The Sabbath is no ordinary day with the Tahitians. So far as doing any
work is concerned, it is scrupulously observed. The canoes are hauled
up on the beach; the nets are spread to dry. Passing by the hen-coop
huts on the roadside, you find their occupants idle, as usual; but
less disposed to gossip. After service, repose broods over the whole
island; the valleys reaching inland look stiller than ever.
In short, it is Sunday - their "Taboo Day"; the very word formerly
expressing the sacredness of their pagan observances now proclaiming
the sanctity of the Christian Sabbath.
CHAPTER XLVI.
SOMETHING ABOUT THE KANNAKIPPERS
A WORTHY young man, formerly a friend of mine (I speak of Kooloo with
all possible courtesy, since after our intimacy there would be an
impropriety in doing otherwise) - this worthy youth, having some
genteel notions of retirement, dwelt in a "maroo boro," or
bread-fruit shade, a pretty nook in a wood, midway between the
Calabooza Beretanee and the Church of Cocoa-nuts. Hence, at the latter
place, he was one of the most regular worshippers.
Kooloo was a blade. Standing up in the congregation in all the bravery
of a striped calico shirt, with the skirts rakishly adjusted over a
pair of white sailor trousers, and hair well anointed with cocoa-nut
oil, he ogled the ladies with an air of supreme satisfaction.
