The operation is done bit by bit, some one part being
treated every few days. The colour used is the rosin of a nut-tree
precipitated on a cool stone and mixed with the juice of a plant;
the pattern is drawn on the skin with a stick, and then traced with
the tattooing-needle. This consists of three orange thorns, tied
at right angles to a stick. The needles are guided along the design
with the left hand, while the right keeps striking the handle softly
with a light stick, to drive the needles into the skin. This is kept
up until a distinct outline is produced; the operation is not very
painful. The skin is then washed and rubbed with a certain juice,
which evidently acts as a disinfectant; at least I never saw any
inflammation consequent on tattooing. During the next few days some
of the dye works out and falls off with the dry crust that forms on
the wound, leaving the tattooing a little paler. The patterns are
rather complicated, and at the present day there are no recognizable
representations of real objects; yet there seems no doubt that at one
time all the designs represented some real thing. They are carefully
adapted to the body, and accentuate its structure. The women who do
the tattooing are well paid, so that only the wealthy can afford to
have their wives and daughters tattooed all over; and naturally a
tattooed woman brings a higher price in the matrimonial market than a
"plain" one.

In this same place I had occasion to observe an interesting zoological
phenomenon, the appearance of the palolo-worm, which occurs almost all
over the Pacific once a year, at a certain date after the October full
moon. The natives know the date exactly, which proves the accuracy
of their chronology. The palolo is a favourite delicacy, and they
never fail to fish for it. We went down to the shore on the first
night; there were not many worms as yet, but the next evening the
water was full of the greenish and brownish threads, wriggling about
helplessly. Each village had its traditional fishing-ground, and we
could see the different fires all along the coast. The worms were
gathered by hand and thrown into baskets, and after midnight we went
home with a rich harvest. The palolo is mixed with pudding, and said
to taste like fish; I am not in a position to pronounce an opinion.

I returned to Nabutriki, and thence to Malo, where Mr. W. informed me
that the Burns-Philp steamer had already passed, and asked me to stay
with him and