feathers fastened to what was doubtless meant for its head. The rafters were ornamented with braided and coloured cords wound round them, the ends of which hung down several feet, and sustained a number of weapons and various other articles suspended by them.

At the farther end of the room a woman was pounding taro, or bread-fruit, in a wooden mortar; another, apparently very old and infirm, was sitting upon a low stool near the wall, swaying her body slowly from side to side, and making a low, monotonous noise. I observed that Olla frequently looked towards the latter with a mournful expression of countenance. When we first entered the house, she went and sat down by her side, and talked with her in a low tone, and when she turned away, her eyes were full of tears. The old woman did not evince any corresponding emotion, but muttered something feebly and indistinctly, as if replying to what Olla had said, of which I could distinguish the words, 'It is best, child; Malola is very old; she is sick and weak; she cannot work; it is time she should be buried out of the way.' I instantly suspected that this unhappy creature was to be destroyed by her own friends, on account of her age and infirmities, according to a most horrible and unnatural, but too prevalent custom. I had once been present at a scene of this kind, without the slightest possibility of successful interference, when a native woman had been strangled, her own son pulling at one end of the tappa which encircled his mother's neck. In that case the victim, instead of submitting quietly and willingly to her fate (as is most usual), suddenly lost her courage at the moment of reaching the grave, beside which she was to be strangled, and opposed a frantic and desperate resist→ ance to her murderers. Her heart-rending cries; her fearful struggles; and, more than all, the horrid indifference and cruelty of her executioners, have left upon my mind an indelible impression. I now resolved, that if my sus

picions proved just, I would make an earnest effort to prevent the repetition of so inhuman a deed; and, from what I had already seen of the mild disposition of Mowno, I was inclined to believe that there was great hope of success in such an endeavour.

Rokoa, on hearing the conversation above-mentioned, had given me a significant glance, which sufficiently explained to me how he understood it. A very few moments sufficed to confirm my worst suspicions: I learned that the aged female who had spoken of herself as Malola was Mowno's aunt, and that she was, with her own full consent and approval, to be destroyed in a few days. From the manner in which Olla alluded to it, while I inferred that such acts were by no means uncommon among these people, I at the same time clearly perceived that custom and education had not stifled or perverted, in her gentle nature at least, the ordinary feelings and impulses of humanity, and that she anticipated the deed with terror and loathing. I determined to watch for an opportunity to converse with Mowno, and discover, if possible, whether the cruel insensibility implied in countenancing such a practice could really be concealed beneath so smooth and pleasing an aspect.

Meanwhile the meal to which we had been summoned was spread under the shade of trees beside the house. It consisted of baked fish, served up in banana leaves, roasted yams, poé-poé, a preparation of bread-fiuit, and an excellent kind of pudding made of cocoanut pulp and taro. It was easy to perceive that Olla, with all her playfulness and girlish vivacity, was a notable housekeeper."

"Let me interrupt you a moment to ask a single question," said Max. "Did you get the recipe for making that pudding from Mrs. Mowno?—if so, please impart the same for the general good, and I will try my hand at it the first convenient opportunity."

"Heathen!" exclaimed Browne; "can you think of nothing but gormandizing? Pray, Arthur, proceed."

"And bring on those cannibals forthwith," added Morton; "for unless you do so, Charlie will despair entirely of any fighting, and go to sleep."

CHAPTER XXII.

AN EXPLOSION.

THE CANNIBALS APPRECIATE MUSIC AND ELOQUENCE, BUT TAKE OFFENCE AT THE NEW THEOLOGY.

"Then tumult rose, fierce rage, and wild affright."

"IN the afternoon," resumed Arthur, "we went with our host and hostess, and our companions at dinner, to a grove on the banks of the stream-a place of general resort for the villagers during the latter part of every fine day. The younger people met there to pursue a variety of sports and athletic exercises, and the older to gossip and look on. We had intended to return to the boat as soon as the repast was over, and it would have been well had we done so; but our new friends insisted so strenuously upon our accompanying them to the grove, that we yielded at last to their playful importunities so far as to consent to make a brief pause there on our way. We had gone but a short distance from the house, when a bird, of about the size of a robin, flew down from a tree beneath which we were passing, and after circling several times around Olla's head, alighted on her finger, which she held out for it to perch upon. It was a young woodpigeon which she had found in the grove when a callow half-fledged thing, the old bird having been captured or

killed by some juvenile depredators. Taking pity on its orphan state, Olla had adopted and made a pet of it: it was now perfectly tame, and would come readily at her call of 'Lai-evi' (little captive), the name she had given it, attending her so closely, as to be seldom during the day beyond the sound of her voice.

On reaching the grove, we found quite a number of the natives, of all ages and of both sexes, assembled, and though they soon began to gather about us with inquisitive looks, we were subjected to much less annoyance than might reasonably have been expected under the circumstances. We were neither crowded, nor jostled, nor even offensively stared at, the very children appearing to possess an innate delicacy and sense of propriety (though it may have been timidity), which made them try to gratify their curiosity covertly, seizing those opportunities to peep at us when they thought they were themselves unobserved.

Barton, who possessed an enviable faculty of adapting himself to all sorts of people and circumstances, was in a few moments as much at home among the villagers as if he had lived for years in their midst. He gossiped with the old people, romped with the children, and chatted and frolicked with the prettiest and most lively of the dusky maidens, to the manifest disapprobation of several grim-looking young savages, who stalked about in sullen dignity, watching these familiar proceedings of the handsome stranger with rising jealousy and indignation.

At length a bevy of laughing girls, in punishment for some impertinence with which they charged him, fell to pelting him with jasmine buds and pandanus cones, the latter of which, in mischievous hands, are capable of becoming rather formidable missiles. Foremost among the assailants were our fair acquaintances of the morning, and even Olla, forgetting her matronly station and dignity, joined zealously in the flowery warfare; which was maintained with such spirit, that Barton was at length obliged

to beg for quarter, promising at the same time to 'make some music' for them, as a condition of the suspension of hostilities. This proposition, as soon as it was understood, seemed to afford the most extravagant delight; the shower of missiles ceased at once, and Barton was immediately surrounded by as attentive and breathlessly-expectant an audience as artist could desire. Taking his stand upon a moss-covered fragment of rock, he drew an enormous Jew's-harp from his pocket, and handed it to me, gravely requesting me to 'accompany' him upon it while he sang. Then, after clearing his throat with quite a professional air, he commenced 'Hail, Columbia,' and as he had a full, clear voice, and sang with great spirit, the performance was listened to with every mark of enjoyment, and was succeeded by rapturous applause.

He next gave a solo on the Jew's-harp to the air of Yankee Doodle, with brilliant and original variations, which likewise met with a flattering reception. But by far the greatest sensation was produced by Auld Langsyne, which we sang together as a grand finale. The natives really seemed to feel the sentiment of the music, although Barton turned it into a burlesque by such an exaggerated pathos of tone, expression, and gesture, that I had much difficulty in getting through my part of the performance without laughing; but my vexation at being surprised into taking a part in such a piece of buffoonery greatly helped me in resisting my sense of the ludicrous. At the end of every verse, Barton grasped my hand in the most demonstrative manner, and commenced shaking it vigorously, looking me all the while solemnly in the face, and shaking away through the entire chorus, thereby producing a number of quavers, which, though not set down in the music, greatly added to its pathetic character. After the last chorus, he spread open his arms, rushed forward, and gave me a stage embrace. This performance, including the pantomime, must have been of a very mov