
Prayers Written At Vailima
3
use of the war conch for the peaceful invitation to prayer. In response to its
summons the white members of the family took their usual places in one
end of the large hall, while the Samoans - men, women, and children -
trooped in through all the open doors, some carrying lanterns if the
evening were dark, all moving quietly and dropping with Samoan
decorum in a wide semicircle on the floor beneath a great lamp that hung
from the ceiling. The service began by my son reading a chapter from the
Samoan Bible, Tusitala following with a prayer in English, sometimes
impromptu, but more often from the notes in this little book, interpolating
or changing with the circumstance of the day. Then came the singing of
one or more hymns in the native tongue, and the recitation in concert of
the Lord's Prayer, also in Samoan. Many of these hymns were set to
ancient tunes, very wild and warlike, and strangely at variance with the
missionary words.
Sometimes a passing band of hostile warriors, with blackened faces,
would peer in at us through the open windows, and often we were forced
to pause until the strangely savage, monotonous noise of the native drums
had ceased; but no Samoan, nor, I trust, white person, changed his reverent
attitude. Once, I remember a look of surprised dismay crossing the
countenance of Tusitala when my son, contrary to his usual custom of
reading the next chapter following that of yesterday, turned back the
leaves of his Bible to find a chapter fiercely denunciatory, and only too
applicable to the foreign dictators of distracted Samoa. On another
occasion the chief himself brought the service to a sudden check. He had
just learned of the treacherous conduct of one in whom he had every
reason to trust. That evening the prayer seemed unusually short and formal.
As the singing stopped he arose abruptly and left the room. I hastened
after him, fearing some sudden illness. 'What is it?' I asked. 'It is this,' was
the reply; 'I am not yet fit to say, "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive
those who trespass against us."'
It is with natural reluctance that I touch upon the last prayer of my
husband's life. Many have supposed that he showed, in the wording of this
prayer, that he had some premonition of his approaching death. I am sure
he had no such premonition. It was I who told the assembled family that I