is scarcely a child ten years old that cannot read its own language.

"There are groves of cocoanut-trees everywhere, and we were not
surprised to learn that the principal product of the islands is from the
cocoa-tree. Ten thousand tons of copra are shipped every year to the
markets of Europe, where the oil is extracted, and there is besides a
large production of cocoanut-oil in Samoa, which some have estimated as
high as two thousand tons. The Germans have extensive cotton
plantations, and there are smaller plantations belonging to English and
American companies and individuals; coffee and sugar are cultivated, but
the culture of these articles has not thus far been very extensive.

"As at Tahiti and in the other islands, it has been necessary to import
laborers from elsewhere to work the plantations, as the Samoans are not
fond of exerting themselves any more than are those of the Society
group. Thus far most of the laborers have been imported by the Germans,
and they come from all the islands where the German vessels trade. The
Polynesian Land Company and the American Land Company have also made
some importations of the same sort, but up to the present time they have
not equalled the Germans.

"While walking in the outskirts of the town we were thirsty, and asked
the native boy who accompanied us where we could find some water to
drink. He immediately suggested cocoanut-milk, and on our acquiescing he
hailed a boy who was lounging under a cocoanut-tree close by, and said
something to him in Samoan.

"Immediately the second boy took a small piece of rope which had been
twisted out of cocoa fibre, and prepared to ascend one of the trees. By
means of this rope and his hands and feet he went up about as quickly as
we could have ascended a staircase of the same height, and threw down
several nuts, with which we quenched our thirst. Any one who has been in
the tropics knows how refreshing is the milk of the green cocoanut when
he is weary and thirsty.

[Illustration: CRABS EATING COCOANUTS.]

"We saw some crabs feeding on cocoanuts, which are about the last thing
in the world you would suppose a crab could eat. Perhaps you'll laugh
and be incredulous, but they really do eat cocoanuts, and get the meat
out without any assistance. Cocoanuts are their principal food, but they
do not refuse other fruits, such as figs, candle-nuts, and nutmegs. This
is the way they do it:

"The crab climbs a tree and pushes down a ripe cocoanut, which is easily
detached, and he shows a great deal of sagacity in selecting only the
ripe nuts. Then he comes down to the ground and tears the husk from the
nut, and he always begins at the end where the eye-holes are. If the
tree is a sloping one, and there are rocks underneath, he climbs up
again, carrying the nut with him, and drops it on a rock, where it will
be broken. If the situation is not favorable for this performance, he
digs into the eye-holes until he makes an entrance sufficiently large to
admit his pincers, with which he withdraws the meat.

[Illustration: A PLANTATION IN THE SOUTH SEA ISLANDS.]

"These land-crabs are excellent eating, though they are rather too oily
for a delicate stomach. They live in large holes, which they dig
themselves and line with the fibre torn from the cocoanut shell. They
grow to a great size, and sometimes a single crab will yield a quart of
oil. They are distinctively land-crabs, and the natives say they only
use the sea to bathe in. We asked our guide if all crabs in Samoa are
good to eat, and he answered that all land-crabs were, but the sea ones
were doubtful, some of them being poisonous at certain seasons of the
year.

[Illustration: A FAIR WIND.]

"We went into some of the native houses, and found them neat and clean.
The roofs of the houses are very high, and supported on low posts; Fred
said there was a great deal of roof and very little wall, and this
exactly describes a Samoan house. The roof is thatched with palm-leaves,
and when well and properly laid will exclude the heaviest rains. The
houses have no doors, mats being suspended at the entrance; the result
is, the dogs and chickens may walk in when they choose, though in many
houses the chickens are not allowed to enter.

"It is the custom to place screens of plaited palm-leaves around the
houses at night, but they are always removed at daylight. In the
interior of the houses screens of cloth are suspended from the roof to
divide the space into rooms where the inmates sleep. The couches are
piles of fine mats of cocoa fibre, and the pillows are simply sticks of
bamboo or other wood, on which the neck, not the head, is rested. It is
about as uncomfortable as the Japanese pillow, which it closely
resembles, and is no doubt the cause of the early-rising habits of the
natives.

"All the cooking is done out-of-doors, and there is very little inside
the houses that can be called furniture. In one house we found a group
of young people playing a game which was something like our game of
forfeits. They sat in a circle and spun a cocoanut around on its sharp
end; when it fell the person towards whom the three black eyes pointed
was adjudged the loser. When they are to decide which of them is to do
anything, leaving the others free, the lottery of the cocoanut is used
to determine the matter.

"Warfare being more prevalent here in later years than in the Society
group, we found the games of the young men much more vigorous than at
Tahiti. We saw a party of boys playing at _totoga_, or reed-throwing;
they had reeds five or six feet long, with points of hard wood, and the
skill of the game consisted in making the reeds skim as far as possible
along the grass.

"In another spot some young men were throwing spears at the stumps of
trees, and in this game the skill consisted in a youth's ability to
force out the spear of some one else while fixing his own in the stump.
They have several games in which spears and clubs are used, and
sometimes they are accompanied by a good deal of risk. Spears are thrown
so as to hit the ground and then glide upward to the mark, and sometimes
a man stands up armed with only a club and allows half a dozen others to
throw their spears at him in rapid succession. By a dexterous handling
of his club he turns the spears aside, but it is evident that the
slightest mistake may have serious consequences.

"When we came back to the landing-place we thought we would take a ride
in a native boat instead of calling away the boat of the yacht. So we
hired an outrigger canoe, and were quickly paddled to the side of the
_Pera_. These boats are not by any means new to us, as we have seen them
in Ceylon, the Malay Archipelago, and other parts of the world. The
Samoans handle them with a great deal of skill, and I do not wonder that
Bougainville recognized their ability by calling this group the
'Navigator's Islands.'

[Illustration: BREAD-FRUIT.]

"I forgot to say," added Frank, "that we saw several cases of
elephantiasis, which the natives call _fé-fé_, and is said to be quite
common in all the islands of the group. The arms and legs of the victims
are swollen to a great size, but, happily for them, the disease is not
attended with pain. The cause of _fé-fé_ is as unknown as is that of
goitre in Switzerland."

Apia is on the north side of Upolu Island, which is the most important
and the most populous of the group. It has an area of about three
hundred and thirty-five square miles, and a population of not far from
fifteen thousand, or more than one-third the entire number of
inhabitants of Samoa. In the middle of the island is a chain of broken
hills sloping towards the sea, and these hills up to their very tops are
green with verdure. The harbor of Apia is sheltered by a natural
breakwater; but, though the principal seat of commerce, it is not
considered as fine as that of Pango-Pango, on Tutuila Island, whither
our friends proceeded when their inspection of Upolu was completed.

The day after their arrival at Apia they made an excursion to Malua,
about twelve miles distant, to see the college of the London Mission,
which is located at that point. Of this journey Fred wrote as follows:

"We hired a boat with six strong natives to row it, but they didn't have
much to do, as the wind favored us both ways, and the greater part of
the distance we were under sail. The journey seemed a very short one, as
we were busy studying the scenery, which is very pretty and changed
every few minutes as the valleys opened to our gaze and revealed their
wonderful richness of tropical productions. We kept a sharp watch for
the college buildings, but didn't see them until we were quite close to
the village.

"The fact is the college is not a huge edifice such as you find in
Europe or America, but a collection of fifty or sixty one-story
cottages, which are built around a large square, with a hall or
class-room at one side. In another respect it is unlike a college in
civilized countries, as each student is generally accompanied by his
wife and family; we were told that married men were preferred to single
ones, as the wife and children could be educated at the same time that
the student pursued his studies, and they are useful afterwards in
instructing the women and children in the places to which they are
assigned.

"Every cottage has a garden attached to it, which the student is
required to cultivate sufficiently to support his family. Any surplus
stock he raises is sold and placed to his credit, and nearly all the
students feed and clothe their families out of the proceeds of the
garden. The college was founded in 1844 by Doctor G. A. Turner; it has
educated more than two thousand teachers and preachers, and in
consequence of the system I have just mentioned is almost self
supporting. There are several thousand cocoanut, bread-fruit, and other
life-supporting trees on the grounds, while the gardens are devoted to
taro, yams, bananas, and similar plants. Here, as elsewhere in the South
Pacific, the banana-plant is very productive, and requires comparatively
little labor to take care of it.

"The rules of the institution are very strict, and any student who
repeatedly disobeys them is requested to make way for some one who will
not. The bell rings at daylight for morning prayers, after which the
students go to work in their gardens or at their trades, or fish in the
lagoon in front of the settlement. At eight o'clock the bell rings again
for bath and breakfast, and at nine it summons the classes for
recitation and instruction, which continue until four in the afternoon.
Then more work till sunset, when the bell calls to family prayer. After
this the students study by themselves till nine o'clock, when the bell
tells them to extinguish their lights and go to bed.

[Illustration: WAR CANOE OF THE OLDEN TIME.]

"The majority of the students are Samoans; the rest are from all the
islands of the South Pacific, whence they have been sent by the local
missionaries. They study arithmetic, geography, and of course learn to
read and write, and besides these ordinary branches of education they
devote considerable time to the Scriptures and to theology.

"Every Saturday evening there is a prayer-meeting, at which the students
make short exhortations. On Sunday there are three services--morning,
afternoon, and evening; and there are Sunday-schools for the children
and Bible classes for the older folks. On the first Sunday of each month
there is a communion-service, after the manner of churches in England
and other civilized lands. We have not seen anywhere in the Pacific a
finer assemblage of native men and women than the class at this college;
they had bright, intelligent faces, and we were told that they were all
so anxious to progress in their studies that they rarely infringed any
of the rules of the institution, the one most frequently violated being
that which required them to stop studying at nine o'clock and go to bed.

[Illustration: CANOES DRAWN ON SHORE.]

"It was getting quite dark when we returned to Apia and found our old
quarters on the yacht. They wanted us to stay all night at the mission
school; but there were so many of us that we thought it best to come
back to Apia lest we might incommode our hosts by thrusting such a large
number of visitors on them at once. You may be sure we slept soundly in
our cabins, as we were all thoroughly tired out with the long but very
interesting excursion."

After a few days at Apia the yacht proceeded to Pango-Pango, in Tutuila
Island, a distance of about eighty miles. Under her steam-power she made
the journey in a single day; had she relied on her sails it would have
been far different, as Tutuila lies dead to windward of Upolu, and
there are several currents which add their force to make a passage
difficult. Sailing vessels are often five or six days making this trip,
which can be covered in a few hours by steam.

Our young friends thought they had never seen anywhere a more beautiful
harbor than this; Frank sat down to describe it, and after writing a few
lines said he would abandon the attempt, and fall back upon the account
of Admiral Wilkes, who visited it in 1839. Accordingly he copied the
following from the history of the famous expedition:

     "The harbor of Pango-Pango is one of the most singular in all the
     Polynesian isles. It is the last point at which one would look for
     a shelter; the coast near it is peculiarly rugged, and has no
     appearance of indentations, and the entrance being narrow, is not
     easily observed. Its shape has been compared to a variety of
     articles; that which it most nearly resembles is a retort. It is
     surrounded on all sides by inaccessible mural precipices, from
     eight hundred to one thousand feet in height. The lower part of
     these rocks is bare, but they are clothed above with luxuriant
     vegetation. So impassable did the rocky barrier appear in all but
     two places, that the harbor was likened to the valley of 'Rasselas
     'changed to a lake. The harbor is of easy access, and its entrance,
     which is about a third of a mile in width, is marked by the Tower
     Rock and the Devil's Point."

[Illustration: CAPTAIN JAMES COOK.]

"He might have added," said Frank, "that there is a coral reef on each
side of the entrance, with the surf breaking heavily over it, or at any
rate it was doing so at the time we entered. Pango-Pango is a splendid
harbor, and could hold a great many ships. Its principal disadvantage is
that the prevailing trade-wind blows directly into it, so that while a
sailing-ship can get in without much trouble she has a hard time to get
out unless she has a steam tow-boat to help her."

Doctor Bronson told the youths that at one time the King of Samoa
proposed to present the harbor of Pango-Pango, and an area of land
surrounding it, to the United States Government for a coaling and naval
station; but as the acceptance of the proposal would involve political
relations that might be troublesome in future, the offer was practically
declined. The commerce of Pango-Pango is not as important as that of
Apia, for the very simple reason that the island of Tutuila contains
only four thousand inhabitants, and their productive energies are not
great. Copra and cocoanut-oil are the principal articles of export;
there are some small plantations devoted to cotton, sugar, or coffee,
but the lack of native laborers and the high cost of imported ones has
kept these industries in a backward state.

[Illustration: AN AMERICAN RESIDENT.]

The first European vessel to enter this harbor was the _Elizabeth_, an
English whaler, commanded by Captain Cuthbert. He gave it the name of
Cuthbert Harbor, but the appellation never adhered to it. Pango-Pango is
its native name, and will probably be maintained long after Cuthbert is
quite forgotten.

The settlement at Pango-Pango was so much like the one at Apia that we
will not risk wearying the reader with a description. Suffice it to say
the yacht remained two or three days there, and then proceeded on her
voyage in the direction of the Feejee Islands.

Before their departure they were invited to attend a Fa-Samoa party, and
the invitation was promptly accepted. Frank asked what a Fa-Samoa party
was.

