_The High Woods of Ulufanua_[4]

1. A South Sea Bridal.
2. Under the Ban.
3. Savao and Faavao.
4. Cries in the High Wood.
5. Rumour full of Tongues.
6. The Hour of Peril.
7. The Day of Vengeance.

It is very strange, very extravagant, I dare say; but it's varied, and
picturesque, and has a pretty love affair, and ends well. Ulufanua is a
lovely Samoan word, ulu = grove; fanua = land; grove-land--"the tops of
the high trees." Savao, "sacred to the wood," and Faavao, "wood-ways,"
are the names of two of the characters, Ulufanua the name of the
supposed island.

I am very tired, and rest off to-day from all but letters. Fanny is
quite done up; she could not sleep last night, something it seemed like
asthma--I trust not. I suppose Lloyd will be about, so you can give him
the benefit of this long scrawl.[5] Never say that I _can't_ write a
letter, say that I don't.--Yours ever, my dearest fellow,

R. L. S.

_Later on Friday._--The guidwife had bread to bake, and she baked it in
a pan, O! But between whiles she was down with me weeding sensitive in
the paddock. The men have but now passed over it; I was round in that
very place to see the weeding was done thoroughly, and already the
reptile springs behind our heels. Tuitui is a truly strange beast, and
gives food for thought. I am nearly sure--I cannot yet be quite, I mean
to experiment, when I am less on the hot chase of the beast--that, even
at the instant he shrivels up his leaves, he strikes his prickles
downward so as to catch the uprooting finger; instinctive, say the
gabies; but so is man's impulse to strike out. One thing that takes and
holds me is to see the strange variation in the propagation of alarm
among these rooted beasts; at times it spreads to a radius (I speak by
the guess of the eye) of five or six inches; at times only one
individual plant appears frightened at a time. We tried how long it took
one to recover; 'tis a sanguine creature; it is all abroad again before
(I guess again) two minutes. It is odd how difficult in this world it is
to be armed. The double armour of this plant betrays it. In a thick
tuft, where the leaves disappear, I thrust In my hand, and the bite of
the thorns betrays the top-most stem. In the open again, and when I
hesitate if it be clover, a touch on the leaves, and its fine sense and
retractile action betrays its identity at once. Yet it has one gift
incomparable. Rome had virtue and knowle