s,' resembling the spiritualists
of our country, but greater adepts. When M. Rimareau spoke of these
people and their superstitions his voice sank almost to a whisper, and
he cast fearful glances over his shoulder at the black shadows of the
palms. I remember one of the stories was of the return of the soul of
a dead child, the soul being wrapped in a leaf and dropped in at the
door of the sorrowing parents. I am sure that when my husband came to
write _The Isle of Voices_ he had our evenings in Fakarava and the
stories of M. Rimareau in mind. I know that I never read _The Isle of
Voices_ without a mental picture rising before me of the lagoon and
the cocoa palms and the wonderful moonlight of Fakarava."[28]

[Footnote 28: Preface by Mrs. Stevenson to _Island
Nights Entertainments_.]

It was the Fakaravans who gave the name of _Pahi Muni_, the shining or
silver ship, to the _Casco_.

Here the two ladies of the Stevenson party took lessons from the niece
of a chief in plaiting hats of bamboo shavings and pandanus, and Mrs.
Louis learned how to make them beautifully. This hat-making is the
constant "fancy-work" of all Tahitian women, and serves in lieu of the
tatting and embroidery of civilized lands. The best hats are made of
the stalks of the arrowroot plant.

In the last week of September, bidding a regretful farewell to M.
Rimareau and his delightful moonlight talks, they set sail for
Papeete, the capital and port of entry of the Society Group--most
beautiful of all the islands of the Pacific. But, though they were
entranced with the grandeur and charm of its scenery--its towering
cliffs, leaping cascades, and green, palm-fringed flat land of the
coast--Papeete did not treat them well, and their old enemy, which had
forgotten them for some happy months, again found them out there and
Louis had a severe relapse, with a return of the hemorrhages. It was
clear that Papeete did not agree with him, and it was decided to
remove him to a more suitable place. After a perilous trip around the
island in the _Casco_, during which the ship was twice nearly lost on
the reefs, they reached Taravao, but found it hot and full of
mosquitoes. Mr. Stevenson was now very ill, and it was imperatively
necessary, not only to find a more salubrious spot, but also some
means of transporting him to it. His wife, equal to the occasion, as
always, set out on foot across the island, following a trail until she
rea