What was the secret of the miracle I had witnessed?  How was it that in all the Orient, and formerly in America, this power over fire was known and practised, and that it was interwoven with the strongest and oldest emotions of the races?  That from the Chaldea of millenniums ago to the Tautira of to-day, the ceremonial was virtually the same?  Our own boys and girls who in the fall leaped over the bonfire of burning leaves were unpremeditatedly imitating in a playful manner and with risk what their forefathers had done religiously.

In Raiatea, the chief Tetuanui informed me, the membership of the Protestant church of Uturoa walked on the umu, and embarrassed the missionaries, who had taught them, as the Tautirans were taught, that the Umuti was a pagan sacrament.

In some islands it was called vilavilairevo, and in Fiji the oven was lovu.  According to legend, the people of Sawau, Fiji, were drawn together to hear their history chanted by the orero, when he demanded presents from all.  Each, in the brave way of Viti, tried to outdo the other in generosity, and Tui N’Kualita promised an eel that he had seen at Na Moliwai.  Dredre, the orero, said he was satisfied, and began his tale.  It was midnight when he finished.  He looked for his present at an early hour next morning.

Tui N’Kualita had gone to Na Moliwai to hunt for the eel, and there, as he sank his arms in the eel’s hole, he found it a piece of tapa that he knew to be the dress of a child.  Tui N’Kualita shouted: 

“Ah!  Ah! this must be the cave of children.  But that doesn’t matter to me.  Child, god, or new kind of man, I’ll make you my gift.”

He kept on angling with his hand in the hole, and caught hold of a man’s hand.  The man leaped back and broke his grasp, and cried: 

“Tui N’Kualita, spare my life and I will be your wargod.  My name is Tui Namoliwai.”

Tui N’Kualita answered him: 

“I am of a valiant people, and I vanquish all my enemies.  I have no need of you.”

The man in the eel’s hole called out to him again: 

“Let me be your god of property.”

“No,” said Tui N’Kualita; “the tapa I got from the god Kadavu is good enough.”

“Well, then, let me be your god of navigation.”

“I’m a farmer.  Breadfruit is enough for me.”

“Let me be your god of love, and you will enjoy all the women of Bega.”

“No, I’ve got enough women.  I’m not a big chief.  I’ll tell you:  you be my gift to the orero.”

“Very well; and let me have another word.  When you have a lot of ti at Sawau, we will go to cook it, and will appear safe and sound.”

Next morning Tui N’Kualita built a big oven.  Tui Namoliwai appeared and signed to him to follow.

“Maybe you are fooling me, and will kill me,” said Tui N’Kualita.

“What?  Am I going to give you death in exchange for my life?  Come!”

Tui N’Kualita obeyed, and walked on the lovu.  The stones were cool under his feet.  He told Tui Namoliwai then that he was free to go, and the latter promised him that he and his descendants should always march upon the lovu with impunity.