the appearance of Her Majesty's ships. Not so very long ago, the sight of such puffing wonders would have scared and enraged them too. They would have sought to prevent the landing of the intruders, or fled to the depths of their woods, there to consult as to measures of defence, and look to their clubs and poisoned arrows. But these days are gone. They tender a ready welcome to the kai papalagi (white man) now.

The canoes I have mentioned were approaching us from the shore. They were six feet long, or less, very narrow and of the rudest construction, being simply stout logs of wood scooped into boatlike form. In the stern of each sat a naked brown boy, paddling with all his might, and piloting his craft dextercusly enough. One had a little cargo of pineapples, shaddocks, and bananas on board. The other had nothing to sell, but was desirous of exhibiting his skill in diving; and in reply to his urgent entreaties, a fourpenny-piece was cast into the water beyond him, where it circled slowly as it sank. In an instant, the young diver had dropped in head foremost after it, almost without a splash, kicking his canoe topsy-turvy, and sending his paddle adrift in his eagerness. He was up again, with the prize in his mouth, immediately. Then he had to right his ship, get himself in again, and bale out the water which had collected at the bottom-all which feats he performed in a surprisingly short space of time. But ere he had finished, an old uniform button, or perhaps another coin, had been flung in, and over he went again in a trice. This time, the vendor of fruit was tempted to try what he could do in the same way, and in he plunged as well. The divers must have knocked heads pretty sharply under water, and I know not which got the button, but they rose panting and still struggling to the surface, and there floundered, to the infinite amusement of beholders.

Before this aquatic diversion had terminated, I went on shore with three companions, one of whom was acquainted with the enterprising owner of a "store," which was an object conspicuous from our anchorage. Thither he conducted us. I found the place, as I expected, an emporium of every variety of merchandise, a mart where all the dawning wants which come with civilisation can be gratified. An underling, in his shirt sleeves, was displaying the glories of a printed calico to two Tongan damsels, difficult to please; and a little savage, who had just purchased a broom three times his own length, seemed anxious to test its quality by brushing our faces with it as we entered. The owner was at the receipt of custom. He met us courteously, took us into his house hard by, and allowed us to sit a bit in easy

chairs in his deep dark verandah. The sun's force was waxing fierce outside, but here it could not reach us. What an elysium of coolness was this dim, draughty retreat, from which, through a veil of drooping branches, we saw our good ship riding peacefully at anchor! A strip of garden lay in front of us. Here bloomed the scarlet hibiscus, here were crotons and dracœnas in plenty; up the posts, and over the roof of the verandah, the granadilla clambered or hung festooned. Next the strip of garden came a strip, about as wide, of sparkling sand shell-sprinkled, moistened by wavelets which strove to crash, but only prattled, as though mimicking the hurly-burly on the reef beyond. These influences were soothing. But we had not landed to sit and dream: So we took leave and started forth on a ramble.

Imagine a woodland avenue from fifteen to twenty feet in width, carpeted with soft turf, and bordered on each side by a neat reed palisade, within which bread-fruit trees, cocoa-nut palms, and bananas flourish in tropical abundance. Other trees there are whose branches meet and mingle overhead, forming above your path a leafy ceiling, upon which the sun's rage beats harmlessly. In places where the screen is broken, or less dense, his beams indeed pierce through, and fling a bar of gold across the sward, or fleck its breadth with blotches of ardent light. But this is seldom. The green vista stretching away and narrowing to nothing in the far distance, is for the most part in deepest shade. Along this we walked.

Dusky figures, almost nude, issuing from openings in the fence of reeds, crossed the avenue on ahead from time to time, and disappeared in an opposite enclosure. Others approached and passed us, carrying baskets of fruit or loads of yams and sugarcanes. Their clothing was of the scantiest certainly, but it displayed to advantage their lithe and graceful figures. Their bearing was independent without being bold, humble without being cringing. They stepped rather to one side as we passed, and did not turn to examine us at once, though presently, if we looked behind, we were sure to see them, still as statues, gazing at our retreating forms, half-astonished, half-amused. And no wonder ! The appearance of their British brethren must to them be strangely droll at first.

The air was

I heard neither song of bird nor hum of insect. silent, except that ever and anon there came, from far and near, the sound of wood meeting wood. The effect was not unpleasing to the ear, and it has been noticed, I find, by most travellers who have recorded their experiences in these regions. Tap-a-tap-a-tap came

the sound. Now I am not attempting the feeblest play on a word when I state that this was caused by the fact that divers women in the surrounding enclosures were occupied in making tapa, such being the name given to the native cloth. As we advanced this tapping became still more frequent. We heard it on all sides. We passed before an enclosure of greater dimensions than the others. Its bamboo paling was higher, its belt of trees more stately and umbrageous. From the opening which gave access to it we saw that the domain within looked inviting, for oranges and pineapples were ripening there, and the trim, undulating greensward was dotted with cocoanut palms, ivi trees, and aloes. Buff-coloured houses and sheds occupied the background. The making of tapa was proceeding briskly, to judge by the noise. Now, we had a fancy to see how this fabric is made, so we entered. We were in fact now in Maafu's own particular territory, the enclosure within which dwell his immediate retainers and domestics, not to mention the soldiers forming his body-guard.

Beneath a leafy tamarind sat a girl as busy as a bee over her tapa, hammering lustily. Leaning against another tree, watching her movements, and exchanging a word with her now and then, stood a youth. We, in our customary free-and-easy way, seated ourselves on the trunk of a felled tree, which lay close by, and watched her too.

