of my uncle till two
days before we left. As the time approached for our departure Tembinok'
became greatly changed; a softer, a more melancholy, and, in particular,
a more confidential man appeared in his stead. To my wife he contrived
laboriously to explain that though he knew he must lose his father in
the course of nature, he had not minded nor realised it till the moment
came; and that now he was to lose us he repeated the experience. We
showed fireworks one evening on the terrace. It was a heavy business;
the sense of separation was in all our minds, and the talk languished.
The king was specially affected, sat disconsolate on his mat, and often
sighed. Of a sudden one of the wives stepped forth from a cluster, came
and kissed him in silence, and silently went again. It was just such a
caress as we might give to a disconsolate child, and the king received
it with a child's simplicity. Presently after we said good-night and
withdrew; but Tembinok' detained Mr. Osbourne, patting the mat by his
side and saying: "Sit down. I feel bad, I like talk." Osbourne sat down
by him. "You like some beer?" said he; and one of the wives produced a
bottle. The king did not partake, but sat sighing and smoking a
meerschaum pipe. "I very sorry you go," he said at last. "Miss Stlevens
he good man, woman he good man, boy he good man; all good man. Woman he
smart all the same man. My woman" (glancing towards his wives) "he good
woman, no very smart. I think Miss Stlevens he big chiep all the same
cap'n man-o'-wa'. I think Miss Stlevens he rich man all the same me. All
go schoona. I very sorry. My patha he go, my uncle he go, my cutcheons
he go, Miss Stlevens he go: all go. You no see king cry before. King all
the same man: feel bad, he cry. I very sorry."

In the morning it was the common topic in the village that the king had
wept. To me he said: "Last night I no can 'peak: too much here," laying
his hand upon his bosom. "Now you go away all the same my pamily. My
brothers, my uncle go away. All the same." This was said with a
dejection almost passionate. And it was the first time I had heard him
name his uncle, or indeed employ the word. The same day he sent me a
present of two corselets, made in the island fashion of plaited fibre,
heavy and strong. One had been worn by Tenkoruti, one by Tembaitake; and
the gift being gratefully received, he sent me, on the return of his
messengers--a third--that of Tembinatake. My curiosity was rous