tures, softened by residence among a softer race: full men
besides, though not by reading, but by strange experience; and for days
together I could hear their yarns with an unfading pleasure. All had
indeed some touch of the poetic; for the beach-comber, when not a mere
ruffian, is the poor relation of the artist. Even through Johnson's
inarticulate speech, his "O yes, there ain't no harm in them Kanakas,"
or "O yes, that's a son of a gun of a fine island, mountainious right
down; I didn't never ought to have left that island," there pierced a
certain gusto of appreciation: and some of the rest were master-talkers.
From their long tales, their traits of character and unpremeditated
landscape, there began to piece itself together in my head some image
of the islands and the island life: precipitous shores, spired mountain
tops, the deep shade of hanging forests, the unresting surf upon the
reef, and the unending peace of the lagoon; sun, moon, and stars of an
imperial brightness; man moving in these scenes scarce fallen, and woman
lovelier than Eve; the primal curse abrogated, the bed made ready for
the stranger, life set to perpetual music, and the guest welcomed, the
boat urged, and the long night beguiled, with poetry and choral song. A
man must have been an unsuccessful artist; he must have starved on the
streets of Paris; he must have been yoked to a commercial force like
Pinkerton, before he can conceive the longings that at times assailed
me. The draughty, rowdy city of San Francisco, the bustling office where
my friend Jim paced like a caged lion daily between ten and four, even
(at times) the retrospect of Paris, faded in comparison. Many a man less
tempted would have thrown up all to realise his visions; but I was by
nature unadventurous and uninitiative: to divert me from all former
paths and send me cruising through the isles of paradise, some force
external to myself must be exerted; Destiny herself must use the fitting
wedge; and little as I deemed it, that tool was already in her hand of
brass.

I sat, one afternoon, in the corner of a great, glassy, silvered saloon,
a free lunch at my one elbow, at the other a "conscientious nude" from
the brush of local talent; when, with the tramp of feet and a sudden
buzz of voices, the swing-doors were flung broadly open and the place
carried as by storm. The crowd which thus entered (mostly seafaring
men, and all prodigiously excited) contained a sort of kernel or gen