The Life of Mrs. Robert Louis Stevenson by Nellie Van de Grift Sanchez (easy readers txt) 📕

curry, home mincemeat, rice yeast and bannocks for cooking aboard ship, Butaritari potato cake and pudding, Ah Fu's pig's head, Ah Fu's yeast, pork cake, fritters, mulled wine, and green corn cakes.

A memorandum of a lock to be turned by figures.

Medicine for tona --boils with which Samoan children are often afflicted.

More cooking receipts--Magzar fowl, Tautira duff, raw-fish salad from a Tahiti receipt, strawberry shortcake, spontaneous yeast, banana
popoi , Pennsylvania scrapple, miti sauce to eat with pig roasted underground, baked breadfruit, breadfruit pudding, onion soup, bisque of lobster, bouillabaise, banana beer, Russian risotto , Scotch woodcock, Russian pancake, Spanish tortillas, and blackberry cordial.

Bamboo fence.

To graft mangoes.

Fill wet boots with oats.

How to mend a hole in a boat (Captain Otis).

Abdul Rassak's receipt for taking the poison out of cucumbers.

Creosote in a cupboard to keep out flies and preserve meat.

Furniture polish.

To make a Hawaiian oven.

To make Tahitian flowers and ornaments.

To clean Benares ware.

To destroy red ants.

To preserve meats.

How to keep butter cool in hot weather.

To knit a baby's hood.

Crochet cover for a pincushion [with a little picture showing it when finished].

Surely, it would not be easy to duplicate this cosmopolitan list in any other woman's notebook.

Among the villages of the island there was one, Vaiee, with which the Stevensons had a special friendship, dating back to the first year of their arrival in Samoa. At that time the villagers were building a church and had saved up sixty dollars with which to buy corrugated iron for the roof. One day a deputation of elders, headed by the chief, called on Mr. Stevenson to ask if he would act as their agent in buying the iron. Of course, he was interested at once and laid out the money to such good advantage that they got more corrugated iron than sixty dollars had ever bought before. After that they came again with small sums, which were kept for them in the Vailima safe, and whenever they wanted to buy anything for the village he helped them to get good value for their money. Their gratitude sometimes took embarrassing forms, as on one occasion when they brought a present of a large white bull with a wreath around its neck. At other times, they brought offerings of turtles, rolls of tapa, fish, and pigs; and on the night of Mr. Stevenson's death several of the chiefs crossed the island on foot and were in time to help the men who were cutting the road to Mount Vaea.

Remembering all this, when the village of Vaiee invited Mrs. Stevenson and her daughter to make them a visit they naturally wanted to go. This sort of visiting trip--usually lasting three days, one to arrive, one to visit, and one to go--is called a malaga (accented on second syllable--malan'ga), and is a very popular institution among the natives. The visiting party generally travels in state, taking with it a boat, food, and servants. The story of the malaga to the village of Vaiee follows in Mrs. Strong's own words:

"There was only a footpath over the mountain, and as we had to cross many torrents on no better bridge than a felled cocoanut tree, we could not even go on horseback. My mother was not able to make the trip on foot, and I conceived the brilliant idea of slinging a chair with ropes to two poles and having our Samoan men carry her in it. So all was arranged, and we made an early morning start. I walked barefoot and my mother sat in her 'sedan chair' like an island princess, with her little bare feet swinging with the swaying of the chair. We had four men for relays in carrying the chair, while others carried our presents--tins of biscuits, barrels of salt beef, rolls of calico, and numerous trinkets--besides our wardrobe, which contained a 'silika' (silk) dress for each of us in which to do honor to our hosts.

"As we swung into the Ala Loto Alofa[60]--an odd procession, for our boys had decorated us with wreaths and garlands--we passed a carriage-load of surprised 'steamer-day' tourists who had come up the mountainside to look at Vailima. As our little party wound into the forest the road grew gradually steeper, and we walked under the dense shade of huge trees, hung with lianas, orchids, and other parasitic plants. The jungle was so thick that now and then the men had to cut away branches with their cane knives to make a passage for us. This sounds like hard work, but the wild banana plants, giant ferns, lush grass, and fat leaves fell before one slash of the knife. It was damp and a little breathless in the depths of the forest, but we rested often on the way. The worst place was about a mile of swamp land that was full of leeches. They fell on us from the overhanging branches of the trees, and as our feet sank into the mud they stuck to our ankles. However, the men were constantly on the lookout for them, and when they saw one would sprinkle salt on it and it would immediately fall off. We had invited an English couple, a Captain F. and his wife, who were staying at the hotel, to go with us. The lady wore shoes, and as her feet grew more and more soppy from walking in the damp grass and through the swamps she suffered a good deal. I was much better off walking barefoot.

