d recklessness of Europeans.

CHAPTER VI

GRAVEYARD STORIES

With my superstitious friend, the islander, I fear I am not wholly
frank, often leading the way with stories of my own, and being always a
grave and sometimes an excited hearer. But the deceit is scarce mortal,
since I am as pleased to hear as he to tell, as pleased with the story
as he with the belief; and besides, it is entirely needful. For it is
scarce possible to exaggerate the extent and empire of his
superstitions; they mould his life, they colour his thinking; and when
he does not speak to me of ghosts, and gods, and devils, he is playing
the dissembler and talking only with his lips. With thoughts so
different, one must indulge the other; and I would rather that I should
indulge his superstition than he my incredulity. Of one thing, besides,
I may be sure: Let me indulge it as I please, I shall not hear the
whole; for he is already on his guard with me, and the amount of the
lore is boundless.

I will give but a few instances at random, chiefly from my own doorstep
in Upolu, during the past month (October 1890). One of my workmen was
sent the other day to the banana patch, there to dig; this is a hollow
of the mountain, buried in woods, out of all sight and cry of mankind;
and long before dusk Lafaele was back again beside the cook-house with
embarrassed looks; he dared not longer stay alone, he was afraid of
"spilits in the bush." It seems these are the souls of the unburied
dead, haunting where they fell, and wearing woodland shapes of pig, or
bird, or insect; the bush is full of them, they seem to eat nothing,
slay solitary wanderers apparently in spite, and at times, in human
form, go down the villages and consort with the inhabitants undetected.
So much I learned a day or so after, walking in the bush with a very
intelligent youth, a native. It was a little before noon; a grey day and
squally; and perhaps I had spoken lightly. A dark squall burst on the
side of the mountain; the woods shook and cried; the dead leaves rose
from the ground in clouds, like butterflies; and my companion came
suddenly to a full stop. He was afraid, he said, of the trees falling;
but as soon as I had changed the subject of our talk he proceeded with
alacrity. A day or two before, a messenger came up the mountain from
Apia with a letter; I was in the bush, he must await my return, then
wait till I had answered: and before I was done his voice sounded shrill