"You might put it in French," said the American consul, by whom the
invitation was given, "and say _a la Samoa_, or, to come to plain
English, you may render it 'Samoan fashion.' 'Fa-Samoa,' 'Fa-Feejee,' or
'Fa-Tonga,' mean after the manner of Samoa, Feejee, or Tonga. It is a
convenient feature of the language, and I can assure you the party will
be an enjoyable one."

"The consul was right," said Frank, in telling their experience, "as the
party was a jolly one. It reminded us of the dinner at Tahiti after the
native style, but was more like a picnic than anything else we have at
home. In fact it was a good deal of a picnic, as each person who was
invited contributed something to the supply of eatables for the table,
so that those who did not fancy the native dishes need not go hungry.

[Illustration: CAVE NEAR THE PICNIC GROUND.]

"The picnic ground was just outside the town, on a pretty bit of lawn
shaded by grand old bread-fruit and cocoanut trees, and in the midst of
a grove of bananas, which extended on three sides of the lawn and served
as a sort of hedge. Banana-leaves were spread thickly on the grass, and
on this lowly table the edible things were spread, and what do you
suppose we had to eat?

"We had sucking-pigs roasted very much as they are roasted at home, or
folded in taro-leaves and baked in hot ashes; the steam from the green
leaves cooks them thoroughly, so that the joints fall apart at the
merest touch of the knife, or a slight strain of the fingers. They gave
us pigeons cooked the same way, and I remark, by-the-way, that there are
pigeons in the Samoan Islands, and it is one of the native pastimes to
catch them. We had several kinds of scale-fish, some cooked and others
raw, and we had crawfish and prawns and Samoan oysters; but I'm bound to
say I didn't think much of the oysters when I remembered those of my
native land. They give us a salad made of the young and tender shoots of
the cocoa-tree, and very nice it was, and everywhere we turned there
were bananas, oranges, pineapples, and other tropical fruits.

"The dishes that most attracted our attention were the puddings made of
bananas, bread-fruit, taro, and similar things. The consul told us that
each of the ingredients was beaten fine and baked separately, and then
they were all worked in together and covered with the thick cream from a
ripe cocoanut. Cocoanut-cream is wonderfully rich; when taken by itself
it is apt to cloy the stomach and disturb digestion, but used as a sauce
for the puddings it is delicious; but you must touch it sparingly, as it
is full of oil.

"We sat on the ground to partake of the feast, and had a back-ache
afterwards, just as we did in Tahiti. For drink we each had a freshly
opened cocoanut-shell, and we took the cocoa-milk as we would take tea
or any other beverage in civilized lands. There were some cakes made of
putrid bread-fruit, but we did not touch them any more than we did the
equally vile-smelling Limburger cheese which one of our entertainers had
brought along. The bread-fruit is in season for about half the year; the
natives store the fruit in pits lined with banana-leaves, and thus
stored the stuff ferments, and soon smells so badly that any person with
a sensitive nose cannot bear to come within odoriferous distance. When
walking where there are any of these bread-fruit pits we always try to
keep to windward.

"Taste and habit are everything. The Germans are nauseated by putrid
bread-fruit, while the Samoans are equally intolerant of Limburger. They
are horrified when told how long game is kept in England and America
before being cooked and eaten, and the merest taste of Worcestershire
sauce would spoil their appetites for a whole day at least."

[Illustration: MASSACRE BAY.]

The course of the yacht carried her near Massacre Bay, and Fred
naturally inquired why the spot was so called.

"It was so named," replied Doctor Bronson, "because of the massacre of
several of the crew, together with the captain, of the _Astrolabe_, one
of the ships of La Pérouse, the ill-fated navigator whose death was so
long a mystery."

"What were the circumstances of the affair?" was the inquiry which
followed this explanation.

"The ships of La Pérouse, the _Boussole_ (compass) and _Astrolabe_
(quadrant), were off the island, and Captain De Lange, who commanded the
_Astrolabe_, sent four boats on shore to procure water. They carried
sixty soldiers and sailors, and were commanded by De Lange in person.
The boats made their way through the reef, and reached the beach without
opposition. While the work of watering was going on the natives appeared
friendly enough, until suddenly they gave a loud shout, and attacked the
Frenchmen with stones and clubs. Captain De Lange was killed, and with
him eleven of his men. The rest escaped to the ships, leaving one of
their boats aground. La Pérouse endeavored to get inside the reef to
punish the natives, but after several days he gave up the attempt and
proceeded to Botany Bay, whence he sent an account of the affair to his
government."

"And that was the last heard of him for a long time?"

"Yes; he sailed from Botany Bay with the _Boussole_ and _Astrolabe_ in
March, 1788, and for thirty-eight years nothing was known of him or his
ships, or what became of them."

"Did the French Government try to find out anything about their fate?"

"Oh, certainly. They sent an expedition to the South Seas, but it
returned without the least information. Then they sent a circular to
ambassadors, consuls, and other officials, at the courts of all the
powers of the world, and to scientific societies and commercial
associations, asking them in the name of humanity to search for any
trace of the missing expedition, and offering to reward any one who
rendered assistance to survivors, or gave any information about the fate
of La Pérouse and his companions."

"And it took thirty-eight years to get the desired information?"

[Illustration: A VILLAGE IN VANIKORO.]

"Yes. All inquiries of navigators and others came to nothing, and
gradually the fate of La Pérouse was considered a problem impossible of
solution. On the 13th of May, 1826, an English trading-ship from
Calcutta, the _St. Patrick_, Captain Peter Dillon, touched at the island
of Tucopia, in latitude 12° 21' south, longitude 168° 33' east. Find its
position on the map, and then I'll tell what Captain Dillon discovered
there."

Frank and Fred eagerly scanned the map, and by following the lines of
latitude and longitude they speedily located Tucopia. It is between the
Solomon and New Hebrides groups, and lies nearly due north-west from the
Feejees, and a little north of west from Samoa.

"Captain Dillon," continued the Doctor, "found there a Frenchman named
Martin Buchert, whom he had known at the Feejees thirteen years before,
and also a Lascar sailor who had landed at Tucopia with Buchert. The
meeting of Dillon and Buchert was an interesting one; and so much was
Dillon absorbed with it, that he did not at first notice a silver
sword-hilt which the Lascar wore suspended by a string around his neck.
While he was talking with Buchert, the Lascar sold the sword-hilt to the
ship's armorer for a few fish-hooks. The natives that swarmed around the
ship had many articles of European manufacture, and questions concerning
them led to a remark about the sword-hilt, which was speedily obtained
again from the armorer.

"Captain Dillon learned that the things were brought from an island
called Vanikoro, about two days' sail to leeward of Tucopia, and that
the natives there had many articles of European manufacture, which were
obtained from two ships that had been wrecked there long before.

[Illustration: HAT ISLAND, WEST OF VANIKORO.]

"Captain Dillon thought of La Pérouse, and of the reward which the
French Government offered. Then he bought all the European articles
which the natives of Tucopia possessed, and as soon as this was done he
made sail for Vanikoro.

"When his ship was under way he carefully examined the sword-hilt with a
magnifying-glass. There was a monogram so badly worn that the letters
were indistinct, but he finally made it out 'J. F. G. P.'--the initials
of the name Jean François Galaup de la Pérouse.

"He had found the hilt of the great navigator's sword!"

"And what did he find at Vanikoro?" said one of the youths, eagerly.

"Owing to contrary winds," the Doctor replied, "he was unable to visit
the island at that time, and returned to Calcutta without doing so. He
reported his discovery, and exhibited the sword-hilt and other relics;
the East India Company fitted out a ship and placed it under his
command, and he proceeded to Vanikoro, where he obtained a great many
relics, including anchors, cannon, chains, and other heavy things, and
learned from the natives the story of the wreck of the _Boussole_ and
_Astrolabe_."

"What was it?"

[Illustration: LOUIS XVI. AND LA PÉROUSE.]

"The ships went ashore in a severe gale. On one of them every one of the
crew was drowned in the surf or killed by the natives. On the other,
supposed to be the one commanded by La Pérouse in person, friendly terms
were established with the people, and the crew were unharmed. They built
a small vessel from the wreck of the larger one, and a part of them
sailed away. They were never heard of afterwards; those who remained on
the island died one after another, and it is supposed that the last
survivor perished only a few months before the sword-hilt was found at
Tucopia."

"And what became of Captain Dillon?"

"The French Government kept its promise. It created him a chevalier of
the Legion of Honor, gave him a life pension of four thousand francs,
and appointed him consul to Tahiti, where he remained until the
establishment of the protectorate over the Society Islands. Then he
returned to England, and lived on his pension until his death in 1846."

CHAPTER VII.

THE FEEJEE ISLANDS: THEIR EXTENT AND POPULATION.--TERRIBLE FATALITY OF
THE MEASLES.--ROTUMAH AND ITS PEOPLE.--KANDAVU AND SUVA.--VITI
LEVU.--SIGHTS OF THE CAPITAL.--PRODUCTIONS AND COMMERCE OF
FEEJEE.--GROWTH OF THE SUGAR TRADE.--THE LABOR QUESTION.--OBSERVATIONS
AMONG THE NATIVES.--FEEJEEAN HAIR-DRESSING.--NATIVE
PECULIARITIES.--CANNIBALISM, ITS EXTENT AND SUPPRESSION.--HOW THE CHIEFS
WERE SUPPLIED.--A WHOLE TRIBE OF PEOPLE EATEN.--LEVUKA.--INTERVIEWS WITH
MERCHANTS AND PLANTERS.--THE BOLOLO FESTIVAL.--ANCIENT CUSTOMS.

[Illustration: A NATIVE OF FEEJEE.]

During the voyage to the Feejees Frank and Fred informed themselves
concerning that famous group of islands, which formerly had a dark
reputation for being the scene of the grossest forms of cannibalism.
What they learned was substantially as follows:

"There is really no such group of islands as 'The Feejees;' the word
Feejee comes from Viti, or Vee-tee--Viti Levu being the largest island
of the group, which consists of something more than two hundred islands
and islets. The number is variously placed at from two hundred to two
hundred and fifty, and of these about one hundred and forty are
inhabited. Viti Levu measures about ninety-seven miles from east to
west and sixty-four from north to south, and its area is computed at
4112 square miles. Vanua-Levu, with an area of nearly 2500 miles, is the
next largest, and then come Taviuni and Kandavu, the former of 217
square miles, and the latter of 124. None of the other islands have
areas equalling one hundred square miles, and it would be tedious to
name them all.

"Altogether the Feejee group has an area estimated at 7400 square miles,
or about 400 square miles less than that of the State of Massachusetts.
Its population is estimated at--"

Fred was about to write 200,000, taking the figures from a book before
him, when he was interrupted by Doctor Bronson.

"Wait a moment," said the Doctor, "and I'll tell you something on that
subject.

[Illustration: A ROYAL ATTENDANT.]

"Twenty or twenty-five years ago," he continued, "the population was
estimated at fully that figure, and some authorities put it as high as
250,000. Of course there has never been a careful census, and in the
interior of the larger islands it is not easy to get even a close
approximation of the number of inhabitants. Since the occupation of the
islands by the whites the population has followed the general law of all
Polynesia, and diminished with more or less steadiness.

"In 1874 it was estimated that it had been reduced to 180,000, and in
the following year fully one-third of this number died from the scourge
of measles."

"Measles!" exclaimed Frank and Fred, in astonishment. "I didn't know,"
Frank added, "that this disease was a deadly one."

"It is not usually so considered in civilized lands," the Doctor
answered, "nor would it have been so here but for the ignorance of the
people, and their persistence in doing exactly what they should not have
done.

"In the latter part of 1874 Thakombau, King of Feejee, and his sons went
to Sydney in an English man-of-war, to pay their respects to the
Governor of New South Wales. At Sydney the two youngest boys took
measles, but the disease showed itself in such a mild form that nothing
was thought of it. On the return voyage in January the King had a slight
attack, but it was considered of no consequence, and on his arrival at
Levuka he went ashore at once.

"His relatives and subjects came to pay their respects, and according to
custom smelt of his hands or his face, and thus took in the poison of
the disease. A few days after his arrival there was a meeting of chiefs
and other high dignitaries from all the tribes of the group, and the
same ceremonies were gone through. In this way the disease was spread
through the group, and when it developed it caused the death of nearly
every chief who had attended the ceremonial.

[Illustration: ANCIENT FEEJEE TEMPLE.]

"All through the Feejees people died by the thousand; in some instances
whole villages were struck down, and there were not enough well people
to care for the sick or bury the dead. Medical directions were published
and sent abroad as soon as possible, but the superstitious people had
been told by some of the beach-combers and other scoundrels infesting
the islands that the disease had been imported in order to kill them off
and get their lands, and that the medicines of the white men were
intended to spread rather than check it. The medical directions were
ignored; some tribes who had become Christian renounced the new religion
and drove out their teachers. In one instance where a teacher died of
measles his Christian disciples concluded that it was best to follow the
old custom and bury his wife and children with him, in order to
propitiate the demon of the scourge."

"Why was the disease so fatal here when it is not so in our own
country?" one of the youths inquired.

"You are aware, I presume," the Doctor answered, "that care should be
exercised in measles against taking cold, and thus driving the disease
to the lungs. These people are continually bathing, and it was the most
natural thing in the world for them to rush to the cooling streams as
soon as the fever came on them. In this way thousands doomed themselves
to death, and besides, there came an unusual rainfall that converted
great areas of country into swamps, and rendered it impossible for the
people to keep dry even if they had tried to do so.

