etween the red-brown boles of the trees
there showed something white. The old man pointed to it and said:--

"Wilt come and look at the white man's grave? 'Tis well kept--as we
promised his mother should be done."

Teveiva launched a canoe and we paddled gently over to the isle, which
was barely half an acre in extent From the beach there ran a narrow
path, neatly gravelled and bordered with many-hued crotons; it led to a
low square enclosure of coral stone cemented with lime. Within the walls
bright crotons grew thickly, and in the centre stood a plain slab of
marble on which was carved:--

Walter Tallis,
boat-steerer of the ship _asia_.

Died, December 25, 1869, aged 21.
Erected by his Mother.

I sat on the wall, and looked thoughtfully at the marble slab.

"'Tis twelve years since, Teveiva."

"Aye, since last Christmas Day. And every year his mother sends a letter
and asks, 'Is my boy's grave well kept?' and I write and say, 'It is
well tended. One day in every week the women and girls come and weed
the path, and see that the plants thrive. This have we always done
since thou sent the marble slab.' She sends her letters to the English
missionary at Papeite, and he sends mine to her in far away Beretania
(Britain)."

"Poor fellow," I thought; "it was just such a day as this--hot and
calm--when we laid him here under the palms."

*****

On that day, twelve years before, the _Asia_ lay becalmed off the
island, and the skipper lowered his boat and came on shore to buy some
fresh provisions He was a cheery old fellow, with snow-white hair,
and was brimming over with good spirits, for the _Asia_ had had
extraordinary good luck.

"Over a thousand barrels of sparm oil under hatches already, and the
_Asia_ not out nine months," he said to me, "and we haven't lost a boat,
nor any whale we fastened to yet And this boy here," and he turned
and clapped his hand on the shoulder of a young, handsome and stalwart
youth, who had come with him, "is my boat-steerer, Walter Tallis,
and the dandiest lad with an iron that ever stood up in a boat's bow.
Forty-two years have I been fishin', and until Walter here shipped on
the old _Asia_, thought that the Almighty never made a good boat-steerer
or boat-header outer eny one but a Yankee or a Portugee--or maybe a
Walker Injun. But Walter, though he _is_ a Britisher, was born fer
whale-killin'--and thet'