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- 10731
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- CHAPTER LXXIX.
TALOO CHAPEL—HOLDING COURT IN POLYNESIA
In Partoowye is to be seen one of the best-constructed and handsomest
chapels in the South Seas. Like the buildings of the palace, it stands
upon an artificial pier, presenting a semicircular sweep to the bay.
The chapel is built of hewn blocks of coral; a substance which,
although extremely friable, is said to harden by exposure to the
atmosphere. To a stranger, these blocks look extremely curious. Their
surface is covered with strange fossil-like impressions, the seal of
which must have been set before the flood. Very nearly white when hewn
from the reefs, the coral darkens with age; so that several churches in
Polynesia now look almost as sooty and venerable as famed St. Paul’s.
In shape, the chapel is an octagon, with galleries all round. It will
seat, perhaps, four hundred people. Everything within is stained a
tawny red; and there being but few windows, or rather embrasures, the
dusky benches and galleries, and the tall spectre of a pulpit look
anything but cheerful.
On Sundays we always went to worship here. Going in the family suite of
Po-Po, we, of course, maintained a most decorous exterior; and hence,
by all the elderly people of the village, were doubtless regarded as
pattern young men.
Po-Po’s seat was in a snug corner; and it being particularly snug, in
the immediate vicinity of one of the Palm pillars supporting the
gallery, I invariably leaned against it: Po-Po and his lady on one
side, the doctor and the dandy on the other, and the children and poor
relations seated behind.
As for Loo, instead of sitting (as she ought to have done) by her good
father and mother, she must needs run up into the gallery, and sit with
a parcel of giddy creatures of her own age; who, all through the
sermon, did nothing but look down on the congregation; pointing out,
and giggling at the queer-looking old ladies in dowdy bonnets and scant
tunics. But Loo, herself, was never guilty of these improprieties.
Occasionally during the week they have afternoon service in the chapel,
when the natives themselves have something to say; although their
auditors are but few. An introductory prayer being offered by the
missionary, and a hymn sung, communicants rise in their places, and
exhort in pure Tahitian, and with wonderful tone and gesture. And among
them all, Deacon Po-Po, though he talked most, was the one whom you
would have liked best to hear. Much would I have given to have
understood some of his impassioned bursts; when he tossed his arms
overhead, stamped, scowled, and glared, till he looked like the very
Angel of Vengeance.
“Deluded man!” sighed the doctor, on one of these occasions, “I fear he
takes the fanatical view of the subject.” One thing was certain: when
Po-Po spoke, all listened; a great deal more than could be said for the
rest; for under the discipline of two or three I could mention, some of
the audience napped; others fidgeted; a few yawned; and one irritable
old gentleman, in a nightcap of cocoa-nut leaves, used to clutch his
long staff in a state of excessive nervousness, and stride out of the
church, making all the noise he could, to emphasize his disgust.
Right adjoining the chapel is an immense, rickety building, with
windows and shutters, and a half-decayed board flooring laid upon
trunks of palm-trees. They called it a school-house; but as such we
never saw it occupied. It was often used as a court-room, however; and
here we attended several trials; among others, that of a decayed naval
officer, and a young girl of fourteen; the latter charged with having
been very naughty on a particular occasion set forth in the pleadings;
and the former with having aided and abetted her in her naughtiness,
and with other misdemeanours.
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