[Note: this transcription was produced by an automatic OCR engine]

THE SANTA CRUZ ISLANDS 289

paid honours almost divine. We took off our hats
and were led before the chief, a tall, stout man, who
sat in a circle of men on a sort of throne, with his
ceremonial spear leaning against a tree beside him.
His subjects approached him crouching, but he shook
hands with us and smiled kindly at us. A noble
gesture of the hand gave us leave to taste a meal
prepared to welcome us, which looked most uninvit-
ing, but turned out to be beautifully cooked sago and
cocoa—nut cream. We could not finish the generous
portions, and presently signed that we were satisfied ;
the chief seemed to regret that we did not do more
honour to his hospitality, but he gave us permission
to walk about. While all the other natives ran about
in great excitement over our visit, the good old
man sat on his throne all the time, quite solemnly,
although I am convinced that he was fairly bursting
with curiosity. We hurried through the village, so as
to get a general idea of the houses and implements,
and then to the beach, which was a beautiful sight.
Whereas on Melanesian islands the dancing—grounds
only are kept cleared, and surrounded by thick
shrubbery for fear of invasion, here all the underbrush
had been rooted out, and the shore was like a park,
with a splendid view through dark tree-trunks across
the blue sea, while the golden, godlike forms of the
natives walked about with proud, regal gait, or stood
in animated groups. It was a sight so different in
its peaceful simplicity from what I was accustomed to
see in Melanesia, it all looked so happy, gay and

alluring that it hardly needed the invitations of the
19