by fungi and pulse of every description, like open arabesque work,
the whole interspersed with pretty groups of rocks of every hue.
The most lovely shell-fish were clinging to these rocks, or lying
scattered on the ground, while endless shoals of variegated fish
darted in and out between them, like so many butterflies and
humming-birds. These delicate creatures were scarcely four inches
long, and surpassed in richness of colour anything I had ever seen.
Many of them were of the purest sky-blue, others a light yellow,
while some, again, that were almost transparent, were brown, green,
etc.

On our arrival at Paya, about 6 in the evening, the young Tati had a
pig, weighing eighteen or twenty pounds, killed and cooked, after
the fashion of Tahiti, in honour of his father. A large fire was
kindled in a shallow pit, in which were a number of stones. A
quantity of bread-fruit (majore), that had been first peeled and
split into two portions with a very sharp wooden axe, was then
brought. When the fire had gone out, and the stones heated to the
requisite degree, the pig and the fruit were laid upon them, a few
other heated stones placed on the top, and the whole covered up with
green branches, dry leaves, and earth.

During the time that the victuals were cooking, the table was laid.
A straw mat was placed upon the ground, and covered with large
leaves. For each guest there was a cocoa-nut shell, half-filled
with miti, a sourish beverage extracted from the cocoa-palm.

In an hour and a half the victuals were dug up. The pig was neither
very artistically cooked nor very enticing, but cut up as quick as
lightning, being divided by the hand and knife into as many portions
as there were guests, and each person had his share, together with
half a bread-fruit, handed to him upon a large leaf. There was no
one at our rustic table besides the officer, his mistress, the old
Tati, his wife, and myself, as it is contrary to the custom of the
country for the host to eat with his guests, or the children with
their parents. With the exception of this ceremony, I did not
observe any other proof of love or affection between the father and
son. The old man, for instance, although ninety years of age, and
suffering besides from a violent cough, was obliged to pass the
night under nothing but a light roof, open to the weather, while his
son slept in his well-closed huts.

On the 5th of May, we left Taipari with empty stomachs, as ol