medicines for the sick and starving people. Their
vessel was descried just at the time when the Hauhaus were indulging in
one of their wild orgiastic dances. Their leader, Kereopa, announced
that their god demanded a victim. On arrival in the river the schooner
was seized by the excited crowd. After several hours of anxious
suspense, the missionaries were ordered on shore, where, amidst taunts
and revilings, they were conducted to a small house, there to await
their fate.

The hours of respite were not wanting in consolation. The cottage was
not locked nor guarded; the prisoners were even able to recover their
belongings; the sailors who shared the peril gave the best end of the
little room to the two clergy, and joined them heartily in their evening
prayers. But the Hauhaus were working themselves up in the Roman
Catholic chapel to a devilish frenzy, and the noise of their shouting
could be heard long after darkness had fallen. The missionaries passed a
sleepless night, sustained only by the evening psalms and by one
another's society.

The morning of the second of March brought no relief to their anxiety.
Efforts for a ransom failed, and the captives fell back upon their
unfailing refuge--the psalms for the day. These were startlingly
appropriate to their situation, though hardly calculated to raise their
spirits very much. But his companion could not help being struck with
the calmness of Volkner's manner, and the beautiful smile upon his face.
Like a more illustrious sufferer,

He nothing common did, or mean,
Upon that memorable scene.

At one o'clock the two friends prayed together for the last time. The
psalms had now become terrible in their urgency:

Eating up my people as if they would eat bread.
Their feet are swift to shed blood.

Swift indeed! Before an hour had passed, a number of armed men appeared
and summoned Volkner to go with them. "Let me go too," said his
companion; but he was forced back with the ominous words, "Your turn
will come next." The young German was marched to a spot near his church,
and stripped of his coat. A willow-tree was near at hand, and he was
soon stationed beneath it. He asked for his Prayer Book, which had been
left in his coat pocket. When it was brought, he knelt some time in
prayer. On rising, he shook hands with his murderers, and quietly said,
"I am ready." With strange inconsistency his executioners continued
shaking hands with him until the moment when he