"As an illustration of the effect of bathing, I may mention the case of
the native police at Levuka. A hundred and fifty men were seized with
measles, and the officer in charge, an Englishman, immediately
established a hospital and ordered those who were least affected to care
for the rest. They were forbidden to bathe or allow any one else to do
so; all the patients recovered except ten, and of these every man was
found to have disobeyed orders and indulged in a bath in the tempting
sea which was close by.

"An English resident says that whole villages were swept away by the
scourge, the dead were buried in their own houses, and to this day many
of the platforms on which the Feejeean houses are built are simply
family tombs. The coast towns suffered more than those of the interior,
probably in consequence of their being in more swampy ground, and thus
more affected by the dampness. The measles were afterwards carried to
other groups, where the effect was severe, but not so fatal in
proportion to the population as in the Feejees."

With this explanation Frank put down the number of native inhabitants
of the Feejees at 120,000; afterwards he obtained at Suva the figures of
the census of 1884, which were as follows: European residents, 3513;
native Feejeeans, 115,635; Polynesian laborers, 5634; Asiatics, about
5000; and Rotumah men, about 2600.

[Illustration: A POLYNESIAN IDOL.]

"What is a Rotumah man?" said Fred, when the above figures were obtained
and read aloud by Frank.

"Rotumah," said the Doctor, "is a small island lying in mid-ocean about
four hundred miles north of Feejee, and recently made a British
possession. The natives are a kindly race; the women are prettier than
most other Polynesians, and the men strong and of good size. They make
excellent sailors, and you find them in ships all over the South
Pacific, and even in other parts of the world. A gentleman who visited
Rotumah told me it was no uncommon thing to find natives who had been in
New York, London, Liverpool, or Hamburg, and they could discuss the
relative merits of sailing and steam vessels with an intelligence not
always found among white sailors.

"Though living in an island where nature is kindly and the wants of man
are few, the Rotumah men are not unwilling to work; they are
consequently sought as laborers in the Samoan, Tahitian, and other
groups, and especially in Feejee. So many men have been taken from the
island that the supply has been practically exhausted, and the planters
are compelled to look elsewhere. Some of the laborers were kidnapped in
the manner described in our discussion of the labor-trade, but the most
of those who emigrated were fairly and honestly obtained."

The outlying islets of the Feejee group were first sighted by our
friends on the yacht, and in due time the peaks of the larger islands
came into view. The Feejeean Archipelago is situated between the
fifteenth and twenty-second parallels of south latitude, and the
meridians of 177° west and 175° east longitude, and scattered over an
area of ocean some two hundred miles from north to south, and three
hundred from east to west. Its exact extent is not known, as there has
been no complete survey of the islands; one is now in progress under the
direction of the colonial government, but it will take some time for its
completion. Surveying in Feejee is slow and difficult work, owing to the
dense tropical vegetation that is found everywhere.

[Illustration: A COAST SCENE IN KANDAVU.]

The first island of importance which was sighted by our friends was
Kandavu, the fourth largest of the group and containing something like
10,000 inhabitants. As they expected to see it later, they did not stop
there, and the youths contented themselves by studying its well-wooded
slopes and fertile valleys, and the towering head of Mount Washington
3000 feet high on its western side. The captain told them that Kandavu
was the stopping-place of the mail-steamers on their way between San
Francisco and Australia, as it was more convenient and less dangerous
for them than either Suva or Levuka. He added that it abounded in fine
timber, and was a favorite resort for whalers in search of supplies and
water.

Steam was made as soon as Kandavu was sighted, and in a few hours the
_Pera_ was at anchor in the harbor of Suva, the capital of the British
colony of Feejee. It was selected in 1880 by a commission appointed to
secure a site for a future capital, the former one, Levuka, having been
found disadvantageous in some respects. Levuka is more centrally
situated in the archipelago than Suva, but its harbor is not so easy of
access, and a ship approaching or leaving it has more dangerous
navigation. Levuka is on the small island of Ovolau, while Suva is on
the south side of Viti Levu, which is, as before stated, the largest and
most populous of the group.

[Illustration: A PLANTER'S RESIDENCE.]

On shore our friends found a prosperous-looking place, when its age was
taken into consideration, and Frank said it reminded him of a town in
California or Colorado. There were half a dozen hotels, several
churches, which represented the Catholic, Episcopalian, Presbyterian,
and Methodist faiths, a great number of shops and stores, and many
well-built warehouses, cottages, and other dwellings. They went to the
principal hotel before proceeding to call upon their consuls or make any
acquaintances, and the proprietor immediately offered to show them the
sights of Suva.

[Illustration: A NEW ARRIVAL.]

He pointed out the Governor's residence, the jail, hospital,
custom-house, and lunatic asylum, together with other public edifices.
Doctor Bronson suggested that there was every indication of a fixed
community when so young a place could boast of a jail and a lunatic
asylum, not to speak of the custom-house and the hospital.

"We needed a jail here before anything else," was the reply to his
remark. "All the riffraff of the South Seas seemed to be collected in
Feejee before the annexation, and there was nothing but the powerful arm
of law, with jails and other paraphernalia, that could preserve order."

"They had been gathering here for a long time, I presume," said the
Doctor, "and were most numerous just before the annexation."

"There had been a fair sprinkling of beach-combers and idlers," was the
reply, "ever since the islands were first occupied by white men. After
them came men who wished to engage in planting cotton, sugar, and other
things for which the islands were supposed to be favorable; there were
some adventurers among them; but, on the whole, they were a good class
of citizens, as they were nearly all of birth and education, and most of
them brought some capital with which to go into business.

"But in the latter part of the sixties we were inundated with a
different lot of adventurers. A few came with the design of planting
cotton, or engaging in some other honest employment, but the great
majority were penniless fellows, with no fondness for decent
occupations. Many of them had left the Australian colonies to avoid
arrest for swindling or other crimes, and there was a fair share of men
for whom the prisons yawned for offences of the most serious character.
Down to that time San Francisco had been the haven to which these
fellows emigrated, but it was easier to go to Feejee than to America,
and therefore Feejee got the benefit."

"I think I heard something about it at the time," the Doctor remarked.

[Illustration: GOING TO FEEJEE.]

"Quite likely," responded his informant. "About 1870-71 Feejee was a
word of contempt in Australia. 'Gone to Feejee' had the same meaning in
Sydney and Melbourne that 'Gone to Texas' had in the United States forty
or fifty years ago; but now, under colonial rule, it is an orderly land,
and life and property are as safe as in Australia or California."

In the conversation that followed Frank and Fred learned that the late
King Thakombau, who died in 1883, offered the sovereignty of the islands
to the Queen of England under certain conditions, but the offer was
declined. Another offer was made in March, 1874, which was also
declined; but in October of the same year a deed of cession gave the
sovereignty of the islands to Great Britain. A charter was shortly after
issued, making Feejee a colony of Great Britain, and the first governor,
Sir Arthur Gordon, arrived in June, 1875, and assumed authority.

The colony has been, on the whole, a prosperous one, though there have
been periods of depression. Year by year the capabilities of the islands
are becoming better known, and it would seem that there is every known
kind of productive soil in Feejee. Its swamps will produce rice in
abundance, and the other lands are adapted to sugar, cotton, coffee,
sweet-potatoes, yams, and all other tropical productions, while in many
localities pease, beans, cabbages, apples, and other fruits and
vegetables of the temperate zones are successfully grown.

Frank asked about the cocoanut and bread-fruit trees, and was told that
the former was indigenous, and the latter had been grown there so long
that it was practically so. The cocoanut-tree was an important article
of cultivation, and thousands of acres have been planted with it. For a
long time the chief article of export was copra, but latterly it has
been exceeded by sugar. In 1875 the export of copra was 3871 tons; in
1884 it was 6682 tons, or nearly double the amount of nine years before.
As the young trees come into bearing the exportation of copra will be
greatly increased.

[Illustration: SCENE ON A COTTON PLANTATION.]

"The growth of the sugar-trade," said his informant, "has been very
rapid, as you will see by the figures. In 1875 the export of sugar was
96 tons, and in 1876 it was 265 tons; in 1884 it was nearly 9000 tons;
and in 1885, 10,586 tons. Molasses shows about the same increase as its
first-cousin, sugar, though the product of later years is not as
valuable as some that preceded it, owing to the diminished price of the
article.

"Cotton has not been a profitable crop on the whole," he continued, "and
the production has fallen off from 386 tons in 1879 to 150 tons in
1884, and only 45 tons in 1885. Many cotton-bushes have been destroyed
to make place for the cultivation of sugar; coffee has been little, if
any, more profitable than cotton, and many of the coffee plantations are
now devoted to bananas, which are an important article of export. In
1875 less than $500 worth of fruit was sent from the islands, while the
exports for the last three years have exceeded $100,000 worth annually.

"The other exports are beche-de-mer, tobacco, cocoa-fibre,
tortoise-shell, wool, hides, and pearl-shell, but none of them amount to
a great deal. The industries of the colony are somewhat hampered by
restrictions upon the importation of foreign labor; in consequence of
former abuses the Government is very severe, and some of us think
needlessly so."

Frank asked in what particular he thought the authorities ought to be
more lenient.

[Illustration: SUGAR-CANE MILL.]

"The laborers are engaged for three years," was the reply, "and under
the old regulations a laborer could be re-engaged for another period of
three years if he was willing to do so. At present the employers are
compelled to return him to his home, even though he is desirous of
remaining here for another term. This is the rule as to imported labor;
if a planter hires Feejeeans to work for him he is obliged to make his
engagements from month to month. The probability is that coolie labor
from India will in time drive out Polynesian labor."

"Why so?" Fred asked.

"Because of the lower relative price of it. Polynesians must be fed,
clothed, and cared for by the employer, and consequently it is not easy
to calculate exactly the cost of this kind of labor. The coolies feed
and care for themselves, and besides they are better and more steady
laborers. A Polynesian laborer costs about eighty dollars a year, a
Feejeean one eighty-five dollars, and a coolie from India or China
ninety-five to one hundred dollars. But, all things considered, the
Asiatic is preferable to the Polynesian."

There was further conversation relative to the labor-trade, which has
already been discussed in this book, and so we will not repeat it. Our
friends then took a stroll along the Victoria Parade, a wide and
handsome avenue nearly a mile in length. Frank and Fred were interested
in everything they saw, and particularly with the passing kaleidoscope
of Englishmen, Germans, Americans, and other white nationalities,
together with Chinese, Indian coolies, Feejeeans, Rotumah men, and
natives of half the islands of the Pacific. Of course the Feejeeans were
more numerous than any other race or kind of people that passed before
their eyes.

"The Feejeeans," said Frank, in his account of their visit to Suva, "are
considerably darker than the Samoans or Tahitians; Doctor Bronson says
they belong to the race of Papuans rather than to the Malays, though
possessing characteristics of both. They are superior to the Papuans in
physique and in their degree of civilization, but they have the frizzly
hair and beard and the dark skin which indicates their Papuan origin.
Then, too, they use the bow and arrow for weapons, and make pottery,
neither of which is characteristic of the true Polynesian.

[Illustration: FEEJEEAN HEAD-DRESS.]

"What struck us as odd about them was their immense heads of hair, some
of them being fully three feet in diameter. Hair-dressing seems to be
one of the fine arts in Feejee, and the barber is a most important
personage, though less so to-day than formerly. And how do you suppose
they managed to get such enormous mops on their heads?

"Well, the naturally frizzly hair is 'improved' by the barber. Each
particular hair is seized and pulled with tweezers until it stands out
straight, helped of course by the other hairs which have been served the
same way. The hair-dressing of a Feejeean dandy takes the greater part
of the time, and when he wishes to appear in specially fine style he
must be for a whole day at least in the hands of his barber. When the
hair has been stretched out to the proper degree, it is wrapped with
fine tappa or imported muslin, and in this condition presents a very
curious appearance.

"The office of barber to the King was such a sacred one that the royal
barbers were tabu, or forbidden to do anything else. They could not even
feed, dress, or undress themselves, or do anything whatever with the
hands which were to be used solely on the royal coiffure. And yet there
were plenty of men who coveted this honorable occupation in spite of its
manifest inconveniences.

"They are a polite people--at least we are told so, and certainly have
seen nothing to lead us to think otherwise. The hotel-keeper says the
Feejeean boys make excellent table servants, and the native policemen
along the streets seem fully equal to any we have ever seen outside of a
European or American city. Like all Polynesians, the Feejeeans are very
ceremonious, and great sticklers for etiquette. The chiefs and nobles
are surrounded with ceremony, and one needs to be as careful in
approaching them as in approaching the Queen of England or the Emperor
of Russia.

"Here in Suva most of the people have adopted European dress, or a
modification of the native one, but back in the mountains they adhere to
their primitive garments. These are strips of cloth around the waist,
and owing to this enormous array of hair I have just told about they
sleep on a pillow consisting of a stick like a thick lath, with legs
four or five inches long. It is like taking a section of a two-inch
plank a foot long and four inches wide, and resting one's neck on the
edge. A Feejeean pillow is by no means an inconvenient weapon in a
fight, and 'very handy to have in the house.'

[Illustration: AN ACCOMPLISHED LIAR.]

