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- traveller passes on, examining every house attentively; until, at last,
he pauses before one which suits him, and then exclaiming, “ah, eda
maitai” (this one will do, I think), he steps in, and makes himself
perfectly at ease; flinging himself upon the mats, and very probably
calling for a nice young cocoa-nut, and a piece of toasted breadfruit,
sliced thin, and done brown.
Curious to relate, however, should a stranger carrying it thus bravely
be afterwards discovered to be without a house of his own, why, he may
thenceforth go a-begging for his lodgings. The “karhowrees,” or white
men, are exceptions to this rule. Thus it is precisely as in civilized
countries, where those who have houses and lands are incessantly bored
to death with invitations to come and live in other people’s houses;
while many a poor gentleman who inks the seams of his coat, and to whom
the like invitation would be really acceptable, may go and sue for it.
But to the credit of the ancient Tahitians, it should here be observed
that this blemish upon their hospitality is only of recent origin, and
was wholly unknown in old times. So told me, Captain Bob.
In Polynesia it is esteemed “a great hit” if a man succeed in marrying
into a family to which the best part of the community is related
(Heaven knows it is otherwise with us). The reason is that, when he
goes a-travelling, the greater number of houses are the more completely
at his service.
Receiving a paternal benediction from old Darby and Joan, we continued
our journey; resolved to stop at the very next place of attraction
which offered.
Nor did we long stroll for it. A fine walk along a beach of shells, and
we came to a spot where, trees here and there, the land was all meadow,
sloping away to the water, which stirred a sedgy growth of reeds
bordering its margin. Close by was a little cove, walled in with coral,
where a fleet of canoes was dancing up and down. A few paces distant,
on a natural terrace overlooking the sea, were several native
dwellings, newly thatched, and peeping into view out of the foliage
like summer-houses.
As we drew near, forth came a burst of voices, and, presently, three
gay girls, overflowing with life, health, and youth, and full of
spirits and mischief. One was arrayed in a flaunting robe of calico;
and her long black hair was braided behind in two immense tresses,
joined together at the ends, and wreathed with the green tendrils of a
vine. From her self-possessed and forward air, I fancied she might be
some young lady from Papeetee on a visit to her country relations. Her
companions wore mere slips of cotton cloth; their hair was dishevelled;
and though very pretty, they betrayed the reserve and embarrassment
characteristic of the provinces.
The little gipsy first mentioned ran up to me with great cordiality;
and, giving the Tahitian salutation, opened upon me such a fire of
questions that there was no understanding, much less answering them.
But our hearty welcome to Loohooloo, as she called the hamlet, was made
plain enough. Meanwhile, Doctor Long Ghost gallantly presented an arm
to each of the other young ladies; which, at first, they knew not what
to make of; but at last, taking it for some kind of joke, accepted the
civility.
The names of these three damsels were at once made known by themselves:
and being so exceedingly romantic, I cannot forbear particularizing
them. Upon my comrade’s arms, then, were hanging Night and Morning, in
the persons of Farnowar, or the Day-Born, and Earnoopoo, or the
Night-Born. She with the tresses was very appropriately styled
Marhar-Rarrar, the Wakeful, or Bright-Eyed.
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