d!"

"That's my idea precisely," said Peterkin, endeavouring to wink; but he
had wept so much of late, poor fellow, that he found it difficult.
"However, I'm not going away till I see these fellows burn their gods."

Peterkin had his wish, for in a few minutes afterwards fire was put to
the pile, the roaring flames, ascended, and amid the acclamations of the
assembled thousands, the false gods of Mango were reduced to ashes!

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

CONCLUSION.

To part is the lot of all mankind. The world is a scene of constant
leave-taking, and the hands that grasp in cordial greeting to-day are
doomed ere long to unite for the last time when the quivering lips
pronounce the word "Farewell." It is a sad thought, but should we on
that account exclude it from our minds? May not a lesson worth learning
be gathered in the contemplation of it? May it not, perchance, teach us
to devote our thoughts more frequently and attentively to that land
where we meet but part no more?

How many do we part from in this world with a light good-bye whom we
never see again! Often do I think, in my meditations on this subject,
that if we realised more fully the shortness of the fleeting intercourse
that we have in this world with many of our fellow-men, we would try
more earnestly to do them good, to give them a friendly smile, as it
were, in passing (for the longest intercourse on earth is little more
than a passing word and glance), and show that we have sympathy with
them in the short, quick struggle of life by our kindly words and looks
and actions.

The time soon drew near when we were to quit the islands of the South
Seas; and strange though it may appear, we felt deep regret at parting
with the natives of the island of Mango, for after they embraced the
Christian faith, they sought, by showing us the utmost kindness, to
compensate for the harsh treatment we had experienced at their hands.
And we felt a growing affection for the native teachers and the
missionary, and especially for Avatea and her husband.

Before leaving we had many long and interesting conversations with the
missionary, in one of which he told us that he had been making for the
island of Rarotonga when his native-built sloop was blown out of its
course, during a violent gale, and driven to this island. At first the
natives refused to listen to what he had to say; but after a week's
residence among them, Tararo came to him and said that he wished to