moment arrested the progress of the other native, who was a few paces behind; but it was only for an instant. The two rushed on our friend and beat his head, and soon several others joined them. I saw a whole handful of arrows stuck into his body.

"Though every exertion was used to get up the boat to his assistance, and though only about eighty yards distant, before we got half the distance our friend was dead, and about a dozen savages were dragging the body on the beach, beating it in the most furious manner. A crowd of boys surrounded the body as it lay, in the ripple of the beach, and beat it with stones, till the waves dashed red on the shore with the blood of their victim. Alas! that moment of sorrow and agony-I almost shrieked in distress.

"Several arrows were shot at us, and one passing under the arm of one of the men, passed through the lining and entered the timber. This alarmed the men who remonstrated, as, having no fire-arms to frighten the savages away, it would be madness to approach them as Mr. Williams was now dead."

The boat was, therefore, rowed back to the ship and an attempt was made to recover the body, which proved unsuccessful, as the savages had dragged it into the woods.

Thus perished one of the greatest missionaries that ever left our shores. An effort was afterwards made to recover his remains, but his savage murderers confessed that they had devoured his body, and also that of Mr. Harris. Only a few bones were recovered and conveyed to Samoa where they were interred.

The dreadful news fell upon the islanders throughout Polynesia with the stunning violence of a thunder-bolt. So bitter and heart-rending was the lamentations of the native

Christians everywhere, that their heathen countrymen joined in the wail from sheer sympathy.

The intelligence travelled from one island to another like a black cloud of woe. When the ship reached Tanna in the New Hebrides the first question asked by the eager natives was, "Where is Williamu ?" (so they pronounced his name), and when the sad truth was told they hung upon the hand of Mr. Cunningham and wept like children.

On arriving at Samoa, the first canoe that reached them was guided by a middle-aged man, who, as soon as they were within hail, called out to the native teachers to inquire for "Missi William." The agonizing effect produced upon this man when the death of his beloved missionary was announced is described as heart-breaking. He seemed at once unhinged; he dropped his paddle, and stooped his head and wept. He paddled his canoe alongside for some time making occasional inquiries, ever and anon bursting out into fresh cries and tears.

It was at the dark hour of midnight that poor Mrs. Williams was awakened to learn the awful news.

Her agony

was indescribable, and who can wonder? She was at first, and for a considerable time, utterly paralyzed. Her anguish was too deep for tears. But the bereaved widow did not sorrow alone. The missionary's biographer writes, " Had the death scene in Egypt been that night repeated in Samoa, lamentations more bittter, and cries more piercing, could scarcely have attended it, than those which this intelligence awakened. In a short time every sleeping native had been aroused, and through the morning twilight they were seen grouped together in solemn and sorrowful communication, while everywhere might be heard the sounds of distress."

The natives crowded round the house anxious to see Mrs.

Williams and comfort her as much as they could by mingling their tears with hers; but she could not bear it for many hours. At last one named Malietoa was admitted. “As soon as he entered the room, he burst forth into the most passionate expressions of distress, weeping, beating his breast, and crying, "Alas! Williamu, Williamu, our father, our father! He has turned his face from us! We shall never see him more! He that brought us the good word of salvation is gone! O cruel heathen; they know not what they did! How great a man they have destroyed!"

After giving utterance to this outburst of inexpressible feeling he turned to Mrs. Williams, who was lying on a sofa. Kneeling by her side, he gently took her hand, and, while the tears flowed fast down his dusky cheeks, he said, in the softest and most soothing tones, "O my mother! do not grieve so much; do not kill yourself with grieving. You too will die with sorrow, and be taken away from us, and then, oh, what shall we do? Think of John, and of your very little boy who is with you, and think of that other little one in a far distant land, and do not kill yourself. Do love, and pity, and compassionate us."

Who will doubt the divine power of the blessed gospel, when it can bring savage, cannibal lips to utter such words of tender sympathy and consolation as these?

We will not, after what has been written, presume to pass an eulogium on the character of Mr. Williams. To live beloved by thousands whom he has benefitted, and to die passionately lamented by whole tribes of reformed savages, is enough to stamp a man "great" in the highest possible sense of the term. His history is briefly recorded in the inscription on the tomb at Samoa which marks the spot where his bones lie. It runs thus :—

"Sacred to the memory of the Rev. John Williams, father of the Samoan and other missions, aged 43 years and 5 months, who was killed by the cruel natives of Erromanga, on Nov. 20th, 1839, while endeavouring to plant the Gospel of Peace on their shores."

WE now come to consider the largest class of vessel that floats upon the sea, namely, the full-rigged ship, the distinctive pecularity of which is that its three masts are all square-rigged together, with the addition of one or two foreand-aft sails. As the fore and main masts of a "ship" are exactly similar to those of a barque, which have been already described, we shall content ourself here with remarking that the mizzen-mast is smilar in nearly all respects to the other two, except that it is smaller. The sails upon it are, the spanker (a fore and aft sail projecting over the quarterdeck), the mizzen-top sail and mizzen-top-gallant sail, both