a civilization, and I use the word advisedly, in which the question
of having or not having a cook is eliminated. We were two weeks on the
island before any one of us realized that we had seen no fire. The
matches which we used to light our pipes were thought to be marvelous
flowers that blossomed and immediately disappeared.

Nature, all bountiful, supplied a menu of amazing variety. Fruits,
vegetables, combinations of the two, edible flowers and, above all,
the thousand and one kinds of nuts from which the islands receive their
name, were at hand for the plucking. Our breakfast grew on the ceiling
of our bedroom and dropped beside us with charming punctuality at the
first shiver of the rising trade.

It must not be supposed that we were strict vegetarians. Many varieties
of fish and crustacea, as well as certain insects and some of the
smaller birds were eaten raw. European and American civilizations alike
are hopelessly backward in this regard. True, we eat with avidity
oysters and clams (except in the Bapoo-period), knowing that they are
not only raw but also alive. In the Filberts it was but a slight step
forward to pop into one's mouth a wriggling _limpataa_ (a kind of marine
lizard), whose antics after he is swallowed are both pleasant and novel.
The hors d'oeuvre course of a Filbert Island banquet is one roar of
laughter caused by the interior tickling of the agile food. This of
course promotes good feeling and leads to many lasting friendships.

With one's meals thus always ready-to-serve, with no cook glowering
at the clock, no cheese souffle ready to collapse, no dishes to wash
or frying-pans to scour, life is one long gastronomic song.

In physical stature and beauty the Filbertines are far above the