"It is said the Feejeeans look upon lying as an accomplishment, and I
have been told that one of the worst stumbling-blocks in the way to
their conversion to Christianity was to have them understand that it was
wrong to tell deliberate falsehoods. They have improved a great deal
under missionary teachings, and there is still plenty of opportunity for
more improvement in the same direction. When angry, they are sullen
rather than noisy; when a chief is offended, he puts a stick in the
ground as a mark by which he remembers the cause of his anger. After a
while he may pull up the stick as a sign that his anger is relenting,
and he is ready to be propitiated with gifts.

"We look upon this people with a great deal of curiosity, as we have all
our lives associated them with terrible stories of the most horrible
forms of cannibalism. Happily this is a thing of the past, but it is by
no means so very long ago. Even now the people among the mountains are
said to indulge in it occasionally; but if they do, the extent of the
practice is very small by comparison with fifty years ago.

"How it was adopted no one knows; the Feejeeans have a tradition that it
began in an effort to prevent the incursions of people from other
islands, and as a result of battle, which is quite likely to have been
the case. In course of time it was not confined to enemies and
foreigners, but extended to those who were offered as sacrifices in the
temples. Sacrifices increased in number year by year until, as in
Tahiti, a considerable part of the population was liable at any time to
be offered up at the bidding of the priests or chiefs.

"In every village there were particular ovens and pots devoted to
cooking the flesh of men, and the cooks were as skilled in the cannibal
art as are the Parisian _chefs_ in theirs. It was not uncommon to see
twenty or thirty human bodies cooked at a time for a great feast, and
the chiefs used to sacrifice their wives or their friends to gratify
their tastes for this horrible article of food. When a chief demanded
_bakola_ (long pig), the customary name for human flesh, his attendants
used to rush out and kill the first person they met in order to gratify
his wish!

[Illustration: FORK OF A CANNIBAL KING.]

"The bakola was not eaten with the fingers like other kinds of food, but
with wooden forks with long prongs, and these forks were tabu for any
other purpose. Each fork had a special name, like an individual; the
fork of one of the cannibal kings was named _undroundo_ ('a dwarf
carrying a burden'), and was presented in 1849 to one of the
missionaries by Ra Vatu, the son of the King referred to. Ra Vatu talked
freely about his father's love for human flesh, and showed to the
missionary the line of stones which registered the number of bodies he
had eaten. One of the native teachers who accompanied the missionary
counted the stones, and found they numbered eight hundred and
thirty-two! Thakombau, the last King, was a cannibal until the latter
part of his life, and his father, Tanoa, continued a cannibal till the
day of his death.

[Illustration: TANOA, FORMER KING OF FEEJEE.]

"Here is a story that I find in Doctor Seemann's report of his visit to
Feejee:

     "'A peculiar kind of taro was pointed out as having been eaten with
     a whole tribe of people. The story sounds strange, but as a number
     of natives were present when it was told, several of whom
     corroborated the various statements or corrected the proper names
     that occurred, its truth appears unimpeachable.

     [Illustration: A CANNIBAL DANCE.]

     "'In Viti Levu, about three miles north-north-east from Namosi,
     there dwelt a tribe known as the Kai-na-loca, who, in days of yore,
     gave great offence to the ruling chief of the Namosi district, and
     as a punishment for their misdeeds the whole tribe was condemned to
     die. Every year the inmates of one house were baked and eaten, fire
     was set to the empty dwelling, and its foundation planted with
     taro. In the following year, as soon as this taro was ripe, it
     became the signal for the destruction of the next house and its
     inhabitants and the planting of a fresh field of taro. Thus house
     after house and family after family disappeared, until the father
     of the present chief pardoned the few that remained. In 1860 only
     one old woman was the sole survivor of the Na-loca people. Picture
     the feelings of these unfortunate wretches as they watched the
     growth of the ominous taro! There was no escape, as they would only
     hasten their doom by fleeing into territories where they were
     strangers.'

[Illustration: SKULL FOUND AT THE BANQUET GROUND.]

"When the Wesleyan missionaries came here in 1835 they found cannibalism
in full sway, and it now seems a wonder that they were not immediately
killed and eaten. They partially owed their exemption to the fact that
the flesh of white men is considered insipid, or tainted with tobacco,
and therefore they were not regarded as desirable prey. Their progress
in converting the natives was at first very slow, but they were patient
and determined, and in course of time they were rewarded for their
efforts. At present the great majority of the people are professing
Christians, cannibalism has ceased since 1878, polygamy is rare, and
idol worship is no more. After a time the Roman Catholics established a
mission, and since the annexation the Church of England has sent its
representatives to Feejee.

"In 1885 the Wesleyans reported that they had 906 churches and 347 other
preaching-places in the islands, 25,932 church-members, and 104,806
attendants upon public worship. They had 1749 day schools, and 40,313
scholars in these schools, and they had nearly 42,000 children attending
Sabbath-school. The Roman Catholics have about 8000 church-members, and
the Church of England has a much smaller number, its adherents being
principally Englishmen and other foreigners.

"So much for what the missionaries have accomplished in this group of
Pacific islands, in the short space of fifty years. At present the
Wesleyans say the expenses of maintaining their missions in Feejee is
about $25,000 a year; and of this amount $15,000 is contributed here,
the balance coming from abroad. Reading, writing, and arithmetic are
taught in the common schools; there are higher schools in each
missionary circuit, where persons are trained for the ministry, and
others can be educated. There is a central college at Navuloa, where a
superior education, both native and English, is given to those who are
preparing for ordination, and also to others who may desire it. The
Government has established industrial schools, where the sons of chiefs
are taught reading and writing as in the common schools, and also
instructed in house-carpentering, boat-building, and other trades.

[Illustration: VIEW IN A VALLEY OF THE INTERIOR OF THE ISLAND.]

"I think I hear you asking how the English manage to govern the islands
when they are so few and the natives so numerous. Well, Feejee is a
crown colony, and its affairs are administered by a governor and
executive council; the laws are prepared by a legislative council of
thirteen members, seven of whom are official and six are nominated by
the Governor. In legal matters the imperial laws are followed, except
where there has been local legislation. All jury cases are decided by
the judge, with two assessors; the system of trial by jury was abolished
by the first governor, Sir Arthur Gordon, at the suggestion of Sir John
Gorrie, who was then chief-justice. The natives have a system of local
self-government which is recognized by the colonial authorities; there
are twelve salaried superior native chiefs exercising executive
functions under the Government, and also twenty-six native magistrates."

Our friends found enough in and around Suva to interest them for several
days. They visited some of the cotton, sugar, and coffee plantations in
the vicinity, examined some of the sites of the ancient temples of the
Feejeeans which were the scenes of horrible slaughters in the days of
cannibalism and idolatry, went through some of the native villages,
where they were kindly received by the chiefs, and did other things
which were very natural for visitors to do. There was nothing especially
new about the plantations, with the possible exception of the groups of
laborers from the islands of Polynesia and Melanesia, some of whom were
of races strange to the eyes of our friends. There were men from Tanna,
from the Solomon Islands, from New Guinea, and also representatives of
other groups of islands, until the whole made quite a formidable list.

The owner of the largest plantation that they visited told Frank and
Fred that the men from the different islands would not fraternize with
one another any more than will Germans, Irish, and negroes in America or
England. They do not trust one another, and their huts are in different
groups, in widely separated parts of the plantation. Many of them are
cannibals, particularly the men from the Solomon and New Hebrides
islands, and occasionally get into open warfare for the purpose of
capturing somebody whom they can eat. This very distrust of one another
is to the advantage of the planter, who could not easily manage them if
they were united and harmonious.

Fred thought the Solomon Islanders were the most repulsive looking of
the lot, and their employer said they were treacherous and revengeful in
addition to being murderous. In times past, before the establishment of
the Colonial Government, they used to make raids on the villages and
kill any unfortunate Feejeean they met, whom they carried away and
devoured. Of late years they have been restrained from this practice,
but not without some severe lessons.

"The Tanna men are not much unlike them," their informant continued,
"but they are less treacherous and sullen, and are better workers. They
eat the flesh of men when they can get it, but they are also fond of
dogs, cats, lizards, rats, and flies."

As he spoke he pointed to a pen containing several puppies which the
Tanna men were fattening, and would make the basis of a grand feast on
their next holiday.

From Suva the party went by a local steamer to Levuka, Colonel Bush
being unwilling to risk the _Pera_ among the rocks and reefs, which
render navigation far from safe in these waters. They found the harbor
of Levuka smaller than that of Suva, but in other respects equal to it,
as the anchorage was good, and the place well sheltered from gales. The
barrier reef which forms the harbor is about a mile from shore, and has
two passages by which vessels may enter or leave port.

[Illustration: AVENUE OF PALMS.]

Of course the removal of the capital to Suva was a severe blow to
Levuka, but the place has a good commerce of its own, and being more
centrally situated in regard to all the islands of the group, it is in
no danger of decay. It contains three or four hotels and several
boarding-houses, and its mercantile establishments are generally of a
substantial character. There are Wesleyan, Catholic, and Episcopalian
churches in Levuka, several branch buildings of the Government offices,
and a well-kept hospital for the use of such European strangers as may
need medical attention.

[Illustration: A PART OF LEVUKA.]

"The founders of Levuka were not altogether happy in one respect," said
one of the residents, who was pointing out its features to our friends.
"The hills around it are so steep that it was not practicable to extend
the town over them; we could build our dwellings there, but it was out
of the question to establish stores and shops where people must climb to
reach them, so we extended along the base of the hills, and in some
cases out into the sea, where we made land by filling in.

"You see," he continued, "that Levuka consists practically of a single
thoroughfare which we call Beach Street, for the very practical reason
that it follows the course of the beach. Outside the town it is
prolonged into a road that nearly surrounds the island of Ovolau, and
will completely encircle it in time. Two or three years ago we started
to build a street railway; we made surveys and subscribed for the stock,
but the Government opposed the project, and it was given up."

[Illustration: FRED'S FLY.]

[Illustration: FRANK'S MOSQUITO.]

Our friends found accommodations at one of the hotels, and were fairly
comfortable, or would have been if they could have escaped the flies and
mosquitoes. These insects were numerous enough to form a veritable
plague, and seemed to take special delight in annoying strangers. A
planter who was stopping at the hotel declared that the flies had
sentinels stationed to give notice of the arrival of a stranger so that
all could pounce on him at once, and that whenever the flies grew weary
of their work the mosquitoes came forward to relieve them. Frank made a
sketch of a Feejee mosquito, while Fred took the likeness of a native
fly. These works of art were laid carefully away where the subjects
thereof could not reach them with intents of destruction or mutilation.

Dinner was taken at the hotel-table, and proved, on the whole, a
pleasant affair. The youths made several acquaintances among the
planters, merchants, and others who were stopping there; Frank and Fred
added materially to their stock of information relative to the
agricultural and other advantages of Feejee, and also to the mode of
life among the residents. The dinner consisted of pork, salt and fresh
beef, chicken, yams, taro, and other vegetables, together with English
and American preserves, and potted things that are found wherever
Englishmen are settled in the eastern or southern hemisphere. "You may
not think much of it when compared with a dinner in New York or London,"
said one of the planters, "but if you go and live six months or a year
on a plantation you'll think a dinner here is the very height of luxury.
Salt beef and occasional chickens and pigs are our only meats on the
plantations, backed up by yams and taro in one unvarying round. Where we
can afford it we have potted and canned things, but they are expensive,
and very often cannot be had at any price. It has repeatedly happened
that men who had been living on the rough fare of the plantations came
to Levuka after an absence of months, and overfed themselves at the
hotel-table to such an extent as to bring on a fatal illness."

After dinner they sat on the veranda of the hotel and enjoyed the
land-breeze which sets in a little after sunset, and is considerably
cooler than the day breeze from the sea. It is also free from flies and
mosquitoes, which at this time retire to the sleeping-rooms of the hotel
to make ready for the arrival of the lodgers. On the veranda the
conversation was continued, and many features of Feejeean life were
touched upon.

"It's a pity you are not to be here at _balola_ time," said one of the
residents to Fred, when the latter had explained that their visit was to
be a very brief one.

Fred thought the gentleman said _bakola_, and immediately his thoughts
ran on the cannibalism of the Feejeeans in times past. He remarked that
he supposed those days were gone forever, but his informant answered, to
the great astonishment of the youth, that they had the festival every
year, and it was something not to be missed.

Then the gentleman went on to explain, and Fred soon ascertained the
difference between _bakola_ and _balola_.

"The balola, or balolo," said he, "is a sea-worm whose scientific name
is _palolo viridis_. It looks like a string of vermicelli, being little
larger than a thread, and varying from an inch or two to a yard in
length. It lives somewhere in the sea, no one knows where; on two days
of the year it comes to the surface, and all the rest of the three
hundred and sixty-five it keeps carefully out of sight. The natives know
exactly when it will come; it first appears in October, the date being
fixed by the position of certain stars, and its second appearance is at
the full moon, between the twentieth and twenty-fifth of November.

[Illustration: ONE VARIETY OF SEA-WORM.]

"The worms are far more numerous in the November than in the October
appearance, and hence the October one is called the 'Little Balola,'
while the November coming is the 'Great Balola.' At the great festival
the sea is covered in some places to the depth of several inches with
these worms, which are red, green, and brown in color, and form a
writhing and wriggling mass not altogether pleasant to look at. They
come a little past midnight, and when the sun rises they sink down out
of sight and remain there until the next year."

