ty which was going to a place a league or two distant. So
averse to all exertion are these people that they really thought the
prospect of thus getting rid of a few miles' walking would prevail
with us, even if there were no other inducement.

The people of the hamlet, as we soon discovered, formed a snug little
community of cousins; of which our host seemed the head. Marharvai,
in truth, was a petty chief who owned the neighbouring lands. And as
the wealthy, in most cases, rejoice in a numerous kindred, the family
footing upon which everybody visited him was, perhaps, ascribable to
the fact of his being the lord of the manor. Like Captain Bob, he was,
in some things, a gentleman of the old school--a stickler for the
customs of a past and pagan age.

Nowhere else, except in Tamai, did we find the manners of the natives
less vitiated by recent changes. The old-fashioned Tahitian dinner
they gave us on the day of our arrival was a fair sample of their
general mode of living.

Our time passed delightfully. The doctor went his way, and I mine.
With a pleasant companion, he was forever strolling inland,
ostensibly to collect botanical specimens; while I, for the most
part, kept near the sea; sometimes taking the girls on an aquatic
excursion in a canoe.

Often we went fishing; not dozing over stupid hooks and lines, but
leaping right into the water, and chasing our prey over the coral
rocks, spear in hand.

Spearing fish is glorious sport. The Imeeose, all round the island,
catch them in no other way. The smooth shallows between the reef and
the shore, and, at low water, the reef itself, being admirably
adapted to this mode of capturing them. At almost any time of the
day--save ever the sacred hour of noon--you may see the fish-hunters
pursuing their sport; with loud halloos, brandishing their spears, and
splashing through the water in all directions. Sometimes a solitary
native is seen, far out upon a lonely shallow, wading slowly along,
with eye intent and poised spear.

But the best sport of all is going out upon the great reef itself by
torch-light. The natives follow this recreation with as much spirit
as a gentleman of England does the chase; and take full as much
delight in it.

The torch is nothing more than a bunch of dry reeds, bound firmly
together: the spear, a long, light pole, with an iron head, on one
side barbed.

I shall never forget the night that old Marharvai and the rest of us,
paddling off t