route. The experience of the previous day had taught us that we could not make progress if we took off our shoes in fording streams, as the streams were too numerous and the rocks and bits of coral in the stream beds were too sharp for our feet. We did discard socks, and at first removed our trousers for the deeper streams. Once a native girl, quite the best looking girl of purely native blood I saw in the island, arrived just as I had reduced my wearing apparel to shoes, shirt and hat, but she was utterly unconcerned. Thereafter I kept the trousers on, but my real reasons were that they were rain soaked and that I did not wish to be dressing and undressing all day long, for we passed about forty streams this day, of which four deserve the name of rivers. More than once we were wet clear to the neck, but the rain and rivers only served to make us comfortable. The water was warm, and our walking was too vigorous to permit of feeling cold.

The eastern side of the island is less populous than the western, probably because it is wetter and more rugged. But it goes far ahead of the western side in grandeur of scenery. Frequently the cliffs run down to the water's edge. The surf effects are magnificent. At one point we could see a dozen great splashes on the rocks like the "Old Man of the Sea" at Santa Cruz, California.

Passing Tiarei we came to Mahaeni, where we encountered our second big river. Parkes made a trial of this where the road goes through, but was promptly swept off his feet. Some natives on the other side waved us up the river, and others came along to guide us. We found a wide place in the river, partially bridged by an island, and nowhere deeper than chests; so we got across.

Our

At Hitiaa we found a third big river, but we were now skilled enough to find a way across. As we ate our noonday meal at the Chinaman's in Hitiaa, we were told that the Papeiha river five miles ahead could not be crossed. No people lived near that river; consequently there would be no boats there nor any assistance. But we decided to try it, and pushed on, amidst the good-natured laughter of the assembled Maoris. As we were leaving the string of houses in Hitiaa, two natives hailed us and beckoned us to their house

and told us of the great river beyond. They seemed to think we could cross it on horseback, and as they had two horses, we hired both men and horses to help us to the Isthmus of Taravao.

Before starting, the Maoris ate their dinner, and this gave us a chance to examine quite closely a typical native home. Contrary to expectation, we found it to be clean. The houses are raised from the ground, for it is too wet here for an earthen floor or a wooden one close to the ground. The walls are of cane or bamboo, thus permitting of plenty of fresh air. Sometimes a thatch of either pandanus or cocoanut leaves covered over with pandanus leaves. The natives are used to the ordinary articles of furniture, such as chairs and beds. The beds are heavy mattresses, but rarely any bed clothing except one sheet. We were greatly surprised to find an oil lamp and a sewing machine, not only in this house, but quite generally over the island. The sewing machine seems especially odd, in view of their limited wardrobe. In one respect the Maori home is cleaner than ours; the native does his cooking and eating outside the house. The cooking shed consists merely of a thatched wall and half-roof to the windward, the side toward the ocean. There is usually no stove, but the meal is cooked on a small fire made on the ground, and is then eaten at a rough table.

If one sits down at table with the Maoris, he may have oranges, bananas, mangoes, papaia, feis, bread-fruit or other fruits. The mango is a sweet-juiced, stringy fruit with a very tough skin, and it is much used as the base for a delicious chutney. The papaia, a tree fruit, somewhat resembles a sweet melon in taste. Feis and bread-fruit havet o be cooked, and then taste much like potato. The former is an acquired taste, but the latter is always good. There may also be fish, if the native has felt inclined to go fishing that day or the previous night. The fish in the waters of Tahiti are numerous, and of many varieties, while their beautiful coloring suggests the tropics. The native may have pork on his table, but seldom any other meat. We saw great numbers of pigs along the road, but very few cows. Possibly the native depends somewhat on goats for milk, for we saw many.

But for mere drink, the native relies upon the cocoanut and the streams. For dessert the Maori is very fond of poi, of which one of our two natives brought us a heaping dish. I had always understood that poi was not a dish that white men relish, but this was very good. It tasted like a gingerbread pudding. The chief ingredients are ground cocoanut and arrowroot.

With a blanket for a saddle, rope for reins and no stirrups, we set out for the dreaded Papeiha River, the two natives. walking on ahead. We could now see the lower part of the figure eight of this island stretching out toward Tautira. Just before reaching the Papeiha, we saw the river in a most enchanting view. Not far away from the road we saw it falling over the cliffs in two beautiful waterfalls aggregating a thousand feet in height, the two together being known as the Fautauatia Falls. Beautiful under any condition, with its background of high mountains, the Fautautia was grander than ever at this moment, as it bore along the swollen waters of the Papeiha River.

