- end_line
- 10092
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.153Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 10021
- text
- sitting down himself, asked us a great many questions, in mixed English
and Tahitian. After giving some directions to an old man to prepare
food, our host’s wife, a large, benevolent-looking woman, upwards of
forty, also sat down by us. In our soiled and travel-stained
appearance, the good lady seemed to find abundant matter for
commiseration; and all the while kept looking at us piteously, and
making mournful exclamations.
But Jeremiah and his spouse were not the only inmates of the mansion.
In one corner, upon a large native couch, elevated upon posts, reclined
a nymph; who, half-veiled in her own long hair, had yet to make her
toilet for the day. She was the daughter of Po-Po; and a very beautiful
little daughter she was; not more than fourteen; with the most
delightful shape—like a bud just blown; and large hazel eyes. They
called her Loo; a name rather pretty and genteel, and therefore quite
appropriate; for a more genteel and lady-like little damsel there was
not in all Imeeo.
She was a cold and haughty young beauty though, this same little Loo,
and never deigned to notice us; further than now and then to let her
eyes float over our persons, with an expression of indolent
indifference. With the tears of the Loohooloo girls hardly dry from
their sobbing upon our shoulders, this contemptuous treatment stung us
not a little.
When we first entered, Po-Po was raking smooth the carpet of dried
ferns which had that morning been newly laid; and now that our meal was
ready, it was spread on a banana leaf, right upon this fragrant floor.
Here we lounged at our ease, eating baked pig and breadfruit off
earthen plates, and using, for the first time in many a long month,
real knives and forks.
These, as well as other symptoms of refinement, somewhat abated our
surprise at the reserve of the little Loo; her parents, doubtless, were
magnates in Partoowye, and she herself was an heiress.
After being informed of our stay in the vale of Martair, they were very
curious to know on what errand we came to Taloo. We merely hinted that
the ship lying in the harbour was the reason of our coming.
Arfretee, Po-Po’s wife, was a right motherly body. The meal over, she
recommended a nap; and upon our waking much refreshed, she led us to
the doorway, and pointed down among the trees; through which we saw the
gleam of water. Taking the hint, we repaired thither; and finding a
deep shaded pool, bathed, and returned to the house. Our hostess now
sat down by us; and after looking with great interest at the doctor’s
cloak, felt of my own soiled and tattered garments for the hundredth
time, and exclaimed plaintively—“Ah nuee nuee olee manee! olee manee!”
(Alas! they are very, very old! very old!)
When Arfretee, good soul, thus addressed us, she thought she was
talking very respectable English. The word “nuee” is so familiar to
foreigners throughout Polynesia, and is so often used by them in their
intercourse with the natives, that the latter suppose it to be common
to all mankind. “Olee manee” is the native pronunciation of “old man,”
which, by Society Islanders talking Saxon, is applied indiscriminately
to all aged things and persons whatsoever.
Going to a chest filled with various European articles, she took out
two suits of new sailor frocks and trousers; and presenting them with a
gracious smile, pushed us behind a calico screen, and left us. Without
any fastidious scruples, we donned the garments; and what with the
meal, the nap, and the bath, we now came forth like a couple of
bridegrooms.
Evening drawing on, lamps were lighted. They were very simple; the half
of a green melon, about one third full of cocoa-nut oil, and a wick of
twisted tappa floating on the surface. As a night lamp, this
contrivance cannot be excelled; a soft dreamy light being shed through
the transparent rind.
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