g'il, and good manners and building materials, because they all made
for hut-life. Inhospitality was na-g'il, and the infidelity of women,
and earthquakes, and leaks.

"They sometimes personified G'il and talked of him as he. 'G'il loves
not Wheesha' (the wind); 'G'il comforts the weary'; 'G'il says, "Get
more children."' But all this was only in their fanciful moments. At
other times G'il was merely the mat that they slept on. When I said to
them, 'G'il is your real God,' they laughed at my stupidity--good
humoredly, as though there were something, perhaps, in my idea, yet with
a complacent assurance that I was preposterous. I did not argue with
them. One couldn't, you know. I simply continued my observations,
corroborating my theory at every turn. To give you an instance: Bashwa
is supposed to think highly of hunters and sailors, and the Waam-folk
always profess to think highly of them too. That attitude, however, is
only official, not real. Very few of them actually become sailors. The
life is na-g'il."

He came to a pause.

"I wonder whether we, too, have a G'il," I said, to humor him. "We shall
have to ask some of your Waam-folk to come here and tell us."

The explorer looked me over as though he were "continuing his
observations" of _my_ manners and customs. "Yes," he said, "there's a
white man's G'il."

I regretted having mentioned it.

"Can't you guess what he is?" he inquired. "I say 'he' because, like the
Waam G'il, he is sometimes personified. Come now! Apply the test. He
doesn't typify the Waam Islander point of view: he isn't a mat. But
examine your huts and your conversation, and you'll easily spot him. No,
I'm not talking of money, or power, or success: you may bow down to
these,--but not blindly. You at least know what you are doing. The
worship of a G'il is unconscious, and hence more insidious. Even when an
explorer points it out, you won't see its importance. It will seem
insignificant to you. And yet, while the Bashwa to whom you build
temples is only occasionally deferred to, this G'il of yours sways you
in all things. He is the first whom you think of when you rise, and the
last when you go to bed. You speak of your G'il hourly or oftener, all
day long. Those of you who heed him too little are disapproved of by
everybody, while the American who succeeds in life is the man who is
most careful of G'il.

"I have habits," he morosely continued, "of doing certain
things,--eating my meals for i