206 MYSTIC ISLES 



ugly brick or frame structure of our cities. The Druids 

 in their groves were nearer to the real God than the 

 pursy bishop in the steam-heated cathedral. 



A native woman, aged and bent, said "la ora na!" to 

 us, and we replied. With my few words of Tahitian 

 I gained from her that the joss-house was open. We 

 entered it, and found no one there. The center was 

 wide to the sky, that the rain might fall and the stars 

 shine within it. The altars were brilliant with memorial 

 tablets, the green, red, and gold flower vases, and san- 

 dalwood taper-holders, so familiar to me, and all about 

 were the written prayers of devotees, soliciting the 

 favor of Heaven, asking success in business, or the 

 averting of illness. They were evidently painted by 

 the bonze of the fane, for his slab of India ink was on 

 a table nearby, as also the brushes for the ideographs. 



Sons expressed their filial duties in glittering excerpts 

 from Confucius, carved and gilded on expansive boards, 

 and the incense of the poor arose from the humble punk- 

 sticks stuck in dishes of sand upon the floor. 



No Levite sat within the shrine or watched to see if 

 profane hand touched the sacred symbols, and were 

 CharHe Eager sure of that before we left, he had se- 

 cured a trophy. Not knowing but that from one of the 

 numerous crannies or mayhap from the open roof the 

 wrathful eye of a hierophant was upon him, he had to 

 content himself with a prayer from the pagoda, which 

 proved on close inspection to be a furnace for the burn- 

 ing of the paper shps on which the aspirations of the 

 faithful were written. Whether the prayers had been 

 granted, were out of date, or the time paid for hanging in 

 the joss-house had expired, the crematory was four feet 



