So seemed to speak the idol in the forest by Tai-o-hae as I watched. That old idol even grew moss on its gigantic cranium, as though it would mock hairless old age and the unfruitful passing of man!
It was an unforgettable sight. As the festival progressed the prima donna became more excited. She was a maid of perfect beauty, possessing musical accomplishments; nor were her high kicks to be outrivalled the world over. This particular prima donna would have achieved a vast fortune in the western cities, I’m sure. Her rhythmic virtuosity was marvellous! The terrific encores of the tattooed chiefs became deafening as she sang and danced. She seemed to support her frame in space on nothing but the balancing, rapid movement of her limbs. Suddenly she jumped from the heathen _pae-pae_ (stage), lay sideways up in the ether and moved her limbs as though she were performing mighty cadenzas on vast strings of some invisible violin—with her toes.
It seemed the time of my life as I watched, and the white settlers and beachcombers cheered and cheered each wondrous performance. As the shadows of night fell over the forest height, the natives came in from the plantations to join the festival. It was a weird sight to see them running along the forest tracks that had been made by soft-footed savages for ages. As they reached that _opéra bouffe_, each one rapidly cast off their European clothes with relief. Nor was this act of theirs to be wondered at, for those old clothes were supplied to them from the _morgues_ of the South Seas and the far-off civilised cities, and usually swarmed with vermin and germs of latent disease that had managed to kill the late occupants. It is no exaggeration to say that the native cemeteries were crammed with victims who had been doubly unfortunate—those who had embraced the white man’s clothes as well as his creed.
As they leapt bodily out of those semi-shrouds, old coats and pants, they attired themselves in the cool, attractive suits that hung from the boughs of the forest. Dusky girls hastily attired themselves in sea-shells and strings of twisted leaves and tropical flowers. Then they embraced the impassioned youths, who blushed in green-fringed high collars that decorated their forest pyjamas, pyjamas noted for their cheap material and scanty width—but were of _wide_ modesty.