[Footnote 60: This was the "Road of the Loving Hearts,"
built by the Mataafa chiefs in return for Tusitala's
kindness to them when they were in prison.]

"By nightfall we reached the summit of the mountain, where there was a house, and there we had an example of Samoan hospitality. The house was not large enough to hold us and its occupants, too, so they had built a big oven,[61] stuffed it with food, laid out fine mats for our beds, and then quietly decamped. We never even saw our hosts to thank them. It was a glorious night on the summit, for the full moon made the scene as bright as daylight, and in the distance we could see the ocean all around us. It made us feel very small and a little frightened to see what a tiny island it was we had been living on with such a feeling of security. Before us a beautiful waterfall fell away into the thickets of greenery.

[Footnote 61: A Samoan oven is made by digging a hole,
lining it with hot stones, putting on top of them pigs,
fish, chickens, taro, yams, etc., all wrapped in banana
leaves, then piling hot stones on them and covering the
whole with earth. In about four hours everything is
cooked.]

"On the way up we crossed many streams, and I held my breath to see the two men carrying my mother's chair run lightly across the teetering log bridges, but she sat there smiling, not a bit afraid and enjoying every minute of it. Our English friends and I were carried over by the natives. I simply shut my eyes, clutched the thick hair of my carrier and held my breath till we were on the other side.

"Making ourselves at home in the house so kindly left to our use, we set the boys to open the oven and remove its contents, and then we sat down and made a grand feast--roast pig, chicken, taro, yams, and breadfruit--all fresh and hot. Our boys had brought salt, limes, and bread, and on the way up we gathered fresh cocoanuts to drink with our dinner. Then we lay down on the soft mats and fell sound asleep in our borrowed house on the top of our little world.

"In the morning, we began the descent of the other side, which was much easier and quicker. When we were within a mile of the village we were shown a pool; then the men retired and we women took a swim, after which we put on our 'silika' dresses and started on. Children had been stationed along the path to look out for us, and, though we could see no one, we heard shouts of ' Ua maliu mai tamaitai ' (the ladies are coming), going from one to another. At the entrance to the village my mother got out of her chair and we walked on. The manaia , or beauty man of the village, accompanied by two magnificent looking aides, came forward to meet us. They were oiled and polished till they shone like bronze, and on their heads they wore the great ceremonial headdresses. Their only garments were short kilts of tapa , which made a fine display of their lace-like tattooing. On their right arms they wore twists of green with boars' tusks, while their ankles were encircled with green wreaths and their necks with the whale-tooth necklaces that denote rank. It seemed strange to be received by young men, for in all our other trips either Louis or Lloyd was the guest of honor--making it a man's party--and to them the village maid, or
taupo , with her girl attendants, acted as hostess. As ours was a woman's party, we were received by young men. The manaia gave his hand to my mother, the other two escorted me and the English lady, and, with the poor husband trailing along behind, we walked with stately pomp across the malae [62] to the guest house. There was not a soul in sight, and, though the children must have been bursting with interest and curiosity, not one was to be seen. The guest house stood in the centre of the little village, which lay on the seashore, overlooking a small bay. Behind it the forest climbed the slopes of steep mountains, down which several streams and waterfalls rushed into the sea, and in front the smooth wide beach stretched its white length. On each side were the plantations of bananas, cocoanuts, and other tropic fruits, while scattered here and there among the brown thatched houses the breadfruit trees spread out their huge branches of shining green.

[Footnote 62: The malae is the green lawn around which
all Samoan villages are built.]

"The guest house had been decorated with leaves, ferns, and flowers. As we ducked under the eaves, our eyes a little dazzled by the brightness of the sunlight, we were received by the taupo and her maidens, who were spreading fine mats for us to sit on. Oh the sweet, cool, clean freshness of a native house! It would not be fair to call it a hut, for