The two Mrs. Stevensons and Mr. Osbourne, along with Paaaeua, his wife, and an adopted child of theirs, son of a shipwrecked Austrian, sat down to an excellent island meal, of which the principal and the only necessary dish was pig.  A concourse watched them through the apertures of the house; but none, not even Brother Michel, might partake; for the meal was sacramental, and either creative or declaratory of the new relationship.  In Tahiti things are not so strictly ordered; when Ori and I ‘made brothers,’ both our families sat with us at table, yet only he and I, who had eaten with intention were supposed to be affected by the ceremony.  For the adoption of an infant I believe no formality to be required; the child is handed over by the natural parents, and grows up to inherit the estates of the adoptive.  Presents are doubtless exchanged, as at all junctures of island life, social or international; but I never heard of any banquet—­the child’s presence at the daily board perhaps sufficing.  We may find the rationale in the ancient Arabian idea that a common diet makes a common blood, with its derivative axiom that ’he is the father who gives the child its morning draught.’  In the Marquesan practice, the sense would thus be evanescent; from the Tahitian, a mere survival, it will have entirely fled.  An interesting parallel will probably occur to many of my readers.

What is the nature of the obligation assumed at such a festival?  It will vary with the characters of those engaged, and with the circumstances of the case.  Thus it would be absurd to take too seriously our adoption at Atuona.  On the part of Paaaeua it was an affair of social ambition; when he agreed to receive us in his family the man had not so much as seen us, and knew only that we were inestimably rich and travelled in a floating palace.  We, upon our side, ate of his baked meats with no true animus affiliandi, but moved by the single sentiment of curiosity.  The affair was formal, and a matter of parade, as when in Europe sovereigns call each other cousin.  Yet, had we stayed at Atuona, Paaaeua would have held himself bound to establish us upon his land, and to set apart young men for our service, and trees for our support.  I have mentioned the Austrian.  He sailed in one of two sister ships, which left the Clyde in coal; both rounded the Horn, and both, at several hundred miles of distance, though close on the same point of time, took fire at sea on the Pacific.  One was destroyed; the derelict iron frame of the second, after long, aimless cruising, was at length recovered, refitted, and hails to-day from San Francisco.  A boat’s crew from one of these disasters reached, after great hardships, the isle of Hiva-oa.  Some of these men vowed they would never again confront the chances of the sea; but alone of them all the Austrian has been exactly true to his engagement, remains where he landed, and designs to die where he has lived.  Now, with such a man, falling and taking root among islanders,