Nearly all of the village shops are kept by Chinamen, and it is needless to say that these shrewd foreigners take undue advantage of the simple, trusting natives, in all of their business transactions. Much of the hard-earned money of the natives finds its way into the capacious pockets of these enterprising Orientals.
We reached Papara toward evening, and, when we came in sight of the chiefery, were deeply impressed with the beauty of the location. Palm trees, flowering shrubs and garden flowers adorn the spacious grounds in front and all around the ancient mansion which is perched on an elevated plateau adjoining the large and beautiful stream of crystal mountain water, and facing the placid lagoon. An immense double war-canoe was at anchor in the river. It is now used as a fishing-boat by one of the sons of the chief, when he desires to catch the bonita outside of the lagoon. It takes seven men to manage this giant canoe, by means of paddles.
In front of the wide veranda of the one-story house is an ornamental tree which spreads its branches at least twenty feet in all directions. As it was in full bloom at the time of my visit, it added much to the beauty and comfort of the immediate surroundings in front of the house.
The rooms of the mansion are large, and brimful of local antiquities and old furniture imported from Europe, which impart to them a coziness and charm which have been greatly appreciated and gratefully remembered by many a welcome visitor. It is in a house like this, presided over by the chief of Papara and his charming family, that one can experience what genuine, unselfish hospitality means.
Twelve servants, men and women, take care of the house, the family and the visitors. Most of these were born on the place, and some of them, very old now, were in the service of the grandfather of the present chief. The relation between master and servants in this house is a very pleasant one. The servants are looked upon and treated rather as relatives than employes. Their pay is small, but they are given all the comforts of a home.
Word had been sent ahead from Papeete announcing our visit, for the purpose of securing for us the rare pleasure of partaking of a genuine native dinner. A little pig was roasted underground, and chickens were boiled in the milk of the cocoanut, exquisite dishes, which, with excellent coffee, French bread, and a variety of luscious tropical fruit, made up a dinner which it would be impossible to duplicate in any of the large cities of the continents.
The village of Papara is a most interesting place to visit. Besides the magnificent scenery, one finds here many native huts, and the town hall is a large, airy structure, built of bamboo sticks and covered with a thatched roof. Near the village are the grotto and cave, which enjoy a local reputation, and are well worth seeing by the visitor.
The sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride conies the dark;
With far-heard whisper o'er the sea;
Off shot the spectre bark.
COLERIDGE.
The day had been hot and sultry. From a cloudless sky, the tropical sun shot down, without mercy, his arrows of heat, against which the lightest and most porous headdress, umbrella, roof and shade afforded but inadequate protection. Man and beast were listless, perspiring, careful to make no unnecessary exertion. The green, succulent foliage bowed under the oppressive heat, and even the gayest of the flowers drooped their proud heads in homage to the fierce king of the serene blue sky. The very atmosphere quivered in convulsive movements, and the intense light, reflected from the surface of the sleeping ocean and the white city, dazzled and blinded those who ventured to go out into the streets. The little capital city of Papeete, nestled on the plateau between the harbor and the foot of towering mountains, half hidden among the tropic trees, was at rest; market and streets deserted, business houses closed, and the wharf silent and lifeless. The numerous miserable curs in the streets sought shelter in the shade, lying in a position affording most perfect relaxation, with protruded, blue, saliva-covered tongues, fighting the heat by increasing the respiratory movements to the utmost speed. The numerous half-wild pigs in the streets, with paralyzed tails and relaxed bristles, buried themselves as deeply as possible in the nearest mud-pool, and with eyes closed, submitted passively to the fiery rays of the midday sun. The roaming chickens, from bald chicks a few days old to the ruffled, fatless veterans of questionable age, suspended their search for rare particles of food with which to satisfy their torturing sense of hunger, and simply squatted where the heat overcame them, in the nearest shady place, there to spend the enforced siesta with bills wide open and the dry, blue tongues agitated by the rapid and violent breathing. The birds of the air ceased their frolic; their song was silenced, and they took refuge in trees with thickest foliage. Men, women and children, rich and poor, merchant and laborer, were forced to suspend work and play, and seek, in the shadow of their homes or near-by trees, protection against the onslaught of the burning rays of the sun. Such is the victory of the sun of the tropics. He demands unconditional surrender on the part of every living thing. He knows no compromise, as he is sure of victory as long as his victim is in a favorable strategic position. This was the case on the day of which I speak. As the rays of the sun became more and more oblique, and the invisible great fan of the land-breeze was set in motion, wafting down from the high mountain peaks a current of cool air, the city woke up from its midday slumber. The sun had lost his fiery power. He was retreating from the field of combat, and approaching in the distance the rim of the placid ocean. The monarch of the day, so near his cool, watery couch, laid aside his mask of fire and smiled upon the vanishing world with a face beaming with happiness and peace.
The sun was set, and Vesper, to supply
His absent beams, had lighted up the sky.
DRYDEN.
It was an evening bright and still
As ever blush'd on wave or bower,
Smiling from heaven, as if naught ill
Could happen in so sweet an hour.
MOORE.