years ago. It is often the way with men who have lived solitary lives for a long time among the islands, where, in the absence of society of any description, they have to depend entirely upon themselves. Should there be no game to afford sport of some kind, and they do not take to drink, they generally have recourse to books Sometimes they have only the most trashy, trivial works; still, they are content to read and re-read them with avidity. They love all the weekly and monthly magazines. Newspapers are not so highly prized-the news is stale, and as a rule they are not quite sure what it is all about. Our guest was devoted to England, and longed to see it again, though he was bound to confess that the climate would probably kill him. Theoretically, the idea of Home is charming, but in reality it means something very different to those who have passed long years under Southern skies. As the afternoon wore on he told us all about his island, which lay away to the west of Samoa, and which he described in glowing colours. He spun many yarns about the natives, who were friendly and agreeable, but

who seemed renowned for nothing but the making of fine mats, which was evidently the only industry. There were, altogether, seven white men. So, he cheerily remarked, there was always someone to speak to. The only drawback appeared to be that there was only one white woman-and she was a nun! However, he spoke enthusiastically of his cook, a Hindoo, whom he had specially imported; and fortunately this artist's talents amply compensated for all other shortcomings. He was extremely kind and hospitable, and pressed us to come and visit his island during our further wanderings, holding out many inducements to tempt us thither, among which we were told we should have a very beautiful house, built on a promontory of the island; we should have horses, and special fêtes would be organised for our benefit. But the terrible idea that after landing it would be impossible to quit the island before the next boat was due-six months hence-made us pause before accepting this kind invitation. Observing our hesitation, as a final and irresistible inducement we were offered the entire services of the cook

during our visit. But even this last sacrifice on the part of our kindly friend did not induce us to accept the invitation.

After hearing of the wonderful cunning with which the Hindoo concocted subtle curries and ragoûts, and how much he was appreciated, I felt a little nervous as to how our very amateur efforts would be received. Though Tuvale had a predilection for canned foods-and they certainly were a great boon in the islands-still, it is an achievement with which to be satisfied when a tolerably good dinner can be managed without opening a tin, especially when European guests are being entertained; so this day it was almost entirely native, though not all prepared faa Samoa.' Early that morning a large jar of turtle-soup had been sent to us- an offering from a friend on board a man-ofwar then lying in the bay-and it now came in opportunely for dinner. There were large pink crayfish from the neighbouring streams, the roast pig, egg-fruit, and palusame; fried bananas, and avoca pears, beaten up with pepper and salt, served as a

savoury; and, to finish up, a dish of mangoes and a large smooth-leaved pine-apple from our own garden, followed by Samoan coffee. It was an anxious few minutes while Tuvale with the greatest ceremony handed round the dishes, though I must say his manner went a long way to inspire confidence. He had no doubts whatever, but was simply bursting with vanity and self-satisfaction; and he was not far wrong, for the pig had come out splendidly, and the miti sauce was perfect; and all our fears were soon at rest, for our guest had asked for more!'

CHAPTER IV

CHRISTMAS-TIME

TOWARDS the latter half of December a hurricane was predicted; and, indeed, it seemed imminent. The noise of the breakers dashing against the barrier reef, generally a lulling sound in the distance, had become like a continuous roar of artillery; there was a wild look in the sky, and the wind moaned ominously as it swept through the trees. Mr. Stevenson sent post-haste, begging us to come up to them at once, he thinking it dangerous for anyone to remain in our house during a storm, as it would likely be blown away. So we told Tuvale to take our kitten over to Mafulu's hut, gave him plenty of food, promised to return 'teaou' (to-morrow), locked the door, and away we went, Micaele, who had brought the message, carrying our bags. That