the tortuous coral reef that banded the island a mile
away. It was like a circlet of quicksilver in the sun, a quivering,
shining, waving wreath. Soon we heard the eternal diapason of these
shores, the constant and immortal music of the breakers on the white
stone barrier, a low, deep, resonant note that lulls the soul to
sleep by day as it does the body by night.

Guardian sound of the South Seas it is, the hushed, echoic roar of a
Jovian organ that chants of the dangers of the sea without, and the
peace of the lagoon within, the reef.

A stretch of houses showed--the warehouses and shops of the merchants
along the beach, the spire of a church, a line of wharf, a hundred
tiny homes all but hidden in the foliage of the ferns. These gradually
came into view as the ship, after skirting along the reef, steered
through a break in the foam, a pass in the treacherous coral, and
glided through opalescent and glassy shallows to a quay where all
Papeete waited to greet us.

The quay was filled with women and men and children and dogs. Carriages
and automobiles by the score attended just outside. Conspicuous
above all were the Tahitian and part-Tahitian girls. In their long,
graceful, waistless tunics of brilliant hues, their woven bamboo
or pandanus hats, decorated with fresh flowers, their feet bare or
thrust into French slippers, their brown eyes shining with yearning,
they were so many Circes to us from the sea. They smiled and looked
with longing at these strangers, who felt curious thrills at this
unknown openness of promise.

Louis de Bougainville wrote in his diary at his first coming to Tahiti
a hundred and fifty years ago:

The boats were now crowded with women, whose beauty of face was
equal to that of the ladies of Europe, and the symmetry of their
forms much superior.

Leboucher called to his mother. "Madre mia! Como estas tu?"

Cries rang out in French, in Tahitian and in English. Islanders,
returning, demanded information as to health, business ventures,
happenings. Merry laughter echoed from the roof of the great shed,
and I felt my heart suddenly become joyous.

The girls and women absorbed the attention of passengers not of
Tahiti. The New-Zealanders of the crew called excitedly to various
ones. Most of the men passengers, tarrying only with the vessel,
planned to see a hula, and they wondered if any of those on the wharf
were the dancers.

A white flower over the ear seemed a favorite adornment, so