"How curious!" exclaimed the youth, in astonishment.

"No one has been able to explain the phenomenon," was the reply, "nor
tell how and where the worm passes the rest of his time. Why he appears
on these occasions and no other, or why he appears at all, nobody has
yet found out, and you may be sure the worms won't give up the secret.

[Illustration: GOING FOR BALOLA.]

"The natives go out in their boats in great numbers; every native boat
that can float is occupied, and the Europeans go along at the same time
to see the fun. As long as the worms remain every native is busy with
baskets and ladles trying to fill his boat with them; there is a great
deal of excitement and laughter, as the people steal from one another
and have as much fun as they can out of the festival. Then there are
shoals and shoals of fish of all sizes and kinds that are feeding on the
worms, and seem to understand that they must make the most of their
opportunity.

"As soon as daylight comes, and the worms sink out of sight, the people
return to the shore, wrap the worms in taro-leaves, and cook them in
ovens after their manner of roasting. The supply is so great that there
is enough for everybody for several days, and baskets of balola are sent
to friends in the interior, just as you send fruit and game in America.
The stuff is not agreeable to European taste, but isn't so bad after all
when you can conquer your prejudice against eating worms."

"To show the force of the religious convictions of the Feejeeans," said
another resident, "let me say that when the festival comes on Sunday not
a single canoe of the natives goes out except those of the Roman
Catholic Church members. The Methodists obey the religious requirements
so closely that not a canoe will go on the water on Sunday except to
carry a preacher to church. You cannot hire one of these people to climb
a cocoanut-tree on Sunday, or do any other work that is not strictly one
of necessity."

"What an immense change," said another, "from the days when cannibalism
prevailed throughout the islands, and when all public ceremonials were
attended with human sacrifices. On the death of a chief his wives and
servants were buried alive with him, in order that he could have their
company in the spirit world. When a chief's house was built a slave
stood in each post-hole to support the post, and was buried there alive.
War-canoes were launched or drawn ashore over the bodies of living
prisoners, who served as rollers and were crushed to death by the
weight. Life was held of no consequence, and parents who were ill or
felt the weakness of age coming used to ask their children to bury them.
A missionary was once invited by a young man to attend the funeral of
the latter's mother; she walked cheerfully to the grave, and sat down in
it to have the earth heaped about her by her children, and was much
surprised when the missionary interfered to prevent the proceeding.

[Illustration: ANCIENT FEEJEEAN WAR-DANCE.]

"And I have heard," he continued, "of a young man who was ill and feared
he would get thin and be laughed at by the girls of his acquaintance. He
asked his father to bury him, and the latter consented. When the youth
had taken his place in the grave he asked to be strangled. The father
scolded him, and told him to sit still and be buried just like other
folks, and make no further trouble. Thereupon the youth became quiet,
and the burial was completed."

"Can this really be true?" queried the youth.

"The story is found on page 475 of Erskine's 'Journal of a Cruise among
the Islands of the Western Pacific,'" said his informant, "and I have no
doubt whatever of its truth. The evidence as to the former customs of
the Feejeeans is so direct and positive that it cannot be doubted."

Fred lay awake for some time that night, his thoughts busy with the
changes which had been wrought in the islands of the great ocean through
the labors of the missionaries. Afterwards he watched the effect of the
moonlight on the waters, and while watching fell asleep.

[Illustration: MOONLIGHT ON THE WATERS.]

CHAPTER VIII.

ATTENDING A NATIVE CHURCH.--A FEEJEEAN PREACHER.--DINNER WITH A FEEJEEAN
FAMILY.--THE SEASONS IN FEEJEE.--A TROPICAL SHOWER.--A HURRICANE.--A
PLANTER'S ADVENTURES.--SCENES OF DEVASTATION.--THE CLIMATE of THE FEEJEE
ISLANDS.--WRECKED ON A REEF.--ESCAPING FROM THE JAWS OF CANNIBALS.--A
WALKING ART GALLERY.--A TATTOOED WHITE MAN.--RETURNING TO SUVA.--THE
FRIENDLY, OR TONGA, ISLANDS.--TONGATABOO.--THE KING OF THE TONGAS.--HOW
HE LIVES.--A REMARKABLE CAVERN AND A LOVE STORY ABOUT IT.--FROM FEEJEE
TO NEW ZEALAND.--HAURAKI GULF.--AUCKLAND.--A FINE SEAPORT AND ITS
COMMERCE.--HOW NEW ZEALAND WAS COLONIZED.--THE MAORIS.--CURIOUS FACTS
ABOUT A CURIOUS PEOPLE.--MISSIONARIES IN NEW ZEALAND.--HOW THE MAORIS
MAKE WAR.

The second day of the stay of our friends at Levuka was Sunday, and the
party attended the Episcopal church in the forenoon, where service was
conducted by a clergyman who had recently arrived from London. In the
afternoon they strolled to the native village outside the town, where
they found some fifty or sixty Feejeeans squatted on the mat-covered
floor of the neat and well-swept church listening to a preacher of their
own race. They were amused to see a tall man armed with a long stick
with which he occasionally touched the heads of those who were
inattentive, and sometimes his touch was far from light. Frank thought
the idea would not be a bad one for churches nearer home, where
worshippers have been known to go to sleep during the sermon.

The preacher was a tall, fine-looking man of at least fifty years, and
he spoke with an eloquence that indicated his earnestness and fervor. Of
course his language was unknown to our friends, but they all agreed that
the Feejeean tongue is capable of much expression. It contains many
guttural sounds that do not always strike the American or English ear
agreeably, and the orator seemed to speak with more rapidity than is
compatible with a clear understanding on the part of his hearers. When
the sermon was ended the preacher offered a prayer, and then a hymn was
sung by the whole congregation. The air was a familiar Methodist one,
but the words were Feejeean. Whether the meaning of the original hymn
was preserved with the air no one of the listeners was able to say, and
there was no interpreter present to tell them.

[Illustration: MISSION CHURCH IN THE FEEJEE ISLANDS.]

As soon as service was over the strangers were surrounded by a group of
natives, and there was an attempt at conversation; but as our friends
were totally unlearned in Feejeean, and the vocabulary of the natives
was principally confined to the word "shillin'," there was not much
interchange of thought. Nearly every Feejeean understands "shillin'"
well enough to pronounce it. He has a clear idea that it means money,
and it is in this sense that it is used. Ask a native what he will sell
his house for, and he will answer "shillin';" ask him the price of a
cocoanut, and the reply is the same. In the former case he would of
course decline the offer if actually made, and in the latter he would
bring you twenty or fifty cocoanuts for the figure named.

In strolling around as the congregation dispersed Frank and Fred became
separated from the rest of the party, but without any misgivings as to
their safety or loss of way, as they were accompanied by several
natives, one of whom invited the youths to his house. This was an
invitation not to be ignored; it was accepted at once, and the man led
the way along a path to where he lived. It was a hut of dried reeds
lashed to a framework of poles, and stood with a dozen similar huts in
the shade of a grove of cocoa-trees. The thatched roof was high and
arched, while the sides were very low, and had no windows. There were
two doors on opposite sides, but the door-way was so low that it was
necessary to stoop almost double in order to enter. In front of the hut
was a lot of bones and all manner of refuse, and a couple of pigs were
lying across the door-way. They showed no inclination to move as the
master of the house approached; but on catching sight, and possibly
smell, of the strangers, they were up and off very quickly.

[Illustration: GOING TO CHURCH.--RIVER SCENE.]

Inside the hut the floor was covered with plaited rushes, and there was
a low partition of reeds dividing it into two nearly equal spaces; one
of these was used as kitchen and sitting-room and the other for
sleeping; but there was no furniture in either place beyond three or
four of the wooden pillows already described. In one corner of the
kitchen was a rough hearth, with some clay pots in which fish and yams
were cooked.

[Illustration: FEEJEEAN HEAD.]

Partly by signs and partly by the words "want eat," the host invited the
youths to stay to dinner. They accepted, more to see how and upon what
the natives live rather than on account of having an appetite. Fire was
lighted on the hearth, or rather it was stirred up from some slumbering
coals, fish and yams were put on to boil, and in a little while the meal
was ready. Frank and Fred made friends with the children, to whom they
showed their watches, and made a few presents of silver coin as an
indirect compensation for their dinner, and when the meal was ready they
proceeded to enjoy it. One of the children had been sent for some
banana-leaves, which served as plates; on these leaves the fish and yams
were dished up, and a piece of rock-salt was brought out, together with
a shell, with which each guest could scrape off as much salt as he
liked, and whenever he wanted it. The youths made a practical
demonstration of the truth of the adage that fingers were made before
forks, though not without some inconvenience. To end the repast they had
some ripe bananas, and of course the drink that accompanied the meal was
the juice of freshly picked cocoanuts.

[Illustration: FEEJEEAN WEAPONS.]

As soon as Frank and Fred rose from the mats the youngsters of the
family attacked what they had left, and in a very few minutes nothing
remained save the lump of salt and the empty banana-leaf plates. Then
there was handshaking all around, and the visitors took their leave. The
host accompanied them to the road leading back to town, and there left
them, but not until he had pocketed a shilling which Frank tendered him.

Clouds were forming in the sky, and the youths thought it would be
prudent to return to the hotel. They did so, and found the rest of the
party on the veranda waiting for the promised shower. In a few minutes
the rain came down thick and fast, and the wisdom of returning was no
longer in doubt. The shower was soon over, however, and then the sun
came out as brightly as ever, though there was no apparent change in the
temperature.

"You are in the best season of the year," said one of their new
acquaintances; "it's fortunate for you that it's not hurricane time
now."

"We have here," he continued, "a dry season and a wet one. The former is
cool, and lasts from May to October; the latter is hot, and lasts from
October to May. During all the dry season, and for a month at each end
of the wet one, the climate is delightful, the temperature varying from
70° to 78° or 79°, and the heat of the sun being tempered by breezes
from the sea. The mean temperature is about 80°, the extreme ranges thus
far recorded being 60° and 122°. From Christmas to March is called the
'hurricane season;' the air is moist and sticky, the temperature
averaging 84°, with a humidity so great that one seems to be constantly
in a Russian steam-bath. This is the unhealthy season, and fevers and
other diseases due to the heat and moisture are common."

[Illustration: TELLING THE STORY.]

Frank asked if hurricanes were frequent during the season.

"Not at all," was the reply, "but when they do come they are in dead
earnest. From 1879 to 1886 we didn't have a really severe hurricane; but
this is, I believe, the longest interval known to any of the European
residents. One old settler told me there were several years when not a
season passed without at least one hurricane."

"Are they very destructive?" Fred inquired.

"I can best answer that question," said the gentleman, "by describing
the first hurricane I ever passed through in the Feejees.

[Illustration: FORMATION OF CLOUDS BEFORE A FEEJEEAN HURRICANE.]

"I was on a plantation in which I had bought an interest, and during the
whole of the month of March the weather was very calm and sultry. One
day, towards the beginning of April, the wind turned to the north-west,
which was quite unusual; squalls and showers followed, and then the
breeze freshened into a gale. Heavy clouds covered the sky, thunder
sounded loud and long, the barometer fell, and the clouds seemed to
sweep just above the tops of the trees. Then the rain came in torrents,
flooding all the level ground, and turning the brooks into rivers. Our
party took shelter in the largest and strongest house in the
neighborhood--one that had stood through several hurricanes, and was
thought to be proof against them.

"For two days the wind blew, and every hour it increased. By the second
night it was a fully developed hurricane whose velocity we had no means
of measuring. The rain fell tremendously; the lightning was vivid, and
almost continuous. The thunder followed the course of the storm; and
altogether the noise was so great that we had to shout to one another to
be understood. Our house shook like a rickety bird-cage, and many times
it seemed to be half lifted from the ground; but it stood through the
storm, and was the only one that did so.

[Illustration: AFTER THE STORM.]

"On the following morning the wind had died down to a moderate gale, and
we could venture out. The picture that presented itself cannot possibly
be described with anything like vividness. Cocoanut and bread-fruit
trees by the thousand had been thrown down or stripped of their leaves;
banana-plants were in the same condition; the grass was levelled, and
covered with mud and water, and not a house in the neighborhood remained
standing. In the cotton-fields not only were the leaves and bolls
stripped from the plants, but in many places the plants had been torn up
by the roots and lay in heaps. In Levuka many houses were blown down;
vessels were driven ashore, or broken to pieces at their moorings; and
the whole windward coast of the islands was strewn with wrecks. Many
foreign vessels that were known to be in Feejee waters, or near the
islands, were never heard of again, and they doubtless went down on that
terrible night. At Macuata, on Vanua Levu, the wind lifted a small
vessel bodily from the beach and blew it into a native village two or
three hundred yards away!"

[Illustration: COAST SCENE IN A CALM.]

The story of the hurricane led to various anecdotes of the South Seas,
and in this way the afternoon was passed until dinner-time. One man told
how a ship on which he once sailed was driven before a hurricane and
thrown upon a reef, where the waves dashed her to pieces. He was carried
into the comparatively smooth lagoon inside the reef, and saved himself
by swimming, all his companions being drowned. Fortunately for him, the
islanders among whom he landed were not cannibals, or he would have been
condemned at once to the oven. The cannibals of the South Pacific have
always regarded people shipwrecked on their shores as special gifts or
windfalls, just as the inhabitants of certain parts of the coast of the
United States are said to have regarded the cargoes of wrecked ships
less than a century ago. Of course he taught the natives many useful
things, and eventually married the daughter of the chief, and became a
chief himself when his father-in-law died.

