Tracks Of A Rolling Stone By Henry J. Coke




























































































































 -   Their 
names sounded like those of the state officers in Mr. 
Gilbert's 'Mikado.'  I find in my journal one - Page 64
Tracks Of A Rolling Stone By Henry J. Coke - Page 64 of 105 - First - Home

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Their Names Sounded Like Those Of The State Officers In Mr. Gilbert's 'Mikado.' I Find In My Journal One Entered As Tovey-Tovey, Another As Kanakala.

We were then conducted to the presence chamber by the Foreign Minister, Mr. Wiley, a very pronounced Scotch gentleman with a star of the first magnitude on his breast.

The King was dressed as an English admiral. The Queen, whose ample undulations also reminded one of the high seas, was on his right; while in perfect gradation on her right again were four princesses in short frocks and long trousers, with plaited tails tied with blue ribbon, like the Miss Kenwigs. A little side dispute arose between the stiff old General and the Foreign Minister as to whose right it was to present us. The Consul carried the day; but the Scot, not to be beaten, informed Tamehameha, in a long prefatory oration, of the object of the ceremony. Taking one of us by the hand (I thought the peppery old General would have thrust him aside), Mr. Wiley told the King that it was seldom the Sandwich Islands were 'veesited' by strangers of such 'desteenction' - that the Duke of this (referring to Fred's relations), and Lord the other, were the greatest noblemen in the world; then, with much solemnity, quoted a long speech from Shakespeare, and handed us over to his rival.

His Majesty, who did not understand a word of English, or Scotch, looked grave and held tight to the arm of the throne; for the truth is, that although he had relinquished his bottle for the hour, he had brought its contents with him. My salaam was soon made; but as I retired backwards I had the misfortune to set my heel on the toes of a black-and-tan terrier, a privileged pet of the General's. The shriek of the animal and the loss of my equilibrium nearly precipitated me into the arms of a trousered princess; but the amiable young lady only laughed. Thus ended my glimpse of the Hawaian Court. Mr. Wiley afterwards remarked to me: 'We do things in a humble way, ye'll obsairve; but royalty is royalty all over the world, and His Majesty Tamehameha is as much Keng of his ain domeenions as Victoria is Queen of Breetain.' The relativity of greatness was not to be denied.

The men - Kanakas, as they are called - are fine stalwart fellows above our average height. The only clothing they then wore was the MARO, a cloth made by themselves of the acacia bark. This they pass between the legs, and once or twice round the loins. The WYHEENES - women - formerly wore nothing but a short petticoat or kilt of the same material. By persuasion of the missionaries they have exchanged this simple garment for a chemise of printed calico, with the waist immediately under the arms so as to conceal the contour of the figure. Other clothing have they none.

Are they the more chaste? Are they the less seductive -? Hear what M. Anatole France says in his apostrophe to the sex: 'Pour faire de vous la terrible merveille que vous etes aujourd'hui, pour devenir la cause indifferente et souveraine des sacrifices et des crimes, il vous a fallu deux choses: la civilisation qui vous donna des voiles, et la religion qui vous donna des scrupules.' The translation of which is (please take note of it, my dear young ladies with 'les epaules qui ne finissent pas'):

'Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter.'

Be this as it may, these chocolate-skinned beauties, with their small and regular features, their rosy lips, their perfect teeth - of which they take great care - their luxurious silky tresses, their pretty little hands and naked feet, and their exquisite forms, would match the matchless Cleopatra.

Through the kindness of Fred's host, the principal merchant in the island, we were offered an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the ELITE of the Honolulu nymphs. Mr. S. invited us to what is called a LOOHOU feast got up by him for their entertainment. The head of one of the most picturesque valleys in Woahoo was selected for the celebration of this ancient festival. Mounted on horses with which Mr. S. had furnished us, we repaired in a party to the appointed spot. It was early in the afternoon when we reached it; none of the guests had arrived, excepting a few Kanakas, who were engaged in thatching an old shed as shelter from the sun, and strewing the ground with a thick carpet of palm-leaves. Ere long, a cavalcade of between thirty and forty amazons - they all rode astride - came racing up the valley at full speed, their merry shouts proclaiming their approach. Gaudy strips of MARO were loosely folded around their legs for skirts. Their pretty little straw hats trimmed with ribbons, or their uncovered heads with their long hair streaming in the wind, confined only by a wreath of fresh orange flowers, added to their irresistible charm. Certainly, the bravest soldiers could not have withstood their charge. No men, however, were admitted, save those who had been expressly invited; but each lady of importance was given a CARTE BLANCHE to bring as many of her own sex as she pleased, provided they were both pretty and respectable.

As they rode up, we cavaliers, with becoming gallantry, offered our assistance while they dismounted. Smitten through and through by the bright eyes of one little houri who possessed far more than her share of the first requirement, and, taking the second for granted, I courteously prepared to aid her to alight; when, to my discomfiture, instead of a gracious acknowledgment of my services, she gave me a sharp cut with her whip. As, however, she laughed merrily at my wry faces, I accepted the act as a scratch of the kitten's claws; at least, it was no sign of indifference, and giving myself the benefit of the doubt, lifted her from her saddle without further chastisement, except a coquettish smile that wounded, alas!

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