This was a dread place to reach for any of the sons of men. But of all
who ever came there, the missionary was the most concerned; and, to make
things worse, the person next him was a convert of his own.

"Aha," said the convert, "so you are here like your neighbours? And how
about all your stories?"

"It seems," said the missionary, with bursting tears, "that there was
nothing in them."

By this the kava of the dead was ready, and the daughters of Miru began
to intone in the old manner of singing: "Gone are the green islands and
the bright sea, the sun and the moon and the forty million stars, and
life and love and hope. Henceforth is no more, only to sit in the night
and silence, and see your friends devoured; for life is a deceit, and
the bandage is taken from your eyes."

Now when the singing was done, one of the daughters came with the bowl.
Desire of that kava rose in the missionary's bosom; he lusted for it
like a swimmer for the land, or a bridegroom for his bride; and he
reached out his hand, and took the bowl, and would have drunk. And then
he remembered, and put it back.

"Drink!" sang the daughter of Miru. "There is no kava like the kava of
the dead, and to drink of it once is the reward of living."

"I thank you. It smells excellent," said the missionary. "But I am a
blue-ribbon man myself; and though I am aware there is a difference of
opinion even in our own confession, I have always held kava to be
excluded."

"What!" cried the convert. "Are you going to respect a taboo at a time
like this? And you were always so opposed to taboos when you were
alive!"

"To other people's," said the missionary. "Never to my own."

"But yours have all proved wrong," said the convert.

"It looks like it," said the missionary, "and I can't help that. No
reason why I should break my word."

"I never heard the like of this!" cried the daughter of Miru. "Pray,
what do you expect to gain?"

"That is not the point," said the missionary. "I took this pledge for
others, I am not going to break it for myself."

The daughter of Miru was puzzled; she came and told her mother, and Miru
was vexed; and they went and told Akaaenga.

"I don't know what to do about this," said Akaaenga; and he came and
reasoned with the missionary.

"But there _is_ such a thing as right and wrong," said the missionary;
"and your ovens cannot alter that."

"Give the kava to the rest," said Akaaenga to the daughters of Miru. "I
must g