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the headquarters of the Roman Catholic Bishop of Oceania, and a strong clerical staff; also of a French sisterhood, who devote themselves to teaching children whose lives have been spared by their own once cannibal parents, and who now worship with them, in a handsome stone church, built by themselves, under the direction of the Fathers, and are in every respect pattern Catholics.

Three days' sail from Wallis lies Fotuna, which is a little world by itself. It consists of a single peak, rising abruptly from the waters, and broken up into towering masses of crag and pinnacles, seamed by deep ravines, opening up into fertile valleys, richly cultivated. Sparkling streams afford an abundant water-supply for the irrigation of the taro beds; bread-fruit, bananas, and palms grow luxuriantly: so it is an isle of great natural beauty, and though only fifteen miles in circumference, affords ample provision for its 900 inhabitants. They seem to be a happy, healthy community, and have all adopted Christianity, either in its Protestant or Roman form. The representative of the latter is a fine old priest, who has devoted the greater part of his life to work on Fotuna, and year by year adds a few inches to the walls of a very large cathedral, which he hopes some future generation will- complete. The natives show their love for the good padre by bringing him the heavy

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blocks of coral-rock, which he hews at his leisure; but they are well content to worship in less solid buildings. The majority wear, as their badge, a little brass medal of the Virgin, or some other Christian amulet, which, in the case of the little children, is often their only raiment!

Apparently the adherents of the two great Christian bodies contrive to live in peace, instead of finding in differing faith a new occasion for enmities, as has been the case even in Polynesian isles. But is it not grievous that, when at length "the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light," it should not shine upon them in one undivided ray 1

The people of this lonely isle are especially interesting, because they, and the inhabitants of Aniwa —a much smaller isle in the same region—are of a totally different race from those on the other isles composing the New Hebrides — the latter being Papuans, and these Malays, whose ancestors drifted all the way from Tonga in a canoe. Though their colour has darkened, they retain the dialect and the hair of their race.

Every one on board has treasures of some sort from Fotuna—especially very beautifully painted native cloth. I think some of the patterns are almost more artistic than those of the • Fijians. Like theirs, these are principally geometrical; and in addition to the black and red dyes which are there used, the artists of Fotuna introduce a good deal of yellow. The printing is done in the same manner, the raised pattern being carefully designed with strips of cocoa - rib or bamboo on wooden blocks, on which the colour is stamped. It is the same principle as that of our printing-types, and was known in Polynesia long before the art of printing was invented in Europe.

The most remarkable productions of Fotuna and some of its neighbouring isles are gigantic cocoanuts, more than double the ordinary size. They are immensely prized as drinking-cups. Many are 18 inches in circumference after the husk has been removed. The largest grow on the isle of Niufau, which is described as being merely the rim of a great crater, from which smoke sometimes rises, and which is incrusted with sulphur. Apparently the warmth of the soil agrees with all vegetation; for the isle is exceedingly fertile, and the cocoanuts are the wonder and envy of all beholders.

I confess I should not care to live on one of these smouldering volcanoes. There are a good many such, scattered about the Pacific—and occasionally one subsides altogether. For instance, halfway between Tonga and New Zealand lies Sunday Isle. It is a volcanic rock-mass 1600 feet in height, and about four miles in diameter. It is exceedingly fer

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tile, but steam rises from all the crevices of the rocks, and the people have only to scrape a hole in the ground, and therein place their food that it may be baked in nature's own oven. At one time there were a good many settlers in this warm corner, but in an evil day a Peruvian slave-ship touched here, and landed 200 poor creatures, captured in all parts of the Pacific. Typhoid fever had broken out among them; so they were thrown ashore to die, which they did, and most of the settlers shared their fate. The others left the island on the first opportunity, leaving only one white man with a Samoan wife and a dusky brood. These lived on in peace and plenty for about ten years, when suddenly the little fresh-water lake began to boil furiously, and from its midst a fountain of fire shot high in air. Happily this mighty rocket served as a signal of distress, for a passing vessel descried the fiery column and came to investigate, greatly to the relief of the Crusoe family, who were taken on board, and for ever abandoned their home.

Evidently this isle must lie on the same volcanic chain as the White Sulphur Isle, which is a sulphur volcano to the north of New Zealand, connected subterraneously with that great tract in the province of Auckland, where geysers, solfataras, and all manner of volcanic phenomena abound.1

1 Vide 'At Home in Fiji' (C. F. Gordon dimming), vol. ii.

All these are reproduced on a smaller scale on the island of Tanna in the New Hebrides, within 30 miles of Fotuna. It is a circular island, about 40 miles in diameter. Near the harbour rises a volanic mountain about 500 feet in height, densely wooded to the very summit, though seamed with fissures from which rise clouds of steam and sulphureous vapours. The whole island is exceedingly fertile — cocoa-palms, bread-fruit trees, bananas, sugar-cane, &c, grow luxuriantly, and the yams occasionally attain a weight of 50 lb.; one root being from 40 to 50 inches long—a very neat thing in potatoes. Yet the soil which produces this rank vegetation forms so thin a crust over the vast furnace below, that in some places the penetrating heat is painful to the naked foot. Nevertheless, the people have no fear of accidents; on the contrary, wherever they find a group of hot springs they build their huts, and, like the New Zealanders, they love to lounge on the steaming grass or hot stones. In every village a circular space is set apart as the marum, or place for holding council or feasting, and in these districts a warm spot is selected, where, after sundown, the men may combine the pleasures of a vapour-bath with the enjoyment of their bowl of kava, while discussing the affairs of the tribe.

The springs are in great favour as baths. They

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