One of the Maoris tried the river first, and got across although swept from his horse; the rest of us then went up stream so as to swim it while coming down with the current. I made the first try. One of the natives swam along with me, holding my horse's rein. My horse walked on his hind feet as long as possible, so that both of us were wet to the neck. Finally we had to swim, but he got me across safely. The river was now subsiding so fast that the natives were able to cross and re-cross for Parkes and our meagre luggage at the place where the road went through. All told, the crossing had taken us an hour.

We had hardly started when we came to a bayou of still water across the road, probably an overflow not there under ordinary circumstances. Parkes' horse nearly fell over backwards from standing on his hind legs, so deep was the bayou. Parkes jumped off and swam ashore. One of the Maoris who was carrying our valise in one hand seized Parkes with the other, fearing that Parkes could not swim. Despite lack of hands, he was able to keep swimming. These natives are veritable water rats. No wonder, considering their opportunities. They have so much water that

it gets into their place names. "Pape" means water. It is found in Papeete, Papenoo, Papeiha, Papeari and others.

We learned on this trip that the natives can walk as well as swim. We had difficulty in making our horses keep up with our Maoris. It is not an unusual thing for a native to walk from Taravao to Papeete in six hours, a distance of thirtyeight miles by the western side, and thirtyfive by the many rivered eastern.

It was dark when we arrived at Taravao after a twenty-four mile day. There we put up at the only hotel we saw on the road, Mr. Butcher's 'Hotel des Cosmopolites." Mr. Butcher got his own name from a German father, but in all except complexion he was Maori. At first he seemed a rather fearsome fellow, having for teeth two walrus tusks protruding from his upper jaw. One very soon lost this impression in partaking of his hospitality, and experiencing his genuine courtesy. The "hotel" is only a ratherbetter-than-usual native house, but of the same type. There were three rooms, two at the ends being bedrooms, while the one in the center served as office, sitting room and hall. The cooking kitchen, family dining room and guest dining room, built in the usual native fashion, adjoined the house.

Early next morning we were on the road down the eastern side of the lower loop heading for Tautira, fourteen miles away. We had originally intended making the circuit, but were told that there was a ten mile stretch with no road, and that it was altogether impassable in that part, even for walkers. If we had had time we might have attempted the "impossible," having already done so in the case of the Papeiha River. As it was, we planned to make the twenty-eight miles to Tautira and back to Taravao.

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Our route lay through Afaahiti and Pueu. Streams while plentiful were less numerous than on the day before, and with the exception of the river at Tautira were bridged. Rich in all the general characteristics of beauty to be found along the road, this section is quite distinctive in its mountain scenery. One view across a bayou of the Tautira river is a standard Tahitian beautiful view. Along our route we saw a number of waterfalls, three or

1

four hundred feet in height, most of which I suppose are only wet weather falls.

We had more than our quota of pleasant road experiences this day. I asked a native for a banana. He gave us a dozen: and a basket to carry them in. I had hardly gotten them in my hand when a boy ran up with over a dozen more. Nothing could persuade man or boy to accept money for this gift; we shook hands cordially, and that was all the pay they wanted. At Tautira I asked for a fei, thinking that feis were red bananas. Í was given half a bunch. It was then that I learned that feis have to be cooked, for the red skin covers in its raw state an inedible pulp. I returned my half bunch to the native, who thanked me as if I had done him a favor.

We had to ford the Tautira River in two places, but the road had picked the easiest part of the river for a ford. Soon we were in Tautira. Here Robert Louis Stevenson lived for several months. Here, indeed, he must have found peace and quiet, and remoteness from the world, amidst surroundings as beautiful as anywhere on earth. He could not have enjoyed the comforts of a modern hotel, for there is nothing but the tiniest native huts for dwellings im Tautira.

But for

the Chinese store and the church, this might well be a piece of old Tahiti before the days of Captain Cook.

The Catholic Church at Tautira is an exceptionally good one. There are churches in every village in close juxtaposition as well as competition. The Protestants were first in the field in Tahiti, and stand first numerically. The Catholics have been very successful, and there are also some Mormon missions. The natives like to go to church, but as for being devout Christians, that is another matter, if some authors are to be believed. The natives go to church as to a show. It is a break in the lazy monotony of their lives, and a chance to wear their best clothes. At any rate, Christianity has not yet made any marked change in their code of morals.

The churches are of the simplest construction, usually of wood, but not a few are of stone. They are easily recognized by the fact that they are the only buildings over one story in height. Of course, this rule has its exceptions in Papeete

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and in a few instances in the homes of whites on the western side of the upper loop.

Another characteristic building is the "himeme" building. This is a long, onestory building often painted white. On account of its length, one gets a distinct impression of its bamboo walls. Like the Chinese stores and the churches, it is to be found in every village, testimony of the native love of music.