[Illustration: LOST IN THE HURRICANE.]

Another man, who claimed to have visited half the islands of the
Pacific, endeavored to prove his assertion by asking our friends to step
inside for a few moments, where he removed his clothing and exhibited
samples of the tattooing of pretty nearly every group. "That clouded
pattern on my left leg," said he, "was done in the Kingsmill group,
while those squares and fancy stripes on the right leg were put on in
Samoa. My right arm and shoulder were done in the New Hebrides, while
the left side was the work of the best artist of the Marquesas Islands.
The fancy embroidery on my breast is of New Zealand, and that down my
back was done in Tahiti."

[Illustration: MOTA, OR SUGAR-LOAF ISLAND.]

Truly this man was a walking art-gallery of the Pacific Islanders, only
his hands and face remaining unmarked by the tattoo. When the inspection
was completed, and our friends had left the man to resume his dress,
Frank suggested that he would be a fine prize for a medical museum,
where his skin could be preserved after his death. Doctor Bronson agreed
with him, but the suggestion was not offered to the subject of the
conversation.

[Illustration: TWO-TREE ISLAND.]

The party returned to Suva by the steamer that brought them to Levuka,
and there a change of plans occurred. Doctor Bronson, with Frank and
Fred, proceeded to New Zealand by the regular mail-steamer, while
Colonel Bush, with the _Pera_, continued his cruise among the islands of
the Pacific. Our friends were sorry to part with their pleasant
companions and the splendid hospitality of the yacht, but they did not
feel justified in protracting their stay among the islands, since there
is a general similarity of the groups to each other, though they may
differ greatly in detail.

[Illustration: A YOUNG STUDENT.]

Frank and Fred regretted that they could not visit the Friendly, or
Tonga, Islands, the first destination of the _Pera_, but they consoled
themselves by reading what they could find on the subject. They learned
that the Tonga group was discovered by Tasman and visited by Cook, who
gave the isles the name of Friendly, on account of the apparently
amiable disposition of the inhabitants. They have a population of about
twenty-five thousand, and are farther advanced in civilization than
their neighbors of Feejee or Samoa. The Wesleyan missionaries have
converted them to Christianity; many of them can speak English, and have
learned reading, writing, arithmetic, and geography, and on the whole
stand high in the scale of education. The products of the Tonga Islands
are similar to those of the Feejees, and the group is also subject to
hurricanes, which are often very destructive.

[Illustration: STONE MONUMENT, TONGATABOO.]

The principal island is Tongataboo, which is low and level, of coral
formation, and about twenty miles long by twelve broad. Here the King
resides, and here, too, is the principal mission station, the King being
an earnest Christian, and a regularly ordained preacher in the pulpit.
He wears European clothes, has European furniture in his house, employs
an Englishman as his private secretary, and altogether is quite a
civilized gentleman. He has caused good roads to be made around and
across the island, and in other ways has made his little kingdom know
the advantages of the lands beyond the seas.

[Illustration: A VOLCANO IN THE PACIFIC.]

Fred was particularly interested in reading about a curious monument of
former days that is to be seen in Tonga, and of which the natives have
no tradition. It reminded him of the monuments of Easter Island, and he
made the following note on the subject:

"It stands on a grassy lawn in the interior of the island, and is so
surrounded by tropical growths that it is concealed from view until the
visitor is close upon it. It consists of three huge stones, two of them
upright like pillars, and the third resting upon them. This upper stone
is eighteen feet long, twelve feet wide, and fifteen feet above the
ground; resting upon it is, or was, an immense bowl of hewn stone, which
is supposed to have been connected with some of the religious ceremonies
of the people who erected this monument. But how they put the three
stones in their places is an unfathomable mystery."

Fred also wanted to see a famous cavern in one of the Tonga Islands
which can only be reached by diving into the sea, as the mouth is
completely under water at all times. A young Tongan found it while
diving after a turtle, and he afterwards utilized it as the place of
concealment of the girl with whom he had fallen in love, and who was the
daughter of a chief whose displeasure he had incurred. He persuaded her
to flee with him and follow him into the water; these women swim like
dolphins, and she dived after him and rose into the cave, which is
beautifully lighted by the phosphorescent rays from the water, very much
as is the famous Blue Grotto near Naples.

Here she remained for months, everybody wondering what had become of
her, and also wondering why the young man absented himself so
frequently, and always returned with wet hair. He carried her fruit and
fish to eat and a supply of mats for carpeting the stone floor at one
side of the cavern. One day his companions followed him, and dived where
they had seen him disappear. Thus they found the cave; but what became
of its inmates is not clearly recorded in the history of Tonga.

[Illustration: AN ISLAND CAVERN.]

It takes an excellent swimmer to make the visit to the cave without
danger of death from drowning. The entrance bristles with sharp points
of rock, and when a native dives he turns on his back and uses his hands
to keep himself clear of these dangerous obstructions. The captain of an
English man-of-war tried to enter the cavern, but was so severely
injured against the sharp rocks that he died in consequence.

We will leave the _Pera_ to pursue her course among the islands of the
Pacific, while we accompany Doctor Bronson and the youths on their
voyage to New Zealand and Australia. The mail-steamer _Zealandia_
carried them swiftly along, and on the morning of the fifth day they
were in sight of the shores which were their destination. From Suva to
Auckland, the former capital of New Zealand, is a distance of about one
thousand miles, and there is regular communication both ways monthly
between the two points. There is also steam communication between Sydney
and Feejee, about sixteen hundred miles--sometimes direct from one port
to the other, and sometimes by way of New Caledonia, which lies a short
distance out of the direct track.

The _Zealandia_ entered Hauraki Gulf, passing between the Great Barrier
and Little Barrier islands, and holding her course almost due south;
then, through the Rangitoto Channel, she turned, and the harbor of
Auckland was before her.

"Shall we have to wait for the tide?" Frank asked, as they passed Great
Barrier Island. "It often happens that we have to wait several hours for
a tide when we're all impatience to get on shore."

"We don't have to wait for tides at Auckland," replied an officer of the
_Zealandia_, to whom the query was addressed. "We can come in at dead
low-water and steam to an anchorage, or to the dock if we're ready to go
there. The least depth is thirty-six feet at dead low-water of the
spring-tide, and at the highest tides we have fifty feet.

"There is hardly a finer seaport anywhere," he added, "than Waitamata,
as the harbor of Auckland is frequently called by the New Zealanders.
It has, as I've told you, plenty of water at all times, and its
entrances are superb. Rangitoto Channel is the one generally used; the
other is Hieh Channel, and would be considered first-rate in many a
place I know of. Rangitoto is about two miles wide; the section of the
harbor between North Head and Kauri Point is about a mile across, and
therefore is easily fortified in case we have to defend it against a
hostile fleet."

[Illustration: ISLANDS ON THE COAST.]

"I see," said Fred, who had been studying the map, "that the island is
very narrow here."

"Yes," was the reply; "it is only six miles across; and if you examine
carefully you'll see a good harbor on the other side. That is the harbor
of Manakau, and there's a railway connecting it with Waitamata."

"It reminds me of Corinth, in Greece," said Fred, as he continued the
contemplation of the map.

"No doubt it does," said the officer, in response. "Auckland is called
the Corinth of the South Pacific; Corinth is now having a canal made
through its isthmus, and we hope to have one for ours in due time."

The steamer made her way direct to the wharf, and as soon as she had
made fast and the gang-plank was out, our friends stepped on shore in
New Zealand. Under the guidance of a fellow-passenger, they entered a
carriage and were driven up Queen Street, the principal thoroughfare,
to the hotel they had selected for a resting-place during their sojourn
in Auckland. They were favorably impressed with the activity that
prevailed on the streets, and the general evidences of business
prosperity. "A Missourian would call it 'a right smart place,'" said
Frank, as they were alighting from the carriage at the end of their
drive.

"Yes," responded Fred, "and even a New Yorker would treat its beautiful
bay with respect after seeing it as we did."

"Where did the city get its name?" one of the youths asked Doctor
Bronson.

[Illustration: AUCKLAND IN 1840.]

"It was named after Lord Auckland, First Lord of the Admiralty, and
afterwards Governor-general of India, by Captain Hobson, who founded the
city. Captain Hobson was sent here, in 1838, to organize a colony. He
saw this was a good site for a city, and accordingly he established the
capital here. It remained the capital until 1865, when a royal
commission moved the seat of government to Wellington, the latter place
being more centrally located. Of course the Aucklanders were not at all
pleased at the change, but their city is so well established
commercially that there is no danger of their being ruined by it."

From various sources Frank and Fred found that Auckland had a
population of nearly forty thousand within the municipality, and seventy
thousand in the city and suburbs. "It has," said Frank, in his journal,
"handsome streets, a great number of well-constructed public buildings,
such as post-office, custom-house, exchange, courts, Government offices,
and the other paraphernalia of a well-established city, and it has also
a fine museum, a public library, and a park and botanical garden. No
city would be complete without a cemetery, and Auckland is not behind in
this respect, as it has a very pretty one, and, as the French say, it is
well peopled.

"We were much interested in the Queen Street wharf, where we landed; it
extends nearly two thousand feet into the harbor, and affords facilities
for thirty or forty vessels to discharge or receive cargoes at once.
There are several other wharves, including a fine one, nearly completed,
at the end of Hobson Street. I have heard often of 'Hobson's Choice,'
and never knew exactly what it was. This city seems to have been
Hobson's choice, since Captain Hobson founded it; all I can say is, that
I shall have more respect for the old saw than I ever had before.

"You can get an idea of the commerce of the place when you know that
about two hundred and fifty sailing-vessels are owned here of an
aggregate burden of twenty thousand tons, and sixty-five steamers of
seven thousand tons altogether. It has regular steam communication with
Australian ports by the vessels of the Union Steamship Company, has a
monthly line to Feejee, and is a port of call for the mail-steamers
between Australia and California. The Northern Steamship Company of
Auckland has a fleet of thirteen steamers, principally engaged in coast
navigation, so that New Zealand is well served by its own boats.

"Of course the port has graving or dry docks for the accommodation of
the ships that need them. There was one three hundred feet long, and
forty-two feet wide, but it was found inadequate after a few years, and
now they are completing another five hundred feet long and ninety feet
wide. This ought to be long and wide enough; but if ships go on
increasing in size as they have been, it won't be a great while before
another and longer dock will be needed at Auckland as well as in other
ports."

While Frank was noting the foregoing points in regard to Auckland, Fred
was writing a few paragraphs relative to New Zealand. And first he
wondered how it came to be New Zealand instead of New England or New
Britain.

"That's easily explained," said Doctor Bronson, "by the fact that it
was discovered by the Dutch navigator, Tasman; the French and Spaniards
both lay claim to a previous discovery, but the evidence they offer is
very doubtful. Tasman was sent in 1642 by Van Dieman, Governor-general
of the Dutch East Indies, to explore the coast of New Holland. He made
the exploration and called the country Van Dieman's Land, in honor of
the Governor-general, but the name has recently been changed to
Tasmania. On this voyage he discovered this country, which he called New
Zealand, in honor of the province of his birth; he also discovered the
archipelagos of the Feejee and Friendly isles, and returned to Batavia,
having been absent only ten months.

[Illustration: VIEW OF AUCKLAND FROM MOUNT EDEN.]

"Look at the map," continued the Doctor, "and you will see that New
Zealand is divided nearly in the centre by a channel of the sea known as
Cook Strait. The two islands thus formed are known as North Island and
South Island, the former containing forty-eight thousand square miles,
and the latter fifty-seven thousand. Beyond South Island is Stewart
Island, which is triangular, and measures about thirty-six miles on a
side; taken together the three islands remind you of Italy, and are
shaped not unlike a boot with its toe towards the north. South Island
is sometimes called Middle Island, from its position between North and
Stewart islands.

[Illustration: MISSION STATION AT TANGITERORIA, NEW ZEALAND.]

"Cook Strait commemorates the great navigator who was killed on the
Sandwich Islands. He landed here in 1769, and took possession of the
country in the name of England. He made five visits altogether to New
Zealand, and introduced pigs, potatoes, sheep, goats, and other animals
and vegetables."

"Hadn't Tasman already taken the country for Holland?" said Frank.

"No," replied the Doctor, "he did not set foot at all in New Zealand. He
anchored in a bay in South Island, next to that in which the town of
Nelson now stands, and had an encounter with the natives who opposed his
going on shore. He lost four men in the fight, named the place Massacre
Bay, in memory of the occurrence, and sailed away without landing."

"How soon after Captain Cook's occupation of the country did the British
Government establish colonies?"

"Not for some time," replied Doctor Bronson. "In the latter part of the
last century and the beginning of this many American and English whalers
visited New Zealand, and year by year the knowledge of the country was
increased. Visitors usually got along well enough with the natives, and
were kindly treated; whenever there were encounters with the New
Zealanders they were generally caused by the misconduct of the visitors
themselves. Thus, in 1809, the captain of the English ship _Boyd_
flogged and otherwise ill-treated a native chief, and the followers of
the latter took a terrible revenge by killing no less than seventy of
the crew and passengers.

