OF THE SOUTH SEAS 271 



All the night people who have journeyed from Pa- 

 para, from Papenoo, or nearer districts slumber upon 

 the sidewalks. This sleeping about anywhere is char- 

 acteristic of the Tahitian. On the quays, in the door- 

 ways of the large and small stores, in carriages, and on 

 the decks of the vessels, men and women and children 

 lie or crouch, sleeping peacefully, with their possessions 

 near them. 



In the fare tamaaraa, the coffee-houses of the Tin- 

 itos, the Chinese, the venders of provender and the 

 marketers alike are slipping their taofe tau, their four- 

 sous' worth of coffee, with a tiny pewter mug of canned 

 milk, sugar, and a half-loaf of French bread with butter. 



My vis-a-vis at Shin Bung Lung's is Prince Hinoe, 

 the heir to the broken throne, a very large, smiling brown 

 gentleman, who sits with the French secretary of the 

 governor, the two, alack! patting the shoulders, pinch- 

 ing the cheeks, and fondling the long, ebon plaits of the 

 bevy of beauties who are up thus early to flirt and make 

 merry. Tahiti is the most joyous land upon the globe. 

 Who takes life seriously here is a fool or a liver-ridden 

 penitent. The shop is full of peals of laughter and 

 stolen kisses. Those sons of Belial who taught the 

 daughter of the governor of the Dangerous Isles her 

 unspeakable vocabulary are here. They have been to 

 the Paris, the premier saloon of Papeete, for their morn- 

 ing's morning, an absinthe, or a hair of the dog that bit 

 them yester eve. 



What jokes they have! Stories of what happened 

 last night in the tap-room of the cinematograph, how 

 David opened a dozen bottles of Roederer, and there 

 was no ice, so all alike, barefooted and silk-stockinged. 