On this day's walk and on the western side of the island, we found many Chinese engaged in the vanilla business, besides keeping the general store. They buy the vanilla bean and dry them in the sun. This, according to Mr. Butcher, is not the right method of drying them, the best part of the essence being lost. The beans should be put in air-tight bottles and then dried in the sun. When this latter method was generally employed in the past, Tahiti vanilla was one of the best in the world, bringing about five times as much in the market as it does to-day.

Parkes and I had a fine swim in the pool or bayou in the foreground of the beautiful view at Tautira. Two little boys and a girl, who had been serving us for an hour as photographic models, went in with us. The little girl was the star swimmer. She had a great time splashing us, and was a regular fish for darting away under water.

On the return from Tautira to Taravao the sun came out, and we saw Dame Maori doing the family washing in haste to utilize the sun's warmth. No tubs and wringers for her! She takes her pareus and scant linen to the ever-present stream. There she divides her time between dipping the clothes in water and beating the life out of refractory bits of dirt with a flat stick, the garment having previously been placed upon a rock. If any one passes, she stops to look, very curious, but entirely oblivious of her own slender attire.

As the afternoon waned, we set ourselves seriously to the business of getting back, and it was about six o'clock when we arrived at Mr. Butcher's "Hotel," tired but by no means affected with loss of appetite. Here my French got a muchneeded rest, for Mr. Butcher could speak English. We talked much with him about

Tahitian life and customs. He also told us of the beauties of the interior around Lake Wauhiria. If I were to stay in Tahiti for a long time, I should like to spend several weeks at the "Hotel des Cosmopolites." Aside from Mr. Butcher's hospitality, the Isthmus of Taravao is the best center for visiting the scenic parts of the island. Nor is Mr. Butcher so over-burdened with guests as to prevent his serving as companion and guide. We were the only guests he had had for several days. Next morning we felt we had good cause to be thankful that we had not attempted this trip by carriage or bicycle. M. Holozel and his family had started for Mr. Butcher's place in carriages. It was now the fourth day, and they had not yet covered the necessary thirty-five miles!

We were obliged by lack of time to give up the walk to Pari down the western side of the lower loop, and thereby missed some grand scenery, I am told. We planned only fifteen miles this day, through Papeari and Mataiea to Papara, where we were to meet a number of people who came down with us on the Mariposa.

From Taravao to Papeete by the western route the road could not be better. It is level all the way, of a well worn rock foundation, and with bridges. I would advise any one staying just four days in the island, the usual stay of the Mariposa, except in July, when it is eight days, to take a carriage drive or an auto by the western side of the island to Tautira or Pari and back. The route via Papenoo would probably be impossible in the limited time.

The first part of our journey ran along the winding shores of the lagoon, which narrows the Isthmus down to a mile. This stretch of road is particularly beautiful. But from this point on the scenery, while rugged and Tahitian in character, is less distinctive than that on the eastern side and on both sides of the lower loop.

It was Sunday, so we saw the natives in their best clothes. They certainly were a study in color, but were spotlessly clean. Altogether their dress seemed rather appropriate for the tropics. Everybody was out. We saw far greater numbers than on any other day of our walk.

A new feature was the kilometre post, one for each kilometre's distance (about

five-eights of a mile) from Papeete. These help to keep the optimistic pedestrian from overestimating his speed, and give an objective more frequent than the next village.

Frequently in our walk we had noticed. holes by the side of the road, like gopher holes. Finally we observed that they were the habitations of great land crabs. As the land crab is a slow moving creature and incapable of harming man by bite or otherwise, he betakes himself to his hole some time before man arrives. Their hearing or sense of danger must be very acute.

The first Chinese store in Mataiea had no tea or coffee, so we went on in search of another where we had been told our wants would be satisfied. We had walked about a mile, and feared we had passed it; so we went into a European looking house to make inquiries. Whether or not the man was less ingenious than others in understanding my French, he took occasion to inform me that he spoke Spanish. Explicit directions were thereby made easy, as I really knew Spanish. We had hardly left him when he called us back, and asked if we would share his meal, apologizing profusely for what it would be. We lingered for two hours over the meal and cigarettes. In one respect our friend enjoyed distinction. He was the only Spaniard in the island that had been born in Spain. There were a number of Portuguese, some Chileans and a few others with Spanish blood, but Senor Miguel of Navarra was the only true "don." For the rest, he resembled other whites on this island. He had a native wife, as so many have, and had two little dark-skinned babies. He was quite attached to his family, and was much pleased when I took their pictures. In most cases these marriages of white and natives are no marriages at all according to our standards. But they are recognized as perfectly proper in Tahiti, the white husband and father often proving as dutiful and devoted as would one whose marriage had been formally celebrated.

Leaving our host, we covered the remaining distance to Papara at a rapid gait. There we found a number of the Mariposa people at the house of Tati Salmon, chief of the district. Strictly speaking, we had arrived in Papara some