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The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 9

Corner for the Young. — Little Willie, the Whaler's Child

Corner for the Young.

Little Willie, the Whaler's Child.

In the providence of God I was led, many years ago, to reside in Hawke's Bay, and there I became acquainted with little Willie. He was about four years old. His father was a whaler, and his mother a Maori. We lived in one of those narrow valleys in the white marl cliffs on the northern side of the Bay. We resided in a neat cottage composed of wattles with marl plaster. My occupation keeping me much at home, I was frequently in contact with Willie and his brothers and sisters. The whalers were a very rough set of men. When they had been fortunate in taking many fish, as they called them, they would purchase a large quantity of rum, and remain in a state of drunkenness page 17 till it was all gone. My heart yearned towards the little children at the station, and I would fain have taught them something that would have tended to counteract the evil influences by which they were surrounded; but, alas! they spoke only in Maori, and I had but a very imperfect acquaintance with that language. No Sabbath bell had ever rung in that valley, nor had a school ever been collected there, but Willie's eldest sister had been taught for a few months at the house of the missionary, who lived many miles away. What this little child had learned she endeavoured to teach to her little brothers. I have often heard them singing together in Maori a pleasant rhyme that my own dear mother used to sing to me. The first part of it ran thus:—

Haere mai nga tamariki pakupaku,
Ki runga te hiwi, titero te kau.
Translation—Come, little love, up yonder hill,
The pretty cow to see.

Languishing in a "populous solitude," I found pleasure in my children friends. Detecting my love of nature, they would accompany me to the hills to search for manna in the manuka trees, or into the valleys of the forest to procure choice ferns and lycopods. Sometimes they would find a piece of obsidian or volcanic glass, and would bring it to me, conscious of the acceptable nature of the offering. Once they brought me a fine tooth of the sperm whale. This I many years afterwards sent to London in that ill-fated ship the Royal Charter. The tooth went down in the ship, but was afterwards recovered, and is again in my possession, and will ever be to mo a memorial of little Willie. Sometimes the little ones would assemble round me, and I would repeat to them some sweet little hymn or poem. I remember that Jane Taylor's 'Twinkling Star' was a great favourite with us; and the little ones soon learned to repeat it, and then we used to sing it together to a simple tube. And so matters proceeded for a few months, when, in the midst of winter, poor little Willie sickened and took to his bed. We had no medical man in the neighbourhood, but every one sought to do what he could for the child. About noon one day as we were all engaged in the house where he could see us, the little sufferer called each of us by name, and severally bid us good night. Was it because the shades of death were gathering round him that ho thus bid us farewell? Or was it that the light of heaven, to which the light of earthly day is as darkness, was beaming upon him? He never spake again, but shortly after his spirit winged its flight beyond the stars. While the poor mother and her Maori friends were performing the "tangi" over the body of the child, I assisted in digging his grave in a quiet spot in the valley; and there we buried him, I reading over his page 18 grave the words of the Apostle "The trumpet shall sound, and the "dead shall be raised incorruptible." Now, dear children, after reading this little narrative, let me implore you to value your privileges. Value your parents' instruction; value your Sabbath School; value your minister; say from your hearts—

I thank the goodness and the grace,
That on my birth have smiled;
And made me in these christian days,
A happy British child.

And after giving God the thanks of your heart for his sovereign goodness to you, see if you can do anything to promote the moral and spiritual welfare of poor little children like little Willie, who are born among the heathen, and are surrounded by unholy and soul destroying influences.

B. W.