my own heart three years ago; yet,
because it is the custom of my people, I married this man, who is the
son of my father's brother. But now I shall go away.' Then the white
man came out and beat Suni with a stick. But yet was his sister, whom
he called his wife, eaten up with shame, and when a ship came they went
away, and we saw her not again. For about two years we heard no more of
our white man, till he returned and said the woman was dead. And he
took Suni for wife, who bore him three children, and then they went
away to some other country--I know not where.

* * * * *

"I thank thee many, many times, O friend of my sons. Four children of
mine here live in this village, yet not a one of them ever asketh me
when I last smoked. May God walk with thee always for this stick of
tobacco."

THE FATE OF THE ALIDA

Three years ago, in an Australian paper, I read something that set me
thinking of Taplin--of Taplin and his wife, and the fate of the ALIDA.
This is what I read:--

"News has reached Tahiti that a steamer had arrived at Toulon with two
noted prisoners on board. These men, who are brothers named Rorique,
long ago left Tahiti on an island-trading trip, and when the vessel got
to sea they murdered the captain, a passenger, the supercargo (Mr
Gibson, of Sydney), and two sailors, and threw their bodies overboard.
The movers in the affair were arrested at Ponape, in the Caroline
Islands. The vessel belonged to a Tahitian prince, and was called the
NUROAHITI, but its name had been changed after the tragedy. The accused
persons were sent to Manilla. From Manilla they appear now to have been
sent on to France."

[NOTE BY THE AUTHOR.--The brothers Rorique were sentenced to imprisonment
for life at Brest in 1895.]

In the year 1872 we were lying inside Funafuti Lagoon, in the Ellice
Group. The last cask of oil had been towed off to the brig and placed
under hatches, and we were to sail in the morning for our usual cruise
among the Gilbert and Kingsmill Islands.

Our captain, a white trader from the shore, and myself, were sitting on
deck "yarning" and smoking. We lay about a quarter of a mile from the
beach--such a beach, white as the driven snow, and sweeping in a great
curve for five long miles to the north and a lesser distance to the
south and west. Right abreast of the brig, nestling like huge birds'
nests in the shade of groves of coconut and bread-fruit trees, were the
houses of the principal villa