reme de menthe_ and a bottle of absinthe, so
that the mice with the big cat away played an uncorking air right
merrily.

All was now a bustle of preparation for the feast. While many
prepared the earth-oven for the pig, the head cook made fire in
their primitive way, using the fire-plough of _purau_-wood braced
against a pillar of the veranda. Meantime the oven was dug, sides and
bottom lined with stones, and sticks piled within it for the fire. A
top layer of stones was placed on the flames and when it had grown
red-hot, the pig was pulled and hauled over it until the bristles
were removed. The carcass was then carried to the river, the
intestines removed, and inside and outside thoroughly washed in a
place where the current was strong.

The oven was made ready for its reception by removing the upper
layer of stones and the fire, and placing banana-leaves all about
the bottom and sides, in which the pig, his own interior filled with
hot stones wrapped in leaves, was placed, with native sweet-potatoes
and yams beside him. More leaves covered all, and another layer of
red hot stones. A surface of dirt sealed the oven.

A young dog was also part of the fare, and was cooked in the same
manner as the pig. The Marquesans are fond of dogs. This particular
one had been brought to this valley from another and was not on
friendly terms with any of his butchers. In fact, his death was due
more to revenge than to hunger for his flesh. He had bitten the leg
of a man who lived in the upper part of Oomoa, and when this man came
limping to the banquet, he brought the biter as his contribution.

Those who would turn up their noses at Towser must hear Captain Cook,
who was himself slain and dismembered in Hawaii:

"The flesh of the South Sea Dog is a meat not to be despised. It is
next to our English Lamb."

Personally I am willing to let it be next to lamb at every meal, and
I shall always take its neighbor, but it argues a narrow taste not
to concede that the dishes of our foreign friends may have a relish
all their own. Dog has been a Maori tidbit for thousands of years.
It was introduced into New Zealand from these islands. The
aborigines had a fierce, undomesticated dog, which they hunted for
its flesh. It was a sort of fox, but disappeared before the
Polynesians reached the islands.

All Polynesians have liked dogs, liked them as pets, as they do
to-day, and liked them as grub. If one asks how one can pet Fido
Monday and