The Tahitians have much natural talent for singing; and, on all
occasions, are exceedingly fond of it. I have often heard a stave or
two of psalmody, hummed over by rakish young fellows, like a snatch
from an opera.
With respect to singing, as in most other matters, the Tahitians
widely differ from the people of the Sandwich Islands; where the
parochial flocks may be said rather to Heat than sing.
The psalm concluded, a prayer followed. Very considerately, the good
old missionary made it short; for the congregation became fidgety and
inattentive as soon as it commenced.
A chapter of the Tahitian Bible was now read; a text selected; and the
sermon began. It was listened to with more attention than I had
anticipated.
Having been informed, from various sources, that the discourses of the
missionaries, being calculated to engage the attention of their
simple auditors, were, naturally enough, of a rather amusing
description to strangers; in short, that they had much to say about
steamboats, lord mayor's coaches, and the way fires are put out in
London, I had taken care to provide myself with a good interpreter, in
the person of an intelligent Hawaiian sailor, whose acquaintance I
had made.
"Now, Jack," said I, before entering, "hear every word, and tell me
what you can as the missionary goes on."
Jack's was not, perhaps, a critical version of the discourse; and at
the time, I took no notes of what he said. Nevertheless, I will here
venture to give what I remember of it; and, as far as possible, in
Jack's phraseology, so as to lose nothing by a double translation.
"Good friends, I glad to see you; and I very well like to have some
talk with you to-day. Good friends, very bad times in Tahiti; it make
me weep. Pomaree is gone - the island no more yours, but the Wee-wees'
(French). Wicked priests here, too; and wicked idols in woman's
clothes, and brass chains.
"Good friends, no you speak, or look at them - but I know you won't
- they belong to a set of robbers - the wicked Wee-wees. Soon these
bad men be made to go very quick. Beretanee ships of thunder come and
away they go. But no more 'bout this now. I speak more by by.
"Good friends, many whale-ships here now; and many bad men come in
'em. No good sailors living - that you know very well. They come here,
'cause so bad they no keep 'em home.
"My good little girls, no run after sailors - no go where they go; they
harm you. Where they come from, no good people talk to 'em - just like
dogs. Here, they talk to Pomaree, and drink arva with great Poofai.
