MR. MOORE’S SERMON. 219 
houses of the various white settlers about here. Mr, 
Pritchard and I called on several, to see what we could 
do for them. In comparison to New Zealand they found 
it rather warm in the group, while we, on the contrary, 
were quite chilly, and glad to have thick clothes on. 
They had not brought any mosquito curtains, and, like 
all new-comers, had suffered dreadfully during the first 
night from irritating bites, to guard against which in 
future the ladies were busy converting their light muslin 
dresses into defences against them. 
In the evening a boat took us over to the mission- 
station of Mataisuva, where Mr. and Mrs. Moore gave 
us, as usual, a hearty welcome. The weather still conti- 
nuing boisterous, we were easily persuaded to remain, es- 
pecially as the next day was a Sunday, and Mr. Moore, 
for the benefit of the new arrivals, was to have service 
in English. Sunday moming proved very fine, and 
when drums were beaten—why does not some kind- 
hearted person present this fine church with a good 
tolling-bell ?—boats and canoes poured in from all direc- 
tions, and there was a large congregation, a gratifying 
sight after looking so long upon dark faces. Mr. Moore, 
a powerful and eloquent speaker, preached an extem- 
porary sermon, admirably adapted to those he was ad- 
dressing. Its tenor was that every man ought to do 
his duty in the position it had pleased Providence to 
place him in. Amongst his hearers there were probably 
very few who belonged to the denomination of which 
he is so bright an ornament, but in these out-of-the- 
way places all sensible people refrain from troubling 
their heads about the nice distinctions into which our 
