is a very tall,
strongly-made man of about sixty, with a high forehead, long,
hooked nose, wide mouth, thin lips and white beard. His dress is the
old-fashioned loin-mat, and around his wrists he wears heavy strands
of shell money. His wife, too, is very tall and strong, with quiet,
dignified movements; she may be forty years old. Everything about
her is calm and determined; while not handsome, she has such a kind
expression as to look very pleasant. She wears a small loin-cloth, and
her light coffee-coloured skin is scrupulously clean. Around her neck
and over her left shoulder she wears a string of shells, and around
her ankles, small red beads. Near her squats her little daughter,
a pretty child of six; an adopted daughter plays near the fire with
a small, thick-bellied orphan boy, who is always crying. The girls,
too, wear little ornaments; and their dainty movements, curly heads,
round faces and great dark eyes are very attractive.

The midday meal is steaming under a heap of leaves and dust, and a man
is busily scraping cocoa-nuts for the delicious cocoa-nut milk. Agelan
sends one of the girls for an unripe nut, which is opened in three
deft cuts, and I am offered the refreshing drink as a welcome. Now
Agelan, who has been brooding for days over these matters, questions
me as to my origin and plans, and he roars himself nearly hoarse,
for we cannot understand each other. The other man, a fugitive from
the east coast, is asked to interpret, but he is sulky and awkward;
not that he is a bad sort, but he is sick, and spends most of his time
asleep in a shed he has built for himself in a corner of the house,
and only appears at meals.

The youngest son comes in, the last left to Agelan, for the older
ones have all joined the mission,--it is the fashion. This boy is a
quiet, cheerful lad of twelve, already a high caste, for his father
has killed many pigs for him. He has shot a miserable pigeon, and
his mother and the girls laugh at the poor booty, much to his chagrin.

Agelan now takes me to "view" a particularly fine tusked pig, tied
under a roof, on a clean couch of straw; the boy shows it bits of
cocoa-nut to make it open its mouth, so that I can see and admire its
tusks. Agelan would like nothing better than to show off all his pigs,
and if I were a native I would pass them in review as we Europeans
visit picture-galleries; but I refuse as politely as I can. We
return to the cook-house, where the cocoa-nut rasp