e of the best-constructed and handsomest
chapels in the South Seas. Like the buildings of the palace, it
stands upon an artificial pier, presenting a semicircular sweep to
the bay. The chapel is built of hewn blocks of coral; a substance
which, although extremely friable, is said to harden by exposure to
the atmosphere. To a stranger, these blocks look extremely curious.
Their surface is covered with strange fossil-like impressions, the
seal of which must have been set before the flood. Very nearly white
when hewn from the reefs, the coral darkens with age; so that several
churches in Polynesia now look almost as sooty and venerable as famed
St. Paul's.

In shape, the chapel is an octagon, with galleries all round. It will
seat, perhaps, four hundred people. Everything within is stained a
tawny red; and there being but few windows, or rather embrasures, the
dusky benches and galleries, and the tall spectre of a pulpit look
anything but cheerful.

On Sundays we always went to worship here. Going in the family suite
of Po-Po, we, of course, maintained a most decorous exterior; and
hence, by all the elderly people of the village, were doubtless
regarded as pattern young men.

Po-Po's seat was in a snug corner; and it being particularly snug, in
the immediate vicinity of one of the Palm pillars supporting the
gallery, I invariably leaned against it: Po-Po and his lady on one
side, the doctor and the dandy on the other, and the children and
poor relations seated behind.

As for Loo, instead of sitting (as she ought to have done) by her good
father and mother, she must needs run up into the gallery, and sit
with a parcel of giddy creatures of her own age; who, all through the
sermon, did nothing but look down on the congregation; pointing out,
and giggling at the queer-looking old ladies in dowdy bonnets and
scant tunics. But Loo, herself, was never guilty of these
improprieties.

Occasionally during the week they have afternoon service in the
chapel, when the natives themselves have something to say; although
their auditors are but few. An introductory prayer being offered by
the missionary, and a hymn sung, communicants rise in their places,
and exhort in pure Tahitian, and with wonderful tone and gesture.
And among them all, Deacon Po-Po, though he talked most, was the one
whom you would have liked best to hear. Much would I have given to
have understood some of his impassioned bursts; when he tossed his
arms over