Tapa is made from the bark of the paper mulberry, a quantity of which is peeled from the tree in long strips and deposited in a running stream, until this soaking process has reduced its fibres to a pulpy mass. It is then spread in layers on a smooth surface of wood, and beaten out flat with a wooden mallet, the sides of which are grooved horizontally. Owing to the glutinous nature of the sap of the fibres, the pieces are joined together with ease. The edge of one having been wetted, and placed so as to overlap the edge of the other, the seam thus formed is also beaten with the mallet, till it becomes as stout and strong as the tightest sewing could make it. After being left to bleach in the sun, it is glazed with a solution of arrowroot, while its borders are stained in fanciful patterns. Fijian gentlemen, disposed to be dandies, appear with fathoms of this cloth twisted around their loins. None of it seems to be spared for the poor ladies who make it, but never have the satisfaction of putting it on. They may wear linen or calico, but not tapa. Many years ago-before the seeds of Christianity had been sown in these islands. by the Wesleyan missionaries—a woman who dared to wear tapa was held to have committed a dire offence, inasmuch as she was

chairs in his deep dark verandah. The sun's force was waxing fierce outside, but here it could not reach us. What an elysium of coolness was this dim, draughty retreat, from which, through a veil of drooping branches, we saw our good ship riding peacefully at anchor! A strip of garden lay in front of us. Here bloomed the scarlet hibiscus, here were crotons and dracenas in plenty; up the posts, and over the roof of the verandah, the granadilla clambered or hung festooned. Next the strip of garden came a strip, about as wide, of sparkling sand shell-sprinkled, moistened by wavelets which strove to crash, but only prattled, as though mimicking the hurly-burly on the reef beyond. These influences were soothing. But we had not landed to sit and dream: So we took leave and started forth on a ramble.

Imagine a woodland avenue from fifteen to twenty feet in width, carpeted with soft turf, and bordered on each side by a neat reed palisade, within which bread-fruit trees, cocoa-nut palms, and bananas flourish in tropical abundance. Other trees there are whose branches meet and mingle overhead, forming above your path a leafy ceiling, upon which the sun's rage beats harmlessly. In places where the screen is broken, or less dense, his beams indeed pierce through, and fling a bar of gold across the sward, or fleck its breadth with blotches of ardent light. But this is seldom. The green vista stretching away and narrowing to nothing in the far distance, is for the most part in deepest shade. Along this we walked.

Dusky figures, almost nude, issuing from openings in the fence of reeds, crossed the avenue on ahead from time to time, and disappeared in an opposite enclosure. Others approached and passed us, carrying baskets of fruit or loads of yams and sugarcanes. Their clothing was of the scantiest certainly, but it displayed to advantage their lithe and graceful figures. Their bearing was independent without being bold, humble without being cringing. They stepped rather to one side as we passed, and did not turn to examine us at once, though presently, if we looked behind, we were sure to see them, still as statues, gazing at our retreating forms, half-astonished, half-amused. And no wonder! The appearance of their British brethren must to them be strangely droll at first.

I heard neither song of bird nor hum of insect. The air was silent, except that ever and anon there came, from far and near, the sound of wood meeting wood. The effect was not unpleasing to the ear, and it has been noticed, I find, by most travellers who have recorded their experiences in these regions. Tap-a-tap-a-tap came

the sound. Now I am not attempting the feeblest play on a word when I state that this was caused by the fact that divers women in the surrounding enclosures were occupied in making tapa, such being the name given to the native cloth. As we advanced this tapping became still more frequent. We heard it on all sides. We passed before an enclosure of greater dimensions than the others. Its bamboo paling was higher, its belt of trees more stately and umbrageous. From the opening which gave access to it we saw that the domain within looked inviting, for oranges and pineapples were ripening there, and the trim, undulating greensward was dotted with cocoanut palms, ivi trees, and aloes. Buff-coloured houses and sheds occupied the background. The making of tapa was proceeding briskly, to judge by the noise. Now, we had a fancy to see how this fabric is made, so we entered. We were in fact now in Maafu's own particular territory, the enclosure within which dwell his immediate retainers and domestics, not to mention the soldiers forming his body-guard.

Beneath a leafy tamarind sat a girl as busy as a bee over her tapa, hammering lustily. Leaning against another tree, watching her movements, and exchanging a word with her now and then, stood a youth. We, in our customary free-and-easy way, seated ourselves on the trunk of a felled tree, which lay close by, and watched her

too.

Tapa is made from the bark of the paper mulberry, a quantity of which is peeled from the tree in long strips and deposited in a running stream, until this soaking process has reduced its fibres to a pulpy mass. It is then spread in layers on a smooth surface of wood, and beaten out flat with a wooden mallet, the sides of which are grooved horizontally. Owing to the glutinous nature of the sap of the fibres, the pieces are joined together with ease. The edge of one having been wetted, and placed so as to overlap the edge of the other, the seam thus formed is also beaten with the mallet, till it becomes as stout and strong as the tightest sewing could make it. After being left to bleach in the sun, it is glazed with a solution of arrowroot, while its borders are stained in fanciful patterns. Fijian gentlemen, disposed to be dandies, appear with fathoms of this cloth twisted around their loins. None of it seems to be spared for the poor ladies who make it, but never have the satisfaction of putting it on. They may wear linen or calico, but not tapa. Many years ago-before the seeds of Christianity had been sown in these islands by the Wesleyan missionaries—a woman who dared to wear tapa was held to have committed a dire offence, inasmuch as she was