FATE OF SCEPTICS. 403 
approach Naicobocobo. One calls, “ Please, Sir, we want 
a canoe to take us to Bulu.” An invisible hand places 
a canoe, built of the timber of the breadfruit tree, 
within their reach. “Oh, Sir,” said the spokesman, ‘“‘ we 
are not slaves; we want to go to Bulu like chiefs.” 
The canoe is withdrawn, and its place supplied with 
one built of ironwood. No sooner is it near them, than 
the sceptics throw their spears at it, and exclaim, with 
a derisive laugh, “ Oh, we are not going to die just yet.” 
A voice was heard, “ Young men, unbelievers, you have 
called for two canoes: they have not returned empty ; 
both have conveyed your own relatives. There is death 
in the houses of both of you.” Thoroughly alarmed, 
they hurry home. The sounds of wailing are heard as 
they near their town. Both their mothers are dead. 
But I must conclude, for fear that I may be served as 
Dr. Brower, the American Consul in Fiji, served a man 
residing on his estate at Wakaya, who nightly would 
persist in attracting all the boys of the neighbourhood 
by telling stories, and inflaming their youthful imagina- 
tion to such an extent, that not one of them would stir 
abroad for fear of meeting some of the mighty person- 
ages to whom he had been introduced. Dr. Brower, 
not liking the whole troop to sleep on his premises, 
hit upon the expedient of requesting the story-teller 
to accompany every one of those he had frightened to 
his respective home, and, as the youthful listeners live 
in every direction of the compass, it takes him a good 
time to comply with the request; still, it does not 
prevent him from again and again indulging in his 
old weakness of telling fairy and ghost stories. ° 
2D 2 
