500 MYSTIC ISLES 



tates them and feels sometimes humiliated that he is not 

 one of them. But in sober middle age all these new de- 

 sires begin to leave him, and he becomes a Maori again. 

 The older he grows, the less attractive seem the white 

 man's ways and ambitions, though pride, habit, and per- 

 haps an acquired fear of the hell painted by priests and 

 preachers from the distant lands keep him church-go- 

 ing. Gods may differ, but devils never. 



Choti and T'yonni and I spent an hour at my house 

 before they walked home to bed, and Choti read as a 

 soporific, with a few bottles of Munich beer, the "Ser- 

 mon to the Fishes" of St. Antonius. As he read, we 

 heard the joyous stridence of an accordion in a hula 

 harmony. The iipaupahura was beginning in the grove 

 where Uritaata lived. The austere St. Antonius had 

 lectured long to the eels on the folly of wiggling, to the 

 pikes on the immorality of stealing, and to the crabs 

 and turtles on the danger of sloth. But: 



"The sermon now ended, 



Each turned and descended; 



The pikes went on stealing, 



The eels went on eeling; 



Much edified were they, 

 But preferred the old waj. 



"The crabs are back-sliders, 



The stock-fish thick-siders, 



The carps are sharp-set, 



All the sermon forget ; 



Much delighted were they, 

 But preferred the old way." 