[Illustration: EARLY DAYS IN NEW ZEALAND.]

"On some parts of the coast the natives were for a long time hostile,
probably in consequence of outrages that had been committed by whalemen
and others. Some of their ideas of the white men were curious. The
natives paddle their boats with their faces towards the bow, and when
they saw the foreign boats coming to the shore they thought the men had
eyes in the backs of their heads because they rowed with their backs in
the direction of their course. Some of them thought the ships were great
birds, and their boats the birdlets or chicks.

"As in Polynesia, the missionaries were the pioneers of civilization in
New Zealand. They came here in 1814, and previous to that time only one
European, a shipwrecked sailor, is known to have lived among the
natives. The Church Missionary Society established a mission in that
year at the Bay of Islands, now called Russell--the mission party
consisting of Rev. Samuel Marsden, chaplain to the Government of New
South Wales, and three other ministers, Kendall, Hall, and King. They
were kindly received by the chiefs, and held their first service on
Christmas-day, 1814. Eight years later the Wesleyans established
missions in New Zealand, and sixteen years after that (in 1838), the
Roman Catholics did likewise."

"Then the missionaries were in advance of all Government colonization?"
said Fred.

"The Church Missionary Society and the Wesleyans certainly were," was
the reply, "as the Government did not send a resident official here till
1833. He had no power beyond that of writing reports of what he saw and
heard, and was felicitously styled by somebody 'a man-of-war without
guns.' There had been an attempt to form a colony in 1825, but it was
given up, and the sixty emigrants who came out from England returned in
the ship that brought them. The mission establishment at Kororareka, in
the Bay of Islands, became the nucleus around which a good many lawless
adventurers gathered. The bay was the resort of whale-ships, and in 1838
it was visited by fifty-six American, twenty-three English, twenty-one
French, one German, and twenty-four New South Wales ships. There was so
much lawlessness and crime that a vigilance committee was formed, very
much like the institutions of that name which have been famous in
California history.

"In 1837," continued the Doctor, glancing occasionally at a book he held
in his hand,[6] "an association was formed for the purpose of colonizing
the country, very much as India had been colonized by the East India
Company. It was styled the New Zealand Company, and was founded by Lord
Durham, and after some delay a surveying ship was sent out, followed by
several ships carrying emigrants. This was the beginning of the
colonization of New Zealand; the first settlement was made at what is
now Wellington, the capital, though it was then named Port Nicholson.
Auckland was founded soon after; and with the foundation of that city
and the establishment of a government, the colony was well under way. It
prospered for a while, and then, owing to quarrels with the natives,
there was a long period of gloom.

[6] "Forty Years in New Zealand," by Rev. James Buller.

"We will talk more on this subject by-and-by," said the Doctor; "just at
present we will use our eyes in studying the present rather than the
past."

With this hint the youths closed their note-books and returned them
carefully to the pockets where they belonged.

The youths were curious to see a Maori (pronounced mow-ry, the first
syllable rhyming with "cow"), and they had not left the steps of the
hotel before their desire was gratified. Their fellow-passenger from the
_Zealandia_ pointed out several of the aborigines of New Zealand, and
among them he recognized an acquaintance, who greeted him cordially.

Frank was disappointed at seeing the man dressed in European garb, and
looking altogether so much like an Englishman that he was not readily
distinguished from the men of British origin. He was fully six feet
high, muscular and well-formed, and had a slight tendency to corpulence.
His face was darker than that of the average Englishman, and about the
complexion of a native of the middle or south of France, and certainly
lighter than the southern Italian. Frank thought it could be described
as a light brown; but he was informed that these people are of different
hues, and the Maoris have twelve names to indicate as many shades of
color.

[Illustration: IN A STATE OF DECADENCE.]

The eyes of this specimen native were black, and his hair was also black
and slightly curly. As he talked he displayed a fine set of teeth; and
as dentists are unknown among the Maoris, it is to be supposed these
teeth were natural. His features were regular and symmetrical, the nose
having a slight tendency to an aquiline form, the lips large and well
developed, but not thick like those of the negro, and the mouth
capacious enough for all practical purposes.

After a short conversation with his friend the Maori passed on, and then
Frank learned that he belonged to one of the families of chiefs, and
could therefore be considered as belonging to the aristocratic branch of
the race.

"There are about forty thousand, or perhaps forty-five thousand, Maoris
in New Zealand at present," said the gentleman. "Two or three thousand
of them live on South Island, and all the rest upon North Island. The
families of the chiefs are readily distinguished by their superior grace
and dignity, just as the aristocratic part of a race is distinguished in
any other part of the world. When Captain Cook came here the Maoris were
savages and cannibals, though they had a patriarchal form of government,
and in several ways had made an approach to civilization."

"They practised tattooing, did they not?" one of the youths asked.

"Certainly," was the reply; "and some of them still do so, though the
habit is dying out. In another generation it will hardly be heard of any
more. The Maoris are becoming assimilated to the European population
around them. Many of them own houses and farms, have large herds and
flocks, and there are several Maori merchants and ship-owners. Many of
them are employed by the English settlers and merchants, and you will
find them on the railways and in the coasting steamers, where they make
good sailors and are generally liked by their employers."

Frank asked whence they were supposed to have come, and how long it
probably was since they settled in New Zealand.

[Illustration: A KAINGA MAORI (NATIVE VILLAGE).]

"They are of Malay origin," said the gentleman, "and according to their
traditions, which are unusually clear, they came here from either the
Sandwich or the Samoan islands, four or five centuries ago, in a fleet
of thirteen large canoes, which were followed by others. The names of
their canoes, the chiefs that commanded them, and the places where they
landed are carefully preserved in their traditions. They say that they
came from an island called Hawaiki, in the Pacific Ocean, and this is
thought to be either Savaii, in the Samoan group, or Hawaii in the
Sandwich Islands. Their language is so nearly like that of the Sandwich
Islanders that the two people can understand each other after a little
practice.

"They had no written language until one was made for them by the
missionaries, and the nearest approach to it was a knotted stick, by
which the wise men transmitted the names of successive chiefs. They had
a great many songs of love, war, religion, and other things, but these
are fast dying out, and so are their traditions and legends. Sir George
Grey collected many of their poems, myths, and fables, and published
them in a large octavo volume, and if you wish to know more on this
subject you can see the book in our public library."

[Illustration: CARVED NEW ZEALAND CHEST.]

Fred asked if they were diminishing in numbers as rapidly as the people
of the South Sea Islands had diminished since the advent of the white
strangers.

"Yes," was the reply, "but civilization has had less to do with their
reduction than the quarrels among themselves. When Captain Cook took
possession of the islands, it is thought there were 120,000 Maoris
living here; to-day there are less than 50,000. Before the whites came
here the Maoris were divided into eighteen nations or great tribes, and
the nations were subdivided into tribes, of which each had its chief
whom it acknowledged. Each tribal chief regarded the head of his nation
as his lord and obeyed his orders.

"The nations were constantly at war with each other, and then, too, the
tribes of any one nation might be at war among themselves. The Maoris
loved war for its own sake, vastly preferring it to peace, however much
it might inconvenience them. Some of their ways were peculiar, and quite
at variance with European notions or customs. Shall I tell you some of
them?"

The youths expressed their desire to hear more about this interesting
people, and their informant continued:

"Their wars were conducted with great ferocity, and the vanquished were
either enslaved by the victors or killed and eaten."

"That is not so very strange," said Fred, as the gentleman paused;
"savages in many parts of the world do the same thing."

"Of course they do," was the reply; "but they do not divide their
ammunition and supplies with their enemies in order that they can fight
on equal terms."

"Did the Maoris do that?" Fred asked in astonishment.

"Certainly they did, on several occasions that are known to the white
residents. While they were at war with the English they used to send
notice whenever they were about to make an attack, and they thought we
did not treat them fairly in not doing the same. After the last war one
of our officers asked a Maori chief why it was that when he had command
of a certain road he did not attack the ammunition and provision trains.
'Why, you fool!' answered the Maori, much astonished, 'if we had stolen
your powder and food, how could you have fought?'

"Once when one chief insulted another, the latter remarked that if chief
number one had not known his own superiority in arms and ammunition, he
would not have dared to behave in such a manner. Thereupon chief number
one divided his fighting material into two equal parts, and sent one
part to his enemy with an invitation to war.

"Sometimes two villages would get up a little war, and after fighting
each other all day, the inhabitants would come out of their forts
towards evening and talk over the day's sport in the most friendly way.
The next morning they would begin again, and keep it up during the
daytime, to meet in the evening for a social conference. An old
missionary used to tell how, in one of these local wars, he had known
the defenders of a fort to send out to their assailants that they were
short of provisions, and the latter would immediately send in a supply
of food. The same missionary said he had performed divine service one
Sunday between two hostile forts, the inhabitants of which came out to
worship, meet in the most perfect amity, and return, to resume fighting
on Monday morning.

"It is estimated," said the gentleman, "that between the years 1820 and
1840 more than thirty thousand Maoris perished in these inter-tribal
wars. Many perished in the wars with the English, and many others have
died in consequence of their contact with civilization, as in the
islands of the Pacific, some from intemperance, and others from
small-pox, measles, and kindred diseases, which were brought here by the
whites. At present wars among them have ceased, cannibalism is unknown,
fully one-half of the adults can read and write, and two-thirds of them
belong to the churches."

[Illustration: MAORI WAR CLUBS.]

CHAPTER IX.

THE SUBURBS OF AUCKLAND.--EXTINCT VOLCANOES.--MAORI FORTIFICATIONS.--A
KAURI FOREST.--KAURI LUMBER AND GUM.--HOW THE GUM IS FORMED AND
FOUND.--TREES OF NEW ZEALAND AND THEIR VALUE.--FERNS AND THEIR
VARIETY.--A PAKEHA MAORI.--HIS REMINISCENCES.--CURIOUS NATIVE
CUSTOMS.--BUYING HEADS.--SALE OF A LIVING MAN'S HEAD.--THE LAW OF
MURU.--NEW ZEALAND BIRDS.--THE GIGANTIC MOA, OR DINORNIS.--NATIVE
WEDDINGS.--KAWAU ISLAND.--SHARK FISHING.--OYSTERS.--VISITING THE
THAMES GOLD-FIELDS.--SIGHTS AND SCENES.--GOLD MINING IN NEW
ZEALAND.--POPULATION OF THE COLONY.--ENCOURAGEMENT TO
IMMIGRATION.--JOURNEY TO THE HOT LAKES.--CLIMATE OF NEW ZEALAND.

[Illustration: LAKE IN THE CRATER OF AN EXTINCT VOLCANO.]

After a glance at the interior of Auckland, our friends naturally turned
their attention to its surroundings. They were reminded of Naples, as
Auckland is in a region of extinct volcanoes, one of which, Mount Eden,
rises only a mile from the city. Following the advice of the landlord of
the hotel, they drove thither, passing numerous villas of the well-to-do
residents, with which the sides of the mountain are dotted. From the
edge of the crater there is a fine view of the city and its
surroundings, and the view takes in several volcanoes.

The Maoris had formerly a fortification on the top of the mountain; it
surrounded the crater, so that a whole tribe could be concealed there,
if necessary, for purposes of defence. Frank and Fred traced out some of
the terraces that formed the original fortification, and Doctor Bronson
said the works showed a good deal of military skill.

Within a radius of ten miles of the city no less then sixty-two points
of eruption have been found, the greater part of them being only
insignificant cones or hills. The largest and best specimen of the
extinct volcanoes of Auckland is Rangitoto, which rises from a great
mass of black lava, presenting a forbidding appearance. Unfortunately
for the beauty of the landscape, the forest that once covered this
region has been nearly all cut or burned away, and Auckland will
doubtless regret in the near future the desolation which her settlers
have made.

[Illustration: SAWING A KAURI PINE.]

The youths were anxious to see the famous Kauri pine (_Damara
Australis_), which is confined wholly to Auckland, and is the most
renowned of New Zealand trees. Before returning to the city they were
driven where they saw a single specimen, and before their departure from
the district they had the satisfaction of seeing a Kauri forest. Frank's
note on this subject is interesting, and we are permitted to quote it:

"The peculiarity of the Kauri pine is that the trunk does not appear to
diminish in size from the ground to where the limbs begin to spread. We
saw some trees more than two hundred feet high; they were eight or nine
feet in diameter at the base, and had no limbs within forty or fifty
feet of the ground. They reminded us of the famous big trees of
California, but were taller in proportion to their diameter. We don't
think we ever saw more graceful trees anywhere. They haven't a great
deal of foliage, and it grows in little tufts very much like bushes.

"The wood is full of gum, and is very valuable as timber. They told us
it was the finest wood in the world for shingles, as the gum preserved
it from the effects of the weather. A great deal of the lumber from the
Kauri pine is shipped to other parts of New Zealand, and also to
Australia, China, Feejee, and other places where it can find a market.
Many of the sticks have been sent to England to serve as masts and spars
for her Majesty's ships of war, and altogether the trade in Kauri lumber
is very large. The result is, a great deal has been cut away, and the
time is not very distant when the Kauri forests will be gone.

[Illustration: STOCK-FARM IN THE SUBURBS.]

"While we were walking among the Kauri trees our guide prodded the earth
with a spear that he carried, and he kept doing this so frequently that
we asked what it meant. He answered that he was looking for Kauri gum,
and after a time he struck a hard substance, which he dug down to and
brought to light.

