OF THE SOUTH SEAS 49 



strong, though round ; and their eyes black and large, not 

 brilliant, but liquid. Their feet and hands are mighty 

 — hands that lift burdens of great weight, that swing 

 paddles of canoes for hours ; feet that tread the roads or 

 mountain trails for league on league. 



The women are of middle size, with lines of harmony 

 that give them a unique seal of beauty, with an un- 

 dulating movement of their bodies, a coordination of 

 every muscle and nerve, a richness of aspect in color 

 and form, that is more sensuous, more attractive, than 

 any feminine graces I have ever gazed on. They have 

 the forwardness of boys, the boldness of huntresses, yet 

 the softness and magnetism of the most virginal of their 

 white sisters. One thinks of them as of old in soft 

 draperies of beautiful cream-colored native cloth wound 

 around their bodies, passed under one arm and knotted 

 on the other shoulder, revealing the shapely neck and 

 arm, and one breast, with garlands upon their hair, and 

 a fragrant flower passed through one ear, and in the 

 other two or three large pearls fastened with braided 

 human hair. 



The men never wore beards, though mustaches, copy- 

 ing the French custom, are common on chiefs, preach- 

 ers, and those who sacrifice beauty and natural desires 

 to ambition. The hair on the face is removed as it ap- 

 pears, and it is scanty. They abhor beards, and their 

 ghosts, the tupapau, have faces fringed with hair. The 

 usual movements of both men and women are slow, 

 dignified, and full of pride. 



