ws to communicate. The story of Gordon I told him
in full, and many episodes of the Indian Mutiny, Lucknow, the second
battle of Cawnpore, the relief of Arrah, the death of poor Spottiswoode,
and Sir Hugh Rose's hotspur, midland campaign. He was intent to hear;
his brown face, strongly marked with small-pox, kindled and changed with
each vicissitude. His eyes glowed with the reflected light of battle;
his questions were many and intelligent, and it was chiefly these that
sent us so often to the map. But it is of our parting that I keep the
strongest sense. We were to sail on the morrow, and the night had
fallen, dark, gusty, and rainy, when we stumbled up the hill to bid
farewell to Stanislao. He had already loaded us with gifts; but more
were waiting. We sat about the table over cigars and green cocoa-nuts;
claps of wind blew through the house and extinguished the lamp, which
was always instantly relighted with a single match; and these recurrent
intervals of darkness were felt as a relief. For there was something
painful and embarrassing in the kindness of that separation. "_Ah, vous
devriez rester ici, mon cher ami!_" cried Stanislao. "_Vous etes les
gens qu'il faut pour les Kanaques; vous etes doux, vous et votre
famille; vous seriez obeis dans toutes les iles._" We had been civil;
not always that, my conscience told me, and never anything beyond; and
all this to-do is a measure, not of our considerateness, but of the
want of it in others. The rest of the evening, on to Vaekehu's and back
as far as to the pier, Stanislao walked with my arm and sheltered me
with his umbrella; and after the boat had put off, we could still
distinguish, in the murky darkness, his gestures of farewell. His words,
if there were any, were drowned by the rain and the loud surf.

I have mentioned presents, a vexed question in the South Seas; and one
which well illustrates the common, ignorant habit of regarding races in
a lump. In many quarters the Polynesian gives only to receive. I have
visited islands where the population mobbed me for all the world like
dogs after the waggon of cat's-meat; and where the frequent proposition,
"You my pleni (friend)," or (with more of pathos) "You all 'e same my
father," must be received with hearty laughter and a shout. And perhaps
everywhere, among the greedy and rapacious, a gift is regarded as a
sprat to catch a whale. It is the habit to give gifts and to receive
returns, and such characters, complying