me to a blind curtain of stone.

"This grot," said M. Brault, "was for centuries the retreat of those
conquered in war, sacred to gods, and a sanctuary never violated, like
those cities of refuge among the Hebrews and Greeks. Now it is a picnic
rendezvous, very dear to Papeete whites and to tourists. C'est la vie."

Tahitian women passengers were adorning their heads with wreaths of
maiden-hair and rare ferns from the cavern. Great lianas hung down
the walls, and these they climbed to reach the exquisite draperies of
the chamber. The farther we left behind the capital, the more smiling
were the faces, the less conventional the actions and gestures of
the people.

Papara was at hand, the richest and most famous of all the districts
of Tahiti. The village was a few Chinese stores, a Catholic and
a Protestant church, a graveyard, and a scattered collection of
homes. I bade au revoir to my delightful companion, Edmond Brault,
having determined to walk the remaining kilometers, and to send on
my inconsiderable bag of clothing.

Lovaina had given me a note to the chief of Papara, Tati, whose father
was Salmon, an English Jew, and whose sister was Marao, the relict of
the late king, and known as the queen. His father was the first white
to marry formally a Tahitian noblewoman. Pomare IV had generously
granted permission for the high chiefess of Papara to ally herself
with the shrewd descendant of the House of David, and their progeny
had included the queen, Tati, and others celebrated in Tahitian life.

Tati welcomed me with the heartiness of the English gentleman and
the courtesy of the Tahitian chief. He was a man of large parts
himself, limited in his hospitality only by his means, he, like all
natives, having thrown away most of his patrimony in his youth. He
was the best-known Tahitian next to Prince Hinoe, but much abler than
he. He knew the Tahitian history and legends, the interwoven tribal
relations, the descents and alliances of the families, better than
any one else. Such knowledge was highly esteemed by the natives,
for whom chiefly rank still bore significance. The Tatis had been
chiefs of Papara for generations, and had entertained Captain Cook.

He lived in a bungalow near the beach, handsome, spreading, and with
a mixed European and indigenous arrangement and furnishing that was
very attractive. I met his sons and daughters, and had luncheon with
them. Tati, of course, spoke English fluently, yet with the