses, and were tabued to hold food, ammunition, clothing, and ornaments. No one lower than a chief could make them, and if a slave touched one, he was sure to be punished, besides having to undergo the religious observance of being tabued.

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Carving wood for these food stores is a favourite accomplishment with the chiefs, many of whom excel in it, and are very proud of their handiwork.

All their boxes (in which they are fond of putting things away) are carved, particularly that which is used when a chief has his hair cut. This is a most important occasion, and can only be performed by a chief or chief's son—the head being sacred. As soon as the hair is cut off, it is put into a box made on purpose, fastened up, and given to the priests to bury in the cemetery. Then, the dishes and calabashes (the latter being dried gourds) are all carved; in fact, I may say, everything they use, as the very paddles of their canoes are thus ornamented. And all this is the more extraordinary, when you remember that they have no knives, but, work with a sharp piece of shell or stone.

Having been conducted to the house mentioned, they found the chief waiting, seated in great state, and dressed in full costume, as though he and many of the tribe wore portions of English clothes in general, they always put on their national dresses upon feasts or great meetings. I do not know whether they knew how much better they looked in their mats and feathers, but they certainly did; as the English dress makes them move clumsily, while a white shirt collar, and gay tie, make their tattooed faces look very funny.

When the chief had welcomed them, he led them out to the verandah of the house, where he had prepared seats for them, in order to watch the manner in which everything went on.

Lucy got next her papa and the chief, so heard all his explanations, some of which I shall give you, as we go on.