In the Morning. 
3 6 9 
sounding from the village a mile away as clearly 
as if those who wielded them were within a 
hundred yards. And then one, calling to the 
others to follow, steps into the hot and stagnant 
swamp and begins to work. 
For it is the fate of the Polynesian woman to 
work when she is old—unless she be the wife 
or sister or daughter of a chief—one whose 
hands must not be soiled nor skin darkened by 
the hard labour of the taro field—to work, 
always work. And her lord and master thinks 
it good. He works no more than he can help. 
He enjoys life according to his simple lights. 
“ E mate tatou , e mate popo ,” he says (“ When 
we die we remain dead ”). He dare not say 
this to the missionary, lest he should be re¬ 
proved. But he thinks it all the same—and 
maybe there is some wisdom in his philosophy. 
25 
