OF THE SOUTH SEAS 91 



idleness with a prodigality that would have made Samuel 

 Smiles weep. 



The entrance to the Cercle Bougainville was very 

 plain, with no name-plate, as had the Militaire, — a mere 

 hole in the front wall of Leboucher's large furniture 

 shop. One could be going along the street in full view 

 of important and respectable people, and suddenly dis- 

 appear. A few steep stairs, a quick turn, and one was 

 on the broad balcony, with easy-chairs and firm tables, 

 and bells to hand for Joseph's ear. 



In a room off the balcony there was a billiard-table, 

 the cloth patched or missing in many spots, and with 

 cues whose tips had long since succumbed to perpetual 

 moisture. A few old French books were on a shelf, and 

 a naughty review or two of Paris on a dusty table. Un- 

 doubtedly, this club had begun as a mariner's association^ 

 and there was yet a decided flavor of the sea about it. 

 Indeed, all Tahiti was of the sea, and all but the mass 

 of natives who stayed in their little homes were at times 

 sailors, and all whites passengers on long voyages. 

 Everything paid tribute to the vast ocean, and all these 

 men had an ah' of ships and the dangers of the waves. 



Nautical almanacs, charts, and a barometer were con- 

 spicuous, and often were laid beside the social glasses 

 for proof in hot arguments. Occasionally an old 

 Chinese or two, financiers, pearl-dealers, labor bosses, 

 or merchants, drained a glass of eau de vie and smoked 

 a cigarette there. One sensed an atmosphere of mys- 

 tery, of secret arrangements between traders, or hard 

 endeavors for circumvention of competitors in the busi- 

 ness of the dispersed islands of French Oceania. 



A delightful incident enlivened my first visit, and 



