casion in ferns and flowers. Crowds of Samoan
friends--Fanua (Mrs. Gurr), Laulii (Mrs. Willis), Tamasese, Amatua,
Tupua, Tautala, the Vailima household, and many others, were there in
boats, also trimmed with ferns and flowers, to see them off. All went
on board and were taken into the cabin, where they were treated to
bottled lemonade with ice in the glasses, at which they marvelled
greatly. Though they realized that the woman who had done so much for
them in the few years of her residence among them--who had tended them
in sickness and sympathized with them in sorrow--was about to leave
them for ever, they made a strong effort not to cloud her departure
with demonstrations of grief, and it was only when she took farewell
of Sosimo, the man who had been her beloved husband's body servant at
Vailima, that they gave signs of breaking down. All had brought
presents, and Mrs. Stevenson and her daughter stood on the deck
wreathed in flowers, surrounded by baskets of pineapples, oranges,
bananas, and other fruits. Each departing friend, after kissing their
hands, added something to the pile of gifts--Samoan fans, seed and
shell necklaces, rolls of _tapa_, and native woven baskets, and the
two ladies had all the fingers of both hands adorned with Samoan
tortoise-shell rings. As the ship steamed away the little flotilla of
boats, looking like green bouquets on the water, followed them for
some distance, the boatmen singing as they rowed the farewell song of
the islands, _To-fa mi feleni_ (good-bye, my friend).

CHAPTER X

BACK TO CALIFORNIA.

For six months or more before Mrs. Stevenson's departure for England
in 1898, she had been suffering severely from an illness which finally
necessitated a surgical operation. This operation, which was a very
critical one and brought her within the valley of the shadow for a
time, was performed in London by Sir Frederick Treves, the noted
surgeon and physician to the King. Treves asked no fee, saying that he
considered it a privilege to give this service to the widow of
Stevenson.

While the family were in Dorking, where they had taken a house for the
summer, Mrs. Strong received a letter of sympathy from Mrs.
Stevenson's old friend, Henry James, which is so characteristic that I
am impelled to quote it:

"Dear Mrs. Strong:

"I have been meaning each day to write to you again and tell you how
much, in these days, I am with you in thought. I can't sufficiently
rejoice that