OF THE SOUTH SEAS 219 



wind begins its diurnal sweep, to shift and mold them all 

 the hours till sunset. 



Fragrance of the Jasmine was in a long and clinging 

 tunic of pale blue, with low, white shoes disclosing 

 stockings also of blue, and wore a hat of pandanus 

 weave. She carried nothing, nor had I anything in my 

 hands, and we were to be gone all day. I regretted that 

 I had not lingered longer with Prince Hinoe over the 

 rolls and coffee. 



We fared past the merchants' stores, the Cercle Bou- 

 gainville, and the steamship wharf, and over the Pont 

 de I'Est, or Eastern bridge, to Patutoa. The princess 

 pointed out to me many wretched straw houses, crowded 

 in a hopeless way. They were like a refugee camp 

 after a disaster, impermanent, uncomfortable, barely 

 holding on to the swampy earth. One knew the occu- 

 pants to be far from their own Lares and Penates. 



"Those are the habitations of people of other islands," 

 she said. "The people of the Paumotus, the Australs, 

 and of Easter Island settled there. They were brought 

 here by odious labor contractors, and died of homesick- 

 ness. Those men murdered hundreds of them to gain 

 un peu d'argent, a handful of gold. Eh h'en, those 

 who did it have suffered. They have faded away, and 

 most of their evil money, too. Aue!" 



Llewellyn's dark face as he protested against Lying 

 Bill's sarcastic statement of guilt came before me. 



To lighten the thought of the princess I told her the 

 thread of "The Bottle Imp," and that the magic bottle 

 had disappeared out of the story right there, by the old 

 calaboose. She was glad that the white sailor who did 

 not care for life had saved the Hawaiians. 



