me weep. Pomaree is gone--the island no more yours, but the Wee-wees'
(French). Wicked priests here, too; and wicked idols in woman's
clothes, and brass chains.

"Good friends, no you speak, or look at them--but I know you won't
--they belong to a set of robbers--the wicked Wee-wees. Soon these
bad men be made to go very quick. Beretanee ships of thunder come and
away they go. But no more 'bout this now. I speak more by by.

"Good friends, many whale-ships here now; and many bad men come in
'em. No good sailors living--that you know very well. They come here,
'cause so bad they no keep 'em home.

"My good little girls, no run after sailors--no go where they go; they
harm you. Where they come from, no good people talk to 'em--just like
dogs. Here, they talk to Pomaree, and drink arva with great Poofai.

"Good friends, this very small island, but very wicked, and very poor;
these two go together. Why Beretanee so great? Because that island
good island, and send mickonaree to poor kannaka In Beretanee, every
man rich: plenty things to buy; and plenty things to sell. Houses
bigger than Pomaree's, and more grand. Everybody, too, ride about in
coaches, bigger than hers; and wear fine tappa every day. (Several
luxurious appliances of civilization were here enumerated, and
described.)

"Good friends, little to eat left at my house. Schooner from Sydney no
bring bag of flour: and kannaka no bring pig and fruit enough.
Mickonaree do great deal for kannaka; kannaka do little for
mickonaree. So, good friends, weave plenty of cocoa-nut baskets, fill