The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1901-08-03
HOW R. |. STEVENSON DIED
LETTER BY LLOYD OsBOUHNE TO
THE NOyELIsT's FRIENDS.
His HopefuIness and Good Humor
Just before He Was Stricken-Fen
Dying at the supper Table.


he FlDlC ndlu oil ludt uio- l4ihS VI IA
last day: his half-fnished book, .Hermis-
ton he judged the best he had ever writ
ten. and the sense Of successful effort made
him buoyant and happy as nothing else
could. In the afternoon the mail fell to be
answered.; not business correspondence-
for this was left till later-but replies TO the
long. kindly letters of distant friends, re-
ceived but two days since, and still bright
in memory.
At sunset he came downstairs; rallied his
wife about the forebodings she could not
shake off; talked OF u lecturing tour TO
America that he was eager 10 make "as
he was now so we'll" and played a game
at cards with her to drive away her mel
ancholy. lie said he was hungry; begged
her assistance 10 help him make a saleu for
the evening meal; and TO enhance the little
feast he brought up a bottle of old Bur
gundy from the cellar. He was helping his
wife on the veranda, and gayly talking,
when suddenly he put both hands TO his
mead and cried out, What's that?" Then
he asked quickly, do look strange
Even as he did so he fell on his knees be-
side her. He was helped into The great hall,
between his wife and body servant. Sosimo,
losing consciousness instantly, as he lay
back in the arm chair that had once been
us p 1T NAAAAt a vs. III
bringing the doctors-Anderson, of the man
of-war. and MS friend. DR.. Funk They
looked at him and shook their heads; they
laDOred strenuOusly and LETT nothing UNI
done. But he had passed the bounds OF hui
nan skill. He had grown so we'll and strong
that his wasted lungs were unable to bear
the strain of returning health.
The dying man lay back in his chair,
breathing heavily, his family about him
frenzied with grief as they realized all hope
was passed: The dozen and more Samoans
that formed part of the little clan of which
he was chief, sat III a wide semi-circle Oh
the floor, their reverent, troubled sorrUw-
stricken faces all fixed upon their dying
master. Some knelt on one knee TO be IN
stantly ready for any mma that might
De lad upon them. \ narrow bed was
brought into the center of the room, the
master was gently laid upon it. his head
supported by a rest, the gift of Shelly's
son. Slower and slower grew his respiriA-
ton. wider the interval between the long.
deep breaths. The Rev. Mr.. Clarke was
now come, an old and valued friend; he
kneit and prayed as the life ebbed away.
lie died at ten minutes past s on Mon
day evening. the Sd of December, in the
torty-fifth year of his age.
The great union jack that flew over
the house was hauled down and Laid over
the BODY, lit shroud for a loyal Scotsman.
He lay in the hall which was ever his
pride, where he had passed the gayest and
most delightful hours of his life. a noble
room, with open stairway and mullioned
windows. In ii were the treasures of his
far-of Scottish home; the old carved fur
nlture, the paintings and busts that had
DttI III lis ldtUcI : house before MIN. Inc
Samoans passed in procession beside his
bed. kneeling and kissing his hand. each
in turn, before taking their places for
the long night watch beside him. No en-
treaty could induce them to retire. 10 rest
themselves for the painful and arduoUs du-
ties OF the morrow. X would show little
love for Tusitala, they said, if they did
not spend their last night beside him.
Mournful and silent, they sat in deep de-
lection, poor, simple, loyal folk, fulfilling
the duty they owed their chief.
A messenger was dispatched to the few
chiefs connected with the family to an
nOunce the tidings and bid them assemble
their men on the morrow for the work
there was to do.
Sosimo asked on behalf of the Roman
Catholics that they might be allowed TO
recite the prayers for the dead. Till mid
night the solemn chants continued, the
prolonged. sonorous prayers of the Church
OF Rome. In commingled Latin and Samo-
an. Later still, & chief arrived with his
retainers. bringing q precious fine mat to
wrap about the dead. every one who
went to visit a sick friend. supposed to
be near death, took with him a fine mat,
or some other kind of valuable property.
to aid IN paying native doctors or conjur-
o~rs.-"Samoa," by George Turner, Page
1922
He, too. knelt and kissed the hand of
Tusltala. and took his place amid the sleep
less watchers. Another arrived with a fine
mat. a man of higher rank. whose incipient
had often troubled the master.
"Talofa, Tusitaia,' he said, as he drew
nigh and took q long. mournful look at the
face he knew so well. When, later on. he
was momentarily required on some bust
AAN'' - III -Alpi liz DONGU IENGItiLIN
sleep, Tusitalai'
The morning of the 4th of December
broke cool and sunny, a beautiful day, rare
at this season of the year. More fine mats
were brought until the union jack lay nigh
concealed beneath them. Among the new
corners was an Old Mataafa chief. one of
the builders of the Road of the Loving
hieart a man VINO mad spent many days
Il am only a poor Samoan, and Ignorant
said ne as ne crouched beside the body.
Others are rich and can give Tusitala the
parting presents OF rich. fine mats; | am
poor and can give nothing this last day he
TO come and look the last time in my
friends face. never TO see him more till
We meet With Gcd. Behold, Tusitala is
dead; Mataafo Is also dead 10 US. These
two great friends have been taken by God.
When Mataafa Was taken who was our
support but Tusitala? We were in prison.
MADE US Well. We were hungry, and he
fed Us. The day was no longer than his
love. Yet who among you is so great as
Tusitala? What is your love 10 his love?
speak this Gay, therein was Tusitala also.
We mourn them both"
a meeting of chiefs was held to apportion
the work and divide the men into parties.
Forty were sent with knives and axes to
cut a path up the steep face of the noun
tain, and the writer himself led another
party TO the summit-men chosen from the
immediate family-to dig the grave on a
spot where it was Mr.. Stevenson's wish
NAA&t Az [@AlAAAa 49, lAOA AACNQI
esque can be imagined than the narrow
ledge that forms the summit OF Vaea. a
place no wider than a room and fat as Il
table. ON either side the land descends
precipitously; in front lies the vast ocean
and she SUrf-swept reefs; to the right and
left green mountains rise, densely covered
with the primeVal forest. Two hundred
years ago the eyes Of another man turned
tOward that same peak of Naea, as the spot
; that should ultimately receive his war-worn
~body-ooalu, a famous chief.
All the morning Samoans were arriving
with flowers. few Of these were white. for
and the room giowed with the many colors.
: There were no strangers on that day. no
> acQuaintanceS. those only were called who
would deeply feel MS loss. 1t l o'clock i
] body Of powerful Samoans bore away the
coffin. hid beneath a tattered ensign that
had flown above his vessel In many q re-
mote corner of the South Seas. 4 path. 50
steep and rugged, taxed their strength 10
the utmost, for not only was the journey
difficult in itself. but the EXTREMIST care
was requisite 10 carry the coffin shoulder
= high.
Ealf on hour later the rest Of his friends
: followed. It was a formidable ascent. and
3 tried them hard. Ninctceu Europeans and
1 some sixty SamOans reached the summit.
= After Il short rest the Rev. ". =. Clark
z read the burial service OF the Church OF
4 England. interposing 4 prayer that Nr.
I Stevenson had written and had read aloud
70 his family only the evening before mis-
a death.
: Another old friend. the Rev. :. Z. Newell,
who haG risen from q sick bed 70 come,
made an address in the Samoan language
. No strangers hand touched him. q Vas
! D.. AaIr-aTFs-aTf rlnf fnf.MHa.t-A1 II. A.