A little more than three weeks had passed when our money was paid out except a very little. Much as we disliked the idea, it seemed necessary for us to separate and seek places to live where we could find them among the natives. We cast lots to learn which direction we should take. Elder Henry W. Bigler drew south; Elder James Keeler, east; and I, north.

I had explained our position to the man of whom we rented the house. Of course my explanations were not perfect, for three weeks’ residence had not made us masters of the language; but he comprehended the situation exactly. He went to a neighboring house, where the family lived who had done our washing, and who had been very friendly and kind, and told the lady how matters stood with us. She came in; but we were so busy making our arrangements to start out that we did not converse with her, and she went away again.

Brother Bigler started off in the direction which had fallen to him, with a piece of paper in his hand, on which sentences in native, such as he would be likely to need, were written, with their meaning in English. Brother Keeler and myself were preparing to go in the directions which had fallen to us, when Brother Keeler suggested that we call upon Na-lima-nui, the old lady of whom I have spoken. Our object was to learn from her, if we could, who there was that would be likely to entertain strangers.

“Na-lima-nui” means in the language of the Sandwich Islands “big hands.” Lima is the noun hand, nui is the adjective large or big, and na is the sign of the plural. You see it is a differently constructed language to ours. The sign of the plural precedes the noun, and the qualifying adjective follows it, as “hands large or big.”

Na-lima-nui did not know where we could find a man who could entertain us; but she said we were welcome to come and live in her house. We had a long talk with her, and I endeavored to explain our position and what our business was in coming to the Islands. We had no money, I said, but anything that we did have, we should be glad to give her. We felt humble, and would have been pleased to obtain a corner on the floor to sleep in, so that we could live, learn the language and fill our mission.

The kindness of this old lady touched me, and I could not refrain from weeping. Never before in my life did I feel so thankful as I did for the shelter she offered. I praised the Lord therefor; it was He who touched the heart of herself and family.

The thought that we would not have to separate added to our joy, and you can probably imagine with what delight we went to find Brother Bigler. He had succeeded in finding a native who was willing to give him food and a lodging place, if he would milk his cow and do other chores. He was as much rejoiced as we to learn that we could live together.

We did not expect to get any more accommodations than a place to stretch ourselves at night in our blankets; but Na-lima-nui’s daughter, who was married to a Spaniard, lived adjoining; and she had arranged for her mother to live in her rooms, and the old lady’s room had been prepared for us. They had fixed up the room as well as they could.

Such a profound feeling of thankfulness as I had on our obtaining a shelter in this poor, native woman’s hut I never experienced before.

It has been my fortune, since those early days of my life, to travel considerably, and to mingle with our missionaries in many lands. I have seen Elders who were willing to endure everything for the gospel’s sake; their hearts were filled with joy and a burning desire to magnify their Priesthood and to fill their missions. What they ate or drank, where they lodged or how they were clothed, were matters of little or no thought to them, so long as they had the Spirit of the Lord and were in the line of duty. Others, I have seen, who felt every little privation to be a dreadful hardship; who thought, if everything did not go smoothly with them, they had to suffer more than was necessary, and who were ready to desert their fields of labor and run home at the first opportunity.

I scarcely need say that men of this latter class are rarely, if ever, successful missionaries. They think too much of their own ease and comfort, and their thoughts are too much upon themselves, to labor under any circumstances of difficulty for the salvation of others. When an Elder has the spirit of his mission, self-comfort is forgotten. He is perfectly happy in declaring the gospel and laboring for the salvation of others, and he gives but little thought to the kind of food he eats, or how he fares in other respects. His bodily wants are swallowed up in his joy in Christ.

These were our feelings at the time of which I write. We were willing to live on any food that would sustain our bodies, however common or even disagreeable it might be; we were glad to get a shelter, however humble, to lie under; our desire was to fill our mission: and because we felt thus, the Lord made up for any lack of comfort by giving us His Holy Spirit.

I had never been so happy in my life before as I was then. When I prayed I could go unto God in faith; He listened to my prayers; He gave me great comfort and joy; He revealed Himself to me as He never had done before, and told me that if I would persevere, I should be blessed, be the means of bringing many to the knowledge of the truth, and be spared to return home after having done a good work.

Many things were revealed to me, during those days, when He was the only Friend we had to lean upon, which were afterwards fulfilled. A friendship was there established between our Father and myself, which, I trust, will never be broken nor diminished, and which I hope has continued to grow stronger from those days to these.

It is not my custom to write thus freely about myself; but I am writing for children to read, upon whom I would like my experience to make an impression. I desire that they should make God their friend, and seek unto Him with faith for that joy, peace and perfect love which He alone can give.

Shortly after we moved into the house of Na-lima-nui, I was called by letter to go up to Honolulu. The partner of the president of the mission had concluded to return home, and I was requested to remove to Honolulu to act in his place.

This was unexpected news to me, and my parting from my companions was nearly as painful as leaving home had been. Besides the Elder of whose proposed departure I had heard, I found there two others—to whom the island of Kauai had fallen as a field of labor—ready to return home.

There were but few whites on that island, and to them they had preached, but had received no encouragement. They had written to the president of the mission, describing the situation of affairs, and he had counseled them to come to Honolulu.

The idea of leaving the islands, because there were not enough white men to preach the gospel to, was so foreign to the minds of my companions on Maui, and to myself, that when I heard these Elders were there with the intention of returning home, I was surprised.

I did not conceal my feelings from them; I told them that I could not go home under existing circumstances, without feeling condemned. The Lord, in my opinion, I said, would hold me accountable for not doing my duty to that people, if I were to leave them; and the people might rise up in judgment against me at some future day, for not having given them the privilege of hearing the truth. My prayer was that the time might speedily come when all should know the Lord, and when His knowledge would cover the earth as the waters covered the deep; and I believed in uniting works and faith. It would sound badly for ten Elders to be sent out to the islands by Elder Charles C. Rich, one of the Twelve Apostles, to preach and to act as the Spirit and circumstances might dictate, and when we found there were not whites that would receive us, turn around and go home, and leave a whole nation to welter in ignorance, because he did not happen to tell us that we were to preach to them in their own tongue. Much more in this strain I was led to say, which it is not necessary to repeat here.

Brother Whittle had been told by Elder Rich that he could return home after filling a short mission. The president of the mission had done all the preaching at the meetings they had held, and had not even given him an opportunity to bear his testimony. His position had been, and still was unpleasant; and he saw no way to remedy it. If he could do any good, he was willing to stay; but he thought that, under his circumstances, it was useless.

Brother Willam Farrer, one of the Elders who had been laboring on Kauai, made up his mind that he would not return home, but stop and devote himself to acquiring the language. His partner, however, would not stop. He was bent upon returning. Being an intimate acquaintance, I talked freely with him upon the subject. He would go home, he said, and gladly take a mission to Europe, if he should be appointed; but to labor there he could not with any pleasure. Besides, he was an old bachelor, he added, and he ought to be married, and so he would return home and take him a wife. He did return home; but, poor fellow, he never obtained a wife. Some time after his return, he, with some other brethren, left the city to go to Parley’s Park for lumber. On their return they were ambushed by Indians, and he was killed.

I often asked myself, after hearing of his death, would it not have been better for him if he had remained? For if he had, I believe he would have still been living.