"It was a lump of Kauri gum, and looked more like amber than anything
else; in fact, it is said to be used very often in place of amber for
the mouth-pieces of pipes and cigar-holders, and for other purposes
where amber is ornamental. It is worth eight or ten cents a pound, and
the shipment of Kauri gum from Auckland amounts to nearly a million
dollars annually.

"'How do you get the gum?' one of us inquired of the man who was showing
us through the forest.

"'In just the way you see,' he replied. 'The gum cannot be obtained
from the tree by any process of tapping or reducing from the wood. The
tree falls and dies, and then, when it decays, the gum collects in lumps
in the ground. It takes years and years for it to collect, and this
little lump, which I have just taken from the ground, has probably been
lying here for centuries. A new forest has risen where the old one
stood, and has taken a long, long while to grow.'

[Illustration: A WATER-OAK.]

"We asked what other timber-trees there were in New Zealand, and our
informant mentioned the Kahikatea, or white pine; the Rimu, or red pine;
the Totara, which is claimed to be impervious to the attacks of the
teredo; and the Tanekaha, which has a handsome, close-grained, and
durable wood, and whose bark furnishes a strong dye. Then there is the
Matai, which is much like the English yew, and is used for making
furniture; the Miro, which has a beautiful red fruit on which pigeons
grow fat; and the Kawaka, which has a remarkable leaf and a durable
wood.

"There is a great variety of tree-ferns, some of them reaching a height
of forty feet, and a diameter of twelve inches or more. The most
tropical of all the trees of New Zealand is the Nikau, which is the only
representative of the palm family. The ferns are more tropical than the
trees, and add very much to the beauty of the forest, though they impede
locomotion in many places. As for fruit-trees, there are very few
indigenous to the country, but nearly everything that grows in the
United States or England flourishes, and they have many things here that
are strangers to us at home. Peaches, apples, apricots, figs, oranges,
strawberries, pears, and other fruits are abundant in their seasons, and
some of them reach a luxuriance and perfection surpassing that of the
countries whence they came.

"Near the Kauri forest we were shown a Maori _pah_, or fort, that is
said to have been the scene of severe fighting in the early days of the
colony. While we were looking at it a man joined our group, and our
guide told us he was a _pakeha_ Maori. You will wonder, as we did, what
a pakeha Maori is.

[Illustration: A PAKEHA MAORI.]

"Well, he's a white man who lives among the Maoris, and in former times,
before the colonization, there was a goodly number of them, for the
simple reason that unless a man was a missionary he couldn't easily stay
in the country without living among the natives. _Pakeha_ means
stranger, and is applied to any white man, and a pakeha Maori is a white
man living among the natives. The tribes were very desirous of having
pakehas among them, for the reason that they could learn useful matters
from them, but more particularly they could buy muskets, gun-powder,
tools, and other trade goods, of which they were in great need. A pakeha
who had trade goods was always welcome, but a man who had nothing was of
little consequence, and sometimes had a hard struggle to keep his head
on his shoulders.

"With a judicious present of a few shillings we got on the right side
of this man, and induced him to talk about what he had seen or knew
among the Maoris. I have written down some of the things he said. I
can't vouch that they are all absolutely correct; but his statements are
corroborated by intelligent white men who have long lived in the
country."

Here we will close Frank's journal for a few minutes and listen to the
pakeha Maori.

[Illustration: A PAKEHA MAORI'S HOME.]

"You see I'm an old man; I came here when I was very young, and have
seen a great many changes. I was in Sydney, and heard New Zealand was a
good place for trade, so I loaded some goods on a schooner that was
coming this way, and in due time was landed in the country. At first I
made my home with one of the whites, who had come here before me and got
on friendly terms with the tribe where he lived; it didn't take long to
do it, as the Maoris were very anxious to buy my goods."

Frank asked what goods they wanted most.

"Muskets and ammunition," was the reply, "and for these they paid
fabulous prices in wild flax, which was the principal product worth
shipping away. They were constantly at war, and the tribe that possessed
the white man's weapons could destroy any tribe that was without them.
This happened in many cases, and whole tribes who were without guns were
destroyed by their more fortunate adversaries. They were literally eaten
up, as the natives were cannibals in those times.

"To get muskets they impoverish themselves, neglecting their agriculture
in order to gather flax to buy them with, and literally starving
themselves. Many died of starvation in consequence, and in another way
muskets proved the death of those who owned them. In the times of clubs
and spears the Maoris had their pahs and villages on high hills, where
the air was pure and the ground dry; when they got muskets they moved
into the low ground, where they were carried off by the dampness and its
consequent fevers. I have known whole villages and tribes killed in this
way, so that not one man, woman, or child remained. The musket was as
fatal to those who owned it as to those who did not; it was deadly
either way.

[Illustration: VIEW OF A PART OF AUCKLAND AND ITS HARBOR.]

"Now about some of the customs of the Maoris. They used to be tattooed
very finely, and some of the fighting-men were beautiful to look at. The
warriors used to bring back the heads of those they killed in battle,
and some of the traders got to buying these heads provided they were
finely tattooed. They gave a musket for a good head, and as soon as this
was known some of the tribes began to make war on others just for the
sake of getting tattooed heads to sell.

[Illustration: MAORI TATTOOING.]

"You may think it strange, gentlemen," said the pakeha, "but I've known
the head of a live man to be sold and paid for beforehand, and
afterwards honestly delivered according to the agreement; and one time
when the heads of warriors were not equal to the demand for them, some
of the chiefs tattooed the faces of several slaves whom they intended to
kill whenever the traders arrived who had agreed to buy the heads. But
the slaves were not faithful to their masters, as they all ran away into
the bushes just as the inflammation in their faces was passing away and
they were getting in good condition to be marketable.

"They had the tabu in its most rigid form here," he continued; "but as
you probably learned all about it in the South Sea islands I won't take
your time to talk about it.

"Another curious custom of the Maoris was the _muru_; the word means
'plunder'--and some folks might call it robbery, which it amounted to,
though it was the custom, and practically the law of the country.

"If a man's child fell into the fire and was severely or perhaps fatally
burned, he was plundered of nearly everything he possessed, and the same
was the case if his canoe upset while he was fishing, or any other
accident happened to him. The people of the tribe assembled and gave him
notice that they would be there for the muru on a particular day. He
prepared a great feast for them, and after the feast they sacked his
house and carried away pretty nearly everything he had. Sometimes he did
not have enough left to live upon, but he had the opportunity of getting
even by joining in a muru against somebody else. These performances were
never opposed, and in fact a man would feel insulted if a serious
accident of any kind happened to him and no notice was taken of it. The
greater the robbery, the greater the honor conferred upon the victim.

"If a man killed another through malice and with deliberate intent, the
act was generally considered of no consequence, or it might even be
meritorious. If it was his own slave that he killed, it was considered
his personal affair entirely; if the victim was of another tribe, it was
a matter of tribal revenge or retaliation; and if of his own tribe he
would be defended by his family or section, and nothing came of it. But
if he killed a man of his own tribe by accident, such as the discharge
of a gun, then the law of muru had full force, and the man and all his
relatives were plundered of everything they possessed."

[Illustration: INLAND SCENERY.]

Fred asked if the Maoris were given to the ordinary kind of thieving,
like most savage nations.

"Much less than you might suppose," was the reply. "Of course there were
pilferers; but, on the whole, private property was pretty safe from
burglary and sneak-thieving. The muru gave an opportunity for
plundering, and so did the warfare between the tribes; but a man could
exempt himself from the muru if he wished, by giving up all claims to
its advantages on his own account. When I first came to New Zealand I
was the subject of a muru, and afterwards joined in one upon a Maori
friend; but I found so many disadvantages, losing so much more than I
gained, that I stipulated to have nothing to do with these affairs in
future.

"In actual honesty the Maoris have been injured by their contact with
Europeans. They will steal and do other improper things more than
formerly; but against this we must offset the abolition of slavery,
cannibalism, tribal wars, polygamy, and many of their superstitious and
cruel practices. When anything is stolen from you the chief can recover
it, and will do so if you apply to him. Custom requires that you should
tell him to keep it as a reward for his trouble, and so you don't gain
much by the recovery of the plunder.

[Illustration: CAPTAIN COOK'S GIFT TO THE MAORIS.]

"They were not favored by nature," continued their historian, "as they
did not have the bread-fruit, banana, and cocoa-tree to supply them with
food, and they did not even have the pig until it was given to them by
Captain Cook. Dogs and rats were their only quadrupeds, and they ate
both. The native dogs are extinct, as the Maoris did not care to
preserve them when pigs became plentiful.

"It used to be the custom to make human sacrifices on the death of a
chief; prisoners of war were used for this purpose, their blood being
sprinkled on the grave, and the flesh roasted and eaten. There was a
grand feast at a funeral, and even now this custom is kept up, though
they have no longer any human sacrifices. The festivities at a Maori
funeral are very much like those of an Irish 'wake,' and something like
an Arab burial ceremony. They eat and drink all they can get, and the
mourning is performed by the women, who howl and cry for hours, simply
because it is the custom to do so."

As the time of our friends was limited, they bade adieu to the pakeha
Maori, and left him to meditate upon the changes that had taken place
since his advent into New Zealand.

"He might have told you," said their guide, "that the native rat has
been killed off by the European one, which was introduced from ships,
and the European house-fly has driven away the native blue blow-fly. The
foreign clover is killing the ferns, and European grasses generally are
supplanting the native ones very rapidly. The English sparrow has become
very common in New Zealand, and will doubtless destroy some of the
native birds."

Fred asked about the birds of the country, but his informant could not
describe them with any degree of accuracy. Later the youth learned that
there are one hundred and thirty-six varieties in all, of which
seventy-three are land birds. One of these, the Apteryx, or Kiwi, is
wingless, and lives in the mountains. He is very scarce, and only rarely
captured or even seen. There are six varieties of parrots, and two of
falcons--one about the size of a pigeon, and the other a very active and
industrious sparrow-hawk. There is one owl, and there is a blackbird,
which is called the "parson bird" by the settlers, for the reason that
it has two white feathers under its chin like the ends of a clergyman's
neck-tie.

[Illustration: SKELETON OF THE EXTINCT MOA (DINORNIS).]

Fred asked if New Zealand was not the home of the now extinct Dinornis,
the largest bird of which we have any positive knowledge.

"Yes," replied his informant; "the bird was called _Moa_ by the natives,
and it is pretty clearly established that he was abundant when the
Maoris came here, but was wiped out of existence some two hundred years
ago. Skeletons of the Moa have been found, and show that the largest of
these birds must have attained a height of fourteen to sixteen feet."

"Were they dangerous?" was the very natural query which followed.

"Not by any means; they were wingless, and belonged to the ostrich
family, and the naturalists say they were stupid birds, that could
easily fall a prey to man. This fact accounts for their extinction in
the first two or three centuries of the presence of the Maoris in New
Zealand. It is fortunate that their skeletons have been preserved in the
earth, so that we can know positively that such great birds existed."

"How do you know the Maoris lived upon these birds?"

"Partly through their traditions, and partly from the discovery of many
of the bones of the Moa in the ovens and in the heaps of rubbish around
the ruins of ancient villages. The natives devoured any birds they could
catch; parrots, pigeons, parson-birds, anything and everything edible
was legitimate food. Those that dwelt on the coast lived chiefly on a
fish diet, and those in the interior made annual or more frequent
migrations to the sea-side for purposes of fishing. The rivers abound in
eels, and they grow to an enormous size; I have seen eels weighing fifty
pounds each, and have heard of larger ones."

Frank asked what the clothing of the natives was made of before the
Europeans came to the country.

[Illustration: DRESSING FLAX.]

"It was made from the fibre of the flax," was the reply. "There are
several kinds of flax, and it grows everywhere and near every village.
Not only did it supply the material for garments, but for nets, baskets,
lines, mats, dishes, cordage, and other things. They used cords made
from it for binding the walls and roofs of their houses together, and
thus made it serve in place of nails. Great quantities of flax are
raised here nowadays, as you will understand when you know there are
some forty and odd flax-mills in the colony, and considerable flax is
exported every year.

"Most of the Maoris that you will see during your stay in New Zealand
wear clothes of European style, as they find them more convenient than
the cloaks and mats of former days. On ceremonial occasions the old
finery is displayed, and the cloaks of some of the chiefs are really
magnificent. Cloaks and mats or blankets were the ordinary dress, one
mat being wrapped around the waist, and the other thrown over the
shoulder. Men wore their mats on the right shoulder, and women on the
left, and they sometimes adorned their heads with the gayest feathers
they could find. Children went naked in their early years, except in the
coldest weather, when they wrapped themselves in any old garments they
could lay hands on."

The youths learned many other things about the Maoris, but we have not
room for all the notes they made on the subject. Frank asked
particularly about the marriage ceremonies of the natives, probably for
the information of his young lady friends at home. He learned that
children might be betrothed by their parents when very young, or if not
so betrothed they could marry very much as in civilized lands. Sometimes
the parents and families, and more frequently the whole tribe, discussed
any proposed match, and made all sorts of hinderances to it. Courtship
was begun by the girl quite as often as by the young man, and when
marriage was decided there were great preparations for a festivity, and
the bride and bridegroom were provided with new mats and many other
articles of household use. The funny part of the business was that
during the marriage-feast everything movable was carried away by the